“Can I buy toilet paper instead?”

I don’t know if you’ve seen those new tampon commercials yet. If not, here you go (and if you only watch one, watch the second one):

I kind of love them. The sarcasm in the first one is pretty much what every woman has felt at one point or another during the old commercials. And the second one, well, I love a good social experiment.

“Maybe today’s tampon day!”

Now, I toyed with the idea of reenacting that, in the name of the blog, to see if those were typical results. But really, 1) I’m not that bold yet, and 2) I’m 95% sure there wouldn’t be much difference in the responses. Generally, guys+tampons=uncomfortable.

But here’s the question: what’s the male equivalent of tampons? Something that women might not even want to say out loud, much less go in and buy?

I suggested condoms (I will buy them, I just don’t like it), but I know that doesn’t hold true across the board.

What do you think – is there a male equivalent? Or do women have the “uncomfortable product” market covered?

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Mad Libs Edition – Le Fin

And, as promised, the final Mad Libs versions. (See the first ones here.)

From Heather C:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 16 races this season. This one, fully, will be in the parking lot, so I’ll quickly be taking advantage of the octagon while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little shoe and mug, right?

Aside from that, though, this race is for my Muffin’s best friend, so I know how smooth it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his swingset. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s duck, Nora, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t reluctantly like when the colonial era fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to running, typing, and educating in the parking lot. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

From inkpuddle:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 23 funerals this season. This one, clumsily, will be in France, so I’ll heavily be taking advantage of the underwear while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little cheese and truck, right?

Aside from that, though, this funeral is for my Pookie’s best friend, so I know how squishy it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his pillow case. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s hamster, Orlando, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t bravely like when the three years fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to grabbing, yodeling, and jumping in France. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

And last, but not least, from Alice:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 2/3 pie-eating contests this season. This one, grimly, will be in a port-a-potty, so I’ll languidly be taking advantage of the thumb drive while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little stomach and diamond earring, right?

Aside from that, though, this pie-eating contest is for my Snuggie Wuggums’ best friend, so I know how sparkly it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his unicorn. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s marmoset, Euclid, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t wetly like when the Elizabethan era fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to fainting, dueling, and drooping in a port-a-potty. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

Again, thank you guys for playing. I laughed out loud as I was filling some of these in. (I also gagged a little bit at the idea of a pie-eating contest in a port-a-potty, so, there’s that.) Hope you’re off to a good start for the week!

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Mad Libs Edition – Part Dos

So, I know this post is a little late. But, so was my night last night. These things happen.

But you guys gave me some excellent words for my Mad Libs story so, however late, I wanted to put a few versions up today. And I’ll save the rest for Monday. Thanks for playing!

(Your fill-ins are in blue. Just fyi. In case you couldn’t tell.)

Version 1, from The Bug:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of three Presidential Inaugurations this season. This one, merrily, will be in Grand Ole Opry, so I’ll breezily be taking advantage of the cup while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little tape player and pencil, right?

Aside from that, though, this Presidential Inauguration is for my Sweetie Mabob’s best friend, so I know how crazy it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his calendar. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s yorkie, Brutus, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t angrily like when the 20 years fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to driving, tasting, and swimming in Grand Ole Opry. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

Version 2, from the Foggy Dew:

A week from tomorrow, I’ll be attending my first of 69 Mardi Gras this season. This one, euphorically, will be in The Cliffs of Moher, so I’ll glamorously be taking advantage of the boobs while we’re there. I mean, who couldn’t use a little universal joint and princess, right?

Aside from that, though, this Mardi Gras is for my Twinkie’s best friend, so I know how sweet it is to him. And I know how excited and nervous he is to give his pirate. (I also think he’s secretly sad, that the couple’s jumping frog, Mike Hunt, will be missing the festivities.)

I don’t melodramatically like when the 1001 nights fly by, but this time I’d be okay with it. Because that just puts us closer to glistening, kissing, and remembering in The Cliffs of Moher. I can’t think of a better way to usher in May.

Stay tuned for more versions on Monday…

Happy weekend!

