A company in Switzerland has introduced a new kind of condom. It’s called The Hotshot and it’s extra-small (1.7 inches in diameter as opposed to 2 inches for regular ones, and 7.4 inches in length) because it’s designed for 12-14 year-old-boys.

Close your mouth.

Does this kind of horrify you? Maybe it’s because I have condom issues, but I am horrified that there is a need for this at all. As a mother, I just don’t like to think about kids that young having sex, but this condom was developed in response to a recent study done by The Center for Development and Personality Psychology at Basel University in Switzerland that showed young teens engaging in unprotected sex resulting (duh) in conception, thus prompting several family planning organizations to campaign for it’s production.

So now there are kid-sized condoms.

WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO, TOY WITH MES?

My god how things have changed in 24 years only a few short years.  When I was that young,  I was still playing with Barbies (actually, I still do play with Barbies, but you know, I’m weird like that).  Sure, my  Barbies had some raunchy encounters, but you know.  That was Barbie sex.  I remember sitting in a tree house at my friend Katie’s and giggling and swearing up and down that we would never have sex with boys because we don’t want them to pee on us. That’s what we thought. We thought sex was kissing and then the boy peed on you.  We used to make up new lyrics to songs on the radio about boys peeing on girls.

Shut up.

We were 12!!!

That’s what 12- year-olds should be doing.

I stayed in the dark about sex until Freshman year of high school, or thereabouts. While I stopped thinking boys actually peed on you, I was really fuzzy on how exactly it all went down. My mom probably would have told me if I had asked her, but I was too mortified to bring it up to her, so Katie and I kept on theorizing and giggling and sneaking her older brother’s college anatomy books up to that tree house. I mean, we didn’t even know any sex words beyond penis and vagina, let alone having a clue what to do with them. My very first locker in Jr. High had “I wish every girl in the school would swallow my cum” written on the inside of the door, and I remember thinking “what an idiot! He spelled GUM wrong. SHEESH!” Once the sun came over the mountain a couple of years later and I learned what cum was, I felt pretty stupid for having shown the kid with the locker next to mine how some moron didn’t know how to spell GUM. No wonder he looked at me like I was clueless.

But don’t worry about poor wee little Crissy. Ninth grade Health class with Mr. Murgo cleared up my confusion. He looked and spoke exactly like Ferris Bueller’s Economics teacher, btw.

Anyone? Anyone?

Try watching that dude put a condom on a banana and not lose your shit, I dare you.

Thank goodness for ol’ Mr. Murgo, hilarious as he was, because he took care of all that naivety, but even though I knew what to do with the penis and the vagina and the cum, I still wasn’t ready to put it into practice! This is why I am so horrified. These are such different times and it makes me so sad that CHILDREN! are having sex.

But don’t take my horror at the mini condoms as disapproval, Toy with Mes. If there is a need for them, then they should make them available. I hope they ship a few of those bad boys over here to the states, too. I’m sure our statistics on young teens having sex are quite similar, if not even more shocking than Europe’s, but remember how I mentioned that I’m lazy? Yeah. I wont’ be going to check the facts on that one, but you know what I’m saying.  Most people know a young teen mom or dad, don’t they? That’s why this condom development is a positive one if you ask me. The only thing more horrifying than kids having sex, is kids having STDs or abortions or even worse, babies who will no doubt be abused or neglected unless there’s some serious intervention and support.  That’s not to say that teen parents are bad people, they’re just immature people, and that’s a recipe for disaster.

I’m almost 36 and I’m barely mature enough to handle parenthood (but then again, I still play with Barbies, so maybe that’s just me).  I couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive when I was in college.

So there you have my opinion on the kid-sized condoms.  They’re horrifyingly necessary.  I’m sure you all have something to say about this, so go to it Toy with Mes. Tell me how old you were when you lost your virginity, and if you think that was a good idea.  Was your 12 year-old-self mature enough to have sex and use protection? Is there a better solution to the problem of kids having sex?

Post from: Toy With Me

Condoms For Kids – How Young Is Too Young?

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Well, we’ve done it.  My stud is now a gelding and in 10-14 ejaculations we will soon be able to do the Sexy Time without fear of any slip ups winding up with names and college savings plans.

Free at last! Free at last! We are all done having babies!

