TO: MR. JAMES THATCHER, BRAND MANAGER, 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@cking 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 Kahlua 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 bullsh*t. And that’s a promise I will keep. Always. Best, Wendi Austin, TX
- A woman enrolled in nursing school is attending an anatomy class. The subject of the day is involuntary muscles. The instructor, hoping to perk up the students a bit, asks the woman if she knows what her assh*le does when she has an orgasm. “Sure!” she says, “He’s at home taking care of the kids…”
- Annoyed by the professor of anatomy who liked to tell “naughty” stories during class, a group of female students decided that the next time he started to tell one, they would all rise and leave the room in protest. The professor, however, got wind of their scheme just before class the following day, so he bided his time. Then, halfway through the lecture, he began. “They say there is quite a shortage of prostitutes in France.” The girls looked at one another, arose and started for the door. “Young ladies,” said the professor with a broad smile, “the next plane doesn’t leave till tomorrow afternoon.”
- Annoyed by the professor of anatomy who liked to tell “naughty” stories during class, a group of female students decided that the next time he started to tell one, they would all rise and leave the room in protest. The professor, however, got wind of their scheme just before class the following day, so he bided his time. Then, halfway through the lecture, he began.”They say there is quite a shortage of prostitutes in France.” The girls looked at one another, arose and started for the door. “Young ladies,” said the professor with a broad smile, “the next plane doesn’t leave till tomorrow afternoon.”