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Mad Libs Edition – Part I

You remember playing the game Mad Libs? Filling in the nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. and trying to make the story as ridiculous as possible? It was one time when you didn’t have to make sense. In fact, it was more fun when you didn’t.

For most people.

As you may have guessed, I always liked my stories to be coherent. I would try to guess where it was heading and choose my words accordingly. I know, I know. Barrels of fun, right over here.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago when I received the official invitation to my friend Gaff’s wedding. And the RSVP was in Mad Libs form! For instance, “ your names will be verb to join Gaff and Soon-to-be-Hubby as they verb down the aisle. When we verb, past tense the invitation…” and so on and so forth. I was torn between wanting to be creative, and wanting it to make sense. Which is why it took me nearly two weeks to fill it out and send it back. Sorry Gaff!

But it did inspire me. Maybe some of you aren’t as, oh, I don’t know, “control freak” as I am. Maybe you like to shake things up a bit. Maybe you don’t mind when your stories vary from the predicted path. So let’s try it together. You give me the words to fill out my mini-story, and I’ll post it tomorrow – with as many versions as you’ve given me.

Here’s what we need:

– number

– event

– adverb

– place

– adverb

– noun

– noun

– noun

– pet name (as though for a significant other)

– adjective

– noun

– animal

– name

– adverb

– period of time

– verb ending in -ing

– verb ending in -ing

– verb ending in -ing

Do it, to it! I can’t wait to see how it turns out…

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You snooze, you lose

I used to be a morning person. It wasn’t just that I could stand the morning, but that I’d voluntarily get up early and go be productive. Sometimes that meant being at work by 7:30am for an eight hour shift. (So, yes, I had to.) But sometimes that meant getting up before my classes in college just to go to the gym or go for a run. I loved being up and awake and productive while the campus was still mostly quiet. And I really loved the feel of getting a jump on the day.

Even up until about six months ago, I was always in the office about a half an hour early, no problem.

But lately, I just can’t get out of bed.

It’s not a depression thing where I don’t want to get out of bed. And I don’t think it’s a pure exhaustion thing either. (At least, nothing more than the normal sleepiness.) I’m not going to bed too much later than I used to.

Just the other day I read an article that suggests that setting your alarm for later, and not hitting snooze is (not too surprisingly) more effective than setting it for earlier and snoozing for another half hour (or so). So that’s the next thing I’m trying. Today was the first test, with moderate to good results. But we’ll see how long it lasts.

Do you have any tried and true techniques for getting out of bed in the morning? A mantra? An incentive? Or just a sense of duty and will power stronger than mine that keeps you from hitting snooze?

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Going with your gut

You know that feeling you get when you just know that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be? You know that whatever’s happening is exactly what’s supposed to be happening? It doesn’t happen all the time, so when it shows up, it might take a minute to recognize the feeling. But you still know it.

Not counting relationships, which I won’t get too schmoopy about here (for now), I’ve had that feeling only three times in the past eight years.

1) In the spring of 2002, when I was a junior in high school, I did my college visits. I only looked at four – I suppose you could say I was picky – but I didn’t need to look at any others. Hopkins was the last one my mom and I visited. It wasn’t a particularly nice day for a tour, and we’d been caught driving in torrential downpours the night before. But it didn’t matter. As soon as I stepped foot on that campus, I knew that that was where I wanted to spend the next four years. And I didn’t regret it for a second.

Hello, gorgeous.

2) I had that same feeling when I first interviewed for my current job in October of 2007. I left the office thinking, this is perfect. It’s everything I want. So when it was offered to me, I didn’t have to think twice. And again, no regrets.

3) And now, that giddy feeling that I had on Friday? Going to my grad school open house? Well, that’s apparently just the precursor to the this is exactly where I’m supposed to be feeling. Because as soon as I got to the school, I knew I’d made the right decision. As cheesy as it sounds, I knew I belonged there. Listening to the professors and other students describe their experiences only reaffirmed that.

It’s funny, for me, how some of those big life decisions can come down to a gut feeling. Especially when I’m usually very much of a pro/con list type of person. Or an overanalyzer. But I’ve learned to trust my gut with these things.

And, especially considering how the first two gut feelings turned out, I couldn’t be more excited about what’s in store this fall.

