How Did This Blog Become the Reproductive Rights Rant?

I seriously didn't intend for it to turn out that way. But just like Michael Corleone in The Godfather, every time I try to get away, I get pulled back in. Today for example, I was going to write about how much I hate GlaxoSmithKline (three words smashed into one, keeping all the capital letters, seriously, that's how they spell their name), but instead, I need to vent about an emergency contraceptive customer. Off we go again into the land of reproductive choice:

The happy couple comes in; him, a square jawed, buzz-cut, military type. Her, a hoochie mamma, a ho, no other way to put it. I feared syphilis just by getting too close. I have no idea why she was pretending to even wear a skirt, as I'm sure it would have been more convenient to just forgo the last square inch of cloth below her waist and just go bottomless. But hey, I'm not here to judge, and if I can stop this pair's DNA from replicating, then I'm more than happy to do so. So I start the process and it becomes apparent within a few seconds that she's more than a wee bit intoxicated. I still may be a little tipsy from smelling her breath as she filled out the paperwork. I look at her profile and there is about every mental health med known to man. Sedatives, antidepressants, antiphychotics, a Christian Scientist's worse nightmare. The picture's coming into focus now. This may not have been legally an assault, but it was almost certainly a taking advantage of someone whose judgment isn't clear type situation.

So the drunk woman with mental health issues stops in the middle of filling out the forms, and asks where the bathroom is. Now, the regular customer bathroom is on the other side of the store, and it's locked, and I don't know what the combination is because there's a super-secret bathroom there in the pharmacy. I'm looking at her face and sensing that something is gonna come flowing out of somewhere in her body right quick, so I make the executive decision to let her use the upscale pharmacy staff toilet. While she's in there doing....um....well I'd rather not think about it, me and the soldier boy are having a bit of an awkward moment at the counter. He makes an attempt at small talk, and I work in my standard plug that we're lucky to live in a state where you can get the morning after pill without a prescription. I add that there's a movement to make it available like this nationwide, but that "that's probably not gonna happen with this administration" So what's the pearl of wisdom that comes out of Uncle Sam's mouth next?

"Well if you think about it that's a good thing because you wouldn't want people going around having unprotected sex"

YOU MEAN LIKE YOU JUST DID YOU DUMBASS REDNECK ALMOST RAPIST COMING TO ME TO BAIL YOU OUT FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF USING YOUR DICK AS A BRAIN??? YOU ARE SO GODDAMN TYPICAL OF THE FUCKING HYPOCRITES THAT ARE THE RIGHT WING. IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE FACT THAT I WOULD BE SENTENCING SOME WOMAN TO POSSIBLY HAVE A PERMANENT TIE WITH YOUR SORRY ASS I WOULD TELL YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE STORE RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

The look of utter disbelief I shot him sent him to the waiting area where he didn't utter another peep until Ms. Syphilis needed the cash to pay. At least he was good enough to pick up the tab. Christ.