Ben was every woman’s dream, with his blue eyes, copper hair, and straight white teeth. Strong but gentle. Confident and in control, whether commanding the boardroom or the bedroom. And he was mine. Mine! … Until my best friend Kelly stole him. For days I cried and cried. I felt angry and betrayed. Kelly and I had been friends since 1st grade. After a couple of months I wondered if I should bury the hatchet, but then I heard that they were getting married and I totally flipped my wig. Now I wanted nothing but revenge. Revenge!
Kelly was hesitant at first, but I assured her that I was over Ben and wanted to maintain our friendship and invited them both over for some of my homemade steak and kidney pies. When she and Ben walked into my house, my heart burned so that I thought my chest would burst, but I kept my cool and choked down the emotions. Ben and Kelly loved the pie and I was seething inside when I saw how much they loved each other. As we wished each other goodnight I promised more pie in the future.
A few days later Kelly rang frantically “Ben’s gone. Missing. Totally disappeared. He hasn’t answered my calls for 2 days.” I hurried over to her house and wrapped my arms around her as she sobbed on her living room floor. “I should call the police.” she said. “No.” I reasoned with her “You know Ben is often called away on important meetings. He’s probably lost his phone. Give it until tomorrow. In the meantime, you can have some of the fresh pork pies I just made.” So that afternoon, I dropped off a box of pies to a tearful Kelly, assuring her I’d check back in the morning. “Enjoy your Big-Ben Pork Pies, you bitch.” I thought to myself as I high-tailed it to the city’s international airport.
They come in all shapes and sizes. Actually they don’t really; they are all made out of tiffy-taffy and all very much the same. It’s the packaging that varies wildly. Walking down that aisle of the supermarket, it always fills one with superstitious and suspicious awe and wonder. The explosion of colors, patterns, styles. The uplifting mantras of confidence, hope, protection. The miracle of life, the mystery, the wish for a hysterectomy, the .. what the fuck?
Hey there! Great to have you with us again and, wow, do we have a hot topic for you today!; 13 sex-toys you are using wrong. So drop your pants, grab a hot coffee and let’s go!
Firstly, a little background … X, Ys that you are Z-ing wrong. This headline pattern is currently enjoying more than its fair share of popularity. Why? Because this motherfucker has pull, baby. When we see “10 vegetables that you are storing wrong”, We click on the clickity-thingummy-whatsit and dig into it. Vegetables are essential. Vegetables are expensive. You don’t want your vegetables to deteriorate before you eat them. No! – that would just be silly. And there’s another, more powerful, reason: You are wrong! Yes, you, dear reader. You are wrong. How do you feel now? Angry? Resentful? Ready to strangle this arrogant axolotl? Nothing pisses people off more than being told they are wrong. So when someone tells you that you are storing your vegetables in an incorrect fashion, you are likely to think, “We shall see about that, asshole!”. Click!
Well, we can stop reading most of that crap because, guess what?, it turns out that you were right all along. I knew you were smart, and good-looking. Sure, some of it turns out to be useful information, but much of it is merely the author’s personal opinion. Sometimes the “correct” whatchamacallums are complete horse-radish. (Note to self: just what the hell is “horse-raddish”? Look it up). When you get down to the bare metal (not with your sex-toys, please, stay safe), it’s all about money, baby! $$$ Clicks, advertisements, moolah, dough.
Now, about those sex-toys…
What’s that? We’re out of time?
Sorry folks, will have to leave that for a future post.
Take care everyone. Watch out for that big, bad, mainstream-media monster and remember to share your hottest sex-toy hints in the comments section below. 🙂