Participants reported the stunt actually worked. HIV transmissions dropped 2% in the area immediately after the condoms were distributed.
Worked like a charm for me. Soon as I rolled the thing on I lost my erection. It was like, really weird. That never happened before.Psych!
The picture is printed on the package, not on the condoms.
We’re prepping for Orlando Pride this weekend, and will have some exciting swag to give away!— Rep. Anna V. Eskamani 🔨 (@AnnaForFlorida) October 7, 2019
I mean, who doesn’t want a free condom with my face on it? 😜🔨 #OrlandoPride #SexEd #Condoms pic.twitter.com/jAYm3zUrxB
Me. That's who.
The distribution failed. The condoms were too small.
Totally unrelated anecdote.
For a few years at least the clubs that I went to distributed condoms. You could just pick up a handful at the front door upon leaving. I had a million of them.
Possibly twenty or so.
All different colors. All too thick. All too small. They were terrible. They were all the worst quality. Apparently for pixies. Pixie brutes with zero tactile sensitivity.
To test them I took a whole bunch of them and filled them with water.
Turns out different colors really were slightly different sizes and different thicknesses.
I had all these condom water balloons on the bathroom sink counter that was broad but bare. It held only the sink, the rest was blank counter. Everything that I used, electric razor, toothbrush, etc., was in a small wooden furniture cabinet with drawers next to the counter.
My parents had a very bad habit of just dropping in without notice.
You see where this is going.
Mum went straight to the bathroom as the women in my life do. Fix their hat-hair, straighten their twisted hose, straighten a strap, whatever it is they do in there.
Out of the bathroom and in front of my father she asked,
"What are all those condoms in your bathroom for, filled with water?"
"I'm testing them."
"For what?"
"For size."
"Which ones did you pick? The blue ones. I hope."
Hardy har har. Good ol' Mum. Always wishing the best for me.
Totally unrelated, and this is offensive, not embarrassing.
Much earlier than that she was talking with my two sisters when I walked into the room.
"Bobby. Bobby. Tell me something. This is personal but I've got to know."
"What?"
"Now, don't be offended but I must ask you because I forgot ... "
"What?"
"Have you been circumcised?"
"Oh for Christ's sake. See? This proves that after the first kid you just flat didn't pay much attention. And that's fine. I like it that way. But this does prove that you relaxed considerably."
Something so fundamental, so serious, so traumatic as a baby, so painful, so life-path establishing for me is just another empty box on a hospital form for her to check without really thinking far less recalling.
You'd remember something so serious as that.
Even if you were drugged up in the hospital.
GAWL!
To lighten the mood, and her still not paying attention, it took too long a moment to sink in, my two sisters got it before she did,
"You'd think you know that changing my diapers for fifteen years."
She was thinking fifteen years went by since then. My sisters laughed but she didn't. *extended pause* Oh! Ha ha ha ha.
Imagine my mother and two sisters talking about that. What a bunch of weird-os. See what I had to put up with?
3 comments:
So many punchlines, so little time.
See what I had to put up with?
Is this a rhetorical question?
When I read the some of the stories you post here at Levity, I frequently don't see what you see, agree on what you seem to think is the point, or regard what you laugh off as funny. And that's ok, as long as I know where I am and what's coming up for me in response. Sometimes the disagreement, sense of incongruity or questions I experience serve to bring me new awareness or help clarify my thoughts.
When I hear a story that appears to go round and round the barn to land on a conclusion that doesn't fit or work with my understanding or awareness of what's been shared, and ends with a question asked or series of questions posed, I wonder what the motive in telling it has been and what's being expected or asked of the one hearing/reading the story.
Would you prefer your readers be passive listeners? Willing to accept whatever premises or conclusions are presented for the sake of Levity and refrain from engaging or disagreeing out of respect for the story or the effort the teller put into it? If so, letting them in on this preference and dropping the questions asked at the end would help set the stage.
I'm assuming these stories are being shared on this blog for a reason, perhaps with the hope of entertaining and/or connecting with others. I daily appreciate them and often enjoy the posts that come up, respecting the effort that goes into them and this blog. I will not, however, agree to "see" something that does not comport with what I am seeing or match the awareness I've gained through my life experience.
From my perspective, a mother who publicly states that she does not remember if her son is circumcised or not, and feels the compulsion to discuss that gap in awareness with someone other than her husband, son or doctor, is revealing a physical or mental deficiency of some concern. Not something that needs to be "put up with" so much as understood, with the consequences of it taken into consideration. Dementia, dissociation due to mental illness or trauma, or a deep-seated need to use shame and passive-aggressive behavior to manipulate and control her children, would all account for that type of seemingly blithe boundary-crossing.
Choosing to arrive uninvited and unannounced at adult child's home on a regular basis is also more than a bad habit of just showing up without notice. It's another sign of enmeshment and non-mutual relating that can appear loving and caring on the surface and isn't.
The shorter response:
Yes, I see. I'm sorry that happened to you.
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