A while back, I lent my highly sought after sorting skills to a local thrift shop where some of my friends volunteer. It was our job to sort through all the interesting things that people drop off. Some simply dash in, drop their booty, then skedaddle before the managers can yell “We don’t accept prosthetic limbs, goddamn it!”
Having spent just one memorably day as a volunteer…let me just say this: humans are uniquely twisted and strange. Which, of course, is why I’m such a people person.
Take the “anonymous” donor of a particularly interesting package that I had the good fortune of coming across as I was checking through old handbags for loose change [and dildos…which I’ll cover in a future and equally trashy post).
It was a small, square box, good shape but old. The writing was clearly vintage:
“Stimu-Lax” by Oster the box read.
Hmmmm….Stimu-lax. A Big Box O’ Laxatives maybe? [Damn. I hope it’s not that chocolate kind my grandma used to have in her medicine cabinet because that’s a memory best left tucked away in a dark corner of 1966.]
Curious, I opened the lid and found a bulbous, metal contraption of some kind. It had straps that you slipped your hands through and a frayed electrical cord that could probably be used to execute a serial killer.
Wait. There’s something underneath. Something….pink. I gingerly plucked the Home Execution Kit out of the box and lo and behold in the bottom of the box was a book:
How To Make Love To A Man by Alexandra Penney.
Oh, joy. Sex Instructions. Nothing pisses me off more than sex instructions.
Damn it, if one more asshole tries to tell me what to do in the sack, they’re gonna get a whack upside the head with a fist full of my Real Housewives of Orange County Ben Wa balls.
Once my green skin returned to its normal shade of Caucasian, I started thumbing through the book.
Page 134: Author walks into an erotic toy store….
“Could you,” I said in my most disinterested journalistic manner, “perhaps tell me a little more about… vibrators?”
Okay. I get it. Some poor unfortunate soul(s) read the manual and thought this Stimu-Lax gadget with its gnarly electrical cord was a decent substitute for The Rabbit. I hope they’ve come to their senses and discovered latex and batteries…unless, of course, it’s too late.