This is going to sound like an advertisement….
Because it is!
I just had Haagen-Dazs Mint Chip ice cream for the first time the other day and I was extremely pleased. Everyone kinda knows that the folks at HDazs are my favorite ice cream peeps, because they seriously make the best stuff. Whoops- pretend I didn’t just write “seriously.” When someone uses that word I automatically don’t take them seriously, so I don’t expect you to. My point is, it’s very very yummy and if you want to argue about it, BRING IT! Yeah you heard me! I wanna have a fight about ICE CREAM.
Next paragraph…
I thought I would never get over my Mayan Chocolate affair, but I think I might have to break it’s heart for the new thing in town. Ice cream and chocolate are the only two “things” I allow myself to use for scandalous romantic analogies. Oh and by the way… the ice cream isn’t green. Don’t flip when you pop the lid, it’s supposed to be creamy-white… they didn’t “forget” the out-of-season Saint Patty’s parade colours- they avoided them. Good call ice creamers! I feel classier eating yours. Mmmmm.
Oh insight! Aren’t us bloggers a pretty big-deal? Those were fairly important happenings that just got added to the ever-expanding information super highway!
The vagina spike. He didn’t see that one coming, ouch!
Imagine a clean, smooth and discreet girly device that could easily be inserted into the vagina much like a tampon. With the string tucked-up inside it would be virtually undetectable, I know the description’s graphic but wait it gets more graphic…
Now imagine that this little harmless looking thing encases a two-inch long spike that’s ejected when activated, and by activated I mean a penis tapping it and by ejected I mean the spike shoots out of it into the head of the guy’s dick.
Awareness of your vulnerabilities kinda goes with the territory of being a young woman. There isn’t really a moment where I’m walking places at night (even with friends) that the thought of a violent attack doesn’t cross my mind. Same goes for attending parties and having the fear of accidentally passing out there and getting taken advantage of. Apart from not gallivanting shady neighborhoods after hours and being a responsible drinker with a preplanned way of getting home there isn’t much we can do to protect ourselves in certain circumstances. Maybe where we draw a complete blank on our self-defense class moves? Get drugged? Or maybe a “trusted friend” crosses the line when we have our guard down?
But is FemDefence one small step for woman kind in the personal security department, or not? What if it malfunctions?
Say you were wearing it girl’s night out, had a few beers then crawled into bed with your unsuspecting loving boyfriend. You start to make-out, it’s getting “hotter” and then in a fit of tipsy passion you “whoopsies!” forget to mention you hadn’t taken it out yet! That could be a slight con to the secret security tampon don’t you think? After that mood breaking experience you two can pretty much kiss your cutesy little relationship and future family life goodbye! Personally my worst nightmare would be realizing I had it in backwards after just mounting a man for cowgirl position-
AiiieeeeeeeeeeEEEeee!
Let’s stop talking about this, I’m crossing my legs now.
For more information on FemDefence check out the super slick website. I was especially impressed with the ad campaign so don’t navigate away before you watch the promo video!!!!!
Because bloggers can’t afford therapy!
It’s no secret I’ve been licking my wounds. My heart mends, breaks, mends and then breaks again. Stitching up the lacerations doesn’t seem to ever get easier either. Maybe all the scar tissue makes poking the needle though that much harder?
I’ve been seeking out humorous and insightful antidotes for my pain on the internet and I have dug up a few gems, but I haven’t found anything that really captured the crazy nature of relationships in a funny but simple way until I watched the little animated short I’m blogging about. This one really hit the spot tonight and served as a much needed temporary antidote for my current lame state as captain depress-o.
These times leave me trying desperately not to think thoughts like;
“I’ll never get through this and end-up a lonely bitter, bitchy crazy chick.” But then I remember “I’m already all those things!”
So as you can tell by what you just read I’ve been rocking a pretty jaded disposition lately and the sentiment’s shared in ‘How to Beak Up with Your Girlfriend… In 64 easy Steps.” (Below) It’s in times like these that knowing I’m not alone is the only thing that seems to help. That and a good belly laugh.
