Clearly, I was not about to let this go by without a comment. This machine was in the ladies restroom of a local elementary school.
At this point, you may be asking yourself several questions, including, but not limited to, the following:
- Really? This is the level to which we have stooped?
- She's taking pictures of cheap, rusty feminine hygiene product machines and calling it a blog post?
- Why am I continuing to read this drivel she calls writing?
- Why haven't I recommended her to all my friends and family members? (She's A.W.E.S.O.M.E.!)
- Wait, I don't understand...what is this machine for?
- What will she possibly think of next? (This could be either a positive and negative connotation...take your pick.)
- What is this "choice" of which we speak?
- Why, on God's green earth, does she call these things "Wordless Wednesday"? (They are usually wordier than her regular posts!)
- And last but not least: Why is she, a homeschool mom, loitering in a restroom of a local public elementary school?
First of all: What is this machine? I CAN answer that but am deferring to other sources. If you are a male reading this and are unsure of the machine's use, please consult with your wife, mother, sister or some other female family member over the age of 12. Please DO NOT ask a woman outside of your family, as I cannot be responsible for any consequences which may ensue. I can't even exactly be certain of what a family member might say...once she stops laughing.
The second question I can answer has to do with the subject of my loitering. Well, first of all, I was not loitering, but thank you for thinking so ill of me as to assume that I was. I'm not sure this relationship can continue if you are going to think of me in that way. Did you also picture me smoking a cigarette which I took from the pack I unrolled from my white t-shirt sleeve?
Well, you are wrong there...I took them from the pocket of my Pink Ladies jacket, thank you very much.
For your information, you Nosy Nellies out there, my 9yo plays basketball through the local recreation league and they practice there on Tuesday nights.
See, I had a legitimate reason for being there. Never doubt me.
So why did I take the picture? Frankly, I was stunned (and somewhat appalled with myself) that I had failed to notice the above machine on previous visits to the school and it's ladies restroom.
Yes, I believe I have used the restroom every time I have gone to his practice...watching my son practice basketball is not nearly as engaging as you might presume. Going to the restroom helps fill the time. Don't judge.
My point...yes, there is one...is that for a building that is fairly new and pretty nicely maintained (they all have their issues..who doesn't? I'm one to talk...my hair is WAY over-due on a color job and here I am blogging...if we can call this blogging...instead of working on my own maintenance), why does this vending machine look like it was purchased as a vintage conversation piece to use in the guest bathroom of someone's home (which gives me an idea...) and not for actual, functional use.
In a public school bathroom, no less.
With the exception of the gaping hole at the bottom (I think we all know what that's there for...if not, again, gentlemen, check with your trusty female family member over the age of 12...she can probably help you out. Again...once she stops laughing.), the rest of the dark spots are rusted exposed metal.
- Really? Why has a large area of paint been chipped off?
- Why has the machine rusted?
- Why is there so much moisture in the air of the restroom to cause it to rust?
- And another question completely unrelated to the rust...why does a picture of a woman in eighties clothing gazing lovingly at a bunch of roses make selecting a cheap feminine hygiene product from a machine in a public restroom apparently more appealing? We can all do without the picture, can't we? Not helping!
This is the type of high-brow, investigative journalism I promise to pursue, should you choose to continue reading my blog. And if you don't, it's because you have Freedom of Choice.