warning: unappetizing weekend dinner/brunch chit-chat ahead:

What is it about the ladies' room at the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library that makes it consistently quite possibly the worst-smelling ladies' room I've ever visited?

Is it just that right combination of dirty diapers and incontinent toddlers and visits by people who lost their sense of smell (and memory of when they last changed their underwear) decades and decades ago?

I mean, we all know what poo smells like, and we all know what a bathroom not cleaned in recent memory smells like (you know, that sort of bachelor's urinal smell) -- but this is its own thing altogether, and I have to hold my breath the whole time I'm in there to keep from losing my lunch (and thus adding to the aroma).

Gotta love these ads!

Am I allowed to say that?

I don't know; I just suddenly feel like a smooth-skinned, cheating married hussy looking for action!

Especially from rich men looking for somewhere to donate their money!

Too Good Not To Share.

I realized that I was selfish to keep such beauty from the rest of the world. Our private Cuntface McBitchfuck is brilliant. It is occupying so much of my time that I'm barely able to work or save the world with my "real" blog.

After recognizing how special our women-only bitch parade has become, I thought it might be interesting to see what would happen if we made a modified public space and allowed outsiders to view our magical, wondrous world.

You won't get to see all of us, but you can see some. And, if we don't like you, we'll go talk about you in our secret space.