Thank you Lev Yilmaz for your incredibly insightful little short! Your art’s my band-aid.
I gasped, I giggled and I think my vagina fell in love.
"Women are equals and deserve respect, just kidding they should suck my d****!"
If you are a fan of SNL’s digital shorts, The Lonely Island and The Flight of the Concords then Jon Lajoie will be right up your alley! This guy keeps me in stitches with all of his crude but witty videos.
Most famously known for his video Everyday Normal Guy which despite being shot digitally on a shoe-string budget brilliantly makes a parody of the ghetto glorification we see in MTV Hip-Hop/Rap videos. Lajoie pokes fun at the mundane lifestyles of working-class young urban white men by rapping about their daily challenges using the musical style, lyrical sentiments and “ghetto fashions” of “gangsta lifestyle.”
Now moving onto the song that had me on all fours crawling towards the man who calls himself “the Wayne Gretzky of sexual stuff, the Hulk Hogan of slamming muff and the Indian Jones of Exploring crotch.”Show Me Your Genitals 2: E=MC Vagina was so funny it kicked the cramps right outta my box and got rid of my grouchies. Forget Midol, laughter is the best medicine for menses!
But guys don’t run! It’s not really about vaginas! Watch the most embarrassingly awkward early-nighties electro-pop sleaze bag sing about his love for “having sex with vaginas,” you can relate right?
For more info and Jon Lajoie’s tour dates you can visit his website here.
Kicking Babies Can Be Funny!
Sculpture by Gustav Vigeland
I stumbled upon the picture above and I don’t know why it makes me laugh every time I see it?
I guess there’s something about it that just tickles that special Midol Girl funny place? One could speculate, the nudity perhaps? Babies being kicked and tossed around? The statues’ wee wee? Ah! Why bother analyzing things like this? Funny is funny!
In all seriousness though, someone certainly spent a lot of time making this statue! I see them crouched in front of their masterpiece, spending countless hours getting into every nook and cranny, molding and perfecting every little part… haha this just gets funnier! I can only imagine the meeting where this corporate lawn-ornament was presented to a board in charge of funding the artist;
“So what your saying sir, by looking at this drawing here- is that you have a naked man kicking a baby, and there are others that seem to be flying above, or around him as he powerfully tosses them off? Almost like a baby attack that he is winning? SOLD! Go ahead and make your sacred vision a reality!”
Cheque signed.
Oh I’m going to be a terrible mother one day… I can tell already.
I’m Twittering Now
Yes indeedy! I’m on Twitter like most of the rest of you now.
What is Twitter one may ask? It’s a website where you log-in and are given a list of all your friends’ status updates, and can post yours too. Yup that’s pretty much all it is… but man is it popular!
You can put links to music and photos or blogs in your 14o character limit update. It’s not just a good way to keep track of what everyone is doing (that’s what the site really is about) but a great way to quench your insatiable thirst for celebrity gossip and news bits and bites. I added Us Weekly magazine to my list of Twitter friends, so whenever they update their pop culture news I get notified too.
So get Twitter hip and tweet me my pretties!
Chocolate Skittles?
Many of you know this about me, some of you may not? I’m known for having an opinion about everything, most often it’s movies and media related topics but the hyper kid in me is most tickled to blog about junk food.
Especially new stuff that will most likely be off the shelves before you can read this. Oh! Canada Dry Green Tea Ginger-Ale (my favorite) is still going strong btw!
Anyhoozle, I was browsing the aisles of Metro here in Toronto when I came across a shiny package hanging solo on a rack in the candy aisle. I saw the package and was like Eww?! What? Chocolate Skittles, Why? What? When? How? So I bought them and downed a handful in the parking lot before I got across the street to my “crib.” I say crib because I felt like a tiny-tot eating these things.
Imagine a stick of Lipsmackers smashed in a bowl of sugar coated Tootsie rolls, grab a spoon- that’s what the new Skittles Chocolate Explosion tastes like; waxy with a sweet artificial chocolate smattering.
