Gift Ideas for Your Angry, Overly-Feminist Girlfriend

It’s been a rough year for us dudes: what with the whole paradigm shift in society cramping our style and the “#MeToo” movement castrating what was once a perfectly acceptable swagger into something decidedly less male. There’s just no telling what’s gonna set girls off these days! They’re all over the map, emotionally unstable, and we just can’t win. While we can’t predict what’s going to piss off your girlfriend from day-to-day, we can give you some fool-proof gift ideas that will be sure to score a solid with your increasingly angry, fem-Nazi lady

1. Feminist-Slogan Pin/Shirt/Jacket
Nothing empowers women like objects with empowering “feminist AF” slogans on them. So why not give her a bunch of things she can wear on her once-hot body to show the world how much of a feminist she is? Chicks love clothes. Chicks love it more when you buy into their mantras. Plus, by giving her “Feminist-Slogan” objects, what you’re really saying is “I am as into this whole cute fad as much as you are as this object shows.” No rallies necessary when you have a catchy slogan t-shirt in hand! Just be sure to set up boundaries on when she can display her Beyoncé throw pillows (read: def not on poker night with the guys. Gross buzzkill!)

2. Gift Certificate to Good Vibrations
Science alert! Every girl wants to feel like a super sexy porn star all the time, so your girl will totally appreciate that slinky new baby-doll nightie or whatever. Plus it’s not like her hairy legs are turning you on: it’s been a little rough ever since bae decided to stop caring about your needs. Be sure to go with her to make sure she doesn’t end up going off the rails and buys herself that giant dildo and “porn for women” (aka not really porn). What a kill-joy! Steer her in the right direction, fellas! Girls like it when they don’t have to come up with difficult ideas and solutions, anyway. Prepare for shopping times with a list of compliments and sensible shoes. You know how girls can get!

3. Cork-Making Kit
If your girl is like every other gal out there, chances are she drinks a lot of wine. Whether she’s coping with her period or her roller coaster emotions, it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is curbing her reckless spending, and making use of her cute crafty habits. A Cork Making Kit would be perfect for any little lady looking to finally put her Pintrest board to good use, and stop wasting your hard-earned money! Plus, corks can be used for all kinds of things besides stopping the flow of wine: stopping the flow of her period, stopping the flow of her nagging words… the possibilities are endless! Plus, she gets to contribute to the house (finally) and turn her addiction into a possible business. Ain’t that cute!

4. A “Free Pass” with her boss
Quick hypothetical: if your girl could theoretically sleep her way to the top of her department and become the boss she’s always going on and on (and on) about, would you let her do it? Sure, that double-standard sucks and you can’t bang your way into your own office, but would you hold your girl back from it? Consider the upsides: less bitching, more money, and then there’s the whole “Well, you got a free pass, so where’s mine? I deserve one, too” argument that’s definitely a win. Plus, everyone knows women really want a quick and easy way to success, and if it’s in your power to do so, why not? Isn’t that feminism in action? Everyone wins! Just like in Vietnam!

These are just a few ideas to get you going, and there’s obviously more out there if you just use your imagination for your girlfriend, because it’s clear she isn’t! Teach her that the Patriarchy is still going strong, and so is your relationship with these thoughtful gifts.

image
Advertisements

Monologue Jokes for 11.22.17

FCC’s Ajit Pai: Ending Net Neutrality Puts Experts Back in Charge. Pai then began rubbing his hands together and was heard muttering: “they don’t suspect a thing…”

President Donald Trump on Tuesday appeared to discount allegations of sexual misconduct by GOP Alabama Senate candidate Roy Moore — repeatedly saying the former judge “totally denies it — you have to listen to him also.” When asked about the 16 allegations against himself, Trump screamed “SMOKE BOMB” and ran away.

President Trump has picked a ghost hunter to be a federal judge. According to Trump, the appointment is to focus on seeking out and capturing all spooks in the general vicinity.

‘I Don’t Believe in Science,’ Says Flat-Earther Set To Launch Himself In Own Rocket. Unsurprisingly, the irony of using science to build a rocket to disprove belief in science is lost.

President Trump’s recent support of embattled Alabama Republican Senate candidate Roy Moore, who has been accused by multiple women of improper sexual conduct when they were teenagers, said he “sees himself in Moore.” That’s funny because Roy Moore sees himself inside of children.

EASIER WAYS TO MAKE PEOPLE LIKE YOU BESIDES DOING COMEDY

Making
people laugh feels really good, and everyone likes to have funny people around.
But comedy is so hard. And let’s face
it: you’re more of a “sit there and look pretty” kinda gal at heart, right? So
why even bother trying to be funny when you can just bank on other things to
make friends? I’ve got some suggestions for things you can do to get people to
like you that are so much easier than doing comedy. 

