I put the quarter in and gave the knob a turn, hearing all of its internal guts and gears turn as expected. However, when the turning stopped, no little wad of compacted cotton was spit out.

Now, I�m already wary of these machines. I half expect the pads to be a bandana and two safety pins, and I�m certain the tampon would be no better than sticking a cotton ball up my hoo-ha. However inferior the products may be, stealing my money during that time of need is Just. Not. Right.

Already all menstrual-y in the head, I lost my shit. I thought I was going to go all Hulk on the machine and use brut force to extract the nearly-useless cotton ball or bandana. While smacking on it and crying about how machines can steal my money all they want when I try to buy a late-afternoon Snickers bar that I know good and well will go straight to my ass and how this was Not Fair and clearly a case of The Universe vs. Jo, a lady walked in to witness my tantrum.

The door�s squeak didn�t give me enough warning so I could cool it, so I was forced to look like the blithering idiot that I am who beats on inanimate objects while angered. I wiped my nose with my hand, pointed to the machine, and half-heartedly attempted to explain my actions by saying, �Stole my money.�

Bless her heart, she had a Tampax super absorbance �pon in her purse.