You go, girl!
Anyway, the reason I bring this up is because somebody has figured out how to grow weed that is allegedly an aphrodisiac, which is being marketed to women.
It’s called Sexpot.
I’m not making that up.
I wish I were. It’s almost as good a pun as Chick Wit.
Anyway, I’m always interested in products that claim to be aphrodisiacs, when we all know that the one and only aphrodisiac is a man volunteering to build you some bookshelves.
So I started to research Sexpot, which is when I learned that marijuana has different strains, strengths, and funny names, all of which was news to this weed rookie.
For example, Sexpot is apparently derived from a strain of marijuana named Mr. Nice.
Okay, now I see why it’s an aphrodisiac.
Who wouldn’t want to ease under the covers with Mr. Nice?
That’s all we really want, isn’t it, ladies?
Somebody nice.
The only guy better would be Mr. Right.
But not Mr. Right Away.
Mr. Right Away is never good in bed.
Mr. Right Away is good for picking up his socks.
Mr. Marriage Material would be ideal, but I’m not getting the impression there’s any weed named after him.
Or better yet, Dr. Marriage Material.
Still, not happening.
Anyway the interesting thing I learned about Sexpot was that it has 14 percent THC, which is apparently a low amount and therefore better for women.
We always get gypped on the THC.
Evidently, the low amount of THC “allows the toker to settle into a right mellow headspace without being too high to focus on sexual sensations.”
Wow.
First off, do people still say “toker”?
I remember that from the song about the midnight toker.
So maybe I’m hipper than I think.
Secondly, how is a right mellow headspace different from a mellow headspace?
And why does headspace have a hyphen?
Then I learned that Sexpot is related to cannabis lube, which is supposed to be a product that improves sex and can actually “get one’s vagina high.”
Really!
You know what gets my vagina high?
The King of Prussia Mall.
Chocolate cake.
Bradley Cooper.
That’s about it, for now.
In truth, I can’t remember the last time my vagina was high.
I suspect it’s been slacking.
Well, it’s definitely slack.
Then I kept researching and I found a recipe to make your own cannabis lube for your vagina, which had so many steps that it reminded me of Mother Mary’s gnocchi recipe.
The main ingredient was two cups of organic extra virgin coconut oil, which I assume you could find in the organic aisle at Wegman’s or in CVS, next to the Monistat.
Then you have to liquefy the coconut oil in a saucepan over low heat and add two grams of cannabis, which evidently you can buy in every state but Pennsylvania. Because the Commonwealth doesn’t want a lot of high vaginas running around.
Would you?
It’s a recipe for trouble.
Anyway the third step is that you have to submerge the cannabis in the coconut oil and cook it for ninety minutes, stirring occasionally.
Ninety minutes!
That’s quite a commitment to vaginal lubrication.
You’d have to be either a home cook or total slut.
I mean, I don’t know any woman who would bother.
We’re busy!
Plus I can’t think of another food that takes that amount of time and attention except for risotto, which I made once and never again. It was delicious, but so much work that I would only bother for a carbohydrate.
Not for sex.
I have priorities.
Now if I could microwave it, that would be a different story.
On the other hand, I know a better vaginal lubricant.
Bradley Cooper.
Keep Calm and Carry On
Lisa Scottoline
It’s summertime, when you get to pack your bags and head off on vacation, maybe even someplace far away.
But if you’re flying, you can skip the packing. Because one of the airlines just announced that they’re going to limit passengers to only one carry-on bag per person, and it has to be small enough to fit under the seat.
Great idea!
I’m completely behind it.
So what if you’re on vacation for a week or even two?
According to the airlines, you can wear the same thing every day.
I do that already, and I’m not even going anywhere.
In summertime, I wear a T-shirt and shorts, and in winter we’re talking a fleece top and fleece pants.
I only change if I’m expecting a package. I don’t want the UPS man to look at me funny.
Besides, I think the airlines are doing this to look out for us.
They don’t want us to worry about our appearance.
Or our aroma.
The airlines care about us, bottom line.
Of course, they care about their bottom line as well.
I suspect they’re doing this as a cost-cutting measure, but I don’t understand why it costs an airline more to fly the plane if a passenger has two carry-ons rather than one. If it requires extra fuel, can it be so much extra?
I mean, back in high school, I asked my pals to chip in for gas one road trip.
But then, I graduated.
To being classy.
Doesn’t an airline have to figure out how to make money by providing the services that people reasonably expect, namely that they can get on board with two bags?
Do we have to pay for the fuel, too?
How about we bring our own toilet paper?
Because this is a load of crap.
This is exactly why, when they offer me a bag of pretzels, I always take two.
Out of sheer spite.
And then I eat both bags, just to show them that it’s all their fault I broke my diet.
I wonder if the airlines will announce more cost-cutting measures. If they’re cutting down on the weight of clothes, why not charge extra if the passenger decides to wear pants?
Pants take up an obvious amount of extra room, and they are completely unnecessary, in my opinion.
For example, does Bradley Cooper really need to travel with pants on?
I don’t think so.
How about shirts?
He doesn’t need one of those either, not on my account.
I would cover him with a blanket.
Me.
But not all rules apply only to Bradley Cooper.
Some could apply to me as well.
For example, I think airlines should start charging women if they want to wear bras on board.
Take it from me, bras are completely superfluous. And given the padding and underwire in mine, I’m single-handedly weighing the plane down.
My fuel costs are 36B.
In fact, if you think big picture, there is probably a lot of dumb stuff on board a plane that we could jettison and save the airline money.
What about those flotation devices under the seat? We’re never flying over water anyway, and if we are, something tells me that when we hit the water, my pancake of a seat isn’t going to help my pancake of a body.
Too dark?
Okay then, how about those dumb airline magazines that nobody reads? Who really reads the Sky Mall or Hammacher Schlemmer catalogue.
(I do, because I read everything in my general vicinity, like cereal boxes. But at least I know that’s weird.) And what about that big inflatable slide that looks like so much fun?