Here, fixed that for myself. :D

Heheheee. I had to give you a jab. You're all right. :)

Argh.
My great ally over the last six (can it be that long?) years is that whenever a male colleague has suggested I am suffering from PMS - and yes they have, albeit in jest, to my face - I've explained ad nauseum why I don't get PMS. I've talked them through the whole process of having a contraceptive implant, what it is, what it does and how it regulates the menstrual cycle. And then I've made them feel it in my arm.

To be fair, the men who've been close enough to me to "joke" about these things have taken it quite well. But I know they've thought twice about making those "jokes" to other women afterwards.

Sadly, in the process I found I can be quite scary to men.
Not now of course. Now I just never see them or talk to them.
But back when I had male colleagues and friends I realised after being an easy adolescent I was destined to a hard future as a crazy cat-woman. Getting the cats was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

What has science in "our century" shown? That a wild, roller-coaster fluctuation of hormones has NO EFFECT on a person's behavior? Or, that political correctness has trained us that certain things are "wrong" to say?

Or that maybe it's not a catch-all response and therefore denigrates the reaction of the person in question.

What if the catch-all for men was, "Oops, couldn't get it up last night then?"
For some men it might be true.
But for many it would be a way of invalidating their anger and frustration in a given situation.

That's deep SG. For a while, I feared that I had inadvertently turned this from a thread about Starbucks into one about periods. :eek:

I used to do it to show men that what they think is an off-the-cuff comment can actually be quite insulting (like calling people half-caste).

Most of them took it really well.
The others called me a fucking dyke, then impregnated me and chained me to the sink.

Okay, one of the above is untrue and completely unfair.

REEEOWR! Somebody needs to get their bagel buttered!

Flint, you are cracking me up today.

It's true!
Although it's not my hormones, it's the fact I am not sexually satisfied.

£300 would get me back to Amsterdam in October.
And a decent piece of American medicine, none of that foreign rubbish.

I'll ask UT for an additional tips jar.
"Will post for charnge!"

It's how you know she likes you.

/voice of considerable experience/

What we need is a barrista like this guy to put miss smarty pants in her place.

Oh that's the best! I'd forgotten how good that scene is. I love Casey Affleck at the end, too.

[Will]How ya like them apples?[/Will]