The internet is a weird frontier, you guys. I get so many e-mails about weird bullshit PR reps want me to post about — giveaways, contests, fashion apps whose founders haven’t realized that bubble has burst — but an e-mail from that below brand* was too good to pass up. So, that’s why I have a post written by a stranger (lol) about how to introduce sex toys into the bedroom (LOL) when I haven’t posted to this vast wonderland of blog goodness since, like, a god damn year ago.
I mean, if I was going to write a post about sex toys, it would just be a blinking question mark GIF because there is *no* way to introduce that to your significant other without him or her panicking about their inadequacy. I mean, if I’m forever resentful over my boyfriend ordering Seamless instead of eating the salmon I’ve been slaving over for the past hour, I can only *imagine* how one must feel when a tiny plastic robot from an overseas factory is swapped in for one’s very own human parts.
But hey , opinions aside, they wrote about it in the tone I asked them to, took my ideas and churned out a post two hours later (faster than even I do it for money) and everyone I know voted that, yes, it was too god damn funny to not sell my soul in exchange for $100 cash.
So, I did. And what did I do with the money?
BLING BLING BITCHES!
I rolled into the New York outpost of Shareen Vintage like I just signed a record deal in 1999 and was headed straight to the strip club. I threw down on a harlequin-print sequin dress that was last worn in a jazz club before I was born, and a mini-kilt fastened by safety pins, which makes it less of a trouble for tailoring and more of a adjust-as-you-eat dream skirt.
And, because my life is a live-action Cathy cartoon, my total of course came out to one hundred dollars even. I’d show you a snap, but I threw it out quickly in a shame spiral after asking for praise and being met with ridicule. (Did I mention I’ve been getting shit at the homestead for spending cash the second I make it? Yeah, doing this the day the check cleared wasn’t a good look.)
Anyway, I know selling out in the name of sex toys isn't the most professional move, but hey, if I can get a glittery gown and a junior high catholic school uniform in exchange, well, I'm willing to part with a lot of my dignity.
* I say “that below brand” because I still have no idea if I’m even allowed to reference them by name because none of this makes any sense. Is that what people mean when they say "make that paper?" Harumph.