You cannot be what you cannot see. There aren't enough female humor writers, and there aren't enough sites that highlight the ones that do exist.
Girls are funny. Women are funny. Babies can be funny-looking.
An assortment of new, old, and aggregated humor and satire essays from around the web. (And some of my own.)
If you pee your pants, I did my job, or you should call Kris Jenner.
Taking submissions & suggestions.
{Curated by Meredith Fineman}
Dear Guys Who Kicked the Soccer Ball Over the Fence and Asked Me to Toss It Back to Them, Thus Scarring Me For Life,
I’d like to talk to you about the two minutes of sheer humiliation you subjected me to last night. Let me first refresh your memory: You, a group of fit, young men, were playing soccer on the AstroTurf field across from my apartment building. I, a better-than-average looking young woman (most of me was hidden under various unbecoming winter garments, so you’re just going to have to trust me on that one), was walking along the sidewalk with my groceries, whining silently to myself about the pain the half-gallon of milk was causing my non-existent arm muscles. That’s when your ball came flying over the fence and landed in front of me.
One of you approached and asked politely if I would toss the ball back to you. Fighting the urge to drop my bags and run screaming down the street, I reluctantly agreed.
Before I continue, let me shed light on something that I didn’t have a chance to mention last night: I hate sports. More specifically, I hate sports involving balls (don’t get fresh). Baseball, soccer, ping-pong, Quidditch, whatever; if there’s a ball involved, I want no part of it. This stems from my lack of natural ability when it comes to throwing, catching and hitting. I’m bad at aiming too, and also general hand-eye coordination. So you can understand why I’d be nervous at what I’m sure seemed to you like a laughably simple request.
