A Well Rounded Breakfast

Dear Diary,

I know I have been neglecting you, and I am sorry! I tend to start my hobbies off strong, and then, as time progresses become much less motivated. But I’m back in the saddle, so hang on and prepare yourself for a laugh or two…

At a stand-up show I heard the following joke, which struck a chord with me, so here it is: “I took a lovely young lady home last night from the bar, in the morning I played the perfect gentleman by making her breakfast. I had Fruit Loops and she had PlanB”.

There are many things I love about PlanB. Obviously, the #1 is that it has prevented me from having a baby daddy. No one, in their right mind, wants a ‘baby daddy’. If you have children, you want them to have a father. I also never want to be some one's baby mamma. That would require me to yell about child support and other unfortunate circumstances.

I also love that I have a literal plan B, because sometimes plan A just doesn’t quite work the way it was suppose to. In school, we were taught to have a backup plan. Sure I wanted to be responsible and use proper birth control, but I dropped the ball, and I didn’t execute plan A. So now I should have to bare a child? If that’s what you think, I’m sorry, but you are a fuck-tard. I can’t even remember to take my birth control on time. Do you really think I will make a responsible mother? C’mon!!! I actually know at this stage in my life I would be a terrible mother. My baby would probably ride in the passenger seat and eat tootsie rolls for breakfast. Yes, my infant, who has no teeth, would eat tootsie rolls.

Another thing I really like about this magical little pill is that I can get it over the counter. I don’t have to go get violated by some women to be told it is ok I don’t want to get pregnant. All I need to do is the walk of shame on over to Walgreens, and BAM, re-do button has been activated! It is almost as easy as the mind eraser from Men In Black. Side note; when this happens I can’t help to giggle, knowing that the pharmacist assistant, pill counter, or whatever you call that profession, now knows I made regrettable decisions last night. If it is an older lady, it is very likely she will give the SINNER stare. You know, the one you get when you buy condoms or lube from an uptight old hag, who hasn’t seen a cock in 10+ years. I’m ok with all of that, as long as she sells me the goods. If the cashier is one of those crazies, I like to pop the pill right there at the counter. This usually helps ease the embarrassment.

There are a lot of things about PlanB that I like, but there is one thing I don’t enjoy at all, the price. That damn pill cost $50+ As a young mattress saleswomen, who spends her money on important things, such as booze and shoes, fifty dollars is a lot to shell out at the drop of a hat. Fuck you Mr or Mrs PlanB, for being a genius, and making shit loads of cash because you saw an amazing business opportunity. You knew me, and every other girl, terrified at the possibility of being impregnated by someone they probably had no intention of sleeping with in the first place, would find a way to come up with $50 every time…EVERY TIME!

Now comes the time in the blog where I share my new found wisdom, the lesson I have learned. Plan B is plan B because it isn’t plan A! Plan A is the much more desirable choice. That cute little pill is there for emergencies only. Emergencies need not include being too drunk to wrap it up. But lucky me, I live in America. I get to have a backup plan, unless the damn Republican Party decides to take that option away.

Yours Truly

Stocking Up Before November