Hello Good Sirs,
I hope I find you well today. I just wanted stop by and clear up a little bit of a misunderstanding which I believe you and many of your fellow brethren seem to be having. You came by it honestly, some might even say hereditarily, so there’s no need to be defensive, but many of you are under this silly impression that the thing, yes, that thing right there, hanging between your legs, that dangling tower of confidence from which you rule your mighty kingdom, somehow entitles you to more than the rest of us.
This is kind of embarrassing, and I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but ummm, no. Sorry. It does not.
Now I know what you’re thinking. “Look here little lady, until you can write your name on the side of a building, or in the snow, you might want to go back to what you know, like pie making,” but gents, you’re simply wrong. Also, I would caution you in underestimating my party trick urination. I’ve been working on it lately and I think you’d all be in for a real treat.
But I digress, back to your penis, or my lack there of, rather. I am not jealous of that snag hazard, nor do I strive in the least to be equal to you in length or width.
No, I have my own secret weapon, and the way I look at it, my genitalia is quite superior.
Yep, you heard me, my baby-maker makes me better than you. Plain and simple.
My body can do things that you could not even fathom doing in your wildest dreams. And to help you all understand this, I have compiled a list. You’re welcome, in advance.
A list of things that we can do with our vaginas:
- Conceal Heroin, nail files, and the like- all without getting poop on them.
- Rule 39% of the population (I deducted 10% for clergymen and ‘fabulous’ men).
- Totally sick or titillating (depending on who you ask) tricks with ping-pong balls.
- And, oh yeah, grow and deliver people to this planet like we have some sort of superhuman teleportation device tucked up in our crotch!
Not to be rude, but yeah, way flipp’en cooler than lifting up heavy rocks or whatever other weird mess you guys try to do with your junk on the weekends.
All of this brings me to my next point. Whichever one of you convinced some of my lady friends that dropping our reproductive attributes off of our gender specific resume is empowering, you’re smart. I’ll give you that much.
You found a way to get us to underestimate our God given superpowers in an attempt to settle for equality. But I’m here to burst your bubble. We’re onto you.
A husband loving, non-lesbian, who has never castrated anything, and really is not nearly as big of a 'B' as this post would lead you to believe.