It started when I first saw Joe Rogan host this amazing new show where folks did stunt double work for prize money.

Jump over some boxes in an old muscle car outfitted with a roll cage. Drop from a helicopter into a body of dark and choppy water. Lay down in a tank of hissin cockroaches all while wearing the best athleisureware the 2000’s had to offer.

And that's kinda when the obsession started.

I saw this one contestant. She was a successful Wall Street businesswoman sitting down at a cloth-draped table that read FEAR FACTOR in the biggest, fastest, and boldest-looking font I'd ever seen! What a powerful-looking setting. She was fierce-faced, hair pulled tight, and eyes with the resolve like Dad’s when he was being pulled away from the buffet line at Pizza Hut—pure determination to get back into the game of whorfing food like livestock.

The cloche lifted and so did my spirits! A pair of bull's testicles. WHAT WERE THOSE GNARLY GNADS DOING!? Glistening with tiny little roadways —all around that made it look like little maps— just an adventure waiting to happen!

Before Mr. Rogan could explain the stakes, she punched those oysters into her goblet, and I was forever changed. This woman had the focus of someone who was about to become medically unforgettable (like me).

That moment rewired my understanding of ambition. The need for raw or boiled organ meats propelled me all the way to my doctoral degree, earning me the right to call myself a Reddit Mod.

Now I have therapy in an hour, and that's not the problem.

My therapist wants to discuss my homework assignment.

I'm supposed to write a letter to my twelve-year-old self, where I'm supposed to forgive myself for, well, speeding running gout through recreational organ consumption.

How am I supposed to explain this without losing the longest relationship I've ever been able to build with another human? How do I convey the need to be a contestant on the show to fulfill a childhood dream? A dream that has given me so much.

It's tearing me apart — kinda like this organless box of pizza from yesterday.

For the hearing impaired: REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Just kidding.

As soon as the toast started talking I smacked it the fuck off my counter. I think my shrooms expired.

Attention, valued diners.

The Girl Dinner Board has crawled out of the basement to address the weekly vibes in the sub. >!(Should we have weekly mod updates?)!<

We gathered at a damp folding table under a leaky ceiling, with flickering lights and something scratching in the walls.

The ambiance remains strong.
The Umbeyoncé persists.

A few notes have drifted down from the fluorescent ceiling panels of the Girl Dinner Boardroom:

*ahem*

• No blog posting. Seriously.
  • This is a space for satire, parody, performance, and questionable levels of jerking. If your post sounds like a diary entry or a lifestyle essay, it'll get deleted and sent straight to the Wendy's drive-thru speaker.
• Learn to /uj or perish in the fog.
  • If you must briefly exit the bit to speak genuinely, mark your transmission with /uj (unjerk) or /gen (genuine) so the civilians know you are no longer under the influence of the jerk. Failure to do so may result in confusion, discourse, or The Board looking at your post silently for several minutes before deleting it.
• Removals aren't personal.
  • If your post disappears, this is not an attack on your soul. It simply means the offering did not align with current Board standards and atmospheric conditions. We encourage everyone to participate, but the post must remain in-character, absurd, curated, and spiritually compatible with the sub's ecosystem. Ask yourself: “Is it a joke?” Yeah? Then it belongs.
  • Please do not respond to removals by sending Mod Mail essays that read like a thousand cursed Yelp reviews. The Board grows tired. The Board hungers. The Board mutes liberally.

The emergency tarp is back in place, but we're already soaked.
The ranch fountain is pumping again.
Proceed accordingly.

Warmest and wettest regards from underneath the folding table,

The Girl Dinner Board™

Let’s all pour one out for the girl dinner soldiers we’ve lost along the way. ✨🌈✨

#SoundOffInTheCommentsIfYou’veLostALovedOneToGirlDinner

We all better not be seeing the same dude. I’m ready to fight a lineup of bitches for my man.

LINDA!! ORDER IS READY AT THE BAR!

Pay it forward, Girl Dinner Style. Plan a meal for another bestie by submitting a Girl Dinner item in the vending machine, HERE.

We still need submissions for the following Rows:

- ROW A — Mild / Food Leaning

- ROW B — Food + Emotional Damage

- ROW C — Behavioral Spiral

- ROW D — Fully Unhinged

Submission format example:

ROW: A

ITEM (required): half a sandwich, a mini pickle chip tower, a cup of cottage cheese, and a package of gummy bears.

—-(the rest is optional) —-

SIDE EFFECT (optional): Overcombered. Suddenly, you realize how much baggage you actually come with.

COST (optional): Electricity is 20 cents a watt, and we are bad at math; a headache, that's what it costs.

MEMORY MESSAGE (optional): Listen to your friends, take a shower, and eat some carbs before you crash.

Now help the family business and help stock the machine.

Be grateful for what the lord has provided you, ladies.

NEVER —and I mean NEVER — ask for more.

My executive function is not in the room with us right now, so let's cook.

Here's a checklist to ensure you're properly shitmaxxing your morning under perceived nuclear threat.

[ X ] - Drink a cold glass of water as soon as you wake up (Kool-Aid is fine).

[ X ] - Watch the dishes in the sink, but don't interact. Focus on a plate, and disassociate.

[ X ] - Remember that hunger hurts the girl, and you need to feed her, and take the meds (whatever those might be. Not on any? Book an appointment, you're due.)

[ X ] - Remind yourself that you're cutting dairy because your ovarian cysts won't let you forget they exist every time you cough.

[ X ] - Aggressively dissociate again, then walk out the door.

[ X ] - Activate the parasympathetic system by blasting music on a Bluetooth-paired speaker and serenade your neighbors with your impressive humming skills.

Hit 3 out of 6? That makes none of us. Congrats, you're a Rat Girl Goddess.

It's a Rat Girl world out there. Make sure you corner your cheese, you maxxacheesta. 🧀💅🏽

She said I need to ask my lawn guy to pick up the grass clippings, but I'm the only one who cuts the grass. My partner is allergic to all the airborne allergens, and I usually do it in an FR worker's jumpsuit. It's just easier to slip on and off while transitioning from inside girlfriend to outside girlfriend (or, I guess, lawn guy?).

I think she's mad that her husband is stuck working in the oilfields for weeks, while raccoons keep rummaging through her trash nightly.

Sure, I have security footage, but I'm not sure how to upload it here. I'm still new to Reddit.

Now you can! 🎟️

We’re building a Girl Dinner Vending Machine Devvit app for the sub and need your help!

Slip in our stickied post and let your creative juices secrete — snail trails welcome. 🐌* *

✨Community submissions will power the Devvit app.🍬

Not about dating. Not about shrooms. Not sex based. Just God.

Can someone assure me it's gonna be alright? God will be there at the end of my life with a flan and a plan.