I’m on my period, Inauguration Edition

Yesterday was full of…what’s the opposite of irony? Is irony too nebulous a concept to have an opposite? Well, yesterday was a little on-the-nose for me, in terms of the inauguration and its surrounding activities.

Yesterday at work we had to pull in some members of the larger team to help with some work our auxiliary team had. Most of this involved stuffing thousands of envelopes, an activity you will be surprised to find out some people don’t really know how to do. To be fair, it’s slightly more involved than just putting paper in an envelope because this is *~*~GoOgLe~*~* but not by a lot. Long story short, I ended up having to deal with training, organization, and direction above my pay grade, as I get paid less than the other two people on the team. Anyhow, to get to the point:

One of the auxiliary team members we grabbed was – surprise, surprise! – a mediocre, straight, wealthy white dude! Do you see where this is going? He put on the inauguration (to make fun of, no less) as we were stuffing envelopes, and the comparison was laughable. He stared intently into his computer screen, hands idle, while poorer, browner, gayer, and womanly-er people diligently stuffed envelopes around him, for literal hours. I was put in charge of a few people, who were all finished before everyone else (#HBIC), but not of him, so I didn’t feel comfortable telling him to get back to work – and the person who was in charge of him wasn’t doing anything. So, to spell it our for you dummies, while the rest of us did our work industriously, the one whitest, wealthiest white guy in the room sat around and watched the whitest, wealthiest white guy in the room get recognized for the most powerful position in the world (while I silently suffered from burning menstrual cramps, let me remind you). Also, he used sexist language and made fun of me when I called him out. This is a self-proclaimed male ally. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!

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#me

Shall we continue our on-the-nose journey?

Today is the women’s march, and I had planned to attend. But come on! I’m on my period, and the only tampons I have are the ones that you have to stuff up yourself like you’re in the goddamned Stone Age because those were the only ones they had in Slovenia, and I used my last good one last period. Like, I know you were Yugoslavia like five minutes ago, but get with the fucking picture!

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ProComfort my fucking ass – or should I say my vag.

But then again, statistically, 20 to 25 percent of the people in this march will be on their period (unless, of course, all those people decide to stay home). Why the fuck should I have to walk with no bathroom for five hours to protest the removal of my own rights while millions of men stay home on their comfy couches? I guess that’s the whole thing. STUPID IRONY!

I can’t be funny right now, y’all. My sense of humor is exiting my body with gusto in clumps of blood through my vag-hole. How about you make me laugh?!

ART

Look at this shit, y’all!

I had an Exit Through the Gift Shop moment with a guy on the subway the other day who was drawing with two pens simultaneously, as you can see above. I thought maybe he was some famous New Yorker cartoonist or something so I got excited. As it turns out he’s just some rando, like the dude in that movie. The only evidence of him on the Internet is the video above, which some other person took three years ago.

I really can’t make sense of fine art – I went to the Guggenheim a couple years back to see a Kandinsky exhibit and I was like, “Is this good? I honestly can’t tell.” And everyone was like “Go away you’re dumb.” It’s weird, because I’m such a fiend for films, books, and especially music, but I’m a dunce when I walk into an art museum or look at an art book on some rich person’s coffee table.

Speaking of rich people, I worked a reception at an apartment on Eighth and Fifty-Seventh with a nearly panoramic view of Manhattan this evening, so obviously the first plan of action was to scope out the bathroom situation. I thought they would have the finest toilet paper money can buy. But to my horror, the toilet paper was the shitty kind you steal from work when you’re running low! What the fuck is that! Do you think they put the shitty kind out when they know they’ll have company? By the way, folks, I just Googled “shitty synonym” because I saw I’d used the word “shitty” twice. And now that’s four times. So I guess that’s a sign I should stop writing now, or perhaps it’s a sign I shouldn’t have started in the first place. Good night!