The trouble with Tribbles

toychestIt’s been a while since there’s been any activity around the SRL shop (though this soon will change), so last night I really enjoyed getting a few tools out to put together my new sex toy chest. Of course, it was sold as a “storage bench” but whatever. Putting it together was a rewarding activity, full of following directions, ignoring directions, and the usual missing hardware and misplaced or ill-sized pilot holes. Nothing a girl with a drill can’t handle, and despite the cautions that two people were required for assembly I think I did great with the five antique interior hinges. It came out great. It’s solid enough to spank someone on. I tried to spank myself on it when I was done, but it just played out like a scene from Secretary. Okay I didn’t, but I thought about it.

So of course, this prompted me to organize my sex toys. I threw away a lot; I discovered I had a lot more condoms than I knew. And many silicone dildos (collected while working at Good Vibes) — the dildos being invariably where the condoms get used when I’m too excited to leave the bed to scrub a dick. Some of you know will know exactly what I mean.

tribblesThen I went on a massive apartment-wide recon for toys that manufacturers have sent me in hopes that I will use and review their toys on my blog. Or in the case of Tantus, just because they like me. Somehow, I ended up with a huge box full of brand new sex toys still in their packages. Did they breed in my closet like tribbles? What’s overwhelming is that these aren’t crappy novelties; they’re all really expensive, high-quality toys made out of the most hygenic materials. It’s like discovering you have a box of Prada handbags you forgot about, sent to you by Prada before being available in stores.

I guess the real problem here is that when I shipped from the Femmebot factory, I only came with the stock number of orifices. Sure, there’s the bend of the knee, or tightly pressed thighs. But the orifices are in perfect working order.

It’s going to be a great summer.

(“don’t get caught” sticker on my iBook courtesy Unamerican Activities)

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