So, here is the first of the found journal entries I said I would post. Why am I doing this again? I suppose that I thought it would be fun, but so far it's just weird and uncomfortable. After coming across this ten-year-old diary, I realize that I really need to downsize. Why the HELL am I holding onto this shit? Immediately after posting these, the found journal will be trashed--I can promise that. Brace yourselves, folks. . .
"Ribbed, studded, twisted. Twisted? Clearly it's been a while since I've spent any time in the condom section of the drugstore. Glancing down at my shopping basket I see lip balm, bubble gum and zit cream. I am turning into a teenage girl again. Here I am shopping for condoms while waiting for my birth control prescription, and I actually feel a little embarrassed. I decide to go with the regular, plain old lubricated kind (nothing new or exciting). After getting my prescription filled, I bring my basket up to the counter. The cashier scans the condoms and says, "Is this the same guy?" I gulp. My heart starts racing, then I realize that she's looking at and talking to a coworker. She's the same cashier that always saw me come in with him, and I felt like she had figured me out. Picking up my pills, buying contraceptives, feeling guilty. Upon returning home and opening the box of condoms, I can see that the condom companies are now geared to a younger audience. I'm wearing the Durex stick-on devil tattoo right now. Haven't opened a condom yet."
Good grief! So, I'm not sure how many more of these I will post. It actually hurt to read some of the blurbs I've come across so far, partly because I was in such a bad place but also because, for the most part, the writing is terrible! I might post a few more funny ones, if I find any funny ones, and then the focus of this little experiment will shift to extermination. Time to fumigate!
I'm finally doing it--pulling my insides out and splattering them around for all to see. Here we go!