This morning, I learned about something that really messed me up.

So, naturally, I figured I’d pass it along to you and mess you up as well.

You can thank me later.

As you know, sensitivity, per se, is not one of my strengths. However, due to the subject matter of this post, I’m going to give it a try—I’m gonna be respectful. I’m gonna keep a straight face. I’m gonna behave reasonably. And I’m gonna be clinical.

{deep, cleansing breath}

OK . . . So, if you’re lactating and unemployed, listen up!

Apparently, there is a huge demand for human breast milk. In fact, there is so much demand that there are 110 Facebook “Chapters” for a jacked-up, breast-milk-sharing, community thing called “Eats On Feets.”

I know—strange name . . .

“Eats” isn’t really a noun and “Feet” would be plural enough without the “s.”

But, whatever.

Supposedly, the name is an attempted spin on the better known, unassociated name, “Meals on Wheels.” In which case, I believe a more accurate spin for this breast milk thing would have been “Boobs on Bipeds.”

My two cents.

Onward.

In the breast milk arena, the participants in this “Eats On Feets” community of cyber-knuckleheads (my opinion) appear to fall into one of two, distinct categories:

The Breast Milk Haves

And

The Breast Milk Have-nots.

And that’s exactly what they post about.

One category is looking to privately “donate” excess breast milk, while the other category is looking to privately accept “donations” of excess breast milk . . . to feed their babies, of course. Because, as we can all agree, formula is downright awful stuff and absolutely no one has breast milk fetishes anymore.

Some posts are abhorrent and address odd odors.

Some posts are ridiculous and address super-human, glandular issues.

And some posts are straight-up gnarly and have I told you about my gag reflex?

Anyway, after all this back and forth posting, once a donor “mama” (their term, not mine) and potential recipient establish themselves as “milky matches” (also their term, not mine) the pair is supposed to sneak off to their own little, private message session and “negotiate” the “terms” of the breast milk deal . . . with their newly found, completely trustworthy, total stranger.

How nice.

Since making this first uncomfortable discovery, I’ve been Googling away only to discover several more uncomfortable discoveries.

Reportedly, as it turns out, people have been successfully buying and selling breast milk on both E-bay and Craig’s List for years. And, although it doesn’t appear that I can invest in commodity futures of breast milk as of yet, evidently, on the open internet market, a single ounce of fresh/frozen breast milk can fetch at least $1.90 per ounce plus shipping.

So, this has me thinking.

Basically, if a woman can crank out four ounces of breast milk per hour, with a single breast pump, latched onto a single boob, she could easily breach the threshold of minimum wage.

Then, if she were to add on, oh let’s say a second pump . . . to a second boob . . . simultaneously . . . DOUBLE minimum wage.

At which point she’d be a professional excretionist—making around $28K per year . . . working from the comfort of her single-wide trailer, smoking meth, tearing through cartons of cigarettes, and eating pimento cheese sandwiches while listening to Rick James’ “Super freak” over the droning of two exhausted, rented breast pumps.

(Yes. Apparently, you can rent them.)

Now, if it were me, I’d multitask—I’d throw in a few shifts on a sex hotline and perhaps traffic ear wax, snot, and crack cocaine—but that’s me—because, if you put it all together, we’re talkin’ some SERIOUS FLIPPIN’ JACK.

Then, if I threw in the benefits of food stamps, scratch off lottery, and Obamacare, I’d be livin’ on easy street—a self made woman—captain of my own ship—able to afford fried gizzards and jelly shoes in every color.

Then, I could expand and get my own office.

Picture this:

ME . . . in a booth . . . at a real FLEA market . . . topless and equipped with two breast pumps, several extension cords, and a beverage dispensing cooler . . .

{TALKIN’ DOLLA DOLLA BILL, Y’ALL}

And the operation could grow.

Eventually, I could expand and hire other lactating women.

Wait . . . NO . . .

I could do what the rest of corporate American does and outsource it—I could open big, topless, breast milk sweatshops processing plants in China, Mexico, and India.

OK. I’ve been known to dream big, but you get my point – this is a HUGE feminine opportunity.

Seriously.

Ask yourself . . .

Where do you plan to be in five years?

Working for a boss, or working for yourself?

Middle management, or COO?

Sure, if money isn’t important to you, there are other noteworthy alternatives to rid yourself of excess breast milk . . .

From the goodness of your heart, you could abstain from illegal drug use, take an invasive health screening test, and truly donate your milk (for free) to a respectable Milk Bank and save really sick babies via doctor’s prescription . . .

But, in today’s dog-eat-dog world, why would you even consider such a thing? And for free? No flippin’ way—not with all the money to be made—not with all the bizarre fetishes to satisfy.

ROCK ON SISTER!

Copyright 2011, 2012 Piper Donlevy, www.piperdonlevy.com

Little Bastard Wuz Here

Social Obligation 1.0

Alright, on a serious note—here’s my little public service announcement. I don’t normally do this, but I am very concerned.

Dear legitimate, genuine people posting on Eats On Feets,

I was tempted to “join” your little group as an experiment. I considered posting some sort of fictitious plea for breast milk just to see what happened and then write about it.

But, for two reasons, I didn’t.

1.) I figured perhaps most of you are well intended and I didn’t want to upset you.

2.) I figured there was a good chance I, myself, might pique the interest of some wack-job imposter, jacking off at the prison’s commissary computer.

SO, FOR THE RECORD . . .

THIS is one of the DUMBEST ideas I have ever seen.

Dating services are safer and more private than this.

Although I do not understand what causes unbridled, social stupidity, or your absolute obsession with breast milk, I do know that the internet is VERY dangerous territory.

So, please—I urge you—use discretion on your wall and discussion board posts.

Here’s a good rule of thumb – Only post things you’d allow a rapist to know about you.

Doesn’t leave much to write about now, does it?

In researching various EOF chapters over the past 24 hours, I’ve seen phone numbers, email addresses, locations, and otherwise sensitive medical info that should be kept private. And because your EOF moderators are beyond super-smart and obviously care deeply about you, everything you are revealing about yourself on Facebook is extremely visible across the entire internet. As it stands right now, the whole-wide-world can see your posts and they don’t even need a Facebook account to do it.

There are some very bad, creepy people out there—I know it’s sad, but not everyone is as well intended as you.

My advice; contact your local La Leche League and don’t post another damn thing.