Wednesday, June 24, 2009

My First Political Blog

For those of you who have been following my blog, I am sure you have learned by now that I don’t deal with political issues. But when I learned about how the federal government is spending over $400,000 to find out why men don’t like to wear condoms, I just had to put in my two cents worth.

When I first heard about this, the image that came to mind was Homer Simpson smacking himself on the head and saying, “DOH!” Not only is the government going to spend over $400,000 on the study, it is going to be a “two-year” study. Two years? I can answer that question myself in less than two minutes.

Hmmm, let’s see…why don’t men like to wear condoms? Oh! Oh! I know! I know! Well, there are a few reasons. I think the most obvious is because condoms reduce a man’s sensation. For men, wearing a condom would be like a mother holding her baby while wearing latex gloves. Yes, you can still feel the baby in your hands, you can even feel the warmth of its skin if you hold it long enough, but the sensation of what you feel is nowhere near what you feel without the gloves.

Another reason men don’t like to wear condoms is because of the awkwardness of having to stop and put one on. And then there’s the task of actually getting the condom on the right way so that it stays on. Yes, they do pop off from time to time. Someone reading this may even be the product of a condom that popped off many years ago.

The fact that I don't have a penis but I still know the answer to why men don’t like to wear condoms just goes to show what a no-brainer the question really is. It’s like asking, “Do bears shit in the woods?”

I have a question the government can spend money on to find the answer to—why do we spend so much time and money on finding ways to improve a man's sex life? Are we trying to prove that men really do go blind after blowing a certain number of wads? Maybe the government should take a different approach and use the money to find a way to get men to keep it in their pants more often than they do. I can think of a few government officials that would make perfect candidates for the study.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Happy People

I’m sure you’ve seen them. Hell, you might even be one. Always friendly. Always smiling or laughing, with that peppy voice that always raises a couple octaves when asking, “How are you today?” Yep, they’re “happy” people!

I’m convinced that it’s these same “happy” people who get hired to name paint. Have you seen some of those names? Misty Moon, Dream Catcher, Soulful Music—what the hell color is that anyway? For once, I would love to come across a brand of paint that is named after real life. Something like Menstrual Period Red, Booger Green, and Scabby Brown. All you have to do is hear the name of it and you know exactly what color it is.

What exactly is it that “happy” people are so happy about anyway? Are they what happens when circus people breed, or did they just discover some secret that they aren’t telling the rest of us? Are they always happy or do they secretly go home and kick the dog?

With as much as “happy” people annoy me, there have been times when I have wished I could be more like them. They sure look like they are enjoying life, so positive and cheerful all the time, with just a hint of cluelessness when it comes to what is really going on in the world around them. But usually all it takes is for me to get waited on by some “happy” waitress at a restaurant, and soon I am liking myself again just fine.

Last week, after my daughter’s graduation from middle school, my husband and I took her out to breakfast at our favorite local diner. Of course, we had to get waited on by the one “happy” waitress in the place. By the time she got done taking our order, I wanted to stab my fork into my ear. It wasn’t so much the constant smile she had plastered across her face, but more the way she talked to us. She was like a kindergarten teacher on steroids. She made me realize why babies get that wide-eyed look on their face when we say stuff to them like, “Who's such a cutie petutie? You are, oogie boogie!” Now I understand why babies spit up so much. I wanted to vomit and I hadn’t even eaten yet.

Although most of the “happy” people I have come across are women, I have on occasion seen the male version. My husband would just say, “He’s totally gay!” But I know that gay men don’t act like that. No, gay men have more self respect. The “happy” man is a man who lives in a world all his own. I have found that there are two kinds of “happy” men—the “Mr. Rogers” version, which is the one you know is harmless but you still keep your children away from him, and the “Charles Manson” version, the full-blown psychopath that you can’t believe your friend hired as a clown for their kid’s birthday party.

Yes, “happy” people are indeed a unique breed—similar to what I think a person on both Prozac and speed would be like. Annoying as they may be, I guess they do serve their purpose in the world. I would like to say it’s because they make the world a better place, but I think it’s more because we sometimes need a reminder of why it’s important to make sure the doors are locked before we go to bed at night.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

When God Made Woman

As I was on my way to my local CVS store the other day, I began to think that God must have either been in a foul mood when he created woman or maybe after he made man he realized his second model was going to have to be a lot tougher. I mean, why else would we have ended up with all the crap we have to deal with—periods every month, PMS, pregnancy, childbirth, menopause, as well as the reason for my trip to CVS--yeast infections!

I was 18 years old when I got my first yeast infection. Unfortunately, I did not know anything about yeast infections at that time. And we didn’t have internet back then, so I couldn’t Google “How did the cottage cheese I ate for lunch come out of my vagina?” No, all my questions had to be presented to my closest friends, where I learned that it was either (A) Normal, (B) An incurable venereal disease, or (C) A hole in my intestines and food was actually leaking out of my vagina. With the horrible thought of the possibility of actually having B or C, I went to the doctor and was relieved to find out it was nothing serious, just a little yeast infection.

Since that time, I have learned a lot about yeast infections. For example, regardless of it’s name, the yeast in our vaginas is not something you want to use to make the baked goods for your next fund raiser. The yeast in our vaginas is basically the “good” bacteria in our bodies. And when we have a yeast infection, it is because the balance between the good and bad bacteria in our bodies is out of whack, so the good bacteria overgrows. Yippee for us!

Regardless of what is going on with the yeast in our vaginas, one thing is for sure—it causes the itch from hell! Of course, no matter how much you scratch, the more it itches, and if you scratch enough, it not only itches but also burns like hell. So then you try not to scratch at all, but then find yourself rubbing up against furniture, dry humping the vacuum cleaner, and inventing reasons to visit your neighbor several times during the day so that their big dog can nuzzle your crotch.

Thank goodness we can now buy the medication we need to cure the yeast infection and that burning itch in the store. It sure beats having to go to the doctor to get a prescription like we used to have to do.

The only problem we have now when it comes to buying the medication in the store is all the choices we have. There are so many different brands now and so many different products. As I stood there in the isle at CVS, I was amazed at how much time and money has been spent on marketing by companies. And to think they are all competing for our vaginas. Not only is there the traditional 7-day treatment, but there is also now a 3-day and a 1-day treatment. There are also various types of fancy applicators for the cream. And there’s even a no-mess, egg-shaped capsule that you can insert, which for some reason gave me visions of chickens.

But the most fascinating thing I found on the market for yeast infections is the new screening kit. Basically, it is a kit that will tell you if the stuff coming out of your vagina is due to a yeast infection or something else. I can see the poor girl now, sitting in her bathroom after testing the stuff coming out of her. I imagine it being like a game show where she is hoping the yeast infection is behind door #3, but then she finds out that what’s behind door #3 is something much worse and has to report to her doctor immediately and contact the Center of Disease Control to give them the name of every man she has ever slept with.

Despite my preference for tampons over pads, all those fancy screening kits, 1- and 3-day treatments, and egg-shaped capsules aren’t for me. No, I go with the traditional 7-day messy cream with the simple plastic applicator. It works every time.

If you think about it, men don't have any stuff like this to deal with when it comes to their bodies. So why did we get stuck with all the unpleasantries? Like I said, maybe it was something man did that put God in a foul mood on the day he created us. Or maybe he just realized that in order for mankind to survive, he was going to need a much tougher creature--a woman!