It better be as fun as unprotected sex.

Recently, due to extenuating circumstances which involved heartbreaking volcanic ash, drain-pourable boutique beer and hotel bed failure, I paid $36.50 plus tax for Plan B Emergency Contraception Pills. Despite the hiked up price and a standoffish pharmacist who avoided eye contact as he explained that I may experience abnormal bleeding out from my ‘cuntle region’, I put aside any possible doubts that I’d been a nitwit for swiping over $38 for a 7% decrease in probability of pregnancy, and ate it. The box, neatly labelled “Plan B” and coloured with a pleasing blue palette, was roughly big enough for 7 iPhones to fit inside, snuggled like sardines. So, you will appreciate my confusion as I shook it open in the Granville Tim Horton’s and two measly, Tylenol-sized pills fell out with their instructions. At first I thought I’d been had by the creepy pharmacist. I half-expected a note reading “EMILY TRENCHARD, YOU’VE BEEN PLAN B’D!!!!” to flutter out along with an extending boxing glove, spring loaded to punch my embryonic baby in the face. No dice. I did exactly what I was told for once. Even down to the “take both pills at once” part. They went down so at once I even put them in my mouth together. That was on Sunday. Other than a few random abdominal cramps, nothing out of the ordinary is worth reporting from that bodily region since. In fact this method of contraception does work, or we shall find out in…17 days, and if any of my 5 readers were sincerely taken by my supposed ‘pregnancy scare’, I promise to post a response to this as soon as I know…

Positive, or Negative?

Actually, that was a Ty Haller reference, for any Cap Quality readers of this blog. I don’t think I pulled it off. Or that I have any Cap Quality readers.