Playing the necessary game, I’ll begin with stating that I am a young person who identifies as male, and recently, I was required to buy PlanB for my partner of almost-a-year. I don’t want to give credence to the stereotypical snickers from the pharmacist, which in my state, I might have projected. Rather, I want to bitch about the stale patriarchal reality that is woman’s products. Mediating the officialized space between myself and the white-coated pharmacists, a space between error and exoneration, which is ultimately bridged by a payment of $50, I asked for the infamous two pills. After the transaction, I shook the box, understanding from the delayed rattle that the two little pills sit somewhere within a box much too large for the sole purpose of housing the pills; or, of providing enough space for what we might consider to be the bible – pun intended – that is the intake instructions. No, in fact, one gets the (Roland) Barthesian idea that if we see PlanB for how it really is, the box and the little pills almost give the impression of conception itself: a womb pregnant with its minuscule seed, conspicuous in size like a rounded belly. Insemination…no, SEX, in all of its deviations, what is most private, must be made obvious in a culture that maintains anachronistic and tired beliefs regarding the equivocal relationship between “life” and promiscuity. "Men should be fertile and virile – woman should control their hormones and fertility". Our sexual and gender theory revolution stops somewhere along aisle 3, where pregnancy tests that are $60 can be found like the diamond in the multicoloured rough that is the cosmetics and hair domain. Pregnancy-shaming is a disgrace that needs to be deconstructed. In light of recent news, what I’m really trying to say is: fuck Texas. —Concerned condom-less hypocrite.

Huge shoutout to the douche who backed out of his parking spot and narrowly missed hitting me on my bike (because I was paying attention and swerved to avoid being hit). Thanks also for then screaming out your window at me that "bikes have to stop at stop signs too". Props dude, except that I absolutely did! So thanks to you, dickwad, for getting my day started on a shitty note. —Alert Biker

Equals morally bankrupt men who cheat on their beautiful wives and girlfriends. Ass players that verbally abuse and do hideous things like berate and confine their partners to a bathroom, scream, abuse and manipulate. Be careful when you cheers and do not lower the ale you drink. I am so glad I got away. —Whistle blower

I'm getting married next Spring and after working out my budget, I realized I could only afford to have the maid of honor and four bridesmaids in the wedding. This works because my fiance also has four good buddies and one bestest buddy, so things match up. The major dilemma with me was, I had six good friends, not just five, so it was one of the toughest decisions I had to make in deciding which friend I unfortunately had to leave out of the ceremony. I chose you because I'd been friends with you the shortest amount of time. My maid of honor is my sister, one of my bridesmaids is a close cousin, one is a friend since childhood, and the other two are friends going back to highschool. I felt sick to my stomach when you arrived to my place after I'd invited you over to break the news to you, since I knew you assumed you'd be in my wedding. And I felt worse when I could see you fighting back tears. You freaked on me! You argued that I should've left out someone else and, although you agreed with the sister and cousin being a part of it, one of the other three friends should have been out because you were there for me in the last four years more than all of them combined. Yes, you've been an awesome friend, and yes there have been times you were there for me when the others bailed. But they're still awesome too, and you forget that I have a huge history with them. You've been my friend for only four years, THEY'VE been in my life for 12 and 21 years! OK, for a while there circa 2010-2012, I drifted from them a bit, while you were around every weekend. But while you were out west for work for 18 months, it's been like old times with my other besties. You and I drifted and I only heard from you once a week while you were away. When you moved back, it wasn't the same anymore. After I explained everything in the previous paragraph to you, you go into full-blown insults! "Probably don't want a bridesmaid that would look better than you, that's why I'm out, you're picking the others cause they're fucking heffers!" was what you told me. Then you told me to go fuck myself and that you hope I find out right on the wedding day that my fiance was cheating on me or he backs out at the last minute, and if that doesn't happen I go through a nice pricey divorce! You stormed out of my home, telling me you're not even going to the wedding! You, honey, made me that much happier with my decision! You weren't really genuine after all, because who says shit like that to her friend?! Even if this had happened to me, I'd be unhappy but I would never say such hurtful comments. Bitch, YOU can go fuck YOURself while I go marry my man and live the rest of my life with him and my girls! —Bride to be who made the right decision

Bus drivers need to pay attention to the road to get us all to our destinations safely. Those of you who can't resist standing beside the driver, distracting him/her with your idle prattle are putting the rest of us at risk. If there is no where to sit, then just SHUT UP and stand. When a seat becomes available, SIT DOWN, don't just keep yakking and obstructing the entrance/exit. If you are a bus driver, please do your socializing on your own time. —Fed up Passenger

Dafuq is up with the Monopoly pieces?!?!?!? Since opening in SS, the line barely ever ends so I don't need the whole spiel about how it's "shit food" and all that. I get it, I do. But people eat there... a LOT of people... so spare me. What I don't get ... if I decide I want milk instead of coffee or pop - you know, the slightly healthier alternative - I don't get the fucking monopoly pieces to potentially win more shit food/prizes. What they, as a billion dollar, global mega-corp, should be doing is put the fucking pieces ON THE HEALTHIER ALTERNATIVES instead of reinforcing people to eat the shittiest of the shit food. Put them on the apple slices/yogurts/milk.. try doing something positive for a god damn change. —I told you it was horrible right from the start.

For the destruction of two young trees and the ongoing uglification of our city, the asshole drunks yelling and smashing their way up Coburg Rd. on Thursday night. —Eric

I moved in because I loved you. I wanted to help you in any way I could. You show your "appreciation" and "love" towards me with lies, cheating, and daily humiliation. I didnt deserve to be treated like that. You're a hypocrite and you don't realize it. I won't be there when you get back from your trip, btw. —your miserable embarrasment

but apparently smoking is permissible. After smokers have the right to trigger asthma attacks, right? Shame on Capital Health for refusing to enforce their own rules. It's too bad the walking public has to walk through clouds of smoke when trying to enter the building. And forget about using a bus shelter on Summer Street. Those are the property of the QEII staff for smoking lounges. —ferretgurl

I woke at 3 a.m. this morning with insane heartburn from the large cheese pizza I ate for supper. I stumbled out of bed, threw on my white cashmere coat and walked to the 24-hour garage for some heartburn relief. On my walk back home, walking past an elementary school, a black pick-up truck pulled into the school and lingered there as I passed. I walk past and ignore. You proceed to pull out of the school parking lot and crawl along the street, staring out of your open driver’s side window into my eyeballs like I got candy for you. “MOVE IT ALONG, ASSHOLE,” I warned loudly and you gunned your engine and sped off down the street. Smart choice. I guess you were looking for someone a little weaker, a little less brazen, strong, confident to attack and intimidate. This is not the first time a man has tried to intimidate me. It seems, every time I leave the house, I have men ogling me, yelling shit out their car windows, trying to intimidate the “weaker” sex.  Well I am not as weak as I may appear, bitch. I am a trained kickboxer. You better run, bitch. I am a woman—a person in this society—who has every right to be on the street as your pathetic, sorry ass. Ladies, start taking pictures of these assholes and their license plates. There's no need of living in fear in your own damn town. —Fly the fuck outta my face, punk!