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A confession: Apart from the glowing red dot just under my breastplate that can only be hit right after I swing the Blade of Injustice, my greatest weakness is that I break out in goddamn hives whenever I hear one of those stupid "Let's avoid mentioning genitalia by using cutesy made-up words" terms certain magazines and websites like to throw around. Chief among these pet peeves is "vajayjay," a wannabe sweet, Oprah-popularized word that somehow manages to reduce a perfectly normal, wonderful thing into the fleshy equivalent of "OMG tee-hee YOLO LOL." As such, forgive me if I seem to rush through this entry, but if I don't get it done as quickly as possible, so help me, I will go spin-kick a waterfowl.
With that off my chest, here's a goddamn vajacial kit:
Yes, a vajacial kit, for somehow, vagina facials are a thing in the world we live in, and said thing is called "vajacial" because of course it is. Originally a necessary side service for Brazilian waxing (which can be quite taxing on the skin), the vajacial has since taken on a life of its own. And if the many, many places offering this particular service are anything to go by, a fair number of people are apparently willing to pay money for letting a complete stranger gently slather their private parts in various strange substances that may or may not do them any good.
Man, all these years I've been under the impression that vaginas are kind of popular regardless of how many arbitrary treatments you subject them to. Is ... is this where we as a society stand now, people?
The practice of circumcision is a widely debated one, with health benefits in one corner and loss of sensation and surgical risks in the other, and little conclusive research to back up either party. Luckily, we have no need to delve into this particular discussion, because the finest minds in dong science have figured out a way to de-bris the debris of your bris with a brilliant device that can perfectly simulate a foreskin.
And when I say "simulate," I of course mean "wrap your dong in a rubber tube that kind of acts a little like a foreskin." I'm not going to link to the actual product website, because the company is strictly anti-circumcision and enjoys making its point with a vast pictorial canvas of various dongs and drunkenly botched circumcisions that rivals the most dedicated torture porn sites. You can Google it if you like, and we can be watch list buddies.
Also, therapy buddies.
The intent of this glorified plastic bag is to act as a sort of 24/7 sweater for the little guy, protecting the tip from freely rubbin' about, which is supposed to eventually restore some feeling down there. This is certainly a noble purpose. It's just sort of hard to get over the fact that SenSlip is essentially a bastard child of a tipless condom and several inches of garden hose, and one you have to wear all the time except during sex (which, incidentally, will be right off the menu when your significant other learns you're milling about your day wearing this little cheesemaker). Hell, even foreskin restoration enthusiasts (yes, they're a thing) deem SenSlip uncomfortable, tight, and flat-out useless.
Difficult to believe, I know. But sometimes it's better to believe the experts.
Hey, here's an idea: Since there seems to be a market for dong-tip-protectin' products, do they really need to be of the creepy rubber tube variety? Why not make things festive with, say, tiny dong hats? Actually, why are those not a thing? I would buy three of them right now just out of principle, yet Google image search only turns up a bunch of gag penis hats (which, while they do serve an important social function by allowing us to immediately and accurately recognize a dickhead, are not the dong headwear we're going for here). Come on, crotch product industry, get on with the times -- you and I both know you're regularly churning out way stupider stuff than this. The world needs dong berets, dong bowlers, dong baseball caps, dong bobble hats. Hell, you'd probably make a killing on ironic dong fedoras alone.
As a bonus, they would also provide a handy last-minute red flag for prospective partners.
Pauli Poisuo is a Cracked columnist and freelance editor. Follow him on Twitter.