WWJJD

"I'm so proud of my husband," she says as they're seen gardening and hugging over the begonias. "When we talked to our doctor, we just weren't sure." They do this holding hands while she asks all the questions in Dr.'s office.

"But now that we know Viagra is safe, I love my husband all the more for making the decision." On the couch she looks at him with just the slightest self-importance as he smiles back with manly satisfaction. "After all," she says lovingly, "he's doing it for us."
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"Many times, while a woman may believe that vaginal douching prevents or helps prevent vaginal odor, especially after menstruation, douching actually disrupts the normal flora, or naturally occurring organisms that normally live in the vagina. Vaginal douching, therefore, may actually increase the risk of vaginal infection."
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Uncomfortable yet?

I'm only getting started!

These days it is not uncommon to hear advertisements for condoms, viagra, vaginal creams, birth control pills, and general erectile dysfunction clinics on the radio. They have become part of our radio, television, and print landscape. Generally they are not noticed, unless you are in the company of strangers of the opposite sex. I have gotten into a car with people on more than one occasion and had one of these commercials come on. All of us sit there for 30 or 60 seconds half giggling to ourselves and half praying that they will end (depending on which side of the issue we happen to be). It's embarrassing, but it's not unbearable. If you are riding with the right people, it can become the source of great conversation or a really funny joke. (no, I don't hesitate to make jokes about vaginal itching in a car full of men if I know them) :)

But sometimes, things can happen that seem to cross the line.

"She ran her hands along his strong, wide back while they embraced passionately. Their bodies were so close that neither could tell where they ended and the other began. He parted her creamy thighs as she let out a deep, satisfied moan that relayed her eagerness to receive the pleasure he was about to give."

Imagine you get into a car and hear that...

Under some circumstances, this could be funny. Other circumstances, this could be enticing. And others, entirely too uncomfortable for words.

Lucky for you, I have found the words to convey that level of discomfort.

An older man driving an older model of a boring car approached the line and called for my destination. I scrambled for the backseat (a skill I'm improving upon every day), which left the young girl riding with me to sit up front. This is not something I normally care much about, since I have been the victim of front seat confinement on more rides than I can count. But for a while, I felt a little bad about sticking this poor girl who is interning in DC for the summer in the front seat on this particular ride.

We both jumped in and buckled our belts. We quietly sat back to "enjoy" the ride, and Mr. Personality sat gripping the steering wheel in the perfect 10-3 pattern, leaning slightly forward with his eyes fixed on the road. He followed all the rules of the road, and everything was comfortably nondescript. It was shaping up to be an ordinary ride.

Until...

The radio shifted from the traffic to something....else.

A man's voice came on and began to read a poem. It wasn't just any poem, because the words actually caught my attention. The way he read it was relatively deadpan. There wasn't anything particularly controversial about his tone. But the words he read were, for a lack of a better description, erotic. He talked of creamy thighs and throaty moans. He described groins meeting and lust building. Certain verbal pictures were left to linger for uncomfortable pauses that built into yet another verbal picture that involved bodies and sweat and serpentine movements.

I instantly became overwhelmingly aware that I had a stuck that poor intern in the front seat with someone old enough to be her Porn-pa. I didn't know whether or not this was a set-up, so I was watching Pops up front with a keen eye and a ready fist. I had it all planned out how I was going to whack him up side his fragile, age-spotted head with my enormously heavy purse filled with 3-inch heels. I watched for any sign of erotic side-glances or unwanted hand movements, but ironically nothing was happening. He sat in the driver's seat in what appeared to be a frozen position. He didn't flinch. He didn't change his hand positions on the wheel. He didn't move to change the station. He didn't shift in his seat. He did nothing. He was frozen. He appeared unaffected. This baffled me a bit.

This erotic reading continued for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes long. When it ended, I realized it was not a setup on the old man's part. The next break advertised the call letters of the station. "NPR."

I was torn between feeling overly protective, extraordinarily uncomfortable, and astronomically amused at this moment. I had a grin on my face that went unnoticed because everyone in the car was trying to act as if nothing was happening. It was awkward and funny as hell.

I can't imagine that Poor Old Mr. Jeremy (Google it) had ever imagined that listening to National Public Radio would ever cause such an uncomfortable moment. The most controversial thing I've ever heard on there was inappropriately slanted political commentary. I felt bad for him for just a minute.

I sat there wondering what was going through his feeble little mind at that moment. Was he mortified or slightly turned on that he had 2 young women in his car listening to artistic porn. (yes, I'm counting myself as young in this scenario since he's old enough to be my Dad)

Needless to say, we arrived, discreetly exited the vehicle, and laughed our asses off. No really, we laughed so damn hard.

Just ask yourself....

What would Jenna Jameson do?