Um… Show your work, sir…

OH, OK.

You fucking dipshit.

Curiosities of urban sprawl

Just drove past a strip club, next to a farmers market, next to an adult store, next to a Planned Parenthood.

That right there is what you call a DAY.

On casual dating, STIs, and “Chandlering.”

I may have to cancel my other date, because as it turns out, I may not be sexually frustrated ENOUGH to hook up with an open-married man with herpes simplex 1 (the cold sore kind).

Womp, womp.

I’m actually bummed about this. He was my first online dating spark and I was looking forward to meeting, kissing, and eventually sleeping with him. Understand how MUCH I was looking forward to it, because I’m actually debating, “What are the odds I already have/will get this?”If this were any other guy, it’d be a Fadeaway tout suite. But Dude was willing to go out to dinner with me, fuck me, then LEAVE, and he’s not an idiot. THAT’S THE DREAM.

Obviously I’m glad he told me, and I’m going to get my own full STI screen. Who the hell knows, maybe I already have it — you can get it a million different (non-sexual) ways and never show symptoms. If I DO…well, the bright side is that sex is on. But if I don’t, I don’t want to go through the rest of my life disclosing this to potential partners and boyfriends because I had casual sex with a married guy.

It’s interesting: I polled a few friends about this and got divided responses. Some people said, “Eh. No big deal, everyone has it,” and others were like, “No. That’s some soulmate shit, not something you want to get from a married fling.”

One friend said I was “Chandlering,” a nod to Chandler Bing from Friends, who used reasons like “mascara goop” and giant heads as excuses not to date women because he was afraid. I AM afraid, but truly believe I haven’t rejected anyone for the male equivalent of “mascara goop.” I’m waiting for a decent bit of chemistry, someone worth shaving my legs for, and genuinely haven’t had it until now. Also, Chandler’s romantic issues ended with one of the top 5 best marriage proposals in TV history, so if I AM Chandler, I’ll take it.

In researching this, I’ve learned a lot of places don’t screen for herpes as part of a routine STI test — you can add it to the standard test, or you can test for it separately. So I’ve had “an STI test,” but I think the woman said those screen only for chlamydia, gonorrhea, and HIV. So… “The more you know… *brrrrring*”

I’ve also learned that Googling “herpes” will make you never want to have sex again, and that getting tested for STIs is a tremendous pain in the balls: my insurance won’t cover testing at Planned Parenthood, and I can’t get a gyno appointment until April. Can’t they add this to CVS’s Minute Clinic services? It seems pretty important.

Also, it is not at all weird that my personal Facebook, not connected to OkCupid in any way, suggested I add Hot Married Guy as a friend. But damn, he’s cute… Goddammit…

#PinkOut #StandWithPP

Insomnia has informed me that today is officially the 29th, so let’s get this going and support the fine folks who keep my ladybits in good working order. #PinkOut #StandWithPP
 

 

Making new friends…

Via Planned Parenthood Action:   
 

Cruzing for cash

It’s… it’s beautiful…

BTW, I checked my quiver of fucks and couldn’t find a single one to give about the presidential race right now, so for ME, this has nothing to do with Ted Cruz personally, so get off my ass — that’s where I have my Jesus sex. This is about comedy, like “in honor of that time Ted Cruz made his family leave Build a Bear because it wasn’t Christian enough.” I have no idea why, but I laughed so hard my puddified ab muscles hurt, so maybe you will, too. 

Plus, I obviously support Planned Parenthood. I donated and they’re sending me a sticker. I like stickers.

 

Cool by association

This? Oh, that’s no biggie. Just my #noncompliant and fucking BADASS friend whose tattoo was retweeted by #bitchplanet writer and co-creator Kelly Sue DeConnick.

You know. Whatevs. 

N.B. I did not take or originally tweet this photo, because I am not awesome enough to be a Planned Parenthood escort. Photo taken by a friend of said friend. 

 

Oh, hi… ❤️

  

Sweet Cherry Pie

I had my annual lady exam this morning, and this time chose to have it done at Planned Parenthood. I figured letting them bill my health insurance for basic care would be far more helpful than that broke-ass $25 I donated. Run alllll the tests!

They did a really quick HIV test, just a finger stick, that came back negative before I was done my visit. (Good work, Science!) And I got to swab my own vagina for the chlamydia/gonorrhea test, so that was a fun little “choose your own adventure” for my lady-bits.

And just as a finishing figure of speech, when she was done the exam, the doctor said, “OK, beautiful!” Which is a lovely thing to think of your vagina. My business is showroom tight, y’all.

Anyway. I am infinitely amused that this all took place on National Cherry Pie Day, AND it’s Friday, so obviously we should all be gearing up for the weekend by rocking to shitty 1990 jams.

“Tastes so good, make a grown man cry…” Goddamn right.

Happy weekend, you guys. Have some cherry pie — metaphorical, literal, or hopefully both.

The sanctity of guac.

Earlier today, I happened to be discussing abortion protests with a very dear friend of mine who’s just become a Planned Parenthood volunteer.

She said she’ll be an early-morning weekend escort for PP patients, making sure protestors don’t bother them. “Because that’s what the protestors do. They get up early, go to church, harass clinic patients, and then go have lunch.”

Sounds like a great day, no?

But on my way home, oddly, I drove past a group of protestors and texted her.

Me: “OMG, I just drove past abortion protestors! Huge, grossly graphic signs and all.”
Friend: “Ugh. That’ll be me every Saturday. Do these people have nothing better to do on a Saturday?”
Me: “They’re right near Chipotle. Man, go get a burrito and calm down.”