MUSINGS OF A POSTMENOPAUSAL FEMALE

Or, Why Our Menses Scare the Mens

I am a 55-year-old postmenopausal female with cats, so according to JD “Vladimir Futon” Vance, all I’m good for is babysitting m’grandbabies while carving those shrunken head dolls made from apples so my adult children can go out and earn money in the workforce where I’m no longer needed.

How can we possibly contribute to society once we no longer have an active menstrual cycle? Why not just sew up our vaginas, since there aren’t any more babies coming out of them? What’s the point of our existence once the Fertile Years are behind us? *dramatically puts back of hand to forehead*

The way Jerkface Douchebag sees things, it’s amazing that I’m even able to sit here upright at my desk to write this, because once Aunt Flo flew the coop, I immediately became a wizened old spinster so dried up and useless that my spine can’t support me.

Oh wait, that’s actually Donald Trump, my bad.

Someone should do a welfare check on Sad Usha Vance, who had no idea what she was getting into when she agreed to marry the closeted couch diddler.

This image is saved on my laptop as “Sad Usha.” It’s the equivalent of the Job meme from Arrested Development.

Anyways, what Juvenile Delinquent Vance doesn’t know about women could fill the Grand Canyon ten times over. It’s honestly a wonder he’s managed to father three actual children when he has no clue as to how women’s bodies function.

Also because he’s a great big closeted gay like so many other great big closeted gays in the GOP. Yay repression of normal healthy biological feelings, that never eventually comes out in the worst ways. Vance thought he was gay when he was young and his grandmother shamed him right back into the closet. Maybe if he’d had a loving support system, he wouldn’t be owned by Peter PayPal Thiel today, I don’t know. *facepalm*

Piling on “JV” Vance keeps getting easier as we find out more weird things about him, like he dressed in drag when he was in law school. You know, as one does before running for office on a platform of hate.

I’m oddly fascinated by all of the sartorial choices here. It’s giving Mid-90s Hot Topic Mallrat At An Avril Lavigne Concert, but with chin pubes and terrible eyeliner. Miss Vance took that wig right out of the bag without even trying to style it, that’s how tentative a toe she was taking outside the closet.

Then it was right back to the fainting couch for Olivia Futon-John. Or Miranda Ottoman. Or Di’Van Joyless Randolph. Or Settee White.

Yeah, I did.

Look at how many people didn’t show up to hear Juggalo Doofus perform his time-share sales pitch while Flappy Gums McSundown held a “rally” in North Carolina in the tiniest venue they could find because they couldn’t afford “the big room.” And they had to pay $82K in advance because the Trump campaign never pays their bills. I’m pretty sure there were more people at my high school’s production of “Godspell” in 1987, but we didn’t do petty shit back then like worry about crowd size.

You know, if my postmenopausal memory serves.

Tim Walz is going to crush Janky Dickcheese so hard at their debate on October 1st that there won’t be anything left but a puddle of eyeliner.

Something else that’s getting worse (besides the tumbleweeds in my uterus) is Trump’s campaign staff, who are just not apologizing to either Willie Brown or Nate Holden. He’s also bringing back the same losers who helped him lose before, like Corey “I Did It With Kristi Noem” Lewandowski and Tim “It’s Fine to Bully Women On Twitter” Murtaugh.

It’s 2016 all over again, y’all. Be ready for it and make sure you haven’t been unregistered to vote by the pricks conspiring against Democrats.

In better news, someone who is a very famous postmenopausal female and has a big following (but is obviously not Taylor Swift) has asked me to send her a copy of my rock and roll love story The Sound Of Settling! Even one tweet from her boosting my book could be the game-changer I’ve been waiting for, so now would be a great time for you to get your own copy if you haven’t already.

Speaking of my meta-fanfic, the inspo himself is in my city tomorrow. I don’t have backstage passes and I don't even know that many people on the Foo Fighters crew anymore, but I still want to go to the show and give the tour manager a copy of The Sound Of Settling because he reads books, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that.

What I do know is that my life is absurd. I ordered an ergonomic neck pillow from Amazon and I hated it. Instead of returning it to Whole Foods, where you can return things to Amazon, I had to take it to the UPS Store. The closest one to me is downtown, so I decided to take care of it yesterday, which was Wednesday. As I walked down SW Harvey Milk and crossed Broadway, I saw a tour bus and thought, “Nah, can’t be the Foos because they’re not here til Friday.”

Here’s when I personalize the Universe and believe it enjoys fucking with me. The pillow had to give me a headache so I’d return it. The return location had to be right by the hotel where Foo Fighters always stay in Portland. The crew buses had to be pulling up right as I turned the corner. Because Tara Life, y’all!

Who knows what’ll happen tomorrow?

@taradublinrocksWelcome to #Portland #FooFighters! Hope to see you on Friday 🖤 @Foo Fighters

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