Is there a gender corollary to the forty years of life during which a woman finds herself leaving the house only because she's completely out of Tampax?
Do those of you with male sigoths ever hear "Hey--just popping out to buy a urethra blotter," or "Be right back--discovered I'm completely out of vas deferens ointment?"
Perhaps the only thing in my life which truly can accept no substitute. Why don't they have Tampax stands on every corner? Like mailboxes, or FedEx deposit receptacles.
I mean.
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