The last time someone referred to me as “delicate,” it wasn’t a compliment. I’d just come out of the field with frostbitten toes, and the specialist I went to surmised that I hadn’t been taking in enough calories in an effort to “appear ladylike in front of the boys.” Continue reading “How to blow the perfect snot rocket”
Old-fashioned notions of womanhood aside, I’m not exactly the poster child for polite behavior. I say whatever’s on my mind, usually—ironically enough—without thinking first. I curse like a sailor. I have trouble determining what constitutes “mixed company.” This leaves me well-qualified to advise you, dear readers, on one of my favorite subjects: the snot rocket.