I'm Hairy and My Feet Smell

I feel the need to call a moratorium on post-BlogHer schwag bag whining. Yes, I admit I too had a yearning for a goodie bag containing a certificate for a free weekend at Canyon Ranch or a brand new PowerBook G5. But I'll happily settle for the free condom.

Good lord people, if you could afford the price of the conference, you could certainly afford to buy whatever $2.50 trinket you wish you had recieved instead of a corkscrew. I even read yesterday via Elizabeth that some ranting, raging so-and-so was offended to have received a bib and a kids calendar, which are evidently items exclusively for "white, married, heterosexual women." Who knew that single women, women of color, and lesbians couldn't procreate? I for one am shocked. Shocked.

Or wait, maybe it's that lesbian moms don't care if their kids get food on their clothes. Yes, I'm sure this is it: Lesbians like doing laundry.

You learn something new every day.

Let me just say, if you were insulted by "presumptions" made about you at the conference based on free gifts that offset the price of the weekend, you have too much time on your hands. You also have not ridden the New York City E train.

Just to give you a little perspective, here's what advertisers think about me, judging from the posters in my subway car on my commute to work.

I'm hairy.

I'm feeble.

I have disgusting feet.

I have some combination of bald patches, age spots, thin unattractive lips, spider veins, razor bumps, eczema, acne, unsightly wrinkles, nail problems, warts, and a creeping, communicable fungus.

I am flaccid.