I’m sitting there, ass glued firmly to the couch cushions, television on for background noise, baby happily babbling in his Exersaucer, and all of a sudden a female voice breaks into my thoughts:
“I have genital herpes” she confesses to me.
The camera pans to her partner, “and I don’t” he confidently informs us.
The commercial goes on and on while I sit there completely horrified, jaw gently grazing the cat-hair covered carpet. Why, oh why do I need to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to erase that image from my already addled mind?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that we need to pretend like STD’s don’t happen by shushing it up (Lord knows Aunt Becky has seen more STD’s than you have.)(Because I’m a NURSE, you pervert!) and shaming those who have them into institutions or anything, not at all. Hell, plenty of people have them, live with them, while others have managed to barely dodge that bullet, and I don’t think that it’s something to be ashamed about.
I just don’t need my Oprah interrupted by having to hear about and subsequently imagine sores on your flipping meat curtains.
Before you flog me for being insensitive to those who have herpes, let me assure you I also don’t really care to have my day interrupted by ads promising to rid me of that pesky yeasty discharge, freshen up the old curtains with a vinegar douche, or make sure I don’t piss myself in public anymore.
I kid, I kid.
I’m not going to pretend I haven’t dealt with some delicate conditions of my privates over the years. Hell, I’ve even gleefully documented When Monistat Attacks, went to the hospital after I peed my pants, TWICE but none of these things have put me on your television set. Sure, I talk about these delicate conditions on my blog, but I assure you that no one from Depends, Valtrex, or generic Monistat is paying me a single dime for writing this. In fact, I’m almost certain they’d pay me NOT to write this.
Alas, I digress.
But seriously, could we PLEASE put a ban on having to watch people talk about the state of their junk on television? Because OBVIOUSLY.
So dish, The Internet. What would YOU ban (besides Your Aunt Becky from polluting The Internet, because have you HEARD of a PEN NAME?)?
*Lest you think I’m a complete ass, I also cannot watch the ASPCA ones with the sad music in them because I cry. every. time. and then I want to adopt all the animals on the planet, even though my dog, Auggie, eats poo and there’s very little grosser than a dog that eats poo so WHY would I want another dog that might eat poo? (answer: I wouldn’t)
Other places you’ll find Your Aunt Becky today if you care to look (also, I am humping all of you who have visited me elsewhere. THANK YOU.)
I’m discussing my New Years Resolution over at Toy With Me, and while it’s not one of my racier posts, it’s one I’m particularly proud of because it’s honest and real and true and sometimes that’s what matters.
At my SodaHead gig, I’ve named 2009 as the Year of the…
Lastly, at Skirt! it’s not the damn kids on my lawn or my collection of 8-tracks that have made me realize that I’ve gotten old and crusty. Nope, it’s BLOGGING.