From the category archives:
I’ve recently changed hosting and as a result, any email that was sent to mail@vaginadrum.com in the last 24 hours was not received. Re-send it and I’ll be sure to get back to you, unless you’re the one who keeps asking me for pictures of my boobs, but…maybe even then.
I obviously don’t do SILS anymore. I probably should’ve said something but I hoped, like a breakup with someone you really never want to see again, that if I ignored it long enough everyone would just get the hint. No one seemed to notice, which is good and bad. Good because I didn’t have to feel guilty and bad because it confirmed my worst fear, which is that no one really cared what I had to say about tampons or granola.
I quit because I thought I was fucking Sue Johanson with this shit and held myself to a weekly review of something that I recently used/liked/put in my vagina. Problem was, I quickly ran out of stuff and so when I sensed myself reaching (I almost did a post about a particular brand of bread), I realized that it was inauthentic and thus, defeated the purpose. But, I still put things in my vagina and feel the need to tell people about it so here I am.
I live minutes away from a Whole Foods, so I’m there a lot to bask in the thick, atmospheric pretension that occurs when you buy organic milk in a glass bottle for $8 and champion the benefits of locally grown produce. Oh, plus I really love those little Annie’s Homegrown cheddar bunnies. One thing that always caught my eye was this large bottle of liquid plastered with lots of quotes dealing with free speech, unity and a balanced diet…as it relates to God. The bottle alone is worth the price ($8-15 for 32 oz.) because it’s full of material that you could only expect to hear from a homeless dude warning everyone about World War III, but I assure you what’s inside is even better. Dr. Bronner’s castile soap claims 18 uses, and while some of them are only practical if you live in a commune, the few that I’ve found are exceedingly valuable for everyday use. Initially, I used Dr. Bronner’s (Tea Tree and Peppermint varieties) as a body wash and loved it. The lather produced from just a few drops is incredible and as an added bonus, that clean soap smell lingers with me throughout the day. From there, I used it to wash my hair, floors, counters, bras, and underwear. I haven’t used it as a laundry detergent yet, but Dr. Bronner’s claims that as a use as well. Additionally, Dr. Bronner’s is absolutely indispensable if you camp or travel a lot because it means that instead of packing shampoo, detergent, soap, toothpaste and mouthwash (when diluted, it can be used orally), you only have to make room for one bottle.
Dr. Bronner was kind of like a charitable, Jewish version of Charles Manson who believed in world peace instead of…race wars. Actually, the only thing they really have in common is the propensity to exhibit insanity that can be seen from space, which is something I happen to be intensely jealous of. Bronner is remarkable for many reasons (he promoted a method of birth control involving lemon juice and Vaseline), but paramount among them all is his line of castile soaps, which after his death in 1997, has remained owned and operated by his family.
So go answer the call of your inner Joan Baez and buy some now.
I talk about being unemployed a lot. Part of this is because I have this idea that if I seem really sad, then someone will read this and give me a job where I play video games, eat pizza flavored Pringles and make snarky comments about Brooke Hogan. The other part is that I’m unemployed, so when I am playing video games, eating pizza flavored Pringles and making snarky comments about Brooke Hogan, I have a lot of time on my hands to think about how I can’t possibly stand one more day of this.
As a side effect, I get handfuls of emails asking me why I don’t have ads because I could totally monetize my blog. By monetize I’m sure they mean, ‘Spend years waiting to exceed Google’s $100 minimum so you can finally buy those Air Jordans’ but whatever. Usually, I’m asked what kind of traffic I get (I’m assuming in order to determine whether I can make .10 or .40 a day), and somehow, it never stops feeling like instead, I’m being asked to wear a mesh thong for 24 hours and send it off in a Ziploc bag in exchange for pictures of someone jerking off into it.
