Large, vibrating, between my legs.

If you guess 'motorcycle' you win one point!*

So last weekend I went behind a parent's back to ride a motorcycle, or take a class as the first step in getting my license and starting a riding gang named 'Los Conejos Peludos.' Random motorcycle God's way of punishing me for my impertinence was to both give me my Lady Time while on a motorcycle and make me sick. Like, sick enough to skip all kinds of school.

People don't know how to comfort me when I become sick. They think they can do it by comforting body rubs, giving me medication, and giving me good food. I don't know if I'm weird or anything, but:

1. I get super sensitive EVERYWHERE. Like, full body sunburn bad. It hurts to wear clothes, PLEASE DON'T TOUCH ME. 'sides, I'm sick, I'll give you the plague.

2. I like sleep, I know it's good for me when I'm sick, but if I get on medication it has the tendency to not put me directly to sleep. Then I get some very fun fever nightmares and can never sleep again.

3. Food. It tastes like shit. What I'm looking for is: bland. Easy to swallow. Doesn't put up a fuss. OH I JUST DESCRIBED YOUR MOTHER, WHAT UP. No but really, sushi is wasted on me. I appreciate the effort but it tastes like ass.

So anyway, I'm sick and hopped up on medication. I doubt I'll remember this post.

I did name the motorcycle Mori. At first she was Maury after the show cuz I thought she'd give me unnecessary drama in my life. It evolved to Mori when she was only occasionally a bitch. I always name things once they've vibrated between my legs. Just seems like common courtesy.

In case you were wondering, my current dildo's name is Neil Patrick Harris. Suck it, monkeys.


*redeem at later time for cash prize!**

**now 100% dolphin free***

***not a 100% guarantee

It has judging eyes. Minus one star.

I was going to write something about my voice and how I sound like a squeaky Death, but then my mom came out of nowhere and said, "I got you a present!" I like presents, so I held out my hands and closed my eyes. A box was pressed into my grabby hands.

I got this.

What.

In looking for the link to show people my "what" I also noticed reviews and wanted to write my own. This is what I put up:

My mom saw me recently and gave me this. I don't know why. I graduated college with a BS in Biology. Maybe she thinks I'm a stoner? Or mentally impaired/easily amused? Either way, I feel compelled to rate it, so maybe she wasn't too far off on any count.

At first glance it weirds me out. Dude, the remote has EYES. Maybe if I were under the recommended maximum age of three this wouldn't be so bad, but since I'm 22 I feel the thing is judging me. "Put me down and go get a real job!" Shut up, giggle remote. I HAVE a real job. You don't even KNOW me.

The pictures on the buttons are cash, though. There's my fav, the cookie monster, or whatever they've done with my furry fatty recently (probably went vegan at this point). It turns out when you press the buttons, you can alternate between Elmo saying the numbers and whatever sound the picture would make. For the characters, it changes quite a bit, which is nice. I was wondering what a soccer ball would say. Apparently soccer balls are cartoon springs now. It's not what they sounded like when I played soccer back in the day. Whatever, I learned the number eight. Score! (Other criticisms: The yellow dude of the Bert and Ernie duo only gets one phrase, which is a ripoff. The cookie monster says something I can't make out, but it could be cursing. Good things: the number zero is ALL ELMO. Enjoy.)

I thought the volume and channel buttons wouldn't do anything interesting. THEY ACTUALLY CONTROL THE VOLUME AND CHANNEL. Please tell me you also think this is cool. I guess a parent could turn the volume of the toy down before handing it to a kid, but it kind of defeats the purpose when you put the volume control right back into the kid's hands. I would recommend just taking the batteries out. Or turning it to 'off' but again, totally not the point. If you don't want your children's toys making noises, buy them Play-Doh. (Hint: make it non-toxic. THEY EAT EVERYTHING AT THAT STAGE.)

So this kept me distracted for very nearly 2 minutes, but my attention span is much shorter than that of your average 3 year old. I'm trying to find a way to close the eyes forever. The toy did freak out the cat a little but it's a small price to pay for quality entertainment.

Guess this will teach me to visit home anytime soon.

I doubt that will even make it to the page.