$1 pregnancy tests

I just returned from the Dollar Tree store near my house. My neighbor asked if Drama Queen and I wanted to ride with her and I said, “Sure.” Little did I know that I would emerge from the store with this blog post.

I’m all about saving a buck and I’m not ashamed to say I know my way around this particular store. There are some things one should not skimp on, and pregnancy tests fall into that category. I’d like to say that was the only disturbing thing I saw, but it wasn’t.
There are things you cut corners on and things that you don’t. Lotion, cleaning supplies, candles, fake Tupperware and 3-packs of Bible card games are examples of products you can get away with going cheap. Pregnancy tests fall into the, “Spend an extra couple of bucks” category.
On the shelf next the pregnancy test was an Ovulation Predictor. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you can spend a dollar and accurately find out when your chick is going to ovulate? I think I would rather guess and save the buck for the dollar menu at Wendy’s. It;s a crapshoot either way and at least you can get a frosty out of it.
After I saw the first two really bad ideas, I started searching for condoms. I didn’t see any, so I asked the girl working there. She had no clue (duh), and I continued the search on my own. I looked high and low and finally ascertained that they do not sell condoms at Dollar Tree. With that knowledge in hand, I breathed a small sigh of relief.
If they were to ever sell condoms, they should change the wording on the pregnancy test box to say, “If you used our condoms, go ahead and assume you are pregnant.”
As a species where have we gone wrong? Somewhere along the line our society has decided that accurately finding out if you got knocked up should be worth a buck. There is no way to put a price on the miracle of life, but I have to believe that finding out of you’re going to have a baby has to be worth at least $9.99. Am I right?
As I stood in the cluttered aisle I wondered what other bad ideas they were selling here for a dollar. I assumed that the aisle I was currently in would yield the best fruit, so I moved back a bit and carefully scanned the shelves as I worked my way towards the front of the store.
I’m not a chick, but I have a teen age daughter, so I will go out on a limb and say that the concealer and makeup they sell is probably crap. I’m not saying women should start shopping st Sephora or MAC for their cosmetics. I’m sure Walmart has a fine selection at reasonable prices.
I have to believe that the makeup they sell at Dollar Tree is fully-allergenic and not hypo-allergenic. I was disappointed to find that you cannot buy acne cream at Dollar Tree. I’m pretty sure if you use their makeup you will need a bottle of some good zit cream to get rid of your newly hatched mountain range.
They also had a 2-oz tube of Warm Touch Warming Jelly for a buck. I’m not sure what to say about that. I know there’s a joke or funny comment to be made about it, but I’m at a loss for words on this one. Sorry.
I did like the fact that the picture indicates one should keep it on the nightstand next to the clock radio. Totally classy…
Next to the warming jelly was a 30-pack of Lucky Super Soft Intimate Cleansing Wipes. I guess they could be used to clean up different types of spills, one of which could be the warming jelly.
I’m actually OK with this product and if I felt there was to be any intimate contact in my immediate future, I would have picked up a pack of these. But there isn’t. So I didn’t.
Actually, now that I look at the package closer, I realize that the wipes are for women to wipe down their, uh, “business”, presumably before they get down to business. I’m guessing they could be used as both a “before” and an “after” wipe.
Maybe my women readers can educate me on something. How is an “intimate wipe” different from a baby wipe? I know on a baby wipe package you don’t get a silhouette of a naked chick with her legs partially crossed. Is there any difference in the wipe itself? Help me out here ladies.
I’m sure there was plenty of other funky shit for me to find here, but at this point, Drama Queen and my neighbor were ready to roll, so I had to hit the check out line and head home to start writing this.
One final note. If you are pregnant, the test won’t tell you who the Baby Daddy is. You still have to go on Maury to find that shit out.
P.S. The pregnancy tests come 72 in a case and you can order a case on the Dollar Tree website. In case you were wondering

My Rules of Engagement

“No thanks. I’m gonna pass on playing cowboy with James Bond’s alien.”


Dateline:Thursday night. My bed.
There I was, desperately trying to fall asleep. No mater how hard I tried, I couldn’t shut down my brain and drift off to the peaceful slumber I desired. Thought after random thought passed through my mind and at one point I had an epiphany. Or a revelation. One of the two. I immediately reached over to the night stand and fumbled to get my glasses and phone. Once I cleaned the fresh thumbprint off the right lens, I texted the Muse.
I’ve come to the conclusion that you and the Rules of Engagement chick look a lot alike and that a three way with you and her would be kinda rad. Just thought you would want to know.
Please keep in mind that both she and I know what I said was a joke. When I awoke this morning I found this waiting for me.
OK. But if Daniel Craig becomes available, you have to be willing to do the same thing.
I thought about that for a moment before I responded.
Daniel Craig? No thanks. I’ll sit that one out. If you had said Ryan Reynolds, I would consider it, but I’m gonna pass on playing cowboy with James Bond’s alien.
After reading her Daniel Craig response, I knew this was a blog post in the making, so I grabbed my headphones and iPod before sitting down to a bowl of boysenberry almond granola with vanilla soy milk, a container of Greek yogurt (honey), fresh blackberries and green tea. Cranking my “Dope Tunes” playlist (seriously), I blasted some loud music while letting this post brew in my noggin. About half-way through my granola, I knew how I wanted to start it.
I could totally see me and the Muse as the married couple from Rules of Engagement. I could pull off the Patrick Warburton character with ease and if David Spade needed a week off, I could probably fill in for him as well. I know this will be hard for most of you to believe, but I couldn’t torture my assistant the way Spade does. Don’t get me wrong. I could do some of that stuff, but not all of it.
The truth is, that I would love to have a relationship like Patrick Warburton and Megyn Price have on TV. They screw with each other constantly and each always tries to “win”, but they love each other and are very happy together. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for.
Last week’s episode started when Audrey (the Muse) and Jeff (me) meet their lesbian surrogate mother for breakfast at their favorite diner. Jeff made a wiener joke, which started the show off on a high note. The next exchange was classic married couple. The waitress comes to take their order and I can totally picture this happening with the Muse.
Jeff: I’ll have scrambled eggs, pancakes
Audrey: No
Jeff: And hash browns and bacon.
Audrey: No. No. No. No. There’s no one growing inside of you. He’ll have egg whites, dry toast, fruit and turkey bacon.
Jeff: Turkey. A stupid, lean flightless bird.
Audrey: You remember what the doctor said about your cholesterol.
Jeff: He was impressed.
Audrey: Yeah. That you’re alive.
The episode goes on and on until near the end when Audrey finds barbecue sauce on Jeff’s collar along with a wet nap in his wallet. Jeff decided to lie and say he wasn’t eating greasy food with the lesbian surrogate, but rather he was having an affair. Needless to say, mama wasn’t buyin’ it.
My favorite line from the episode? It came from Timmy Patel, the personal assistant from India by way of South Africa. “No. I go with you because you’ve made it my job to stand next to you as you spew crude double entendres at women who are just this side of street walkers.” Either that or when he asked David Spade, “Did anyone ask who invited Hall from Hall & Oates?” The waitress asking, “Where’s the little sex offender you’re always with” is pretty good too.
One last thing on Megyn Price. Assuming everyone was cool with the situation (of course), I would totally go for that. She’s like the “mom-next-door-MILF” The sad reality is that it will never happen, so I guess I’ll just continue to spend my Thursday nights watching CBS and living vicariously through their fun, dysfunctional loving relationship.