My knight in porcelain armor

Yesterday afternoon we ran out of toilet paper. I meant to get some on the way home from Kat's tumbling but was too lazy to get out of the car at the grocery store forgot. We used tissues, it wasn't a big deal. We're accustomed to running out of things because I am really lazy and hate grocery shopping a very busy woman. At about 11:00 last night, I really had to poop and remembered we still didn't have any toilet paper. So while I went to the bathroom, Chris went to the store for toilet paper. He was gone for what seemed like an eternity, but he swears it was no more than 10 minutes. Well, I don't have those kind of patience. I don't know, maybe it's from the trauma of being pregnant and not pooping for like 8 months, but I don't like sitting on the toilet for any extended period of time. So I was like, screw it. Tissues it is. I did my business and no sooner did I flush, than I heard Chris pulling in the driveway. I totally planned on giving him a hard time for taking so long, until I looked down. Fucking toilet is clogged and not flushing.

Son of a bitch. Haven't I already done this before? Once again, there's no plunger. I lent it to my ex like a month because he's too cheap to buy his own and I forgot to get it back from him. We have one of those stupid use-less-water-because-it's-good-for-the-environment-but-means-the-toilet-never-flushes-right toilets. So I flushed again. Yeah, that didn't help. So I tried plunging with the toilet brush. Chris pokes his head in the bathroom and sees me furiously shoving the toilet brush in the toilet bowl. He's like, babe, what the fuck did you do? Here, give me the plunger... I was like, actually, the plunger isn't here. Dave has it. He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, like it's MY fault that I was too impatient for toilet paper and I clogged the toilet and we could've plunged it but I let my ex husband borrow our plunger. Ok, maybe it's a little my fault, but I digress.

Chris: I'll borrow one from the neighbors.

Me: You can't do that! They're like 107, and already asleep.

Chris: Well, then I'll just have to unclog it.

Me: How do you propose we do that? We HAVE NO PLUNGER!

Chris: I'll just reach in there and plunge it with my hand.

Me: Ok, do you want me to...wait...what the fuck did you just say?

Chris: Babe, it's got to be done. You don't have to watch.

(he looks wearily at the toilet)

Me: Chris, no. Don't do it. I don't like letting you see me poop, and now you're talking about sticking your hand in it. Don't do it, please? I'll do it.

Chris: Stand back baby. I'm going in.

Me: Noooooo! Please stop!!! Oh God.

He stuck his hand in. Or, more specifically, up to his ELBOW. I was perched on the bathtub, tears rolling down my face from a combination of revulsion and laughter. He turned around and smiled at me, almost got it. The toilet gurgled and bubbled and after about a minute of him using his hand as a fucking plunger in my shit water, all the water went down.

After he showered in scalding hot water and used about a bottle and a half of antibacterial soap, I asked him why he would do such a thing, why not let me handle my own mess? His response? A shrug. That's my job.

That's the grossest/sweetest/most revolting/most chivalrous thing anyone has ever done for me.

My knight in porcelain armor.

Best iPod attachment. Ever.

So the other day I was playing on my laptop and somehow got on Eden Fantasys, a sex toy website. I don't remember the linkage that got me there, but I spent the whole afternoon looking at sex toys, and holy shit there really is something for everyone. By the way, this is totally why I love my laptop. I can look at sex toys while the kids watch Jaws. I know, I know, it's not appropriate to be looking at adult things while the kids are around, but hello? They were watching Jaws, it's not like they were paying any attention to me. Ok, so they probably shouldn't have been watching Jaws either, but it's not like I was going for mother of the year anyway.

And you know how I'm always looking for places to write? Well, Eden Fantasies has this program where they'll send you sex toys to try and you have to write a review about it for their website. I don't know if you've heard all the chatter about blogger PR Blackouts or the ethical dilemmas about accepting or not accepting "gifts" in exchange for a review, but I say screw ethics. If someone wants to send me free sex toys, and all I have to do is try them out and write a review, sign me the hell up.

