When I am frustrated with something, I often shake my tiny fist at it, in defiance and rage. I think this started in grad school, and I’m pretty sure “I shake my tiny fist at you!” got pulled out over statistics problem sets. (Graduate-level statistics: bleah.) My awesome friend L thought that my phrase was funny, and one day, she got me my very own tiny fist to shake at the world. Behold its glory, below.
Purple power! Ready to shake:
It also happens to be purple, which is a fantastic color. As you can see, I keep it handy [see what I did there?] on my desk, perched on the end of a pencil, for when I might need it.
#2 asks: Do you shake it at the patriarchy?
YES. YES I DO. The patriarchy is only one of many things at which I shake this awesome fist.
Grumpeteers, what (or whom) do you shake your tiny fist at?