(Sniffle.  My child bearing years are over. I’m having some mixed feelings about it actually, but then when both kids are screaming and I just wish the Goblin King would come and take them away, I want to make out with my husband’s urologist.)

We were going to have a big party for him–sort of a bon voyage type of dealy-o to give his lil’ swimmers a royal send off, but we thought of it too late and well? Eh. I’m kind of a shitty wife.

But how funny would it be if I wasn’t a shitty wife?

It would be awesome!

He Is A Hoarder

And he really would have appreciated a party because he’s a very sentimental guy. He saves ticket stubs from movies and concerts and train rides.  He saves receipts from dinners he wants to remember, and he will never, ever, throw away a pair of old worn out boxers or socks.   He has a pair of socks that have so many holes in them, and are so smelly that they’re virtually indistinguishable from a hunk of swiss cheese. When I try to throw them out, he’s all “What? I wore these to my senior prom! THEY’RE SPECIAL TO ME, OKAY?” And I’m all *eye roll.* Whenever we have this problem, I just wait until he goes to work and I throw the thing away. I have to put it at the very bottom of the trash can underneath the kitty litter AND the poopy diapers because he fishes through the trash just to make sure I’m not throwing out any “good stuff.”

Celebrate With A Public Ejaculation

If he’s like this with a pair of old socks or whatever, you can imagine how sad he is that his boys will never again see the light of day or the darkness of the vajeeen.  Knowing him, and I know this because he actually described it in great detail at Thanksgiving (you should have seen his mother’s face. Fucking. Priceless.), there would have to be a ceremony that ends in some sort of grandiose fashion– a public ejaculation, perhaps, where he stands up on the table, our friends and neighbors gathered below, and tosses one last virile cum shot on the face of the world (or the people in our dining room). That would be just his style.

He’s into facials.  Isn’t every man?

I just got a mental image of our neighbor, Earl, with my husband’s spunk on his face. I’ve just traumatized myself. Seriously, I have PTSD now.

Now you have PTSD because you just pictured Earl too and it freaked you out, didn’t it?

It’s okay, we’ll go for electroshock together.  I’ll hold your hand.  It’ll be a two for one.

Let’s see…what else?

Oh, the menu!

A Steak And A Blowjob

We’d have to serve frozen peas to eat, of course, and it would be cute because everyone knows frozen peas fit the contour of the scrotum (our friend’s son calls it “crotum,” how cute is that?).  Did you know they actually make ice packs that have little plastic “peas” in them? That’s what I got him for a vasectomy present. Maybe I’m not that shitty of a wife after all.  He’d probably disagree though.  I think what he wanted for a present was a steak and a blow job–a swallowing one.  I can tell just by the way he looked at me and said “I want a steak and a blow job for a vasectomy present.”

I may be a shitty wife, but I’m not a stupid one, Toy with Mes.

Let’s see…what else could we have to eat? We could have little licorice vas deferens (deferenses, deferensi, deferenseses?)…oh my god and bourbon balls! Yummy! I suppose it wouldn’t be a right and proper vasectomy party without Rocky Mountain Oysters! And I don’t care what the frosting haters of the world say, there must be a cake decorated with little frosting scrotums and sperms because it’s not a party if there’s no dick cake.

Do you think the bakery lady at the Stop & Shop would look at me funny if I asked her to put all that on a cake?  Do you think she knows how to spell “congratulations” or “vasectomy?”

Not everyone is smart like we are.

What about some party games?  We could play Operation and see if we can get the little piece of spaghetti (the doctor showed him his vas deferens after he removed it. He says it looks like spaghetti. HE ASKED IF HE COULD KEEP IT I TOLD YOU HE WAS WEIRD!) in the “bread basket” instead of the plastic toast that comes with the game. You know, for realism.

LIFE would be pretty awesome, we’d have to modify it a little bit to fit the occasion though,–”A surprise vasectomy! You are no longer procreating! Increase income by $250,000!” Or, “Too bad.  Vasectomy didn’t take.  You’re expecting twins! Go stab yourself in the balls.”

The winner wins a shot glass full of the boys.  The loser has to drink it.

EW! I just traumatized myself again!

Alrighty then!

I think I’m finished here.

Do you guys have any other suggestions for a vasectomy party, just in case some non-shitty wife is planning one for her dear husband’s big day and she stumbles across this post?

We wanna hook a sista up, don’t we?  We’re givers.

