Wednesday, February 2, 2011


So, I have the strangest trains of thought. Saturday morning I was lying in bed looking at photos on my phone when suddenly an entire scene involving a bathrobe, a dildo, a shredded tissue wad and my landlord's cold blue bare feet played out in a completely unsolicited thread of events in my head.

Yes, I have an overactive imagination. Let me explain.

I was in Philly recently with my old college buddies; we were heading down South Street when we noticed "CONDOM KINGDOM" and burst out laughing. "Ha ha! Let's check it out."

Not being the type to VISIT kingdoms of condomnem regularly, we were cracking up at everything. I found myself in the porn section picking up a video and waving it to my friends.

What does it say about me that the first thing I noticed was the grammatically-incorrect heading?
Me: This should say 'BARELY-LEGAL Latina She Males.' What's wrong with these people?! Don't they proof-read?? I mean, they're selling this. Have some PRIDE in your work.
I added the smiley face since this is such a family-oriented blog
Friends: Um, THAT'S what you notice? The title? Grammar? Not the myriad display of genitals? We don't understand you.

Me: But seriously! How many venues did this go through and no one corrected it? They couldn't hire a translator?

Friends: You're weird but we love you anyway.
Me: EVERYONE SAYS THAT! [throws hands up, exasperated]

Anyway, so when I woke up and scrolled sleepily through the photos on my phone, I came across that photo  and remembered the visit.

And since this is the next logical thing, this is what my brain did next:
Brain: They had dildos in that store.

Me: So?

Brain: hehehehehehe [Beavis laugh]

Me: You can't own a dildo. What would you do with it?

Brain: Duh.

Me: Mmmkay, nevermind. Plus where would you PUT it?

Brain: Hmm, that's an interesting logistical problem.
[immediately kicks into problem-solving mode]
Me: I rent a room from a retired woman who is home all day long when I'm not. She has complete access to my room. It's like living with my mom. She could totally snoop through everything. Right now there's not much to find. But a dildo? No. We are not having one.

Brain: . . .

Me: Wait, why are we discussing this?

Brain: Some people have them.

Me: Look. It's not terribly sexy to wake up and hear your landlord-mom cutting potatoes 3 inches outside your bedroom door.

Brain: But you nixed the FWB idea. And you KNOW you can't have casual sex. You're a train wreck right now so a relationship is out. Maybe this is the next best thing.

Me: Are you actually mulling this over??

Brain: But you know how you are about cleanliness. So you'd have to WASH it so it'd be ready.You'd have to have a way to transport it in front of your mom, I mean landlord, and then a place to keep it.

Me: You're PLANNING this? You're acting like this is going to happen.

Brain: So you don't really have a nighttable, and you can't just throw it, a big old dildo, in the wicker basket on the storage cube next to your mattress on the floor. SHE would see it when she snooped.

Me: She probably doesn't snoop.

Brain: She would if you had a dildo lying next to your bed.

Me: You can stop imagining this now.

Brain: Wait, I know! You could store it in the pocket of your bathrobe. You'd wash it, and wrap it in paper towels and put it in the pocket. Then she wouldn't see you carrying a giant plastic cock through the house.

Me: Aren't they made of silicon?

Brain: Whatever.


Brain: Uh oh. I just thought of a problem.


Brain: You know how you sometimes put your retainer in your pocket, wrapped in napkins and then end up washing the whole thing by accident and then you find a mess of plastic teeth and shredded napkins? That's what would happen but with the dildo.


Brain: No, it would be worse. The dildo would fall OUT of the pocket and end up at the bottom of the washer surrounded by shredded tissues and then? SHE would find it.

Me: Aaaaahhhh!! [cringing]

Brain: And then how would she get it back to you? She would have to leave it in your mail bin I guess.


Brain: A dildo in your mail bin. Ha ha! That's hilarious. I wonder if you would get the veiny kind and the tissues would stick to it even harder.

Me: [facepalm]

Brain: Ha! I said "harder." [collapses in giggles]

Me: We are still talking about this?

Brain: And it would be Book Club night and all the the little old ladies she invites would see it when they passed by to the bathroom.

Me: . . .

Brain: Or maybe it would be the kind with weird protuberences and they would handle it out of curiosity when you weren't there and then when you came home you would have to wash it all over again, plus because it was touching the mail it would be dirty. And then after you walked out of the bathroom, what if it fell as you were rushing past your landlord? It would totally bounce on the hard floor. Probably end up next to her feet. Yep, her bare feet because she never wears socks even if it's 55 degrees in the house.


Brain: That's disgusting, a dildo on the floor next to her feet. She needs to trim her toenails.

Me: [facepalm]

And that, folks, was my Saturday morning in bed. Welcome to this edition of my Overactive Imagination.

If landlord HAD a dog, this would be the other outcome.


  1. Ok, that's just frickin' hilarious. Thank you for that. lol. And here I was just dreaming about HOW to do my work...

  2. I'm dying over here.

  3. OMG I am laughing my ass off. I actually have that pic with the dog saved on my computer to use for a rainy day, which never came. Haha, I said came.

    You could always -- if it's not too Al Gore for you -- get a lock box and keep it in there. And if the landlord finds it, you'll live. My mother's been genuinely horrified by what she's found in my place, and it was by accident, not because she was looking. She once asked if the stain on my mattress was from semen. I told her that I would not be taking any more questions from her about such matters. EVER.

    Great post.