I am weak.
WEAK, I tell you. From the laughing.
One of my commentors told me to go on Damn You Autocorrect, and I demand that you all stampede from my blog and look at it now.
For those of you who came back and did not actually die of laughter, hi! Welcome back. Did you get to the guy who said, "God doughnut"? Because at that point I thought I'd never draw breath again.
Speaking of funny, sometimes at work, this proofreader has to use my computer because her Adobe does not work very well on hers.
Okay, that wasn't the funny part. So, Adobe works great on my computer, because apparently mud huts and I work great together, and I am always happy to oblige her. And sometimes when I'm over at her desk, I have down time. The other day I noticed she had the book Bossypants by Tina Fey on her desk.
I am sorry to tell you that I opened it up.
The reason I am sorry to tell you that is because for the rest of the day I was TOTALLY IRRITATED when people brought me actual work to do. Did they not SEE I was trying to READ the funniest book of ALL TIME?
That book is hilARious. I want to BE Tina Fey, except that I don't really want to LOOK like Tina Fey. I know people think she's cute, but I am fine with my own looks. I mean, I'm no beauty queen, but I have settled into this large hair and bulbous nose. However, that is neither here nor there.
The point of this whole story, other than the obvious part where I have no work ethic, is that Tina Fey brought up something from my past that I had COMPLETELY forgotten, and once she reminded me I had to remind all of you.
It was this whole collection of things to bleed on, along with the '70s-looking booklet above, which I totally want to make my computer wallpaper and my wallpaper on ALL my walls at home, and that green box below that I totally remember with that Medusa-looking woman that had who knows what in it, and belts because it was 1765, and I don't know what else. (If you click on these images you can see them better. Because who doesn't want to zoom in on pictures of feminine protection?)
Who needs that many pads? For the many moods of your period. I mean, mine has one mood. On. Oh, and by the way, to the three men who read this? Today's post may not be for you. FYI.
I remember reading the booklet–which contained these important and very realistic letters between Ginny, Patty and Donna–like they contained the secrets of the universe. I didn't know if I wanted to be Ginny, whose font I liked, or Donna, who had kittens. Plus, Donna got to get her period first.
I would give my left pad to have this kit again. The one from 1972 or whenever I had it. I mean, I'm sure I didn't receive it in 1972, as I would have been six, and hi, what kind of hormones would have been IN my milk? But I think the year my personal, thrilling YOU'RE GONNA GROW UP AND YOU ARE GONNA SMILE LIKE A FLOWER OVER IT! kit was the '72 version.
Please tell me someone else remembers this kit and I am not crazy.
Luv and stuff,
June, who would sooner safety pin a pad to her underwear than plant flowers with eyeballs