Day: March 30, 2007

Too good to not share.

From my librarian friend, Miz Legs:

AN OPEN LETTER TO MR. JAMES THATCHER, MARKETING DIRECTOR, PROCTER & GAMBLE

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I’d probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I’d certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can’t tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there’s a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from “the curse”? I’m guessing you haven’t. Well, my “time of the month” is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I’ll be transformed into what my husband likes to call “an inbred hillbilly with knife skills.” Isn’t the human body amazing?

As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you’ve no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers’ monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it’s a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend’s testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey’s Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants.

Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: “Have a Happy Period.”

Are you f—ing kidding me?

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness-actual smiling, laughing happiness-is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you’re some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything “happy” about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don’t march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn’t it make more sense to say something that’s actually pertinent, like “Put Down the Hammer” or “Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong”? Or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always.

Best,
Wendi Aarons
Austin, TX

Or something like that.

From CripHumor:

[from Stan Kegel]

A man comes to the doctor with a long history of migraine headaches. When the doctor does his history and physical, he discovers that his poor patient has had practically every therapy known to man for his migraines and STILL no improvement.

“Listen,” says the doc “I have migraines, too, and the advice I’m going to give you isn’t really anything I learned in medical school, but it’s advice that I’ve gotten from my own experience. When I have a migraine, I go home, get in a nice hot bathtub, and soak for a while. Then I have my wife sponge me off with the hottest water I can stand, especially around the forehead. This helps a little. Then I get out of the tub, take her into the bedroom and, even if my head is killing me, I force myself to have sex, and almost always the headache is immediately gone. Give it a try, and come back and see me in six weeks.”

Six weeks later, the patient returns with a big grin. “Doc, I took your advice and it works! It REALLY WORKS! I’ve had migraines for 17 years and this is the FIRST time anyone has ever helped me!”

“Well,” says the physician, “I’m glad I could help.”

“By the way, Doc,” the patient adds, “You have a really nice house.”

Also from CripHumor:

“As you can possibly see, I have an injury myself… not here at the hospital but in combat with a cedar. I eventually won. The cedar gave me a little scratch. As a matter of fact, the Colonel asked if I needed first aid when she first saw me. I was able to avoid any major surgical operations here, but thanks for your compassion, Colonel.”

President George W. Bush, Jan. 1, 2006
Amputee Care Center, Brooke Army Hospital

(I’d love to know if this is a true quote.)

From my best friend, MAF:

Subject: It’s all in the wording

An attractive young woman on a flight from Switzerland asked the priest beside her, “Father, may I ask a favor?”

“Of course, what may I do for you?”

“Well, I bought an expensive woman’s electronic hair dryer for my mother’s birthday that is unopened and well over the Customs limits, and I’m afraid they’ll confiscate it. Is there any way you could carry it through customs for me? Under your robes perhaps?”

“I would love to help you, dear, but I must warn you: I will not lie.”

“With your honest face, Father, no one will question you.”

When they got to Customs, she let the priest go ahead of her. The official asked, “Father, do you have anything to declare?”

“From the top of my head down to my waist, I have nothing to declare.”

The official thought this answer strange, so asked, “And what do you have to declare from your waist to the floor?”

“I have a marvelous instrument designed to be used on a woman, but which is, to date, unused.”

Roaring with laughter, the official said, “Go ahead, Father. Next!”

Also from MAF:

Subject: Re: Little ’bout Tennessee

Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.

Onced and twiced are words.

It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.

People actually grow and eat okra.

There is no such thing as “lunch.” There is only dinner and then there is supper.

Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you’re two. We do like a little tea with our sugar! (Sweet tea is a lifestyle down here)

Backards and forwards means “I know everything about you.”

Being from Tennessee means:

You don’t have to wear a watch because it doesn’t matter what time it is. You work until you’re done or it’s too dark to see. (Amen, sister!!)

You don’t PUSH buttons, you MASH them.

You measure distance in minutes.

You use “fix” as a verb. Example: “I’m fixing to go to the store.”

You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.

You know what a “DAWG” is.

You carry jumper cables in your car . . . for your OWN car.

You only own four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.

The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local gossip and sports.

A carbonated soft drink isn’t a soda, cola or pop . . . it’s a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: “What kinda coke you want?”

Fried catfish is the other white meat.

We don’t need no stinking driver’s ed . . . if our mama says we can drive, we can drive.

Not EVERYONE can be a Tennessean, it’s an art form and a gift from God!