Healthy Check
There's no smoker who hasn't lit their last cigarette in a dark alley only to find it was the wrong way round. Menthol smokers do it regularly. Me included. (Mum - if you've strayed here by mistake, I'm using literary licence - there was just that one time when I was trying to impress Nick Denton...).
It's annoying, especially if it's your last cigarette and all the shops on Wandsworth Heath are shut. Should that ever happen to you and You happen to be on Wandsworth Heath, an old tramp that frequents the third bench from the second Horse Chestnut on the right will sell a Woodbine for 10p, least he did in 1987 when it last happened to me there ( Mum- LL). The other alternative is to take a sharp knife to the cauterised tip of the offending cigarette, thus shortening the end of what will inevitably shorten your life.
What isn't so easy to overcome is this.(Boys - go look at porn, War Games, Second Life, Sister Wendy Beckett, whatever floats your boat. There's nothing more for you here).
Girls - It's mid-flow. You've been griping like a teether all afternoon. You've snapped at everyone, not always justifiably. You've done all their job's, whether you needed to or not, better than they would ever have done and introduced a new record system. You've survived the ravages of the school run, dry-cleaners, supermarket bottle-neck and local Co-Op checkout to secure that Sauvignon which is on offer at £3.99.
You get home. Everyone else is out. The house is in darkness. You drop your shopping. Rush to the downstairs cloakroom that you had built on an extendable mortgage. Don't bother to turn on the light. Why would you? Then for the next five minutes, wonder why the tampon just won't go where you are pointing it.
You might think initially, 'It's been a long time. Nature's a great healer'.
No.
Nature doesn't work that way or else I've lost my virginity every other year twelve times.
Don't give up.
Especially if it's your last tampon 'til next month's budget.
Try it the other way around. Like Menthol cigarettes, they look the same each way up and don't always have easy to see arrows directing you where to open them correctly.
Now wash your hands.
It's annoying, especially if it's your last cigarette and all the shops on Wandsworth Heath are shut. Should that ever happen to you and You happen to be on Wandsworth Heath, an old tramp that frequents the third bench from the second Horse Chestnut on the right will sell a Woodbine for 10p, least he did in 1987 when it last happened to me there ( Mum- LL). The other alternative is to take a sharp knife to the cauterised tip of the offending cigarette, thus shortening the end of what will inevitably shorten your life.
What isn't so easy to overcome is this.(Boys - go look at porn, War Games, Second Life, Sister Wendy Beckett, whatever floats your boat. There's nothing more for you here).
Girls - It's mid-flow. You've been griping like a teether all afternoon. You've snapped at everyone, not always justifiably. You've done all their job's, whether you needed to or not, better than they would ever have done and introduced a new record system. You've survived the ravages of the school run, dry-cleaners, supermarket bottle-neck and local Co-Op checkout to secure that Sauvignon which is on offer at £3.99.
You get home. Everyone else is out. The house is in darkness. You drop your shopping. Rush to the downstairs cloakroom that you had built on an extendable mortgage. Don't bother to turn on the light. Why would you? Then for the next five minutes, wonder why the tampon just won't go where you are pointing it.
You might think initially, 'It's been a long time. Nature's a great healer'.
No.
Nature doesn't work that way or else I've lost my virginity every other year twelve times.
Don't give up.
Especially if it's your last tampon 'til next month's budget.
Try it the other way around. Like Menthol cigarettes, they look the same each way up and don't always have easy to see arrows directing you where to open them correctly.
Now wash your hands.
posted by Cherrypie at 8:44 pm
8 Comments:
Thank you. I shall put that advice to immediate effect.
One word: Mooncup.
I will never buy a tampon again, thank goodness.
i went to check out the fantasy football
I couldn't find any porn... is it on the internet somewhere?
Is it me, or do those new 'discrete' wrappers make it all the more obvious you have tampons in your bag?! Really, they don't look like sweets.
discreet wrappers? really? I've never noticed - which make?
(the worst part of this scenario is when you then drop the sodding thing in the loo)
I thought, as a father of three daughters and a wife of one who, upon last looking was still a girl, that it only right and proper that I should, at last, come to grips with this jolly unpleasant task. I was despatched to Tesco to purchase ladies sanitary stuff. Now please bear in mind that I am the sort of chap whose memory makes a seive look watertight and who is just as likely to walk into a shop and ask for tentpegs rather than tampax.
I have to confess, having found the right section in Tesco, to being a little befuddled. I mean the choice is huge and they come with wings and without wings, some are extra absorbent and some are so slim that Twiggy looks fat. Not that you would want to keep Twiggy in the gusset of your undergarments (well I might but that is another story entirely). Bemussed by all the vast array of 'ladies things' I had no choice but to ask this innocent old lady, who was buying toothpaste, which ones she would recomend; tampax that is and not oral hygene. The poor dear probably had her last period some thirty years ago and hadn't the vaguest notion of what to recomend but together we blundered on. Eventaully, I escaped with the goods required but this in turn reminded me of an incident many years ago when I, as an innocent eleven year old was told in the school play ground about something dark and sinister that only women used. Armed with this info I went home to ask my very straight laced, Salvationist Mum what a 'Jam Rag' was. I feared I might get a clump around the back's of my legs but my Mum, in good temperament simply took me by the wrist and led me into her bedroom whereupon she produced this odd looking thing with elasticated hoops. I naturally assumed that it was some form of mask that my Mum wore when she got, as my Dad used to frequently moan,'one of her headaches'. Que Sera.
I've been very remiss and not visited for ages and look what I find.
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