I have a vagina.

Waiting rooms are kind of the bane of my existence. They're always associated with non-exciting things: doctor, dentist, orthodontist, emergency room, the car place, etc. Of course, how many people out there actually like waiting rooms? Maybe I'm not alone in this. Well, today I have had to sit in (at least) 2 waiting rooms. Here is what they have in common: really bad magazines.

Some waiting rooms try to cater to their demographic, which is sensible and all around a good idea. But, the ones that annoy me the most are the ones that cater to people in the same line of work as whatever office you're in. Let's talk about how this is NOT a good idea. Say I'm a mechanic. Why in the hell would I go to someone else, sit in their waiting room, read their Car and Driver magazine, and let them take money from me for something I can do on my own? Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you City Tire & Wheels. There are plenty of independent women in the world who can get in their air conditioned, automatic cars and drive them to the mechanic to have him change the oil, grunt, spit and fix our tires. Therefore, maybe you should think of putting out some other magazines. And you know, educated people drive cars, too! Where's Time? Or Newsweek? Or my personal fav, Vanity Fair?

But this place gets even better. At least there is a TV in here. So, you've got Car and Driver magazines (and other equally manly reading materials) on the tables and, get this, Martha fucking Stewart on TV. How does this make any sense? Shouldn't Spike TV be on or something to round out this waiting room? *sidenote* Big Bird is the guest right now. Is this their (by their I mean the man) way of enforcing stereotypes? Cause I'd at least rather it be all Oprah all the time.

Alas, the only reason I'm even writing this post is to give myself something to do. I hate having to wait in a waiting room unprepared. Stupid nail in my stupid tire.

Oh, and on a related note, just because I have a uterus doesn't mean you can convince me to buy a bunch of crap for my car that it doesn't need.

/rant.