Sunday, September 25, 2011

Vlogging with a dildo. Can we DO that on Blogger?


I was recently contacted by Eden Fantasys asking if I'd like to post a review on one of their sex toys.  Huh?  It took me a minute to work through it.  They would send me something in the mail, for free, and all I had to do was write about it?  I LOVE getting packages in the mail.  It always feels like a mini Christmas.  Except for that one time my ex-husband sent a package to my parents house that I was pretty sure was chock full of Anthrax.  But under normal circumstances, love them!

Since I basically live at work, I gave that address to have it mailed to.  When Katie popped her head up over the side of my cubicle to inform me I had a package, I had a mild stroke.  Oh holy crap!  What was I thinking, having a sex toy delivered to me at WORK?  Katie's going to go back to her department and mention it to someone and someone else will overhear and then the whole COMPANY will know I just had a package delivered to me from Dirty Nasty Sexy Time Toys for Perverted Creeps dot com. 

I decided to use the rest of the afternoon to update my resume.  That is, until I actually checked out the return label and realized it was from Upstanding Citizens Are Us So Move Along Folks There's Nothing To See Here dot com.   Okay, I don't actually remember what the return label said, I just remember being relieved that it didn't have anything that even remotely sounded like it involved anal plundering.

I decided to sneak a quick peek at what had been sent.  I pulled it out, gasped, and immediately shoved it back in the box and threw it under my desk.  For some reason I was expecting a small, magic bullet type thing.  Not the giant orange dildo, aka, lucid dream, I would now have to smuggle out of the office.

Using my impressive powers of begging persuasion, I somehow convinced my friend Candice to help me with a video demonstration.  The ensuing conversation she had over the phone with her husband:

Candito:  Guess what I'm going to do with VV?
Husband:  Something sexual?
Canditao:  Actually, yes, kind of.
Husband:  No way!  Can I watch?
Candito:  Probably not.  You'll still be at work.
Husband:  You should make a video of it.
Candito:  Oh, we are.
Husband:  No way!
Candito:  Way.

Oh yes Husband.  Be excited.  This four minute video will rock your world.  Or give you a headache.  If you actually make it through the whole thing, please don't be alarmed.  Do not call animal rescue.  Her two little dogs were not, in fact eating each other.  That's what dogs do when they're "playing".  Also, no need to call child protection services.  The screaming baby you hear being neglected while the two women play with their dildo was just fine.  He's teething.  The thought crossed my mind to stick the lucid dream in the freezer and give it to baby for his poor little mouth.  But I was pretty sure Mom would draw the line at shoving a g-spot vibrator in baby's face.

One more thing to be aware of if you choose to continue.  This video sucks.  That's not me being modest or self-deprecating.  It really does suck.  We only had time to do it once, there's zero editing, it's wretched, and the sound isn't synched properly with the video.  I asked E2 why this was happening and he said the audio codec isn't supported by youtube or blogger.  This means nothing to me.  He offered to take a look to try to fix it but I don't want him witnessing the complete train wreck that is this vlog.

And so, with that disclaimer, enjoy.


I am so sorry.  Truly.

Friday, September 16, 2011

I'm gonna random all over your face!

Fair warning. There is no rhyme or reason to this post. If you come away feeling confused, upset or dizzy, it's probably because of all the pot you've been smoking since you awoke this morning to your roommates promptings to wake and bake. Or it could be because this post sucks. Whatever. Tomato, tomahtoe. What you CAN get out of this post is a few new awesome blogs to follow.

Let's start with Tonya.  She can be found at Where Have all the Hobos Gone?
If you're nice and leave her some comment love she may reward/punish you with your very own cartooning.  Case in point:
I love that she dressed me better in the cartoon than I bother to in real life.  Even if she did feel the need to include the paper clips I try to pass off as bobby pins and the binder clips in lieu of a belt.  Yeah, I'm high class.


And then there's Pickleope who has been turning fellow bloggers into tangy, pickled delights for some time now.  He also likes to include random facts about the chosen pickled blogger which may or may not be true. 
"What, you've never seen an anthropomorphic stove attack with muffin-nunchucks? For the record, the drink in the brown paper bag is to conceal her beverage-of-choice as she conceals her own identity....not because she occasionally fakes being homeless.  Fun Fake Fact: The Ginja Ninja is the international Electronic Battleship champion of 2008, which makes her a huge celebrity in Japan. Unfortunately, yelling "B19, bitch!" just doesn't command as much respect in the English speaking world as much as we would all hope."