When you make decisions, do you trust your gut? Or are you a list maker, weighing each option carefully?

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Fun things for Friday

I’m a little giddy today.

1) I got my tax refund in the mail yesterday! Thank you, Virginia. (Even though you shouldn’t have taken anything from me in the first place. Tsk tsk.)

2) I’m going to a grad school open house today at the school I’ll be attending in the fall!

3) I’ll be walking there in my super cute, Mama-dubbed ‘Betty Boop’ shoes, which I hardly ever wear, but which make me so happy when I do.

What an excellent start to the weekend.

Happy Friday!

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In which I realize how lucky I am

This morning I woke up with a start. Not just an I-have-to-get-out-of-bed-ASAP start, but an oh-shit-I-can’t-believe-I-forgot-that start.

I had forgotten to renew my parking permit, so my car had been sitting, illegally parked for TWO WHOLE DAYS.

Maybe in some places this wouldn’t be a big deal. But in DC, it’s practically a death sentence for your car. What do you mean I’m exaggerating? I was once parked in the street – legally – for less than a day and I got two tickets within the course of two hours. (I fought it. I won. Nice try, DC.)

But this time, I knew I was in the wrong. There would be no fighting these tickets, if that was even the worst of it. As I rushed to my car I was praying (yes, praying) that there would only be tickets – that the car wouldn’t be towed, that there wouldn’t be a boot.

duh duh duuuuuuh (or some other scary music)

Once my little Ford Focus came into sight I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief (yay no towing!) and tried to guess how many tickets would be on my windshield. I settled on six, which I thought was conservative for 48 hours without a legal permit.

But the windshield was clear. And no boot!

I was in such shock that I actually walked around the car a couple times to see what the catch was. There was no way I could have gotten off scot-free, was there?

Apparently, there was.

Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt – the cost of towing and tickets really adds up – but I’ll take it.

How cute! A little lucky duck!

I still renewed my parking permit before I went to work, though. Luck happens, but I’m not about to bank on it.

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Matters of size and comfort

Just quick note: you guys were great at coming up with your six words. I definitely didn’t think of mine that fast.

Now:

The other night at the gym I had Gilmore Girls on, and one of their conversations caught my attention.

Lorelei: You know what they say – never date a guy with a single bed.
Luke: Who says that? Why?
Lorelei: Everyone! A single bed indicates a fear of commitment. It says there’s no room for any one else in this life!
Luke: No, it says there’s no room for anyone else in this bed.
Lorelei: That’s not much better, is it?

Personally, I haven’t (knowingly) dated a single bedder since college – when we lived in dorms. It hasn’t been completely intentional; it just so happens that most people, when they live on their own, tend to buy adult-size furniture.

There are always exceptions, though. Like the friend of a friend who swears up and down that his single bed doesn’t say anything at all about commitment or lack of room.

“Why can’t it just say that I like to cuddle?“

Of course, he only asked that after we were ragging on him for a while.

Like I said, I haven’t recently dated a single bedder, but I can’t imagine sleepovers going well. I like cuddling as much as the next girl, but I also need to have my own side, should I want to spread out or flail. Plus, you know,  if the hug and roll comes into play in a single bed, someone’s landing on the floor.

But what do you think? Does size matter here? Are single beds a turn-off?

Or are they just impractical for sharing, unless you’re cuddly sleepers?

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Say it in Six

A little while ago my boyfriend was telling me about an idea that he’d read about, or heard about somewhere (I was listening, I swear), in which people were asked to create Six Word Autobiographies.

My initial thought was, can I really sum up 24 years in six words? And then, if I could, would that be good or bad? So I did a little Google search to see just how popular this project was, and I found a LOT of responses. The question has been posed in numerous forums and I’ve loved reading the phrases people have come up with.

There were a few that struck me, for various reasons:

• I feel cutest in my undies

• Firm on Ideals, Soft on Approach.

• I remember life before cell phones

• Well, I thought it was funny. — Stephen Colbert (Note: The others were from anonymous commenters.)

As for me, after he brought it up, we both tried to figure out our own six word autobiographies, and this is what I came up with:

Life’s more fun with sound effects.

What would yours be?

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