Screwing Up the Screw (AKA The Sex Toy Fiasco)

So… I wouldn’t actually have relayed this story to anyone but those plans were changed when Christopher called me tonight. Let’s rewind… Christopher had a bad day. Normally we message each other throughout the day, but today I was in meetings all morning and most of the afternoon, so we didn’t talk at all. As I was driving home, my cell phone rang exactly 7 minutes after Christopher’s work day ends and it was him. He spent the next 34 minutes telling me about all the shit that happened at work today and in a sort of pathetic, beat-down voice he ended the conversation by telling me he thought maybe he should go to the gym. I encouraged him. Later on, he messaged me to tell me about a server issue he was dealing with after he got home and explained that his home phone number no longer works because he got pissed off at the phone company and canceled it. The boy had a seriously rough day. So I say… “Would you like to hear something that will make you laugh?” He says he’d love to hear something funny, so I proceed with my story. Now, I certainly wouldn’t have shared this story on the blog… except when I finished, Christopher informed me that he was going to post it if I didn’t. In the interest of keeping the facts true… I told him I’d post it. So here it is… enjoy. ;-)

Last week, I went online and decided to buy some new sex toys. Not that my old sex toys aren’t great… they are. They do the trick every time I pull them out of my “naughty drawer.” But I was sort of in the mood for something new and exciting, so I found a sex toy distributor, whipped out my credit card, and ordered a few things.

This morning, I open my door to find a note from UPS saying they attempted to deliver a package from “a research company.” Wink-wink. Disappointed that I was in the shower when they tried, I read the note and saw their next delivery attempt would happen today between 2 and 5 pm. So I check the little box to leave the package at the door and head off to my meetings.

Sure enough, upon arriving home, I see the box. I hurry inside and open it, almost as excited as I was when Santa brought me the Barbie remote-control Corvette when I was 7. But my excitement quickly dissipated. What’s this??? I thought as I pulled out a tiny, iddy biddy, super slim pink dildo called “The Little Pearl.” I didn’t order this… Why the hell would anyone want something so small??? I toss it down and look through the rest of the box. Everything else I ordered was there, except one thing. Damn, I thought as I glanced over the packing slip. Some dumbass at the dildo warehouse picked up the wrong thing! The item I wanted also had the word “Pearl” in the title so I instantly surmised where the confusion must have come from. Stupid ass dildo warehouse guy! Thank goodness I’m not his supervisor. I would have fired his illiterate ass for such an oversight.

But that doesn’t solve my problem. I don’t have the specific item I wanted. So what to do…? I could just order it again. Or… I could call the customer service number and tell them they messed up. I weigh my dignity against my inherent smart-shopper, coupon-using, money-saving nature and decide to call. So I call… and here’s what the conversation was like once the customer service rep ( a female) answered the phone:

Me: Hi, yeah… I just received an order from you guys today and one item I ordered is missing.
CSR: Okay… what’s your order number?
Me: 4064863-01
CSR: Christine?
Me: Yeah.
CSR: You said the order wasn’t complete?
Me: No, it wasn’t. I received everything except one item.
CSR: Which item?
Me: Number 707-PL (P was the part that stood for “Pearl” btw)
CSR: Oh… the purple anal pleasure pearls…
Me: Right. They’re not in the box.
CSR: So you got the Blazing Anal Butt Plug?
Me: Yeah.
CSR: And the Aqua Erotic Freezer-safe Vibrator?
Me: Uh, yeah. Just missing that one thing...
CSR: And you got the large Chinese love beads?
Me: I got everything except the purple pearl things…
CSR: Okay… so they sent you the wrong thing in place of the anal pleasure pearls?
Me: Yeah.
CSR: What did they send you?
Me: A very small thing called “The Little Pearl.”
CSR: Hrmmm… well they didn’t charge you for that. I apologize. We’ll ship the purple anal pleasure pearls out first thing tomorrow and rush it to you overnight at no charge.
Me: That would be great.
CSR: And you’re welcome to keep the ultra-slim Little Pearl Dildo if you’d like.
Me: Uh… okay. Thanks.
CSR: Thank you. And sorry for the inconvenience. Have a nice night.
Me: You too.

<-- This is what they sent me.

This is what I ordered –>

I hung up the phone feeling like a second-grader who can’t help but suppress a laugh when the substitute teacher turns around to expose a tape ball that some clever little trouble maker surreptiously got to stick to her ass. I felt kind of good about the level of customer service, but a little weird that we had to go through and name every item I purchased. The whole time she was questioning me about my order I kept thinking maybe I should make up a story about being a porn star… or they’re prizes for a bachelorette party… no, no… I’m having having a sex-toy party… something to justify why I’m such a little nympho. But the conversation was all over so quickly… I didn’t have time. Besides… I was in a hurry to get off the phone. After all, I could barely wait for my dad to assemble the Barbie Corvette way back then too. ;-)

Prednisolone Acetate Ophthalmic Suspension USP

My fucking eye.