Where was I? Oh yes, something for everyone. There's even a toy for music lovers like me. Ok, you know those little plastic dogs that dance around when they're plugged into your iPod? iDogs, or something like that? Well they have the same thing for adults. But it's not a dog, it's a vibrator. So it's not really the same thing, but it's still a toy that hooks up you your iPod and "dances" to the music, which to me sounds way more awesome than a stupid dog that jumps around. I haven't tried it, and I don't think I'd buy it because I only listen to my iPod at work (which just wouldn't be a good idea), in the car (which could be very distracting) and when I do yard work (my neighbors already think I'm nuts), but I still think it's a cool idea.

I bet if your kids have one those, you're never gonna look at them the same again.

P.S. The sex toy isn't really a dog, I'm just messing with you. Here's the actual link to the NaughtiNano, should you be so inclined.

Girl Talk Thursday: What Turns You On?

I know I already wrote a post for today, but I couldn't resist playing along with Girl Talk Thursday. So I'm breaking the rules, thou shalt not post twice in one day AND thou shalt not talk about vibrators or porn (I don't know if that's an actual rule, maybe more like a guideline, but I'm still breaking it). Yeah, I'm going there.



This week's topic: What turns you on?

These aren't in any real order, just kind of a randomized list.

• Sliding into clean sheets. Crispy, clean, just brought in from the clothesline sheets. There's nothing like it.
• A thunderstorm in the middle of the night. There's something just primal about listening to the pounding rain and the banging thunder mixed in with the occasional flash of lightning.
• Having the dishes done and the house clean. It's really hard to get it on when all I can think about are the dishes in the sink or the carpets that need vacuuming.
• The song "Love Song" by 311. There's something about guitar, the drums, the bass, that's just sexy. It's also of course "our song", but I really think it's the drums.
• Attention/Affection when it's not expected. When I'm doing the dishes, or folding laundry, just a kiss on the back of the neck, or a squeeze on the shoulder on his way through the kitchen. Just knowing that even though I'm in full-on mom mode, he's still there and still thinks of me as a woman, not just a housekeeper/cook/warden.
• Wrestling. Not watching, doing. I'll push Chris, he'll push back, we'll end up in a wrestling match (which I always lose), laughing and rolling around on the floor. Great way to get out aggression.
• Those quiet moments that you look at your husband, when he doesn't know you're looking, and you catch that glimpse of the man you married and remember all the reasons you're the luckiest girl in the world.
• Porn. Yeah, I said it. Porn. Quit judging me.

So there's my overshare. How about you? Care to overshare a little (or a lot) about what turns you on?

Karma gets you every time

If you have a problem with poop, tampons or toilets, you should not read this post. You really probably shouldn't read it anyway...

The other day I was working in a different building, cleaning up some odds and ends before the long holiday weekend. Chris called and said he would be there in a few minutes to pick me up, and I knew that in Chris language, that means like an hour, so I pretty much ignored it and continued doing my work. I gave it about 40 minutes and decided I should go to the bathroom before I left. So in the building that I was working in, there’s a private bathroom. I decided that since I was pretty much alone in the building, screw using the public stalls, I was gonna use the private bathroom. Still no call from Chris, so I decide, what the hell, I’ll poop too. So I’m doing my thing in the bathroom, and decide that Chris and I probably won’t go straight home, so I ought to change my tampon while I’m at it. I finish up, and I’m getting ready to flush and Chris calls, says he’s pulling into the parking lot. Perfect timing! I reach over and flush the toilet.
The water starts filling, and filling, and filling. I’m like, well, I probably just didn’t hold the handle down long enough. No luck, the water splashed up nearly to the very top of the bowl.

