Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Thursday, October 7, 2010

A Tourist Walks into a Sex Shop

OK, this story has nothing to do with Captain Strap-On (although I'm working on Part 2 of Adult Toy Story. Because I always keep MY promises ;-).

So, I'm up here in Nova Scotia. And because I'm one-week post-period, I am in the first hormonal peak for the month (yep, I can chart them). Now, because I know my body cycle and how my body behaves, I had the sense to pack the vibrator; however, I forgot to pack the dildo. *smacks self in head* Sorry, but it's just not a complete cum with the penetration, and I get cranky (and, unless it's someone else's fingers, it just doesn't do it for me; yes, I'm a demanding bitch, especially where my sexual pleasure is involved).

Now, I have had texts from Captain Strap-on (although none today, so I think he has violated probation, the asshole), and things have heated up with Potential Paramour to the point where there will be a make-or-break face-to-face meeting after the vacation. I have hopes, but not counting on anything because I know my luck. I'm trying to be positive, but reality is reality. Add to that the fact that I'm in Canada where they grow some very, very hot (and POLITE! I am SUCH a sucker for good manners!) men... yeah. I am so on the edge, i could scream. And climb the walls like a cat.

So, I have to scratch the itch, as it 'twere. Now, the last time I was up, I noticed a shop as we were driving called Pleasures and Treasures, and I noticed what was in the window and what the signage said and the ADULTS ONLY sign beneath, and I remarked on its existence to be met with a, "Oh, yeah, that's been here for a while."

And yet no one told me.

Now, Halifax has a fairly well known sex store called Venus Envy right in downtown. It's a nice store--open, easy to navigate, good literature section, very female-oriented. (I actually feel like it skews to lesbians, but that's me.) Their stuff tends to be VERY high end and out of my current budget range. (Probably a good thing Captain Strap-on has blown it; although the mood I'm in, I'd make some key selections and call him and make him charge the lot of it. I'm normally not mercenary, but when I've been dicked around... oh, yeah. I want presents, dammit!)*

Feeling my rising need for fulfillment (and also needing to fill the Blue Bomber's gas tank before they raise the fucking price of gas across the province by another $0.04 PER LITER; Christ, we SO DO NOT KNOW how good we have it in the U.S.), I figured I'd head out, get gas, and check out the local sex shop. I pulled into the lot--love the set-up. Right there on the main road, next to a car dealer, with head-on parking in front, no different from all of the other little shops scattered about.

The proprietor is outside having a smoke; she finished up while I was shutting down the car and getting out, greets me cheerfully, and asks if I need any help. I'm like, "No, I'm good, I know what I'm looking for. Forgot to pack something necessary."

Which got an understanding laugh. Good start!

I found the place on par with Amazing--prices elevated because it's Canada (and I will have a bitch about this later--our fucking currency is on par; it's time the Godsdamned US manufacturers cut the crap with the super-elevated prices. Was in the Disney Store earlier, and there was a $6.00 difference in the price on the stuffies. SERIOUSLY! The days of $0.75 US to $1 Canada are long over), but the merch was familiar enough. I didn't go looking through the DVDs or the mags; I really don't need any extra stimulation right now, my fantasy circuit is humming.

Finally made a choice--nice, mid-size model, about the same size/shape as the one under the pillow at home--reasonably priced--and headed for the cash. The proprietor was really cool--nice lady, pleasant, hip, funny--and she rings me up and pops the toy out of the packaging to test it because it is, of course, non-returnable.

I'm like, "I really don't care; I don't bother with the vibrating part; more concerned about the size and shape." She was in complete agreement.

Now, this is not the first time I have heard this from another woman, and I find it interesting. I can't use the vibrating option while a toy is inside me--it's actually painful and makes me sick. Vibe on the clit, FABULOUS. Vibe inside... NO GO! Those swirly rabbit thingies... I had one. Never had such an uncomfortable experience in my life (except for the time Edwad tried to bugger me without lube; nuff said).

Now, the other funny part of the conversation was the remark about it being unreturnable. This is the second sex shop I've been in within a month; the second time I've bought a toy; and the second time the clerk has told me the toy was non-returnable. I notice shit like this, y'know? I mean, I'm a knowledgeable consumer, I know my rights, but I also know what's safe and what ain't, and I can't believe that ANYONE would try to return a fucking sex toy after it was used. I mean, that's just... just.. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

And I comment on this, complete with my twist-of-the-lip-skeeved-you're-fucking-joking look. I got the same response--VERBATIM--that the two guys in Amazing gave me, "Oh, you wouldn't believe what people try to return."

This led to a discussion of the fact that, evidently, men try to return a lot of broken cunts, and her saying, "This is not how it looked when I sold it to you."

Yes, I told her about Jim Jefferies and quoted enough of "I'm am the Egg Man" to get her howling and writing down his name, swearing to look him up.

Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to give the new joy toy a test run.

*Honestly, I am not holding out for him or any hope for the encounter. I think he's a chickenshit bastard who's playing silly buggers. I'm just going to milk the story for all the laughs I can.

1 comment:

  1. Empress, I hope your new toy will bring you many hours of coochie-filled pleasure. Manufacturers might give you free test models if you reviewed them on your blog.