How does it break in a way that an eye doctor can’t really tell me what is wrong with it exactly yet can prescribe the medicine that will fix it… but only if you can actually survive taking the medicine.

This is how this ordeal started about 25 days ago..

Doctor: So Chris basically your eye has been like this for a month but you ignored it…
Me: Ya.. u know.. no big deal.. but I promised my mom I would get it checked out so here I am… I’m sure I’ll live.
Doctor: Your eyes are a big deal you need to come in when you have a problem.
Me: I really didn’t think it was a big deal.. sore eye.. and it woud hurt for two days and then go away for three.. so most of the time it was ok.
Doctor: Well there is nothing really “wrong” with the eye.. just some chemicals off, you need to do these eye drops ever 4 hours for 10 days.
Me: Sounds easy enough thanks doc.

Now.. I know that doctor just had to have had an evil grin on as I walked out his door.. Over the next few days I took the medicine.. following the same routine religiously… shake bottle for 30 seconds drop 1 and only 1 drop of liquid into your eye. Do not wear your contacts while dropping the liquid in. Now I knew there was something strange about this medicine when after the first day I woke up feeling like a train ran over me, but Christine assured me I was imagining that this medicine was poisoning me and that I neeeded to just stop being a whinny bitch and take the drops.. I agreed.. I made it about 4 days into the whole process.. my eye felt great.. but I just couldn’t handle the medicine anymore.. I didn’t care what Christine said.. this medicine was like swallowing a glass of nails laced with strict-nine.. so I took my chances quit with the medicine and hoped the eye was cool.

Three days later my eye was back to being flawed… and I was reaching a new level of irritation.. there were no acceptable choices.. return to the medicine that is obviously giving me cancer at a profound rate.. visit the doc and make him give me something new.. which with my schedule is just unacceptably pain in the ass, or just forget about the eye and deal with it being broke 40% of the time. I’m not sure if it was logic or just pure stubborness but I decided to give the medicine another try.. this time I was like.. ok this shit can’t hurt me… HAH… I made it exactly 7 days.. (the min required).. my voice is gone, my throat is raw like I turned it inside out and slide down a gravel hill on it… I was the grumpiest fucking dude on the planet for 7 days. I mean I wanted to inflict horrible pain on flowers… I avoided Christine so I wouldn’t need to explain my violent and sudden fits of rage.. and I swear I was like one of those walking commercials. Take this eye drop to fix your slightly broken eye.. in the process we will fuck you up mentally, physically and emotionally. Now maybe I was allergic.. maybe this medicine is just nasty.. but you take it THROUGH YOUR EYE how bad can it be RIGHT… RIGHT? Well folks it no fucking visine eye drop that’s for sure. I’m not sure if anybody is a doctor but the active ingrediants are Prednisolone Acetate 1.0% and Benzalkonium Chloriade 0.01% I can’t remember my chemistry but seriously those sound like two chemicals that can be mixed to create a bomb…. so here I am.. about 5 days after finishing the medicine for the second time.. so far the eye is good.. my voice hasn’t return completely and my throat hurts but I think things are returning to normal… but I’m not really sure but I do know that if the eye breaks again.. I can pretty much promise it’s going to stay broken until it decides to fix itself this time.

10 Things Men Must Change!

Despite what you might have assumed from the title, I’m actually writing this post to help our male readers out. If you want to be attractive to women, there are a few pitfalls you need to avoid– no exceptions. And from what I’ve noticed recently at the gym and at the beach, apparently some guys still aren’t aware… so if any of the things on my list hit home just a little… put some effort into fixing them and I guarantee it will improve your chances with the girls. :-)

1. Body Odor.
It doesn’t matter if you’re on a basketball court, sitting at your desk, or relaxing on the subway… there is no excuse for body odor. None. Never. You’ve heard that slogan “Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman?” Well that should tell you that for whatever reason… male body odor has the tendency to be really pungent and guys typically sweat more than women anyway. Don’t delude yourself. No woman likes the way you smell when you sweat (unless you’re in the throes of passion and that salty, sweaty, sex smell covers the both of you). The only way– and yes I said only way– to eliminate body odor is to shower every single day and wear deoderant. Don’t think for a moment you can cover that shit up with extra cologne. Oh God. Seriously… oh god. And you can’t slap on deoderant after you’ve played 18 holes of golf in the July sun after a noon tee time. Apply deoderant 10 minutes after you get out of the shower when your skin is completely dry and has cooled, and re-apply throughout the day if necessary.