Either way, I don’t have ads on VD because I hate them. It’s not about being anti-corporation or anti anything, really. It comes down simply to the fact that I actually read my own blog (douche) and sometimes I even giggle so I’d rather not be distracted when I’m trying to think about how many more times I can get away with mentioning Boyz II Men. My writing is the only tool I have to reconcile the reality that my life is mine, no matter how many times it deviates from the plan I originally mapped out, and I would be wasting everyone’s time if I were motivated by making $2.50 a month. The thing is, I don’t care about attracting the hundreds of visitors who come here searching for pictures of my cunt, but I definitely care about that one person who comes here to read about what I have to say when it comes to Jesus themed porn.
There’s understandably a lot of opposition to ads dealing mostly with how they are kind of like a mix of Insane Clown Posse’s Greatest Hits and the stench of Mickey Rourke’s weave in your internet all the time. There’s even a collection of tasteful icons you can display on your blog, proclaiming to everyone that you are “opposed to the use of corporate advertising on blogs”, “feel the use of corporate advertising on blogs devalues the medium”, and “do not accept money in return for advertising space…” If I ever decide to submit completely to the fact that I’m full of shit, maybe I’ll put an ad on my blog proclaiming that I don’t condone ads on my blog. Until then, I can only promise two things–I will never try to sell you weight loss pills or funny but not really t-shirts, and when I inevitably swallow a dick with my ass, I will take copious mental notes throughout so I can share every single detail.
I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m moving. Since this is less like the kind of move where you are offered a job and compelled to leave your familiar yet comfortable surroundings because 150k plus benefits is just too good to pass up, and more like the kind where you are completely nauseated by the fact that there are at least 15 cash advance establishments nearby and need to get out as soon as possible even though there’s no guarantee of employment or housing, I feel the need to save money wherever I can. So far, I’ve gone back on birth control to cut out the cost of condoms, and now, I’ve finally dropped $20 on a Diva Cup so that sinking $5-7 a month in tampons can be a thing of the past. The money I save not buying condoms and tampons equals out to about $300 a year ($240 for condoms*, $60 for tampons), which means one less month I have to pimp out my boyfriend to service the fine gentlemen of the Pacific NW.
I’ve contemplated the Diva Cup for years now, lurking on the many forums dedicated to it, trying to figure out if it was something that could work for me. I’ve noticed a lot of apprehension about it–concerns about whether it would actually fit, stay in, or even work properly without causing leaks. It’s easy to get behind the fear associated with something that can only be found in between the patchouli oil and cacao nibs at Whole Foods, but I assure you it’s unwarranted.
There are a lot of wonderful things about the Diva Cup, but the name and package design aren’t among them. For a product that is ahead of its time in health and environmental consciousness, it is way behind in debunking the myth that women will buy anything pink and will pay double for anything with flowers on it. That aside, since the Diva Cup can be used for up to 10 years (although they recommend that it is replaced once every year), there is an undeniable economic advantage over tampons and pads . Other more comforting aspects include the fact that you’re no longer promoting the growth of landfills or putting yourself at risk for Toxic Shock Syndrome. As far as comfort and insertion are concerned, I can’t say that I notice much of a difference. I did have to learn a new method of insertion by folding the Diva Cup into a ‘U’ shape, but after a few tries, it became second nature and is now just as comfortable as a tampon. As an added bonus, I can use the Diva Cup after sex as a semen catcher which automatically makes it worth double the original cost.
I admit that part of me mourns the loss of the overly pink and perfumed feminine care aisle, because while I wouldn’t say I was proud to buy tampons every month, it was a tradition that involuntarily became part of my identity as a woman. As superficial as it is to buy a box of tampons displaying an unnaturally happy woman doing a toe touch and call it being a woman, it was something I was able to relate to, and in retrospect, something that I am ultimately glad to be rid of.
*If you happen to be in the market for an obscene number of condoms, I recommend http://www.undercovercondoms.com/ and more specifically, the Trojan Supras.
Check me out in Issue 6 of The Printed Blog.
I am thrilled to be among so many wonderful pieces, but I will admit, I wish they all sucked just a little bit because then I could be the skinny girl among her troupe of fat friends. Now I will have to win people over with my personality.
