[cranky] cranky #fuck card

For the fun of all who love the word fuck, here is the new "cranky fuck card."

Share your favorite fucks with us by using #crankyfuckcard whenever you post your handiwork! 

Cards are printed on 110 lb recycled matte stock paper.

[feminist] review: #Orgasm, Inc

No one truly knows where Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD) comes from, as a medical term and disease. The pharmaceutical industry (the third largest industry in the United States) is promoting FSD as a disease with a potential monetary and medical fix. Drug companies are in a race to be the first company to be FDA approved for their magic libido-boosting drug. Everything in our capitalist world can be commodified, even your orgasms. Because “orgasms should happen and feel this one particular way… therefore your way is wrong.” So we’re going to help you have the perfect orgasm, if you can fork over the money.

Why are we so gullible? The vast majority of Americans did not receive proper sex ed in school. The joke “if you have sex, you will get pregnant, and you will die” is unfortunately not really a joke. Many of us learned that “lesson” in school instead of facts. If we can’t learn about our reproductive anatomy, and the purpose of our anatomy, then we are doomed to learn about sex and sexuality from society-- our parents, our friends, the tv, the horrible things anyone can find online…

[cranky] dear ex, I feel like damaged goods

Dear LD,
I'm trying to forget you. I'm trying not to be childish. I'm trying to move forward. To move on.

You told me you loved me, and that I had re-awoken you to the world. You provided the sincerest illusion of true lasting love, friendship, and companionship.

Looking back, I never told you my secrets, and I never fully opened up to you. Perhaps I thought I had years to do that. Perhaps I was afraid that you'd comment using your judgemental tone of voice. That same judgemental and condescending tone of voice you've used every time you've spoken to me since you dumped me.

And yes, you dumped me. It was no mutual split. Your best friend even agrees to that. "Nothing lasts forever so it might as well end now" is the most truthful excuse you've given me since you sent that text message calling it off.

Clearly we cannot be friends. You look down on me and talk down to me. I am unworthy because I work freelance while looking for salaried work. You made pizzas for the man until you were 40 and decided you should grow up. But I'm unworthy.

The last few times we've run into each other you look right through me. I suppose it's better than you trying to give me unwanted life advice. Still, I'm desperate for your friendship. But when I've tried to reach out as a friend, you claim I'm booty calling you. Don't worry, you said you never wanted to sleep with me again. I'm not going to booty call the only man who's ever told me that.

I don't know why it took me three months to finally lose my shit, sobbing in a heap of snot next to my dirty laundry, punching the floor. I finally needed you to be there holding me, only to realize that I was truly completely alone, that you were never going to be standing in my bedroom again. I was a shrieking terrifying mess, finally.

And I hate you for it.

I don't know how to forgive, forget, move on, be friends. Part of my heart is scarred and dead, and you did that. It will be years before I can trust a man and love him, because I know he could be capable of running away tomorrow. If you, of all people, could run away and not look back then anyone could. And I'm not sure my heart can take that again.