This weekend, one of my esteemed colleagues attended the DCPL’s “Fall into Romance” event at the Southwest Regional Branch. During this time, she participated in wine tastings. She consumed fine chocolate. She listened to mega-famous romance writers talk about their work, and had books signed by them. She also acquired much ingenious swag.
For example, a matchbook-sized first-aid kit, in case you are love-bitten by sexy vampires! (Or, if you happen to have MY un-glamourous life, attacked by were-mosquitoes.) Also, enough promotional bookmarks to decoupage the interior of your house, should you be inspired to do so!
Meanwhile, I went to the Laundromat. Sorry, Laundramat.
I did, however, bring my own Regency to the Regency:
Not that I could afford to spend the entire time reading. With 2two loads of laundry to do, greasy hair (embroiled in a filthy civil war in which strand fought against auburn strand, curl against wave), AND no spare quarters with which to play Lethal Weapon 3: The Pinball Game, I decided to take advantage of my 9-Piece “Woman on the Go” travel kit.
Although some might say it took advantage of me. For example, a quick counting of the contents leads me to believe that the package itself is included among the 9 essential items. Which — despite being a bit of a cheat in my book — does appear to have a legitimate use: keeping your toiletries contained.
HOWEVER, if that’s the case, then there’s absolutely no use for the “Quart-Sized Zip Top Bag” folded up inside. What am I supposed to do with an extra bag? Double bag my toiletries, in case my less than 3 oz. of shampoo leaks and seeps through my one cheap plastic bag into my other cheap plastic bag? Gee, thanks.
Or perhaps scoop my poop with it? I mean, granted, I get called “bitch” a lot (and I mean A LOT), but that does not mean that I am in the habit of defecating in public. (And even if I were, I doubt I’d bother to clean up after myself.)
Now, far be it from me to question the decision-making process of a giant corporation that sells gender-branded personal items, but as a lady consumer, I’d venture to suggest that the manufacturers of this kit — who may not themselves be women, who may never have met an actual woman — left out 2 items that I daresay most women would appreciate much more than 2 different versions of plastic bag: 1.) TAMPONS and 2.) SOAP.
Here are some other suggestions, completely off the top of my head: band-aids, hand sanitizer, a pocket pack of tissues, NSAIDs, moist towelettes. Can you think of others? Probably. Most women can.
But whatever, a plastic bag is good, too. If you’re careful, you can collect the blood from minor cuts and abrasions and you can probably even sneeze into it, if you’re so inclined.
Still, N.B.: never have I ever found myself stuck in an airport, curled up in a fetal position on the floor of my departure gate and cursing my fickle uterus while waiting for the flight crew to get its $#!+ together and board us already, and thought, “Where oh where is my BODY LOTION?!?!”
Also, why separate bottles of shampoo and conditioner? If you’re really a woman-on-the-go — WOTGo? — are you really going to take the time to shampoo and condition your lovely locks? Why not have a 2-in-1 product? Or better yet, a 3-in-1 product including shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. Hey, if it’s good enough for my bratty step-cousins-in-law in Florida, I’m sure it will suffice for the weary traveler, who wants nothing but to smell a little less gross until she can find a real shower.
Oh, and don’t get me started on that comb, which cannot be effectively used by any hominid, living or extinct. Now, unless human evolution proceeds in such a way as to produce an entirely new subspecies whose bodies sprout precisely three follicles of hair, all the consistency of a cat’s whiskers, there is no point to this comb. NONE.
Nevertheless, despite this kit’s obvious drawbacks, I’ll say that I can successfully wash my hair in a laundromat sink. Note that I am not giving Convenience Kits International, Ltd. credit for this; I am merely noting that their poorly designed and executed product did not actually prevent me from washing my hair (as it seems designed to do). As you can see, 80s-style:
Also, brush my teeth. Again, I succeeded not because it’s a good toothbrush — I actually think it’s better suited to weirdos who like to hand-polish their extensive collections of pewter goblets or hand-painted ceramic bells or taxidermy specimens. I don’t know — but because I am a bad@$$.
So yeah, I have some skills.