don't toy with me
I'm back, baby.
Did you miss me? I brought in a few guests to class up the joint. We had FOAD, the Lit version. We had a lovely English Gal give us her view of the States. It almost seemed a bit nicer around here for a few minutes. No donkey jokes. None of that nonsense.
What have I been doing to keep myself busy whilst these fine folks have been entertaining you? Working like a fiend? Improving my mind through books? Driving around at 130 mph in first gear with midget hookers while doing blow off of their tiny asses? Hey. One outta three ain't bad.
On Saturday night, however, there wasn't a midget to be seen, clothed or otherwise. But there were toys. Lots and lots of toys. While I normally make it a point to skip all manner of buy-stuff-house-parties (Candlelite, Pampered Chef, you know the drill), I could hardly pass up an invitation from my best friend to attend a Slumber Party. The kind where a bunch of women sit around, examining everything from novelty cake pans to the highly popular (don't click on this link if you are at work, folks) Rabbit Pearl.
I can usually be counted on to at least entertain myself (and not just in the that's-the-point-of-this-party-way). This evening was no exception. I am quite certain that the Party Hostess was about ready to have me thrown out on several occasions, one of the most notable being when she, in what she imagined was a risqué and quietly coy voice said the word 'taint'. I promptly raised my hand and inquired loudly, "What's a 'taint'?" At another point, she passed out Q-Tips with a sample of something called "Booby Balm" and told us that we could use this for either our lips or our breasts. I looked down my shirt and back at the Q-Tip before raising my hand again, saying, "Oh, I think I am gonna need a little more than this." Later, one brave soul was talked into retiring to the bathroom to apply something called Extreme Niagara on her nether region. Upon her return, I asked jovially, "So, how's your clit?" Someone from across the room said, "Well, that's something you don't say every day." I corrected her, "No. Actually, that's the way I greet everyone. Sorry I didn't see you when you came in." Party Hostess drew the line however, at my discussion on Animal Bordellos prompted by the inflatable party sheep. Frigid Bitch.
So much for classing up the joint, eh?



Reader Comments (22)
Au contraire, you're always a welcomed change to my rather straightforward life.
And to think this country was 'founded' by Puritians.
Glad you're back to remind us that those stuffy prudes are long fucking gone!
> I think not.
All fiction, I'm afraid. The only time I could chat up a girl like that would be if I were to close my eyes and concentrate real hard.
It's great to see what a bunch of pent up suburban housewives will do after a few pictures of Margarita's and a few wild friends edging them on.
HCG would have fit right in.
By the way, a better opening line is "how's your hole......
Family?"
I'm sticking with the clit line. Works better for me.
Reminds me of that one time....
(EEK - Hubby walks into room)...
And no Avi, I'm not talking about your donkey-cornholing schlong.
BTW, Avi. Congrats on being a bitch. (Haven't said that to someone since prison...)
Zzzzzzt.
But Veronica Mars has made tasers cool.