Good vibrations

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Keep in mind that what you read here, my (birth)mother Callie reads as well. And unless otherwise noted, the links are NSFW. That said…

Since I haven’t blogged any Actual Content for a while, I thought I’d give you a special treat and write a post about sex toys. Everyone rejoice!

I undertake this topic b/c the Joaqurabbit is dead. You see, when I was pregnant w/ H, I kind of let all those things languish in the drawer. After we moved, I was unpacking the box of stuff from my nightstand and I noticed that the battery compartment on the Joaqurabbit was covered in crusty green stuff. Yes, it had gone unused for so long that the batteries asploded. No matter. I took them out and cleaned it up.

Then one day last week I was unwrapping packs of batteries to put in the kids’ toys and I thought, “I should put batteries in the Joaqurabbit.” So I did. The “Joaquin” part worked fine. The rabbit part was dead. That’s right: the Joaqurabbit committed suicide b/c it felt neglected. So I pitched him.

A few weeks ago I also pitched Mr Pink, the second vibrator I ever owned (he’s no longer available). Mr Pink had gone unused for longer than the Joaqurabbit. But when you name a sex toy after Steve Buscemi, I don’t know what you can expect from it.

There’s also Austin, the vibrating egg. It was made in Sweden or something. Swedish-made penis enlarger pump => Austin Powers => the name. I heart Austin. Everyone should have an Austin.

When we were moving into Rasputin Acres, our friend S of S&S was helping, as was K-Dawg, Hawk’s younger brother. Hawk had labelled my boxes of witchy accouterments as “religious items.” K-Dawg asked S what that meant. S replied, “Probably Jesus statues and stuff. You know how they are.” Which would explain the proliferation of religious stuff we got at Christmas, like the magnetic angel calendar. Anyway, S also carried in the box marked “Eden’s nightstand” and he said to me, before I could see what the box was, “This box is buzzing.” Then the next box was like 2 ft across in every direction and he says, “Are these just batteries?” I think I said, “One of the boxes of batteries, yeah.”

Surprisingly most of the stuff in That Drawer doesn’t require batteries. Nor would I ever divulge the full contents of That Drawer, even to Hawk, so don’t ask. He generally stays away from it since the “Why do you have a snake bite kit in your nightstand?” discussion. But Fredlet knows what I just ordered when I was replacing the Joaqurabbit b/c we were doing e-mail chatting at the same time.

Fredlet also shared a link for this (fairly SFW but you probably wouldn’t want your boss to see you looking at it b/c of the models; check out each color b/c the pillow is presented differently w/ different models in different positions). It’s an adjustable pillow thing. I think this would be a good thing for a variety of reasons. It’s not a prurient thing. I can imagine this would come in handy for a variety of reasons (for example, if one partner was disabled). As I told Fredlet, if I say to Hawk, “I want to buy a $200 pillow” he would lose his shit. Then I’d say what I want it for and he’d say “Use the Capital One card.” Fredlet replied, “What’s in your wallet?” Heh.

The first vibrator I got was a Christmas gift from Hawk after we moved in together. That’s sad that it took that long. If discussion about vibrators and other sex toys had been included in our sex ed curriculum in high school or college*, I can say I would not have been such a latecomer (ha) to the whole battery-powered pleasure market. What is more female-empowering than being responsible for your orgasm? Isn’t that in some movie or something? Anyway…

* I took sex ed in college. It was the most pathetic thing you could imagine. It was 95% biology and the TA doing it was humiliated at every class meeting. She passed around condoms just once, around Halloween and it was the only time we had any fun in class. She filled a trick-or-treat bowl with candy and rubbers and did a Q&A. If you got a right answer, you could get the bowl and pick something out. I got a mint-flavored one and I don’t mean a candy either.

So back to the sex toy talk.

As I’m writing this entry this afternoon, Hawk comes home for lunch with the mail. My totally bitchin’ friend D of B&D, who sells sex toys as a home business, sent me an envelope. I had mentioned to her that I wanted the octopus she sells. She included a free gift: the rabbit part of a jackrabbit. It’s not rabbit-shaped. It looks like a triceratops. But wow. What a free gift! And how coincidental that that was the “surprise” she hinted at in her e-mail and that I was writing this when the package came. I don’t have a name for the triceratops yet.

Anyway, I’m not nearly the aficionado that people might think I am. I try stuff. Sometimes I like it. Sometimes I’m like, “Well that’s a whole lot of nothing.” Considering I was so incredibly sexually introverted as a teenager, it’s kind of redeeming and surprising that I would be a go-to person when someone wants to talk about vibrators or erotica or boudoir photography or anything remotely sexually related. Part of it is my own development but I think a greater part of it is that the Internet has provided us with ways to get information and talk about things that we couldn’t before. Plus there’s my whole 2007 resolution to “become a slut.”

I couldn’t even bring myself to look at the novelty vibrators sold in the stores when I was in college (although, damn, I should have just bought one and if Flora found it, I could have told her she needed it more than I did) and now I’m talking very publicly about them. My hope is that by the time she’s old enough to have any interest in anything like this, my daughter won’t feel awkward and uncomfortable about it. I hope that she’ll ask the questions I never could and that she’ll be so confident in knowing what she wants that it’s not even an issue for her. That it’s just another part of who she is as a young woman.

Holden on the other hand? He was beside himself at The Outback last night b/c we had two beautiful waitresses (one was training) and every time they came near our table, he pulled his “how you doin’?” routine. Strangers have told us we should teach him to say “how you doin’?” b/c he totally does that. Doesn’t matter if a woman is 18 or 80. It’s like he does my Lando Calrissian impersonation: “My name is Lando Calrissian. I’m the administrator of this facility and I love aaall the women in the world.” Smoove. I don’t think he’ll have many issues or hang-ups by his nature but if he does, they’ll probably be related to me talking so much about stuff like this.

Between this and the Dan Radcliffe photos last night… yeah. If you’re new here, welcome. It’s like this all. the. time.

ETA: Check out the comments for more related fun from S of S&S.

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Filed under Joaquin-lust, Moi, Proudly inappropriate