Alternately titled: The Grossest Post Ever. (Be forewarned.)
Egad. My mood (and hormones) should dictate that I write something either introspective or angry. I was both last night. To the extreme. And maybe I will write about it later, but right now I just don't want to be that person.
I'm on vacation. In New York City. Without kids or a husband. With my best friend who is by far the most fun person I know. It's not time to be angry. Or introspective. Or to think too much at all.
But it is time to go tampooning.
What? Don't tell me you've never heard of tampooning. It's something I was first introduced to as a freshman at basketball camp.
There are at least three levels of tampooning, each reserved for a certain type of victim.
Did you know that when you remove a tampon from it's applicator, dip it in water and fling it against something it will stick?
Yes, this first level of tampooning is reserved for people who are annoying you. Like the drunks in the next hotel room who won't shut the fuck up. You could tampoon their door for a morning surprise. Or a roommate who isn't paying her rent or doing her share. The roof of her car might be a perfect tampoon target.
The second level of tampooning requires a bit more providence. I've also heard it referred to as laying a blooby trap.
This level is reserved for guys who have fucked over your best friend (but unwritten tampooning law says you can never target your own ex-boyfriend) or a landlord who never would fix your toilet. And setting the blooby trap requires that you be on your period and in the bathroom of said asshole.
I know that you know where I am going with this. You enter the bathroom and go about your business. You even flush the toilet. And then you remove your tampon, the bloodier the better, and leave it in the toilet for your favorite person to ewww over. But at least they can flush it away. And you can claim it was an accident.
The last level of tampooning is reserved for the biggest haters. Racists. Homophobes. Misogynists. That asshole who keeps groping you.
It also requires that you be on your period. And it requires good aim.
Yes, you know it. When the racist, misogynist tells you that god brought AIDS as a plague to destroy fags everywhere, you are completely within your rights to whip out your tampon and fling it in his face.
It's gross. It's juvenile. But tell me you aren't fantasizing about doing it to a certain someone right now.
Last night, when the Prada-wearing adulteresses at the bar next to me went to the ladies' room, I fantasized about dipping my bloody tampon in their red wine.
Tell your fag jokes ladies. And enjoy your full-bodied red.