I don’t want to gym
All I want is to go home
And read comic books
I don’t want to gym
All I want is to go home
And read comic books
Feeling in the mood for the 14th, so I decided to channel it and try my hand at calligraphy.
Justice and Adventure
Finally finished these desk decorations.
…for a friend.
I’ve wanted to visit a sex shop (or shoppe, as my more articulate friends spell it) for ages. A friend’s birthday party was approaching, so I found the perfect excuse and went in looking for a fake plastic penis. For my friend, I swear.
I’ve stared at Fantasy Adult with my mouth agape for hours. It is across the parking lot from my orthodontist. Unfortunately I made it awkward before even entering the store. I cut off a car while pulling into the parking lot and the combined embarrassment of being a bad driver and being at a sex shop forced me to park around the corner. I might be a man-child.
The only patrons of the store were old men, who by virtue of their setting became creepy old men. It seems internet porn has caused an unfortunate generational gap in the porn DVD industry. I was lost in a sea of wonder and obnoxious lace, so I asked the available sales clerk. She was a pretty blond-haired blue-eyed girl in a sundress who looked like she belonged in a field of flowers. After scanning my ID I gave her my rehearsed speech, “I am looking for a gift for my FRIEND. It is HER birthday.” Because sex shop workers totally judge the shit out of their customers and have never seen a man buy a dildo or whatever before.
I was led to the bachelorette party section, behind which the racks on racks on racks of pornographic DVDs lay for old men to peruse. This part of the store was littered with shot glasses, sex coupons, and naked playing cards. It seems brides-to-be party quite hard. There were also blow-up dolls (of the pornstar and anime variety [good job Japan]), edible thongs for men and women, and the coup de grâce: penis molding kits. Not for treating penile fungal infestations, mind you (excuse me while I assume the most fetal of positions), but for making dildos and candles out of your man’s junk. Nothing says “I love you” like setting his dick on fire.
I spent about ten minutes soaking it all in with some great classic rock in the background before another clerk approached me. She was older and more stereotypical: piercings, dyed hair, and an old band shirt.
“Looking for a gift.”
She showed me some novelties and asked if I wanted something else.
“Where are the… dildos?”
She smirked and chirped, “Right this way.”
I was led to a wall of dicks. Tons and tons of dicks. Huge, big, slightly less big. Everything a person so inclined could want.
“These are pretty cheap. And over here we have double-enders,” she exclaimed, pointing to a massive 16” veiny bastard. I have never felt so emasculated. “The vibrators are over here. Also, this thing is pretty fun.” She pulled a flaccid, rubbery cock-and-balls from the wall. “You can kick it around like a hackey-sack at the beach or in a park and get all sorts of weird looks.” She thrust it at me to give it a squeeze and I gladly obliged.
“I’ll let you shop around. Have fun!”
I finally decided on a plain black one and walked it to the counter without a hint of embarrassment on my face. After getting ID’d again I asked the clerk if she had any good stories from holding the fort.
“Well there was this one time a guy tried to rob us. I gave him such a talking to that when he exited he was apologizing and called me ma’am.”
“I also had a man run out of one of our booths wearing nothing but a pair of pants on his head like a turban.”
Say no to drugs kiddies.
Mission accomplished, I dashed out of the store with my fake phallus, throwing it in the trunk. It was a memorable hour and a lot of fun (but hopefully not as much fun as the birthday girl is going to have). I learned a few things, I’m more secure in my sexuality, and I found a great place to hang out with friends. Thank you, Fantasy Adult.
My dad and my stepfather (Mike) met for the first time on graduation day (late post, I know). I don’t even talk about Mike in front of my father, though they are aware of one another’s existence.
I spent the entire day before the ceremony with my dad; he flew in just for the occasion and was leaving the next day. At 5:30 we were to meet at the parking lot of Mike’s office so we could all hitch a ride to the Chiles Center as one awkward family.
My family’s dynamic confuses me. The grandparents on my mom and dad’s side are very friendly with each other; they have dim sum and go shopping together, and invite my dad every once in a while too, as if they were all friends whose children didn’t divorce twice.
To finish putting everything in context, my dad is 6’ 2” and 200 pounds. Big guy. Mike is also 200 pounds, but around 5’ 5”. Also a big guy, but not in the same way. I didn’t know what my dad would think when he saw that my mom married a white, squished version of himself.
Mike and my mom walked towards us holding hands. Mike what are you doing this is so awkward. They all shook hands. Is my dad going to punch someone? Mike told a small joke and my dad laughs. You had the balls to tell a joke in this situation?
The car ride had typical small talk: weather and gas prices. The last time my mom and dad were in the same place together they talked about tires. By the end of the day I was aware that this entire debacle was more awkward for me than anyone else.
I just realized the ballots for the first election I can vote in are due tomorrow; physics can wait.
Instead of regaling you with the arduous thought process behind each of my votes, I’ll give you the highlights:
Below every candidate’s statement is, “The above information has not been verified for accuracy by the county.” I realize how difficult it would be to verify everything, but wow, I could vote Satan himself into the all-important THPRD Director, Position 5 and not even know it.
BSD Director, Zone 3 Candidate Mary VanderWeele (Bolding is hers)
“AS SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER AND CHAIR, MARY HAS:
[…] Facilitated strategic planning […] Found common ground on controversial issues […] Advocated for individual student growth measurements for greater accountability.”
What does this even mean? Writing in Mr. Stafford for this position. Actually, the pamphlet’s Beaverton School District candidates are full of this crap:
“Urged adoption of effective, proven curriculum and textbooks,” As opposed to advocating for ineffective textbooks?
“Ensure a system of rigorous education that focuses on the whole child. – Childhood is a journey, not a race.” Oh thank God. Without your focus on the whole child the district would have neglected to educate my left arm.
“What I offer is the ability to build consensus, form working groups. and achieve results.” I wish every candidate stated this, otherwise I would just assume they couldn’t achieve results.
I ended up voting for Mr. Stafford twice. Would it have been cooler to have saved my voting virginity for a presidential election or at least congressional voting? Sure, but the thing was mailed to me and I’m sure as hell not going to let it go to waste. This isn’t the most substantive thing in the world, but at least I’m glad I can say I filled out a ballot.
Thanks; I hope I live up to the expectation.
Over the past few days my phone sent me not very subtle come-ons: various vibrator apps had been installed. Not just one or two, mind you, but an entire sex-toy store worth of sodomic stimulators were in my app menu. At first I assumed it was a prank, and after uninstalling I put the matter to rest.
Sex toy shop of the future
That is, until I woke up in the morning and all the apps were reinstalled. Oh man my phone wants more. At this point I was seriously creeped out: “Can androids get viruses (digital ones, not herpes)?” “Who the hell did this?” “Why are there so many different vibrators out there?”
Aasav postulated that this incident was related to my Gmail being hacked by China earlier, but I wondered why they would hack me just to coerce me into doing the nasty with my phone. Regardless, I was with Aniket, Aasav, and Kyung, and they spent the better part of 30 minutes testing the various apps (they all stayed fully clothed). Many of them were reskinned versions of each other, though some, like Dildroid (pictured) managed to get a little creative.
Slide his head bigger to make him go faster
In the end, I discovered some of the apps were also on my SD card, and after deleting those, my phone has yet to transform into a woman’s wet dream. Though I will probably never find out how or why my phone was the proud host of Magic Vibrator, Magic Vibrator 2, Android Love, Love Her, Dildroid, and many more apps, hopefully I can sleep tight tonight without fearing my phone’s intentions.