Wednesday, March 07, 2007
You can't go wrong, if you shield your dong
Next week is spring break. (Which, conversely, means that this week sucks.) To an extent unlike any other college campus I have ever spent even the smallest speck of time on, George Mason is campaigning for its students to have the safest spring break, like, totally evah. (Saftey is, like, hot.)
To that end, today in the student center (and incidentally during my lunch) the Office of Alcohol, Drug and Health education put on QUITE the show. Not only did they have a lone steel-drummer setting the calypso (except that it was 30 degrees and snowing outside) Spring Break mood, (except that he played the ultra-long version of "Brother, brother, brother" which, who knew, translates well to the steel drum. The song still sucks, but it translates well.) but they were giving out popcorn and free knapsacks all emblazoned with their Safe Spring Break emblem. While my lunch table mates and I complained to each other about the next table singing "Hot Hot Hot" by mumbling every other line until they got to "....feeling HOT HOT HOT" (because, let's be honest, do YOU know any other words?), it was brought to our attention that there were goodie bags being doled out. Not one to ever give up the freebie, I went to investigate.
At the far end of the student center and piled high in a basket were ziploc bags labeled in large letters: "HEALTHY HOOKUP KIT". Is it just me or is this genius? The college sophomore in me writhed in the delight that only the word "hookup" could induce. The bag contained several things: glow in the dark and flavored Rough Rider condoms (on the level, what about Teddy Roosevelt's infamous cavalry of the same name makes the synonymy even slightly sexually appealing? Incidentally, Teddy's gang suffered nearly 75% casualties on pretty much their only raid -- which doesn't bode well for one's confidence in a condom of the same name.), flavored dental dams (blechhhh) , female condoms (double blechhhh... there just isn't anything sexual about something I could theoretically fit over my head or stuff my 20lb cat into.) and lots of sample-size lube.
{An aside about the sheer number of odd condoms that have come my way thanks to Mr. George Mason & Co. As a lowly first year nursing student last year, I had to work a few hours at the GMU health fair. The usual: tables set out in a large hall with vendors and organizations all promoting some element of health. The Fairfax County Public Health table was brimming with students. When I made my way to the front of their table, I saw that they had hundreds of condoms out and they were being scooped up like they were gold coins. After the crowds dispersed, I, too, began to fill my lab coat pockets. Again, not because I have any real need for condoms-en-bulk, but because of the TYPE of condoms. FCHD was touting the "Jimmie Hatz" brand condom. The front of the packaging features a scary looking dog, under which it reads: The official condom of hip-hop kulture. And under that: 'For playaz puttin' in REAL work'. Please. Do you think I could actually demonstrate any manner of self control with an item like that being offered to me for free? Other students coming up to the table looked at me funny, but I knowingly tapped my engagement ring and said, "Hey, I do this without shame." The Betrothed was admittedly a little off put when he got home to see about 50 assorted condoms on the kitchen table (with lube) and worried aloud that this was some sort of indication that things around here were about to get much freakier -- in a bad way. Then he asked that I not leave them out on the kitchen table.}
Back to today -- I, of course, took several of the fun-filled ziplocs (one of which is headed directly for the BFF -- who is working on her Jimmie Hatz collection -- because, really, what better to make a little pee come out than a ziploc bag labeled thusly that includes a treasure trove of sinful things AND a glossy health-center pamphlet on the importance of safe sex) and instructed the fellow students at my table to follow suit; one of whom is entrenched in a long term relationship (holla!) and the other who lives at home with mom and pop. None of us, myself included, displaying any real need for the sex-supplies-in-a-bag that our tuition dollars ultimately funded. My intentions are to see how awesome a female-condom water balloon could be and to put on a finger puppet show in a darkened bathroom with the glow-in-the dark condoms.
Which got me thinking two things.
1) Is it fair of the three of us to take said bags for our own entertainment (and yes, quite possibly for YOURS as I will be doling out these goodies to you, my dear sexin' friends, in the weeks to come.) and thereby defeating the purpose of giving out Hookup Kits to people who haven't hooked up in years? (And holy crap, where was this idea when we were all in college?)
2) Taking #1 into honest consideration, I cannot honestly picture Spring-Breaking George Mason students drunkenly digging into their Healthy Hookup ziplocs next week in their sunny-locale of choice. They are stupid enough to wear jeans that don't even remotely begin to cover their asscracks and stiletto heels on cobblestone, so I seriously doubt their ability to manage safe sex.
Hah. So there. Justified! All the fun condoms are mine, bitches.
In any case, our kitchen table is brimming again with sexual goodness. The Betrothed has since learned to not be even remotely shocked by something like this. He knows that worse things could be brimming on that table thanks to nursing school.
