Thursday, May 21, 2009

W.O.W (you're a dirty double duty douchebag) Wednesday

While I was having a Titillating Tuesday, getting ready for my weekly game of flag football, engaging in the long-awaited consumption of my toasted-on-the-outside-chewey-on-the-inside cinnamon raisin bagel with margerine and trying on a new pair of false lashes I'd be dying to wear, somewhere in the world, another woman was regretting all the titillation she'd had with a douchebag (her words, not mine. Actually, her words were a tad more crass than douchebag but you get the idea), last year.

I HAD A PAP AND THE DR WNTS 2 C ME, came the heart-dropping-into-your-stomach text. The thing that no woman ever wants to hear after a pap test. Of course, typically followed by something like I'M KINDA FREAKN, which she aptly followed up with.

We then engaged in a half-hour of who-dunnit crime solving series of questions, all via text messaging, including the routine, who'd you sleep you before, during (this particular criteria, of which, would only apply to a TrashyDumbSkank) and after. A pair of sore thumbs and dry eyes later, we convened at a hair salon where she was getting her roots touched-up and I sat across from her, engaging in code-word speak so as not to alert the lispy, gay hair stylist buzzing around her head, interjecting every now and then with his own completely unrelated nobody-gives-a-shit snippets of his life as he tried to pick up on keywords from our conversation. Gays love gossip. Flaming Gays devour it like a sex-starved pervert devours and throw in their two cents no matter how much you make it clear to them that you don't need it.

"So how'd you know it was that? Like, did you have any idea going into it?", I whispered, looking around like ebola was growing on the walls of the salon and the only refuge I had was keeping my arms as close to my body as I possible could, gripping my elbows with my cold hands.

"I knew something was wrong when they put that thing in me...." she responded back, nonchalantly sitting in her chair, bobbing her foot up and down like a valley girl. She handles stress very well. " hurt like a bitch...and it never did before...ugh".

"Ohmigod, like thith onnnnne time, actually like yeth-terday? I was like bartending n sthuff and like thith guy wath totally hitting awn me an like, i totally stubbed my finger with a beeer bawttle an' it hurt like a bitch too! But like he wuz sooo hawt an' i totally wanted to pummel him so it wuz like toootally worth it!", Flaming Gay buzzed. I really wished I had a fly swatter at that point, but we shot the shit until he was done and buzzed off.

"Okay, so ...what'd the doctor say it was?"

"Chlamydia. " Came the answer. I drew a blank. I was too busy feeling my heart drop into my gut to see or think about anything else. And all of a sudden, that safe sex presentation I giddily sat through in my Grade 10 year while checking out Mr. Heaps' ass (no really, that was his last name) while thinking, who the hell actually gets stuff like this?, came aflashing back.

"It's curable, thank God," she cut in, probably noticing how large my Asian eyes had gotten, "I'm on antibiotics now, so it's all good."

After an awkward Seinfeld moment or two, I breathed a sigh of relief. Amazed at how calm, cool and collected she was, we then caught up on life and work and the usual bashing of douchebags.

"Can you believe it?! I, of all people, have this!Whathef&^$%" She exclaimed, still calm cool and collected but a with a bit of a firey glow this time around.

"How'd it actually happen? And are you going to tell him!? I mean, you have to! Don't you?!" Perplexed and suddenly feeling like ebola was growing from the walls again, I gripped my elbows once again, further perplexed that my 'safe place' has something to do with my elbows.

And as she launched into her story about how she slept with douchebag, broke up with him twice because of his douchebagness, then slept with him, then found out he lied about sleeping with someone else while they were broken up, and the fact that he didn't use any protection when he ventured into TrashyDumbSkank territory and then slept with her knowing full well he was infected, my mind wandered off into douchebag hell wondering if this douchebag qualified for a throne, right up on stage with Mario Lopez, Joseph Fritzl, John Mayer and this douche.

Which leads me to something I found today, A place where you can send your infectee an e-card, telling them that they probably have what you gave them and to get tested, stat.

If you're mature enough to have sex, you should be mature enough to talk about your sexual health records openly and most importantly, honestly.

According to their statistics

An average of 26.8% of recipients in 2006 and 28.5% in 2007 "clicked-through" to get STD testing information...Of the 23,594 cards sent in 2006 and 2007, 15.4% were for gonorrhea exposure, 14.9% for syphilis, and 9.3% for HIV. A lot -- 48.8% -- were for "other" diseases, such as crabs, scabies and hepatitis.
This service in itself is completely ridiculous, if you ask me. I think a more effective e-card service would be something along the lines of "I'm a douchebag, stay away from me". Or better yet, girls and can send other girls e-cards that anonymously warn them about a potential douche/ex-boyfriend, like "Dear Jane, Been there, done that, I suffered so that you don't have to, From The Saviour".

Surely, you'd rather a card like that than what has to offer?


  1. I'm shaking my head at the baby rapist that I could barely read the rest of you post.....Why are some people allowed to live?

  2. I suppose if we solve that one, we'd also solve 99.7% of the world's problems. It's unfortunate, I agree.

  3. Damn our need for genetic diversity...

    We should all just sit in our little insular communities, inbreed and stamp out the nasty diseases!

    Only, then, we'd open ourselves to a whole new range of problems -- like the populace of the Faroe Islands.

    I think it's better than inSPOT not existing at all -- and I know of a few people that have used it, even!

    Your variation would be quite useful too though, I agree -- and such a site might already exist, knowing the Interwebs :)

  4. Wow I had absolutely no idea there was such an e-card service...crazy!

    I just happened upon your blog through Cheryl's and I think I'll stick around.

  5. I heard about the e-card service and I was actually disappointed I won't get to use it. Which I realize makes me totally effed in the head, but still.

  6. You don't need an e-card service to warn girls of douchebags. It's called


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