Herself speaks.
Springtime! The plants, they are a-blooming; and as lovely as they are, they bring with them the onus of seasonal pollinosis. And so, I went to our local pharmacy today to pick up a refill of a prescription for allergy medicine for Beloved Husband. The packaging of the medication was slightly different this time compared to that of the previous refill, and so I inspected it carefully before leaving the store. It's a good thing I did; they had provided the incorrect medication -- solely the antihistamine, rather than the antihistamine-decongestant combination. I brought this to the attention of the workers in the pharmacy, and after much staring at the box, pointing at the shelf where the correct medication (if it had been in stock) would have been located, and corralling of additional pharmacy workers to do the same, it was determined that they could fill the prescription properly with a name-brand drug in lieu of the generic version. I was asked to wait while they did so. Or rather, I indicated I would wait, as I was disinclined to leave it to the vagaries of "it'll be ready later and you can come back for it," since I'd already waited in line twice for this prescription.
What to do to occupy my time while they resolved the issue? I meandered the aisles, and then decided to peruse the prophylactics. Certainly more interesting than the confusing array of makeup, or the holiday aisle with bags of fake grass and plastic eggs.
For your benefit, gentle readers, I took pictures of the products. Behold the array of options, each followed by my commentary. Enjoy.
Let's start with good advertising: "Get closer!" That sounds like a very pleasant goal. This is one of what appears to be a plethora of non-latex condoms that are available. Given the emerging prevalence of latex allergies, that's a very good idea. Not to mention: Latex clothing = rather interesting; yet latex condom = somewhat less so, particularly because it is reminiscent of a balloon or dishwashing glove. Finally, a question: "America's Thinnest!" Does that mean that condoms in other countries may be thinner? Do people purposefully seek out imported condoms for even greater thinness? I wonder.
Ecstasy.
ec·sta·sy [ek-stuh-see]noun, plural ec·sta·sies.
1. rapturous delight.
2. an overpowering emotion or exaltation; a state of sudden, intense feeling.
3. the frenzy of poetic inspiration.
4. mental transport or rapture from the contemplation of divine things.
Well, that seems like quite a lot of pressure on these condoms (not to mention the users) to deliver Ecstasy. Double Ecstasy, even. The more times I type the word "ecstasy," the less it looks like a real word. It's one thing to advertise pleasure; to imply the possibility of rapturous delight is a bit much, though. Also, the byline: "Feels like nothing's there" seems... wrong. While I understand that this is intended to indicate that one might not notice the presence of the condom, it's a terrible advertising slogan -- it could also imply an absence of other kinds of things (such as an absence of the promised ecstasy). I think I'd really like to be sure that I feel like something is there. Perhaps I'm overthinking. Hmm.
Assorted temptations. Temptations? Oh, dear. First, "warmer" - warming on contact. How warm is warm? I don't think a temperature much more than lukewarm would be particularly desirable for one's genitals. And then "tingling" - I'm not at all certain that tingling would be comfortable for one's private bits. The box thoughtfully provides "soothing" next, presumably to recover from all the warming and the tingling. And then dessert - two different fruity varieties! Oh, my.
FIRE? ICE? I feel an urge to cross my legs protectively. Oh, just more "warming" and "tingling." I'm still a bit doubtful about those.
And again: "warms and excites." What's with all the warming? This one wins a prize for the least subtle slogan: "orgasmic pleasure." Well, yes, isn't that part of the plan when using condoms? One can hope. Yet why must everything be all extreme -- "intensified" and "charged" and all that? I suppose there's not much advertising power in a slogan that would promise solely some sort of quiet, satisfactory intimacy. Even though that might be, on occasion, exactly what one would like.
And now, for something completely different:
The Today Sponge. I remember the sponge being groundbreaking for a variety of reasons; it's heyday was around the time that I was in college. I remember vividly when it was withdrawn from the market, and I'm glad to see it back. After all the warming and tingling of the condoms, the sponge seems like a comfortable pillow. Ah, yes.
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