Royally addictive though, each handful boasts subtle differences in flavours. There’s smore’s flavour, Brownie, caramel and umm some off-white coloured one, oh right! Vanilla, duh!
Who knows if they are going to remain a regular product? A lot of these things should and shouldn’t or don’t and should. I won’t be perturbed either way in all honestly- there’s nothing about them that I couldn’t get out of getting a regular skittles fix.
A few mouthfuls was enough though before my stomach begged me to stop.
Oh this all reminds me of my friend Norann who had a Skittles addiction in Junior High, coated three of her four bedroom walls in empty packages of the sweets she’d scarffed. If you’re reading this girlie holler back with your expert opinion on this most pressing matter! Hahaha
Starbucks steals language.
Are the corporate coffee bullies slowly training their customers like Pavlov’s dogs to bark their balderdash sizes at all Baristas? Down boy, down!
At my coffee shop we have (brace yourself) 3 sizes.
Yes that’s right, only three.
They are SMALL, MEDIUM and LARGE.
This size naming practice has been an english speaking North American standard for a very long time; so long in fact I’m tempted to say it’s been the standard forever.
But somewhere around, hmm… let’s say 1971 when another coffee shop was established in let’s say, hmm… Seattle, had a name that rhymed with, hmm… let’s say Lardmucks decided to for some lame-ass reason use 4 sizes (by “lame-ass” I mean ridiculously pretentious).
People slowly but surely started to get trained like Pavlov’s dogs to bark orders at ALL coffee clerks in these four pseudo-Italian and (height inspired?) COMPLETELY balderdash size names. Short, Tall, Grande and Venti.
Myself being a coffee server have now fallen frazzled victim to hearing this Mc. Size ordering standard. After a customer says to me “can I get a tall coffee?” I’m left stewing at the counter grinding my beans in contemplation of whether or not I should try and retrain them back to their Sm. Med. Lrg. roots.
I mean, I know that a “tall” is the equivalent in ounces (12 to be exact) of a medium one of our beverages. I could correct a patrons ordering style to suit my personal corporate branding agenda, but really! Is it my place as the girl that pours your morning cup of Joe to also pour you a morning cup of brainwashing fluid? I don’t think so.
I’m a modern gal and will say that I’m not afraid to admit that size really doesn’t matter that much to me. It’s how you use your words that count.
You can waltz right into my café all cock-proud, come press yourself right up against my counter look me in the eyes and say “I want a grande from ya” and I won’t get squirrelly furrow my brow then condescendingly say “you mean you’d like to order a large coffee ?”
Because guess what? Without you using the exact word “large” I’m picking up what your putting down, I can connect the dots. I’m the thinking sort of person and even if I wasn’t I’d be feeling out your vibe. You want a big coffee pronto. I have no problem getting that for you and without the verbal head-pat too.
I wish those Lard Muckers could say the same for themselves.
Ever notice how when you use the size “small” one of their bazillion locations that the cashier will automatically repeat back to you in question form “You mean tall?” then even louder call out the order to the barista “One tall Americano please” who then also parrots back as they write on the cup “One tall Americano” who then repeats again as they place your drink on the bar “One tall Americano”. This alien Lardmuckian lingo spoken repetitiously from the green aprons of corporate coffee planet is their way of standardizing their Javawalkie size names.
As if they didn’t have the technology or money years ago to implement a silent screen read-out at the coffee bar that told them the orders to make like in any of the other fast food chains they copycat in coffee form.
There are a ton of other systems they could have implemented to make sure you ended up with the drink that makes you feel oh so special and unique. They say their unnecessarily complicated drink sizes and names loud and proud for one reason, to set themselves apart and to take ownership of a part of the language that has already belonged to us since forever. Coffee and sizes. But you know Kleenex did that with the disposable hanky, and Q-Tips did that with cotton swabs. I just hope the lord can save us from calling all coffee Starbucks and all smalls talls. Ugh.