So. Lube, anyone?
To that end, today in the student center (and incidentally during my lunch) the Office of Alcohol, Drug and Health education put on QUITE the show. Not only did they have a lone steel-drummer setting the calypso (except that it was 30 degrees and snowing outside) Spring Break mood, (except that he played the ultra-long version of "Brother, brother, brother" which, who knew, translates well to the steel drum. The song still sucks, but it translates well.) but they were giving out popcorn and free knapsacks all emblazoned with their Safe Spring Break emblem. While my lunch table mates and I complained to each other about the next table singing "Hot Hot Hot" by mumbling every other line until they got to "....feeling HOT HOT HOT" (because, let's be honest, do YOU know any other words?), it was brought to our attention that there were goodie bags being doled out. Not one to ever give up the freebie, I went to investigate.
At the far end of the student center and piled high in a basket were ziploc bags labeled in large letters: "HEALTHY HOOKUP KIT". Is it just me or is this genius? The college sophomore in me writhed in the delight that only the word "hookup" could induce. The bag contained several things: glow in the dark and flavored Rough Rider condoms (on the level, what about Teddy Roosevelt's infamous cavalry of the same name makes the synonymy even slightly sexually appealing? Incidentally, Teddy's gang suffered nearly 75% casualties on pretty much their only raid -- which doesn't bode well for one's confidence in a condom of the same name.), flavored dental dams (blechhhh) , female condoms (double blechhhh... there just isn't anything sexual about something I could theoretically fit over my head or stuff my 20lb cat into.) and lots of sample-size lube.
{An aside about the sheer number of odd condoms that have come my way thanks to Mr. George Mason & Co. As a lowly first year nursing student last year, I had to work a few hours at the GMU health fair. The usual: tables set out in a large hall with vendors and organizations all promoting some element of health. The Fairfax County Public Health table was brimming with students. When I made my way to the front of their table, I saw that they had hundreds of condoms out and they were being scooped up like they were gold coins. After the crowds dispersed, I, too, began to fill my lab coat pockets. Again, not because I have any real need for condoms-en-bulk, but because of the TYPE of condoms. FCHD was touting the "Jimmie Hatz" brand condom. The front of the packaging features a scary looking dog, under which it reads: The official condom of hip-hop kulture. And under that: 'For playaz puttin' in REAL work'. Please. Do you think I could actually demonstrate any manner of self control with an item like that being offered to me for free? Other students coming up to the table looked at me funny, but I knowingly tapped my engagement ring and said, "Hey, I do this without shame." The Betrothed was admittedly a little off put when he got home to see about 50 assorted condoms on the kitchen table (with lube) and worried aloud that this was some sort of indication that things around here were about to get much freakier -- in a bad way. Then he asked that I not leave them out on the kitchen table.}
Back to today -- I, of course, took several of the fun-filled ziplocs (one of which is headed directly for the BFF -- who is working on her Jimmie Hatz collection -- because, really, what better to make a little pee come out than a ziploc bag labeled thusly that includes a treasure trove of sinful things AND a glossy health-center pamphlet on the importance of safe sex) and instructed the fellow students at my table to follow suit; one of whom is entrenched in a long term relationship (holla!) and the other who lives at home with mom and pop. None of us, myself included, displaying any real need for the sex-supplies-in-a-bag that our tuition dollars ultimately funded. My intentions are to see how awesome a female-condom water balloon could be and to put on a finger puppet show in a darkened bathroom with the glow-in-the dark condoms.
Which got me thinking two things.
1) Is it fair of the three of us to take said bags for our own entertainment (and yes, quite possibly for YOURS as I will be doling out these goodies to you, my dear sexin' friends, in the weeks to come.) and thereby defeating the purpose of giving out Hookup Kits to people who haven't hooked up in years? (And holy crap, where was this idea when we were all in college?)
2) Taking #1 into honest consideration, I cannot honestly picture Spring-Breaking George Mason students drunkenly digging into their Healthy Hookup ziplocs next week in their sunny-locale of choice. They are stupid enough to wear jeans that don't even remotely begin to cover their asscracks and stiletto heels on cobblestone, so I seriously doubt their ability to manage safe sex.
Hah. So there. Justified! All the fun condoms are mine, bitches.
In any case, our kitchen table is brimming again with sexual goodness. The Betrothed has since learned to not be even remotely shocked by something like this. He knows that worse things could be brimming on that table thanks to nursing school.
So. Lube, anyone?
# posted by Cathy @ 6:25:00 PM 
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LAUGHED OUT LOUD! Seriously, I'm jealous, and amazed that a Virginia state school is that progressive.
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