Oh my dear God, I’ve overflowed the toilet and there’s poop and a used tampon floating in the toilet! I start frantically searching for a plunger, no go. The only thing I can find is a toilet scrubber. I don’t know what the hell kind of bathroom has a toilet scrubber but no plunger. So I grab the toilet scrubber, thinking that maybe I can swoosh everything around enough to maybe unclog it. It’s still not working. I’m totally afraid to flush again, because any more water, it’s gonna be all over the floor. At this point, I’m totally freaking out because I’m not even supposed to be using this bathroom, so it’s not like I can just go ask a janitor for help. And really, there’s no way I’m going to walk up to some random stranger and be like, excuse me, I plugged the toilet, would you mind plunging it for me? Don’t mind the poop or the used tampon floating around in it. So not happening. So I debated for a minute, ok more like a split second, and I decide I’m bailing. Because I’m one of the youngest people (everyone else is well over 50 and post-menopausal) that work for my department, anyone seeing a floating tampon could deduce that it was me who plugged the toilet and left it all weekend. Actually, now that I write that, it sounds kinda asinine, that someone would actually be like, hmm, plugged toilet, floating poop, I have no idea who would…OH MY GOD! There’s a tampon! It HAS to be Merritt! It sounded so much more plausible at the time... Anyway, I decide that I’m leaving the poop and toilet paper, but taking back the tampon. I grab the toilet scrubber and start trying to use it as a pole to fish out the tampon. I get it the first time, but the string wraps around the handle of the scrubber and I fling toilet water on my feet and fling the tampon across the room. Ohmygodoymygodohmygod. Totally freaking now. I pick up the tampon off the floor with a paper towel, wrap it in like 587 more paper towels and bury it in the trash, I clean up all the water and mess, I do a little gross out dance and scrub the hell out of my hands.

I get to the door and reach for the light switch, the toilet makes this wooooosh sound and the water spins around, and flushes, taking all the contents of the bowl with it. Son of a bitch! I turned around and said (to the toilet), stupid motherfuc… The fucking toilet GURGLED at me. I hauled ass out of there, I wasn’t about to stay in there with the toilet from hell, who was clearly possessed. I suppose it serves me right for using the bathroom in places I don’t belong, then trying to leave my shit (literally) for someone else to deal with.

This is the obligatory warning, disclaimer and big fat red flag for this post

I haven't made it a huge secret that I'm kind of a makeup whore. I tend to spend way too much (remember the $28 mascara?) on fancy brands, in hopes that they'll work better than say Wal-Mart brands. My makeup is like a who's who of overpriced cosmetic companies, Yves Saint Lauren, MAC, Christian Dior, etc. I think it's because I've always had a really hard time with my skin. I had acne, tons of sun damage from the slather on baby-oil and bake in the sun days, and I guess I've always been just really kind of self-conscious about it, and I figure, well hell, if they can charge $50 for foundation, it must be pretty damn good. Well, it's the same with skin care products: lotions, potions, etc., I have them all. So in apparently "helping" me with my constant quest for the best skin care products, Chris sent me an email that said, you've never tried this before, and attached this article, 6 Valuable (And Disgusting) Ways They're Reusing Human Waste. I think he's mocking me...or offering his services. I don't know I'm kinda disturbed.

Now, if you're my mother, please stop reading right now. Like RIGHT now. I'm going to try to say this as tactfully as possible, but I make no guarantees. Ok, so we've all (I'd hope this is a "we" and I'm not the only one who knows about this) heard about how if a guy "deposits" on your face, it's supposed to make it softer. Personally, I think that practice is reserved for porn stars and wouldn't test the theory, but lots of people swear by it. Well, now there's a product called "Cmen Beauty Now" (yes, really). Apparently semen is an antioxidant, it slows the aging process and it's better and stronger than Vitamin E. I have a wrinkle, right in the middle of my eyebrows, that I would do just about anything to get rid of. You know what I wouldn't do? Rub semen on my face. I would inject botulism into my face a la botox, but not semen. Like ever. I can't think of anything more disturbing than rubbing semen on my face, except maybe injecting the foreskins of circumcised babies into my face. Yes, you can do that too. There's a company that's decided to use foreskin as an anti-aging/scar healing treatment. I only wish I was making this up.

I don't even know what to say about that, except, what the fuck are these scientists on? Typical behavior though. Men (and I have to believe that men invented these asinine products because I can't imagine a woman saying, "yes! I'll inject foreskin in my face!") thinking they can solve all of woman's problems with their penis.