I giggled seeing my fiery pickle head about to be brained by the muffin nun-chucks.  I never stood a chance against my nemesis. The kitchen stove wins again.

And last but by no means least, is Joshua at Vive le Nerd.  He didn't draw a picture of me but he did give me an award.  I don't care how much of a douche canoe this makes me.  I LOVE blog awards and I love when blogs I love are recognized for being um, loved?  *sigh*  So I'm passing it on with 3 random facts and 3 blogs I love.
Fact #1 I was born in a Gremlin.  A  fact that I will expound upon more at the end of this post.  Oh I know, the anticipation is simply overwhelming.

Fact #2 I can touch my tongue to my nose, wiggle my ears and whistle while humming.  Oh yeah.  Are you horny yet?  I know I am!  Though, I could be mistaking horny for nauseous.  Moving on.

Fact #3 I rarely sneeze less than 3 times in a row.  Which really sucks for someone who hates snot.

And the 3 blogs I'm really digging this week are:

#1 Natalie from My Blog Is Boring. She's sarcastic, sometimes a little bitchy and painfully honest.  The trifecta of awesome.

#2 Rapunzel of Tales From The Tower.  She doesn't post often but when she does I find myself excited to catch up on her romantic woes and victories.

#3 Aleisha from She calls me "Mama Leisha".  I'm a pretty callous individual but for some reason her posts never fail to melt my mostly frozen heart and remind me that I do, possibly, have a soul.

Now, just one more thing.  I know, I know.  I'm as exhausted by this post as you are.  Possibly more but bear with me.  I was asked to be the featured writer for today over at Studio30Plus.  I wrote about the day my Mother brought me into this world.  I wrote about what should have been a beautiful, magical experience gone horribly HORRIBLY awry and became the shit show that is my birthday.  It explains a lot about me and the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, the parents really are to blame.

I'm kidding.

Kind of.






Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remember? How could I forget?

Ten years.  Ten years ago today, I was living in Northern California serving as a full time missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Aka, the Mormons.  Shocking, I know.

I was training a greenie at the time (a brand new missionary) and we received a phone call letting us know what had happened.  During your time as a missionary, you're not permitted to listen to the radio or watch television or movies.  Phone calls home and the internet were out as well so we were pretty much out of the loop when it came to current events.  I remember thinking how sad it was for the families who lost loved ones but had no inkling as to the full impact of what had just happened. 

My greenie and I went out that day to go tracting.  (Knocking doors.  Yep.  Just like the JW's)  There were more people home and actually opening their doors than usual.  Quite a few people were crying and asked us how, if there really is a God, could he allow something like this to happen?  A couple of people were angry and took it out on us.  Basically asking the same question but in the form of screaming it in our faces then slamming the door.  Most people, however, reacted with empathy, sympathy and love.  We were invited in and asked to pray.  Sometimes we said the prayers, sometimes they did, but the theme was always the same.  Comfort those who are afraid.  Be with those who have just lost their loved ones.  Help the rescuers find those who are trapped and waiting.  And those who were killed, welcome them home with open arms.

Going door to door in the weeks that followed, I had never seen so many American flags or such a fierce devotion to a Nation.  I don't think I have ever been more proud to be an American...even if I am a watered down version.

It wasn't until months later after I had returned home (a mission for women lasts 18 months) that I truly understood the full impact of the attack.  I finally watched some of the footage.  I saw some of the photos.  I saw the people covered in dust, ash and debris with the wet trail of tears streaking their faces.  I saw the pictures of the office workers falling to their death with their ties flapping in the wind.  I saw the families heartbreaking pleas to find their missing loved ones.

This is when it hit me.  The hatred of the attackers.  The devastation.  The families that will never be the same again.  The bravery.  The sacrifices.  The overwhelming outpouring of support and love from strangers across the country.  And this was when I felt that lump get lodged in my throat.  My stomach clenched and my eyes welled up.  I did my best to force that damn lump back down where it belonged.  I hate crying.  I hate crying in front of other people.  But there was no stopping it.  The tears came and refused to be staunched.

It was a terrible, tragic event that still stuns me .  However, that year, I had never been more proud of this country and thinking of the noble, valiant heroes from that day and the weeks that followed, still gives me goosebumps.