2. Balding.
I hate to burst the bubble, but balding is not attractive. Whethere it’s that little, but growing circle on the crown of your head, or that hairline that seems to work it’s way over the horizon of your forehead a little more each day, it’s just not sexy. But thanks to Vin Diesel and a whole host of sexy black men, a shaved head is not only en vogue, but it can also be a turn on. Trying to salvage what little hair you have left screams of insecurity to women and we prefer guys who can just accept how they look. If the hair is on the way out, shave it off and slap on some sunscreen. You’ll be much more attractive.

3. Back hair.
You can’t hide your gorilla back by putting a shirt on. We can see it poking out of the collar even if you can’t. Back hair is a big turn off. Luckily, there are lots of ways to fix that problem– and each one is worth every penny. Waxing, electrolysis, and laser hair removal all work well and are relatively painless.

4. Unibrows.
I know it seems girly to pluck or wax your eyebrows, but notice I used the word “eyebrows”– plural. If you start to count your eyebrows and realize there’s only one– or three (a mini-brow in between two normal brows), you need to buy a pair of tweezers, lock yourself in your bathroom, and fix that problem. You don’t need the perfect arch, but you need to pare it down to only two brows. I’ve personally seen otherwise attractive men ruin their hotness rating because they looked in the mirror and didn’t notice that they had the wrong number of eyebrows gracing their foreheads.

5. Finger nails.
Short, short, short. Long nails are for women. There is no need to have nails that extend past your fingertip if you are a man. None. When we look at a guy’s hands, we can’t help but have a few dirty little thoughts about his fingers and what he could do with them… long nails make you look like Nosferatu and kill the fantasy.

6. Acne.
On your face, on your shoulder, back, or anywhere else… it’s not good. I’m not talking about the occasional zit here and there. I’m talking about a full-blown acne problem. There are so many great acne-fighting products on the market, and most spas offer facials for men now, so there’s no excuse. And of course, you can always see a dermatologist for a Retin-A prescription.

7. Halitosis.
AKA… bad breath. We know you can’t smell it… but we can. So before you want to get intimate, or even have a conversation in close proximity, pop a breath mint or swish with a bottle of Scope. It’s easy to keep a mini travel bottle in your car and you can just spit on the sidwalk after you get out. And good dental hygiene plays a big part in preventing bad breath as well.

8. Too much cologne.
Even if your intention isn’t to cover up B.O., too much cologne is a real turn off. The scent of guys’ colognes are really sexy (for the most part– Aqua Velva not included), but they should be light enough that we barely catch a whiff as you walk past, and it will make us want to get closer to you… not further away from you. Err on the side of caution. There’s nothing worse than siting across from a guy who is probably really hot, but your eyes are burning so bad, you can’t tell.

9. Scratching your balls.
They might itch. I mean, at some point, every body part itches, doesn’t it? But I can tell you right now that if they do, do your best to will them not to with your telekinetic mind, but do not scratch your balls in front of any woman you want to impress. The chance of recovering after this is pretty low. Our first thoughts when we see that… is to stay far, far away from anything that could pass on one of those diseases that you can treat the outbreaks for… but never cure. It might be just sweat, or a cup moved slightly askew, or jeans that don’t have enough room in the crotch. But we don’t care.

10. Picking your nose.
Some men apparently are still under the assumption that if you aren’t shoving your index finger straight up your nostril, it’s not nose-picking. But those “fake picks” like pretending to scratch your nose with your thumb until it works its way up far enough to cause some crusty little boogar to drop onto your shirt is just as bad. And by the way… just because you’re sitting in the driver’s seat of your car, doesn’t mean you’re invisible. You are surrounded by windows… you know… those clear things that you can see through? So don’t expect to pull up next to us and hope we look over at you if we’ve just witnessed an expidition up the nose in the rearview mirror for the last ten minutes. We will be doing everything possible to avoid looking at you so we can keep our lunches down.

Follow those ten little rules and I promise you’ll get more female attention– and get laid much more often– than if you don’t. ;-)

Happy Memorial Day!


Just a quick post to wish everybody a happy Memorial Day! What a great way to kick off summer! :-) And a big thank you to all the American vets and enlisted service men and women stationed around the world.

