So, I got invited to a dildo party. You know, like Tupperware or candles or scrap booking shit, except that you’re supposed to buy things to help you get off. And what I’ve discovered about myself, much to my chagrin, is that I’m a big, giant PRUDE. I can’t be in the same room as sex toys. I can’t do that. I’m actually not even that comfortable walking by the bras at Wal-Mart. I still blush when I have to buy tampons.
My friend did go to the party, though. And she brought home a treat for me, which she gave to my husband.
Neno: I think I’m going to switch purses.
Husband: I think that’s a really good idea. (Leer, leer)
Neno: Okay. Why are you being so weird?
Husband: I’m not being weird. Just go ahead and do what you’re going to do. (Google eye)
Neno: Okay, freak. (Neno takes out of her purse a wallet, a stack of paid bills, keys, receipts, a calculator, a pen, and…)
What’s this?
Husband: Ha HA Hee HA
Neno: There’s a penis in my purse.
Husband: Har hee har har
Neno: A penis pen.
Husband: Haw haw haw haw
Neno: Did you put a penis pen in my purse?
Husband: Ha. Ha.
Neno: Get out of here before I shove this tiny tiny penis up your ass.
So, I’m now the proud owner of a pen with a itty bitty pink penis on the end. Actually, it writes kind of nicely. Maybe I’ll take it to work. After Husband finds it, of course.