Imagine what kind of pathetic word this would be if we had to call objects by the leading competitor’s brand name? You see the Mike Judge film Idiocracy? It kinda touches on this point and it would be a sad, sad world, but that’s a whole other blog.
I Saw “27 Dresses” and YES I liked it!
Why am I blogging before bed about a (forgive me fellow female film fanatics for the phrase I’m about to use) “chick flick?” Yes indeed, why is Midol Girl writing about “27 Dresses” practically 27 months after it came and went from movie theaters?
Because I avoided it at all costs, it’s that simple.
Something about a movie title with the word “dress” in it (and plural no less) was just not at all interesting to me. Especially one that involved weddings…ugh, matrimonial movies usually leave me slumped in my chair asleep with an empty popcorn bag on my head.
The only movie of the”dressy” kind that I could stomach was Priscilla Queen of the Dessert. What a classic! There’s nothin’ like an Australian outback flick on acid and in sequins! The costumes in that movie (which don’t forget received an Oscar) were flamboyant and funny and made a cartoons out of prancing around prissy. The characters were outrageous, honest and out there- so “punk rock” well not really… they were drag queens- but still, same ka-ka different pile.
Priscilla pushed the norm and 27 Dresses was the norm as far as cheesy movie cliches go. I usually say no to norms so I hadn’t planned on running to this one or renting it anytime soon. Thank goodness my roomie has satellite (I like background noise while washing the dishes) otherwise I might not have been able to watch the movie tonight.
“A single woman who has served as a bridesmaid a shocking 27 times wrestles with the prospect of supporting her sister at the altar on number 28, despite having fallen helplessly in love with her smitten sibling’s handsome husband-to-be.” more
After reading the synopsis and many reviews I thought for sure I’d be disappointed. But, I ended up being quite entertained and can even confesses to getting a little dewy-eyed during one of the last scenes. Dewy-eyed I said people! Not crying, it was like being “misty-eyed” which I will reiterate, is definitely not the same thing as crying.
Anyhooooo even though the story line was about two white American working/upper class sisters, one who’s always dreamed of having her very own hunk to homemaker for and the other who’s had more then her share of hunks (if you get my drift) I thought the story was entertaining and well told, despite the female stereotypes. I liked the performances a lot and laughed out loud lots of times.
So that’s that okay? I said it I liked the movie… I liked a “chick flick” I washed dishes AND I got misty eyed, all in the same night too.
How very girly of me. I think I might go put a dress on now, then again maybe not- I’m already in my fighter jet pajamas.
Buy your Daughter a Pony or She’ll Become a Gambler.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always been one of those weird “horse girls” you know the kind- they draw pictures of ponies all day in their notebooks and ask for one every Christmas.
When I was a kidlette (before I needed Midol) I opted for My Little Ponies over Popples, I fantasized about owning my own stable and riding horses equestrian style. I made a promise to myself that as soon as I grew-up I would get myself a real live horse, name her Buttercup and ride her to work everyday. Everyone at the Very Fancy Marbles Factory or V.F.M.F (I was hugely into collecting marbles at the time) would envy that I didn’t have to take a bus. I never got one though, which is disappointing because I’m pretty sure if I just had what it took to open up a factory I could have easily had a parking stable instead of a stall on the company car lot.
No need to wallow in what could have been when I can enjoy what is, and what is right now is a new found wholesome hobby that can fill my empty horse void…. BETTING ON HORSES!
It was my very first time at the tracks not too long ago, and I fell in love. I put money down on little horse named Risky Russ, healed my broken dreams and have it all caught on tape (well not the healing broken dreams part, that was more of an internal thing).
A Day at The Tracks
Disclaimer: Midol Girl does not condone or support any unhealthy dependencies on gambling, she went to Assiniboia Downs one day and had a really fun time. She said the hobby filled her empty “horse void” but she did not say it filled her wallet or the hole in her heart… that can only be filled by Buttercup.
