Menstruation Barbie

As long as I have known her, Barbie has perpetually been 5 steps ahead of the rest of the women on Earth. Between flawless skin, a hunky boyfriend, an unbelievable figure, and about 50 successful occupations, she is like a beauty queen overachiever on steroids. It’s too much to handle! To much to take! What I would LOVE to see is a real woman’s Barbie. Not only that. She would be portraying something every true girl must go through:

their period.

Menstruation Barbie would be outfitted not in her usual fashionable attire, but ugly grey sweats to better hide the week’s unfortunate bloating. Chocolate stains line the edges of her lips and the stress lines of holding 50 different careers, plus constantly losing her shoes (if you have ever had a Barbie, you totally understand this) would finally be visible on her forehead. As for Ken, he would be cowering in the corner, the latest victim of her unstable hormonal rage.

If anyone has ever seen a Barbie like this, or created one themselves, please let know/send a pic. I would love to see it.


Perhaps You Should Get a Size Up?

So tonight I am sitting in my room, working on an end of the term project, when I hear my roommate come barreling down the hallway screaming my name. 

“What?!” I shout back, wondering what could be the big (not really) emergency now. Barging into the room she looks me straight in the face and deadpans, “I can’t get my shoes off.” Huh?

Now I have had a few tight shoe moments myself where it takes a minute or two to wiggle my feet out of my slightly snug boots, but this was something entirely different. I braced myself on my bed as she sat on the ground, grabbed the end of her shoe, and pulled. Nothing. So we tried again, me pulling one way, my roommate the other, me sliding along the side of my bed before we can even get her foot to budge. This went on for awhile and after several more attempts we finally got the first boot off, but this was only the beginning.

Unable to help my roommate get the other shoe off her foot, I bid her good luck as she stumbled down the stairs to another one of the girls that lives in our house. Now, I was not there to witness this, but apparently the other boot proved to be more than a slight challenge. It involved at least half an hour of pulling, pushing, grunting, a little help from some chopsticks and a foot in the girl’s ass for leverage.

She still refuses to believe her feet might be too big for her shoes, but that is fine with me. I get to experience more free entertainment.

My Wandering Mind Mishap

Normally on Mondays I wake up dreading the beginning of the week. My alarm clock blares in my ear as the thought of crawling out from underneath my cozy, warm comforter only causes me to burrow further under the blankets on my bed. In the end, I procrastinate the moment when I will slip out into the chilly air, until I am forced to scurry down the stairs before I wet myself. But for some reason, today was different. I awoke with energy, excited to start the day. And I remember my first thought was: I am determined to make this a wonderful day. Well, little did I know this was less of a positive attitude and more of motivation I would need as the day went on.

Anyways, I jumped out of bed, quickly got ready for class, grabbed some breakfast, and headed out the door. I was running a little earlier than normal so that I could get a few documents sent to a classmate for a project. When I got to the school, the entrance doors were covered with colorful post-it notes, all greeting visitors of the building with “welcome” and “thanks for coming” etc. I thought it was adorable, and just another sign that today would be a random, lovely day. Then class started.

As our guest speaker first began to give us her presentation, I was eager to pay attention. Unfortunately for me, my mind often wanders…. The first thing that got it going was her strong British accent and use of slang. I started thinking about all British movies I had seen and my hope to study abroad in London next year. But the moment that got me in trouble had nothing to do with what she was saying or how she spoke. It had to do with tampons.

Just before leaving my house for class, I noticed two tampons on the living room table. For some reason, this image came back to me as I was listening to the presentation. I wondered why they were just lying there, and then started to wonder what a guy would think of seeing them. From that point it was a downward spiral. I thought of what I guy would think of seeing the tampons sitting there. Sure, girls are supposed to be dainty, but I have often found that they are more willing to talk about a lot of disgusting topics than guys (especially when it comes to bodily functions and girls). What kind of response could one illicit with a detailed description of the function of a tampon and how to use it? I can only imagine the look on the guy’s face who heard this to be priceless. Yet as my mind raced on, following the tampons down this ridiculous path, the guest speaker was simultaneously delving deeper into her speech. To my horror, we locked eyes. “YOU”

My mind was racing. What had just happened? I quickly looked at the power point – “Methods of Thinking.” Okay, not helping so much. I was supposed to answer a question, I got that much, but WHAT?! As I sat there, stammering at the back of the class, I could feel everyone’s eyes bear into me. All my classmates were waiting for some sort of intelligible response, as well as several professors in the advertising department who came to sit in on the speech. Yet all I could think of were the two tampons sitting on the living room table. “Well, I, uh..” tampons, tampons. “When it comes to thinking…” Tampons, Tampons, “I guess, I kind of…” TAMPONS, TAMPONS!!

To make matters worse, any question about thought process would be best not asked of me because of my many erratic thoughts and contemplations. By the time the tampons began to fade, I recalled thinking once about what life would be like if I were born a squirrel. Was this really what I wanted to give as an answer to our guest speaker?! 

Eventually the moment passed with a horrible metaphor involving a toolbox and a screwdriver, leaving my to slump down in my seat, red as a strawberry, and wondering what sort of bimbo blonde college girl this U.K. Advertising guru thinks I am. Damn it!

Needless to say, that whole “I am determined to make this a wonderful day” ended up being a little harder than I thought.

Oh yeah… and she it supposed to guest speak in my class tomorrow too. Greeeaaaat.

more differences between boys and girls

12. Apparently it is possible for boys to get cancer from masturbating/having sex in excess when younger. Sorry guys!

13. Girls: I will be ready in 5 minutes=I will be ready in 30 minutes. Boys: I will be ready in 5 minutes=I will be ready in 5 minutes.

14. Girls have a higher tolerance when it comes to hot temperatures.

15. Girls are emotionally driven, boys are visually driven.

16. Free/reduced drinks and no cover at bars for ladies. Yes!

Sexy Veggies

Here is one ad you apparently will not see air during the Super Bowl this sunday. It focuses on PETA’s message that vegetarians have better sex with various intimate moments between women and their beloved vegetables.


On another note, where do people come up with this stuff? Should I really be secretly turned on by broccoli?

Four inches higher

Growing up with only brothers the appeal of high heels never got to me until later in life. Even now, I only wear them out on the weekends when I go out and to nice events. Yet I see many girls wearing them day to day as a they walk across campus to class. What makes us girls (women) wear such a torturous form of footwear? Even in my somewhat limited wear of high heels, I definitely have a few reasons.

 I love the fact that they lengthen my legs, make me taller, and give me better posture (or at least that is how it feels). Wearing them, I can’t help but feel sexy and powerful. The “click clack” of my heels hitting the hard floor or sidewalk only adds to the appeal. And yet, I know how absolutely ridiculous such a choice in footwear heels are.

High heels are not nearly as comfortable as other shoes. Guys opt for sneakers and flip-flops most the time (and when it’s not the weekend, so do I); however, girls cannot seem to get away from the aesthetic look of a high heel for something more practical. It seems that even walking in them is a skill to be acquired. It definitely took me a while before I was able to strut around in the 3 1/2 to 4 inch heels I wear on nights out now. In addition, they cause damage. Not just the long term damage that no one our age seems to care about anyway but short term pain and discomfort. After 14+ hours in 4 inch heels in Vegas (it’s Las Vegas, I had to!) my feet were not only sore and forming blisters but bleeding. 

It just goes to show that the old saying is true: Pain is beauty, beauty is pain.