HERE'S ANOTHER ONE FOR YA, GALS!!

ya gotta love it!!!



"Why WomenCan Be Crabby":

"We start to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find anything
that comes in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurts so bad it
brings us to tears. Enter the almighty, uncomfortable training bra
contraption the boys in school will snap until we have calluses on our
backs.

Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with
those budding boobs, we now bloat, we cramp, we get the hormone crankies,
have to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed
cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.

Our next little rite of passage (premarital or not) is having sex for the
first time which is about as much fun as having a ramrod
push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up
with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the
fuss was about.

Then it's off to Motherhood where we learn to live on dry crackers and water
for a few months so we don't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John.
Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learn to live
with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night
and day making us wonder if we're having Rosemary's Baby.

Our once flat bellies now look like we swallowed a watermelon whole and we
pee our pants every time we sneeze. When the big moment arrives, the dam in
our blessed Nether Regions will invariably burst right in the middle of the
mall and we'll waddle with our big cartoon feet moaning in pain all the way
to the ER.

Then it's huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop
screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. Just one more (or 10) good
push," warranting a strong, well deserved impulse to punch the $%*@#* (and
hubby) square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling,mushroom-headed 10lb
bowling ball through a keyhole.

After that, it's time to raise those angels only to find that when all that
"cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morph into
walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop
machines.

The teen years. Need I say more?

The kids are almost grown now and we women hit our voracious sexual prime in
our early 40's while hubby had his somewhere around his18th birthday.

Now we hit the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all
womanhood. It's either take the HR. and chance cancer in those now seasoned
"buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July,
wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that
moves.

Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men when men get off so
easy INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods
without soaking their socks...

Now I love being a woman but "Womanhood" would make the Great Ghandi a tad crabby. Women are the "weaker sex"?

Yeah right. Bite me".

Waaay too funny, IMO! Have a great Tuesday everone, and sorry to the males who may have read this and got TMI ~ hope you'll still come back, I'd miss you guys!

PEACE!
Love Jude