Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

Where Schrodinger’s Cat takes a Dump… March 6, 2013

For those of you not up on quantum theory, see Wikipedia. My blog title will be way funnier then…

Nothing distorts time like being a parent. It is akin to going to the currency office and trading in a minute, an hour, a day, a year, in exchange for some completely foreign mystery measurement of time. Since currency exchange is kind of like math and I hate that stuff, I have conveniently provided you with some simple translations.

An hour becomes 7 days:

  • While at the gym when you realize that you have had your ass handed to you and are simultaneously realizing you are only 10 minutes into the class.
  • Waiting for the sitter to show up: you are so close to freedom yet so far.
  • Waiting until bedtime, which is when you can have a marriage, a personal life, maybe even some alone time if you are privileged.

Three hours becomes 10 seconds:

  • This is date night. You’ve actually been gone for hours but it never feels this short when you are taking care of the kiddos…
  • Planning to leave the house with your children. You swear you started the process of evacuating with so much advance time, yet you are still mysteriously running late.
  • Realizing your baby isn’t a newborn/baby/toddler/kid anymore. Weren’t they just born? Now they do things and have opinions.
  • Realizing that’s how much sleep you are getting for the night. Following somebody else’s body clock is a bitch.

I won’t even get into how the time warp effects the aging process…at least not while I’m blogging in a cafe and not a bar.


Angst and Advertising September 27, 2012

Hey ladies– (warning to men: we are going to talk periods and tampons here so feel free to avert your eyes…)

Come here. You wanna know what?

People who make tampons and tampon commercials hate women. I mean, they really have to hate us.

Before I continue; yes, I got my period. Yes, I forgot I was going to get it back. And, yes, this is just in time for date night. Aargh. I acknowledge my angst and I embrace it.

It does not change what fucking assholes tampon advertisers and product managers are.

I am in the bathroom unwrapping my little buddy and do you know what it says on the package?

“Go get ’em.”

This is not even a fucking joke. My tampon wrapper is giving me cheesy, high school sports coach talk. For my vagina.

Exactly whom am I supposed to go get? Is my tampon supposed to get my vagina? Is this positive reinforcement for going another month without an unplanned pregnancy?

Or, is this a modern woman tampon? Am I going to go kill it in the boardroom now?

This is really me hitting my limit with lady product advertising and packaging. Every time I see a commercial for feminine products, I sort of start to hate women.

Women care about two things when it comes to vagina products;

1)We don’t want any embarrassing moments. 

2)It’d be nice to not even realize we are using the product. 

Here’s an idea. Why not turn that whole Ryan Gosling “hey girl” meme into a lady product advert? I’d much rather see his face on my tampon wrapper than fucking “go get ’em.” Go get ’em and fuck yourselves Playtex.

Time for chocolate! XoXo


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