The holidays are clearly upon us. The halls are already decked—actually the winter holiday decorations have been up since October—and people have that festive glow that is probably panic because they’ve realized how little time they have before they can get everything finished. Or maybe that’s just me. But there is no doubt about it, people have their eyes on the prize (or 8 depending on your December inclinations).
Even though it is not yet Thanksgiving, I’ve had the question “what do you want for Christmas”. Frankly, I love this question. It’s so much better than “when are you going to get that damn thing finished” or “you realize your childbearing years are basically over”. The problem is not in the asking, but in the answering. How do I answer that question? I want a career that makes me feel passionately happy on occasion rather than chronically unfulfilled. I want to option this book and have the writer I want agree to do the adaptation for no reason other than he finds me personally intriguing. I want the charity event to be the most amazing thing ever (did I mention that director Rob Bowman is joining Frank Spotnitz for the Q&A), and raise a huge amount of money for NF (which is wildly under-funded for a disease this widespread). I’d like to find a relationship that is immediately comfortable with a man of honor who also finds the war on pubic hair disturbing. The problem is, none of these things fits well into a stocking.
There is one present; however, I really don’t want to receive. Also, don’t ask for it. Ok, maybe you can ask for it because it might be funny, right before it drives you insane. The present? The Semen Spy.
No, I’m not kidding this device actually exists. While it started out as a forensic tool for police departments and detectives, it has crossed over into the commercial world just in time for the holidays. Honestly, I can’t wait to see the ad campaigns. “Gentleman, think your woman is a cheating whore? Buy our product and see the glowing stains to prove it before you throw her skank ass out… also available in green.” Or “think the mailman looks a little too happy when he glances through your door? Before you set the dogs on him, turn out the lights and see the spray”.
I get how using this at the office would make sense. You might be reasonably sure that your husband and his frothy friend aren’t banging on the desk, so if the desk lights up like a Christmas tree for residue, you might have cause for confrontation. But otherwise, I don’t really understand how this is supposed to work for the average jealous mate. From what I can tell, it only shows you where the presence of semen has been. This isn’t television—there is no magical caption that pops that reads “Bob’s sperm—oh, wait, your name isn’t Bob. Burn.” So, guys, you better make darn sure you haven’t been spending some quality time on that couch before you hose it down for a little weekend forensics. Also, ladies, be careful. If you come home and find your man fondling your underwear, he may not have a panty fetish after all. No, he might just be waving a UV wand over Victoria’s Secret before swabbing them for a sample.
God bless relationships and the madness they bring. I mean, how could this possibly go wrong? Oh, and I’d like to point out that thus far, there is no female equivalent. No, ladies, if you are looking for trace vagina evidence on your man’s cigars, you’ll have to wait until next Christmas.
Ah, the holidays. You can just feel the good will flowing, can’t you?
P.S. I do, however, completely endorse the spy camera with the lens that looks like a dime. I’d like one of those, please.