I frowned at the numbers. “Huh. Well, that’s higher than expected, but I can get those down. I’ll join an aerobics class!”
The doctor blinked. “Ah, no. That’s not how this test works. These results indicate several severe personality disorders. You can’t get rid of those by exercis-”
“You’re right! No time like the present!” I exclaimed, leaping to my feet and flailing my limbs wildly. “One, hy-yah-yah! Two, hy-yah-yah! Come on, doc, count with me! Three, hy-yah-yah!”
He never did give me a lollypop.
My new article about my broken parts is up at The Peach!
“It started when I began vomiting blood. Whatever, no big deal, I was like ninety percent sure that everything was fine. There had been blood in my stomach and now there wasn’t. My body fixed itself! Thanks, body. You are a champ even if you do have weak ankles so you could never rollerblade in the ‘90s like everyone else and you made me walk everywhere like a sucker.”
Read the full article here:
Coming off anti-depressants is sometimes hell
Last night was the launch of an awesome new website for young women called The Peach. No talk of celebrities, diets, or how to find a man here. How refreshing.
I was lucky enough to contribute an article, which you can read at The Peach by clicking the link below. Here’s a little teaser so you can decide if it’s what you’re into:
My Self-Harm Scars Were Photoshopped Out Of My Wedding Pics and it Kinda Made Me Angry
by Bridget Phillips
I got married to my manfriend Amos last year. Wooooo gross – love! I never expected to get married. True story: When I was little, I told my mum that when I grew up I wanted to live in an apartment by myself (presumably with a stable out the back for the ten horsies I planned to own).
When I got engaged, I had no preconceived ideas about what weddings were supposed to be. I’d only been to one and that was hastily arranged due to VISA issues that you needn’t trouble yourself about, The Government. My parents were fantastic enough to never fill my and my sister’s heads with nonsense about “When you get married” and “The perfect day” and all that pressure-causing balderdash. I didn’t know a thing about weddings when I started planning my own, and that was awesome.
Bridget’s note: So, I got my hands on a copy of the manual that certain types of men have been following religiously. Suddenly everything makes a lot more sense. Warning: Some of its language is a bit uncouth.
The Real Man’s Guide To Dealing With Chicks
Written by Real Men for Real Men who aren’t sissy lame faggots
Chicks are mental. Everyone knows that. If you don’t pay for their meal they crack the shits, but if you open the door for them they start throwing their burning bras at you. WTF, right? Pretty much the only thing that women have going for them is their pussys (as long as they keep them shaved because gross, I don’t wanna feel like I’m face-fucking Grizzly Adams while I’m plowing her).
You’d think women would be smart enough to realise that if we want to fuck them, it’s a COMPLIMENT, but apparently the part of a woman’s brain that makes her think Sex In The City is the greatest show ever also fucks with her ability to be logical and rational, whether she’s bleeding out her vag or not. (It’s a rookie mistake to assume that a woman’s being a bitch or psycho because of her rag. That’s pretty much just their natural state.)
To help you, our bro in manhood, gain entrance to the great and awesome pussy, we’ve written some basic dos and don’ts to help you get around chick logic and the weird resistance they put up because they think playing hard to get is cute or something. Women don’t have the same sex drives as men but they have clits and read 50 Shades of Grey so we know they’re not all totally frigid.
For Mike Carver on twitter, who generously donated to my Do It In A Dress fundraising page to help raise money to send women in Sierra Leone to school.
Since he donated over $15, Mike got to request something for me to do in my dress. He requested: Daggy dancing.
I’m not saying this is definitely the coolest video on Youtube, but it’s hands-down the best one featuring me dancing to Die Antwoord in a school dress for charity.
If you’d like to suggest something similarly amazing for me to do, and help give a girl in Africa an education, donate $15 or more here:
Do It In A Dress
I went to an all-girls school and trust me, we know how horrible and mortifying it is to stain your dress during that time of the metaphor for menses. I can’t imagine the embarrassment, shame and dehumanising effects of not having proper feminine hygiene available at all, or the lack of opportunity and equality resulting from not having education opportunities available in the first place.
I only got the chance to be educated properly because of where I was lucky enough to be born. The women of Sierra Leone deserve nothing less. They are more likely, though, to be sexually assaulted than attend high school. Those that do attend school miss up to a full week per month due to lack of access to proper feminine hygiene products.
I’ve signed up to do a 35km walk-a-thon in a school dress on October 20 with my sister Dee and anyone else we recruit between now and then.
If you donate $15 or more, we’ll also take your suggestions for things to Do In A Dress. I’ve already taken ulcer meds, dressed up the dog and posed with a banana in a school dress: I’m sure there’s at least seven more things that we could do. If your suggestion isn’t too lewd or expensive (eg: “Make out on the back on a giant gold dragon”), we’ll do it and post photographic evidences.
Click below to read more about this incredibly worthy cause and/or donate.
Do It In A Dress
Thanks for reading this. It’s way more important than my usual blogs. Y’all are awesome.