Crack Head

Yes, you. You sick fucker. On Wednesday morning I emerged from my girlfriend’s building by U.N. Plaza to find that you had sawed the tops off both the sparkplugs on my motorcycle. At the time, I had no idea why anyone would do that. Other than the sparkplugs, the bike was untouched. Some kind of bizarre vandalism? A fraternity prank gone awry? I had no idea. All I knew is that I looked like a huge douchebag riding the Muni to work in a padded motorcycle jacket and helmet. Because the bike was immobilized I got a $35 street sweeping ticket that night. Thursday I had it towed to the shop ($45) where they replaced the sparkplugs and the boots ($50 including labor). They explained to me that “people” – I use the term loosely here – like you break off the tops of spark plugs and use the porcelain tubes to smoke crack. As an engineer and former MacGyver fan, in a way I think this is kind of cool. But then I remember that I just paid $100 for YOUR crackpipes, and I get angry again.

Crackhead, it was really good to have my bike back though. I rode home from the shop with a couple of spare sparkplugs and a smile on my face. I figured the next time I parked at my girlfriend’s place overnight I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to my bike as a peace offering. Overall, I wasn’t that upset. Despite having to ride the bus for three days and dropping a hundred bones at the shop, I had gained some fascinating knowledge, a new set of sparkplugs, and a pretty funny anecdote about how fucked up you are, and how our paths once crossed briefly in the night. But you couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie, could you Crackhead. You couldn’t just stay in on Friday, watch Letterman through the window of a home electronics store and then call it a night. You couldn’t rest on your laurels. Two porcelain sparkplug crackpipes just wasn’t enough for you, was it Crackhead? You just had to come back for more.

This morning, a scant fifteen hours after I rode it out of the shop, I found my motorcycle violated once again. This time you only took the right one – maybe you were having an off night. At least this time I had a spare sparkplug and the tools to fix it – or so I thought – having ordered a 73-piece toolset from SEARS.com last week. But no, the sparkplug socket in my new toolset was for American sparkplugs. So I had to go down to the neighborhood Ace hardware. They had an 18mm socket that would fit over my sparkplug, but it was for a 1/2″ drive ratchet. My toolkit only has 1/4″ and 3/8″ ratchets. So I had to buy a 1/2″ ratchet along with the socket. Even though the clerk took pity on me and gave me the senior citizen discount (I’m 25) it still cost me $22 all told. Now, you might say that I should have just gotten a 3/8″-to-1/2″ drive adaptor instead of springing for the whole ratchet. And to that I say “Shut the hell up, Crackhead, I’m not finished. And besides, I was eventually going to buy a 1/2″ ratchet anyway so it’s probably not worth it to take it back now.”

OK, now I’m rambling. But the point is, Crackhead, that you have done me wrong. Now, I get that you love crack. That is totally understandable. I’ve heard it is really fun, at first, and quite addictive. What I don’t understand is, YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD. WHY DON’T YOU OWN A CRACKPIPE? I am an engineer. Do you ever see me shaking down bums in the Loin for a calculator and sliderule? No, you don’t. Because engineering is the main thing I do, I went and bought myself a calculator. The main thing you do is crack. How do you get by without a crackpipe? The other crackheads must clown on you non-stop. I mean, the fucking saw you used to saw off my sparkplugs is probably worth five or ten bucks. Why not sell or trade it for a crackpipe? You really haven’t put much thought into this, have you? Please, Crackhead, please don’t tell me you sold your crackpipe to buy crack. Even a stupid crackhead such as yourself couldn’t possibly be that stupid. I’ve decided that taping crackpipes to my motorcycle would be tantamount to appeasement.

You have crossed a line, Crackhead – specifically California Street. You have come onto my own street and you have desecrated that which I hold dear. You have stolen from me, and you have caused me to spend the last half hour writing this post instead of engineering shit, and it is concievable, if not likely, that my boss could find out about this and fire me. I am hella pissed at you dude. Here are my options as I see them: 1. Write a note saying that I have coated both of my sparkplugs in rat poison and tape it to my bike at night. You can thank Tim for that one, it was his idea. 2. Don’t write a note, but just coat both sparkplugs in rat poison. This is probably closer to a punishment that would fit your despicable crime. I’m sure this is super illegal and shit, but it’s not like anyone is going to miss you, Crackhead. Don’t fool yourself. 3. Wait in an alley near my bike armed with my new stainless steel mirror-finish Ace Professional brand 1/2″ drive socket wrench, my 18mm sparkplug socket, and my searing rage. It’s pretty heavy and well balanced. I am not a large man, but I am angry. In conclusion, Crackhead, why don’t you just do both of us a favor and buy yourself a crackpipe? It will both enhance your crack smoking experience and save me a lot of time and felony assault charges. Think about it. Sincerely, Matt *** If you are not the Crackhead that took my sparkplugs, please disregard this posting ***