I wouldn't read it if I were you

Penises are stupid. I have just ostracized half of my readers – give or take. If you have an external sex organ and are still reading this…. congratulations on your huge manhood! No, seriously, it takes balls to receive such a swift kick to the taint and roll with it. I’m pretty sensitive about stuff so when you point out that one of my eyes is larger than the other, I am immediately self-conscious for the next month and try never to make eye contact with you. If you say anything about my reproductive organs it is a fair assumption that we are not having sex ever again. Ever. You might as well pack your shit and move out. Don’t even think about taking that Soda Stream machine with you when you leave either. I have already been through a custody battle or two for that little baby. I will fight again and live to see another carbonated beverage – believe that.   

Can’t say for certain why this train of thought got rolling. I started out thinking about defining moments that shaped our adolescence; mortifying moments to be precise. Like the Ogilvy home perm my Grandmother gave me for 7^th grade graduation – Sasquatch. I looked like Sasquatch. Someone was going to shoot me and tag me then tie me to the roof of their car, of this I was certain. I was a foot taller than the other girls, had the facial hair that so many of us Hispanic girls are blessed with, was overweight and now I also had a massive afro. Thanks Grandma! A few years before this I would be the girl who walked all the way home from school (appx 1 mi.) with the back of my dress tucked into my tights. I wondered why fools were laughing. Kids can be so fucking mean. I would have laughed at my chubby ass too. I was an asshole. I’m not fooling anyone, I still am. I have no qualms sharing all of this stuff with you guys now, I guess it’s my way of giving back or making good on all the horrible crap I did…still do…and still will do. Cosmic balance or chakra alignment or whatever those coexist bumper sticker people talk about. A few more defining moments then we’ll circle back to genitals, sound good?

I guess I was 17 when I went to mixed punk concert at Slim’s in San Francisco. We had been drinking heavily before this concert and I had not thought out my wardrobe accordingly. That evening I chose to wear striped tights, corduroys that I had fashioned into shorts and Dr. Martens boots. Picture this, I’ll give you some time… *jeopardy theme song* When I say we had been drinking heavily, I mean that between the four of us that I can recall being present, we drank at least 3 six packs of beer and each had 2 Fosters cans (Australian for beer) before arriving! I had to pee before we even got out of the car. I’ll give you the abbreviated version: I had to work myself out of my tights while still managing to not pee on them or myself (I’m already drunk) in someone’s driveway next to their very nice car. I kept yelling at my friends to shut the hell up because we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Very nice! The girl with her pants down and screaming about being quiet is definitely the one that should be calling the shots.

I’m adult now and I’m caught stealing from a grocery store in Florida. I fucking hate Florida but doesn’t give me a pass for shoplifting. Most humiliating experience since something I probably did last week. Deep in my alcoholism I’m cruising the local grocery store – don’t ask which one because I hate Florida and was hammered at the time. My guess is that I thought I was above paying for it. Maybe I was low on those end of month unemployment funds. I’ll gloss over a lot of what happened, but they found a bunch of crap in my purse. I remember there being cheese in there, Kool-Aid, bottled and boxed wine; because I guess I am practical. You never know when those surprise picnics are gonna happen. Sitting in that broom closet I remember thinking: If I write them a check, maybe they’ll let me leave. I knew it was a rubber check but they wouldn’t and I just wanted that wine. They can keep their shitty cheese and to hell with your Kool-Aid too! Defining. Moment.

So, back to genitals….

Sex Ed class: Anyone remember the giant poster on the wall with that floppy penis that we all laughed at and had a hard time paying attention to and being serious about? Yes, I just typed “penis” and “hard” in the same sentence and find it just as humorous as you do. I’m 37 going on 13. Anyway, if I had been more attentive in that class – if I had listened to Mr. Hart, I might have come (yup, just said come while talking about sex too…. just a different kind…dirty bastards) to the conclusion that sex and men in general were just the root of all evil that would befall me in my life. Florida would never have happened (followed some asshat out there,) my Soda Stream would have always been safe with me, I would have saved myself at least four broken hearts and three worn out copies of The Bodyguard Soundtrack on cassette. But then again, I wouldn’t have my son. So I guess there is still cosmic balance and a reason to coexist.