|Okay, vagina cupcakes, I have|
used you. Now, begone from
The other day the cable guy was at our house connecting our Internet and needed to tinker about on my computer. After he left, I went to glory in the sorely-missed wonders of Home Internet, but when I walked over to my computer, I couldn't help but notice the big ol' file sitting right smack in the middle of my computer screen. It's name? "Vagina Cupcakes." Yes, Vagina Cupcakes. Even if Cable Guy was wanting to believe it was a perfectly normal file (and I'm guessing he sorely did), I can't even imagine any file named Vagina Cupcakes that would not be something completely unsavory. (To his credit, Cable Guy didn't bat an eye.)
I am not a packrat in real life (quite the contrary, if you must know), but virtually, I'm a hoarder. I keep things stowed on my computer because I think I might need them someday--just like why your grandma saves those packets of soy sauce from the Chinese restaurant. If anyone has a emergency requiring tiny squirts of low quality soy sauce, well, voila, she saves the day! This is why I had stored a photo of some cupcakes decorated as vaginas front and center on my computer. Months ago, a kind reader had sent the photo suggesting I might use it for...something, so I dutifully kept it. A smarter person would have named the file something benign like "Taxes 1997" or something, but I have a bad memory and can't keep track of such subterfuge. It's a picture of vagina cupcakes, so I named it Vagina Cupcakes, dammit!
And Vagina Cupcakes are just the beginning--that's the kind of thing I have out on my desktop, for anyone to see. My bookmarks are even worse. It is there that I keep the items that I might one day trot out for you, gentle reader. Among the things that reside there are (and don't say I never warned you):
An article on MILF porn.
- A web site for a Fursuit Cleaners. Fursuits, you may recall, are the animal costumes that some folks like to don while banging other folks dressed in fursuits. (Strategically-placed flaps facilitate the process, if you're wondering) The cost of a fursuit cleaning, btw, is $75. I would charge more--WAY more--but that's just me.
- "A History of the Buttocks."
- Info on a talking vibrator.
- Something entitled: "The Pussy Snorkel."
- Also, a recipe for garlic chicken, but that probably doesn't fit the theme here.
I don't know what I'll do if my computer ever has to go in for service because, after a few months of this blog, my computer is toxic, and should probably taken in for questioning. I mean, my search history alone, what with its weird sex toys, fascination with other people's odd (to me) fetishes and excessive interest in the female condom, is enough to run me and my nasty-ass computer out of town.
Even the blog is pretty iffy--I can barely even look at it in public. For example, right now, I am in a cafe in a small town in Michigan, surrounded by wholesome-looking, pale Michiganians. Whenever I need to sort of park my computer for a minute, I try to stop on an acceptable part of my blog. Naked lady picture at the top of the blog? No--scroll down! Talk of "female penile handling"? No! Picture of a dildo? Anal bleaching? Ice butt reference? Ack! No, no and NO!
I know it's 2010, I write a sex blog and I should just get over it and be out and proud--get used to it!--but I'm just not there yet. So I'll talk freely with you, Internet Stranger, about such things, but Mrs. White-Haired Lady Over There At The Other Table, I won't be sharing my feelings about fursuits with you today. And for that, I think we will both be grateful.