A closer look

I really do have a sickness. Everything to me has it’s own language and speaks it’s humor in subtle messages to my rotting brain. A new job at a grocery store is just fodder for my filthy mind. I just had to share.

In the feminine hygiene section of the store, located near the dairy coolers for you hot-flash-afflicted gals, there’s a small hook for hanging small product that would otherwise not be seen. On this particular rack, nestled between the light and heavy flow days, are tingling and cooling lubricants as well as magnifying glasses. Now I’m not talking about little magnifying glass that one would use to put and screw in the temple of your prescription glasses, we’re talking about big-assed-Sherlock-Holmes-crime-fighting magnifying glass.

Who the hell took it upon themselves to hang together these two incongruous shopping cart goodies? Lubricant and a gigantic magnifying glass. Maybe these mormon women have issues with not know where their vajayjays are and need the magnifying glass to apply the lubricant. AND it’s warming [read set your cooch on fire] and tingling [lay back and look at the ceiling 'numbing' cooch cold] varieties. Or is the magnifying glass to apply the lube to there hubby’s tiny gherkin? His Vienna sausage, his teeny weenie, his micro mini penis.

I just couldn’t stop laughing inside feeling that whoever had stocked the shelves was sending a secret message to these uptight mormon travelers into sexual deviancy.

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