Kat George

I am Kat George, Vagina Born. Mother of food babies. WHERE ARE MY BURRITOS?!?! Buy my book here.

Sometimes, When It’s Raining

Sometimes, when it’s raining, I think about you. I think about you all the way over there, with all that ocean and all those years between us. I think about if you’re doing well, what your bedroom looks like, if you enjoy your job. I think about the times when there wasn’t any ocean between us and my time was your time.

The First Time You Fart In Front Of Someone You Like

I am aware that a vast majority of people are both ashamed and embarrassed about farting, even though I’m not. I’m also aware that a vast majority of this vast majority are women, and moreover I am aware that most women only fart perfume and poop rainbows (everyone has to fart and poop OK, some girls just do it prettier).

Why I Pretend I Don’t Like You Like That

I’m pretending that I don’t like you like that, and I bet you don’t even know. Why would you? I’ve put a lot of effort into this charade, and I’m pulling it off with such ease I’ve almost even convinced myself that I don’t like you like that. Sort of like that creepy thing people do when they’re sad and just smile anyway; eventually the smile becomes real, and the forced weirdness just fades away.

That Look Boys Give Girls But Pretend They Don’t

That’s the point where you really know, you really, really know, that you’ll be able to tell everything you need about a man’s feelings from the way he looks at you. It’s when you’ll stop demanding frivolous gestures and “I love you,” because on the rare occasion you notice him looking at you like that, you know it’s all you’ll ever need.

Things I Feel When I Miss You: An Open Letter To My Friends

I remember when we met. We were 6 years old and climbing trees; we were 13 years old and discovering boys; we were 18 years old and starting university, we were 22 years old and falling in love for the first time: whenever, no matter, we were just kids then. We still are, but when we met your eyes were definitely sparkling; I know because that’s what I remember most about meeting you.

In Defense Of Period Sex

And I know, guy, that you don’t get your period (although sometimes you’re as annoyingly moody as if you did), so let me lay it down for you in a way you can understand. See, blood does not spray out of a woman’s vagina in a heavy stream when she’s got her period. Her vagina is not an open tap.

10 Types Of People I Do Not Trust

The woman who wont drive 45 minutes to the only open McDonalds in her town at 5am when her stomach threatens to suicide over an unrequited love affair with a cheeseburger is not to be trusted. Having the willpower to overcome her instincts would make her a formidable opponent in both war and sex games.