‘Trin found this somewhere and I just spent 15 minutes falling off my damn chair. Warning: If you don’t want to read about periods, tampons or pads, do not read this.
I am SO very on the rag.
Warning: TMI to follow in the form of a long, not-very-serious rant about feminine hygiene products, dead Confederates, and secret-decoder rings. Menfolk are advised to read at their own risk. Some guys can’t take this kind of humor. You have been warned.
Yes, the commies are invading. This led to a desperate 1 a.m. expedition to the store to get more supplies with which to hold off the onslaught.
This ritual, which I suppose all women must perform, is a never-ending source of frustration and dread to me. I once more faced the Aisle Of The Damned. The first assault was visual, my retinas were swiftly overwhelmed with packages colored garish, Barbie-pink, soothing aqua, lively yellow, or forebrain-searing turquoise. The second assault was olfactory. Whatever unholy perfume they hose those things down with is second in offensiveness only to baby products.
This goes on here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/naamah99/66235.html. You MUST finish.