Can you say penis?

Today, we had a heavy work training session on medical terminology and joy, oh frigging joy, there will be an exam on it. Anyway, during the training the trainer, in all seriousness, said 'Does anyone have a problem with saying penis or vagina?' The woman beside me replied, without thinking ' I love penis.' Of course, we all laughed. What she meant was she loved the word penis. I don't know why. But then I like the word pukeable. And, no none of us had problems with wordage of said penis and said vagina. Apparently, people do. I recall a writer, years ago, haven't heard much of her on the writing scene probably also for the same amount of years, went on a rant on her blog at the time about writers who called vaginas, well, vaginas. Why she was ranting? No idea. To my mind, body parts are just that. There is no mystery any more. Things just are.

Just in case because evil lurks…

So, I’ve sort of started to pack a bag to head down to Brisbane for training. I say sort of because the bag is on the floor and I’ve thrown stuff on top of it that should go in the bag. So far the stuff on top looks more than what the bag will hold but I expect with some jiggery-pokery I will get it all in because I am woman.

Yesterday, I passed by the coffee aisle in the supermarket and stopped and thought ‘What if I need emergency coffee at night and there’s none in the apartment they’re putting me up in?' I can’t go without coffee at night...in the morning...the afternoon…ten minutes from now…how will I cope and indeed how will the city of Brisbane cope if I cannot make a cup of coffee when I feel the need come on? So I bought a small jar for emergencies. Yes, Brisbane sells coffee. Yes, I’m sure I could go cold turkey. But I just feel it’s better for all concerned that I have emergency coffee the instant I need it. You don’t want me being all Mothra like and terrorizing a city do you? 

Must stop it...

I keep telling myself 'Don’t do it. It’s madness. Why are you doing this? You can break this cycle.' And yet – I found myself this arvo in front of the television, sewing something – yes, remember when people knew how to sew – and I was yelling at an old episode of The Bachelor when Sean gave that trashy bag Tierra a rose and it made her safe from elimination. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled at him. There was no response because it’s TV. Duh. I don’t know why I get hooked on the Bachelor. It’s reality TV for god sake. Its simulated people in simulated situations that are designed to be mindless viewing for the masses…oh...right. That’s why.