18 October, 2006

feisty fifi forswears floral fancies

ok, mini femi-rant here, and men are advised to move on, avert your gaze, read on no more because i know how delicate, bashful and swoony y'all get when the unmentionable gets mentioned, so if you're still reading, don't say i didn't warn ya. but keep some smelling salts handy, just in case.

so. who the fuckity fuck fuck thought it would be a good idea to make feminine hygiene products scented? who? because if i could get my hands on this mangy pussilanimous inbred cretin, i swear there would be violence*. don't even get me started on the whole idea of "the smell down there" because i think it is a misogynistic idiocy perpetrated by the pharmaceutical and/or cosmetic industry (vinegar douche, anyone? for those less than fresh days? grrrrr!!!). but add to that the fact that i am excrutiatingly sensitive to scented products (and people), a fact compounded by the monthlies, and what you have is a problem. to put it mildly, as i am wont to put things.

really and truly, if i wanted my crotchal area to smell like lilies, i would stick a goddamn bouquet up my woohoo. at least it would be natural (in a somewhat unnatural way). i am not particularly pleased with the idea of having the dry heaves every time i sit down to pee. and no, gentle reader, they do not always inform you of their concern for the olfactory impact of your nether regions on the packaging. i think they take it for granted that you do not like your god-given girlaroma, and would prefer a toxic synthetic fumefest in your underpants. which i do not.

bastard fucks!

*violence makes victims of us all. still, sometimes it just feels so damn good to throw a well-deserved punch. or a kick in the nuts. or a jab in the eye. you know what i mean, right? hello? helloooooo?
ahem, like i said. just say no to violence, kids. it hurts the little baby jesus. ahem.

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