In honor of  all men that have been snipped I think we should give away a sex toy for men!  This week I am giving away A LELO BOB prostate  massager courtesy of sex toy retailer Eden Fantasys!  Remember boys, a little bum play doesn’t make you gay. Simply leave a comment below and we will choose a winner on Wednesday December 23rd!

Post from: Toy With Me

I’m Throwing My Husband A Vasectomy Party

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That’s what I thought.

It’s a harsh reality that women have been saddled with bearing the burden of birth control since it became available back in the 60’s. Let’s face it, once you reached a point of monogamy with your partner that made condoms a less economical choice (and often so inconvenient for the MAN), it became time for YOU to get to the gyno and get a more consistent form of contraception (which also happened to let your dude off the hook completely when it came to worrying about getting knocked up). Fair? No, not really. But what else were you going to do?

It isn’t bad enough that we have to carry the children, push them painfully out of our vaginas, then feed them from our own bodies while the men just get to sit back, drink beer and watch sports, then yell “PUSH!” when the time comes for the baby to come into the world. We also happen to be the only ones that can safely and (somewhat) conveniently prevent these pregnancies when it isn’t the right time to conceive. Men get to enjoy the sex, without worrying about the consequences, while we not only have to worry about them, but also are reminded of our immense responsibility of populating the planet by monthly menstruation, complete with crippling cramps, severe bloating and a perpetual feeling of being pissed off. And they wonder why we aren’t always Suzy Sunshine 100% of the time. If anyone has the right to feel a little jilted, I’d say it’s the female persuasion.

But for the past 50 years or so, we had no choice. As women, we had to step up to the plate and take one for the team, pumping our bodies with hormones or having foreign objects placed in our uterus’ or implanted in our arms. That was the price we were willing to pay to avoid unplanned pregnancy (and let’s face it, to get our men to stop complaining about the mood-ruining, sensation killing albatross of condom usage). But now, in 2009, according to news sources, a safe and effective MALE hormonal contraceptive is under development—and it might just be available before we hit menopause.

Apparently, scientists are about this close to giving men the option of a daily pill, a patch or topical gel for the skin, an injection given every three months, or an implant placed under the skin every 12 months. Hmmm. I don’t know about you, but I don’t know ONE man that would want to do any of that. Have we been taking care of business for too long for guys to even consider taking on the role of baby prevention? And, most importantly, do we even want to pass over the reins to the men for this momentous responsibility? As unfair as it is that we are encumbered by all things baby related, should men be given the chance to take over?

There may be a reason why us females have been the ones to take the pills, put on the patches and shove in the diaphragms. Let’s put it this way: when your husband or partner watches the kids, does he ever forget to give them breakfast? Does the little one sit in a poopy diaper for a little too long sometimes? And is it common for him to forget to remind the 10-year-old to change his stanky underwear? Sure, it’s not the end of the world for the kids to eat brunch instead of breakfast, and Junior isn’t going to die from wearing dirty undies, but if Dad forgot to take his little blue pill in the morning, it could result in a “mistake” of catastrophic proportions—namely another little ankle biter to remember to feed.

Not cool.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not bashing men here. I love men. And I know there are probably plenty of uber-responsible males out there who would be perfect candidates for taking on the contraception duties (although I really don’t know any of them). In general, I think men were made with a lot of wonderful, endearing qualities, such as the ability to fix things with limited resources and a genetic predisposition to protect and provide for their families at all costs–but remembering mundane everyday things, especially things that they probably feel are a “woman thing”–is not one of them. I am pretty sure that the human population might just increase exponentially if the birth control was handed over to the testosterone fueled members of society.

So let’s say that by 2010, the male contraceptive is available to the public. I want to know what man is going to read about it in the paper and say to his wife “Honey, good news! You don’t have to take birth control pills anymore. Now I can take the birth control pills and you don’t have to worry about it!”
And more importantly, what woman is going to say “Great, thanks honey” and actually not worry about it ever again? I can see it now. Post-its on the refrigerator, notes in his lunchbox and lipstick on the mirror in the bathroom:

“Don’t forget to take your pill!”

Just one more thing for men to say we are “nagging” them about. It might be better for society if we just suck it up. We’ve been bearing the burden of all things baby for years and years; I think we should be used to it by now. We’ll leave the TV watching and ball scratching to them, it’s what their good at—and they almost never forget when the baseball game is on.

