I'm almost a dude.

Things I don't know how to do, which should apparently be instinctive because

I have a vagina:

1. Curl my hair. I can't do it, I don't know why I would do it, and I don't have any desire to learn how to do it. Me + Hot objects + Prolonged exposure to flammable material (like HAIR) = Greek fucking tragedy. I'm not positive, but I'm reasonably sure that my head would go up like a Tiki torch and this little carnival of horrors could only end in tears.

2. Shop for shoes. Why in the hell are we supposed to need so MANY of them...?

3. Bake. I'm not even kidding- I'm absolutely, stone-cold terrified of flour. I mean, I don't think it's going to hurt me (necessarily) but I'm not about to take my chances. It's a texture thing, and if you try to make me touch it I'll make you wish for death, I swear to god.

4. Sell or buy JUNK. Don't invite me to your Avon parties, don't try to sell me wicker fucking baskets. Don't bring your catalogs of cheap and worthless crap anywhere near me, or I'll use my flaming mane to ignite it. Fuck away off with that stuff. I have no use for lotion that costs $67.40 and uses goat placenta to burn my skin off, or nesting baskets that can tuck right under my couch. That's where my dog squeezes her big ass, you think I need her under there where I can't reach her, chewing up a hundred bucks worth of ugly ass baskets? I don't care if they wash my socks for me, I don't want them and they aren't worth it, so SHUT UP.

5. Laugh delicately. I sound like a trucker when I laugh. Don't judge me.