Focus on your looks
Smile more: People don’t like it when you look like a raging
bitch with PMS. Fake tits are becoming less expensive and more socially
acceptable. Have you considered invasive surgery to correct God’s mistakes? And
your recycled one-liners are flatter than your ass. Have you thought about the
Stair-Master to beef up your buns? At least we’d have something nice to look at
while we ignore your jokes. I mean, you really should pick between hot and
smart, and clearly you don’t have a whole lot of depth on the subjects you
claim you’re interested in, so why not just pick hot? And silent.

Stop being opinionated and argumentative
No, everything isn’t terrible, you’re fine! Why don’t you
just take my word for it? While we’re here: maybe stop crying and do a little
more work on making other people feel OK around you. I’m getting a little
bitter how easily you’re coasting through life! If I hear you say something
about “The Patriarchy” one more time, I swear to God… it isn’t funny! You
just sound like an ungrateful, bitter bitch. No one wants that around. You know
what we do want around? Someone who
smiles more. 

Play video games
Dudes LOVE a laid-back chick who can game with them for 10
hours on the weekend. Just ignore those misogynistic jokes everyone else gets
to repeat for hours on-end about how much of a stereotype you are playing a
healer and how you can’t aim. Turn the other cheek, sweetie. That’s agreeable.
Oh, but hold on. You don’t get to
make jokes back: it’s not funny when you
make sexist jokes– it’s just plain mean and ruins team morale. Focus on aiming
better. 

Stop pretending
Clearly, you don’t know any joke structure which means you don’t like comedy. My extensive studying of comedy tells me that, otherwise I’d be laughing more and you’d be trying more.

I
mean, if you really liked comedy, why aren’t you taking writing and improv classes? Hmmm? Why don’t you just get into cosplay? You’re hot. Man, I wish I could take off my clothes and get paid. You girls have it easy!

Womanly activities are more agreeable
Why not get into baking and cooking? Everyone likes a chick
who can cook! Why not do that? You obviously put more effort into making dinner
than you do making jokes. On second thought: cooking takes up too much time.
Why not just curate a Pintrest board of great brunch places you can take your
friends to? But for the love of God: DO NOT start in on the half-baked attempts
at social commentary and “hipster” jokes you’re trying to work on. No one likes
a Debbie Downer. Shut up and drink your $16 grapefruit mimosa.

image
Image

Ode to a Metaphor: This Basil Plant is My Life 

Fragrant, verdant, lush, and admittedly infested with fruit-flies, this basil plant brought with it joy and hope from the moment I brought it home: sitting on the windowsill soaking up the golden rays of the afternoon sun with its chlorophyll receptors, it was a symbol of prosperity and contentment. How many happy hours spent tending its needs, hoping the bare minimum of water and sunlight were the only things required for it to flourish! How many dreams of delicious pesto! How many covetous, wasted hours holding onto those ambrosia leaves yearning for an ever-increasingly higher yield, hoarding something so temporary as a fucking store-bought basil plant! Ah, delicious, delicious basil…

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Et tu, Brute? How quickly the mighty fall, et-cetera and so forth.

In a short span of time and severe lack of accountability and not paying attention to things I really should have, the basil plant withered and died. Gone was the Life from its happy disposition, and in its wake, Death’s brown hands crept along it’s stalks and stems, stealing life and replacing it with putrefaction. Innocent white buds so full of hope died and blackened atop their lofty perches. Stiff and rigid with Death, the leaves no longer thickly jostled and tickled the senses, but whispered haunted memories of life and promises banished from existence and dashed to the floor.

Grief-stricken and not more than a little aware that this plant was made manifest of mistakes and regrets, my failures and my inability to do anything fucking right, my ineptitude and unworthiness, harried by neglect, abuse and self-loathing and thoughts of “why me?”, I placed the basil outside to deal with it later.

Ah, Metaphor! Alack!

Anguish overtook me and I retreated to my bed to hide from the world, to bury my mistakes and despair and scream into tear absorbing blankets. Possibilities and promises as yet unfulfilled haunted me in my waking moments and in my dreams: if only I had been more diligent, more self-aware. If only I had appreciated what it was that I had, in the moment, and not taken it for granted like I promised I wouldn’t… if only… 

Days passed as uneventfully as days do when grief overtakes you. One morning after a freak thunderstorm electrified the night, Life called to me and roused me from my bedridden state. I opened the back door which was previously heretofore closed not only on the basil plant-cum-failings as a human being, but on all Life itself, and… lo! A stem had re-discovered the green swirling beneath the decay! Life had miraculously found a way to overcome Death! Beyond all logic and reason! Flaunting laws of biology and physics and even some planes of metaphysics! Life had returned, and all was not as it seemed! All was not lost! Hope returned! Time was all that was needed to breathe Life into something gone and neglected and abused and sad. Time was where I went astray, and ironically it was all that was required to rejuvenate failed dreams, the only salve the plant and I needed. There, all along. Time!

Metaphor! Can I never escape you? Are you to be my constant companion?

My life is this basil plant. This basil plant is my life.

Also, gotta be real honest… could have done without all this grief and pain to get the lesson, Universe. Thanks. Fuck you, too. Asshole. And now I have a shrink to go with my basil plant. Great.