I tried Foria suppositories a couple of months ago and they worked pretty well, but... they are expensive enough to make me hesitant about using them for 1-3 days every month, the directions for insertion are more logistically awkward than inserting a tampon, inserting one initially made my cramps more painful in the same way that tampons do, and I think a combination of weed edibles, weed topicals, and smoking weed might be more effective. (I have gotten surprisingly effective relief from using a cannabis infused salve externally.)

Ha, same.

I did the exact same thing with my first AOL name and ended up as GrinCP.

GrinCP → WildHoneyPie → metoometoo → CaitlinPodiak

I am for real, but that's the whole story!

My dad once helped Eartha Kitt move apartments, and she gave him an old table, which became our kitchen table that I grew up scribbling on with crayons, and...well, it is a fairly large and very sturdy table, is all I'm saying.

Men have been projecting all their ish onto women forever, so I think a little turnabout is fair play.

Me too, and that was at least 12 years ago because I was in high school at the time. I think it was from a "Would You Rather" card game?

It's strange that people suspect women of conspiring to falsely accuse men of rape. If we're going to conspire against men, I'd be more inclined toward murder than false accusations.

I don't say that I was raped, because I don't think he succeeded in penetrating my vagina, but I don't know that for sure because I was blackout drunk, having prepared and consumed a Nalgene of Sex on the Beach, of my own volition. I drank it in a lacrosse player's dorm room, in the basement of my freshman dorm, which was commonly referred to as "the Dungeon." It was my first month at college, and I had a crush on a boy, and he had a crush on me, and we were both very drunk when his friend decided to turn what would have been a consensual hookup into a nonconsensual threesome. I remember him asking if they could "Eiffel Tower" me, and I remember laughing and saying, "I don't know what that means, but no!" I don't remember much after that, except a vague impression of myself flopping into a ball on a dirty futon while they both tried to maneuver me into position. I woke up the next morning in my own bed, sensing that something bad had happened, but not sure exactly what. Almost immediately, I started hearing gossip about myself. "Some drunk freshman had a threesome with two lacrosse players in the Dungeon." I had to Google "Eiffel Tower" and confront the first boy, the one I'd had a crush on, to piece together what had happened to me. And it was confusing because he was sorry, and he still liked me, and I didn't know how much to blame him. Looking back, I see him more as a victim than a perpetrator. I went to my Commons Dean to try to get the other boy moved to a different dorm, but after the dean accidentally left a detailed message on the dorm phone of a different Caitlin who lived on my hall, I was too embarrassed to follow up any further. Lucky for me, he got himself expelled later that year, for cheating or plagiarism, I think.

I don't harbor any murderous impulses toward that boy, but having read this, I really do feel like killing "Christopher."

This is a public service announcement for short girls: I am 5'2" and I look consistently fabulous in maxi dresses. They are easy and comfortable and flattering and totally do not make me look like I was swallowed up by a bolt of fabric, and I own several that I can wear with flats without having had them hemmed. There's no need to avoid maxi dresses just because you're short, I promise!