Post from: Toy With Me

Birth Control For Men – not a chance

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And a couple of weeks ago, we actually managed to have a date, drinkies, and Sexy Time and because there were wwwwaaaayyyy too many of the drinkies, one drunken thing led to another which led to an Accident in the Bedroom when my husband forgot to employ the Pull and Pray. As someone who had just given birth 11 weeks prior, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call sane at that moment, and I wound up rocking back and fourth in the fetal position shouting “what did you just do?” over and over again as he apologized profusely. The next day, I sent him to the store to buy the Plan B pill because seriously?

Irish twins?

The side effects from the pill weren’t too horrible, and I was only a fire monster for a couple of days, but holy hell did it turn me into a bitch in heat—a paranoid, and now gun shy, bitch in heat. I was about rubbing up against my counter tops at home and writhing around in my chair at work and before anyone suggests I should have just rubbed one out I will remind you that I have two children to look after.

Yeah.

But clearly, I had to do something before I wound up losing all control and humping a co-worker’s leg. I work at a library. Librarians generally don’t enjoy having their legs humped.

I know.

Prudes.

Anyway, I packed my kids into the car and headed to Target to explore my over the counter birth control options because the Plan B thing, although not terrible, is not an experience I would like to repeat. And what I was really looking for was the Today Sponge because it’s just so irresistibly Seinfeldian, but sadly, Target only has condoms, pregnancy tests and ovulation kits in their “family planning” department. Remind me to write a very strongly worded letter to the Target people because what the fuck?

So, I found myself contemplating condoms for the first time in 14 years and holy crap! I’m not going to lie to you because “only lie a little bit and not a lot” is my motto and I was overwhelmed by all the choices and more than a little bit confused and I wondered if I needed to call my husband because do they come in sizes? I don’t know.

And what about the ribbed ones? Are they really ribbed for my pleasure or is that just a cliché? I have no idea.

What about the ones that vibrate? Wait. Shut. The. Door. Condoms VIBRATE now? Do I want one that vibrates? And what is this Pleasure Pack business with all the different kinds in it? Is that like a condom buffet? Do I really want to try everything on the menu? MAGNUMS sound impressive but also intimidating as if my husband’s piece, once becondomed with a MAGNUM, will magically become a high powered firearm, and thins seem like they’d break as soon as the thrusting became, shall we say enthusiastic?

I was clearly in way over my head, but the part that makes all of this really fucking hilarious, is that while I’m trying to make a decision, my four-year- old is shouting “I hate you! I hate what you’re saying to me! I’m going to throw you in the trash can!” and she’s drawing the attention of everyone around us because we did not stop at the shoe department first. Seriously. Target employees were abandoning their projects to ask me if I needed help and I was just like “GOD NO! STOP STARING AT ME!”

Thank God the baby was sleeping because had she been awake and fussy, I would have probably asked the pharmacist for a rusty spoon so that I could just gouge out my ovaries right there in front of the ovulation kits. I eventually wound up just grabbing the silver box because it was pretty and right in front of my face and I headed for the check out because my little Diva was ramping up her performance and we were headed for a screaming hissy fit complete with tantrum on the floor in 3, 2, 1…
Checkout. There were three cashiers available: An old lady with Judgy Judgington eyes, a teenage boy, and a tired looking woman roughly my own age.

There was no line at Judgy’s register.

The boy seemed to be whacking off or adjusting his sack or somefuckingthing while his customer selected a pack of gum.

The tired lady had a shopper with eleventy million items. I decided to go with her. And I waited forfreakingever; cursing myself the whole time for not planning this purchase the day before when I bought $150 worth of bullshit, and the box of condoms could have just blended in with all the other stuff but no. All I had now was a lonely box which I tossed onto the conveyer belt and it just sat there between me and the cashier who was clearly mortified by my purchase. She refused to make eye contact with me, and I wondered if it would have been easier for everyone if I had just smuggled the box out of the store under the folds of the baby stroller canopy and risked getting hauled away in shame by the security clowns.

Do you think Family Services would have taken my children from me?

I’d say that maybe next time I’ll try just stealing the condoms to see what happens but there won’t be a next time because after all the crap I went through that day, my husband refuses to use them.

Nice.
Anybody need a box of Trojan thins?

Post from: Toy With Me

The Condom Conundrum

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