This is not a post for everyone, you will probably be offended/disgusted or just disappointed in me. Consider yourself warned.
So a friend of mine showed up with his kids for a playdate and said, “Hey Viv, I want to show you something in the living room,” and before I knew it he whipped out a penis pump.
Well okay then.
He’s one of those “challenging” friends I like to collect. We mostly get along but are known to scream things like GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!! at each other. It happens.
Like me, he enjoys all things strange and when he told me he got a pump apropos of nothing, I had many questions.
- Does it hurt?
- Does it feel good?
- What’s the point?
You know, basic stuff. So I’m looking it over and he says try it out.
DUDE! ON WHAT?!
Just to shut him up and lacking any better ideas I tried it on my boob and quickly realized the folly of my ways. One should never experiment with contraptions until you know how to disarm the things. Ouch.
Before a kid walked in and was scarred for life, I shoved it in his backpack which was right next to Blue’s bed and was like, “Ugh, what’s that stench? Jesus Blue, you need a bath.”
And my friend who was standing right there was like, “You’re right, he does stink! He usually smells good.”
I pride myself on not having a house that reeks of animals. I think that’s when you cross over to crazy animal hoarding behavior. Whether it’s one or 15, if your house smells like animals then you’ve got too many.
Then the smell followed us into the kitchen even though Blue stayed put.
“Maybe it’s my rain coat, it smells kinda funky.” He offered.
I gave it a sniff, no dice. Then – oh my god – is it my boob? Did the pump leave a terrible smell on my boob?
Me: DIDN’T YOU WASH THAT THING BEFORE BRINGING IT OVER!?! Oh my god, I need a shower, now!
Him: Maybe it’s my feet. I have a strange foot condition.
Me: You must be kidding. Are you kidding?
Him: Let me show you (taking off socks).
Me: I don’t want to see your nasty foot condition!
Him: Just give my feet a sniff, to confirm.
Me: NO! YOU SMELL THEM!
Him: I don’t know if it’s the same smell you are talking about. They seem fine to me but …
Me (taking one for the team, taking a suspicious sniff from as far away as possible): OH MY GOD!
I gagged. And I went through two rounds of cloth diapers with my kids and I have a diuretic Great Dane. Never. Gagged. Once.
Him: So they smell?
Me: DIDN’T YOU SEE ME GAG? I WASN’T FAKING! YES THEY FUCKING SMELL!
Him: You won’t mind if I put my shoes on then …
Me: Please. Be my guest.
Him: Maybe that might be contributing to my lack of success in the romance field.
Me: Ya think?
Him: I should probably do something about it.
Me: Yeah! Probably! You could at least get some of that bowling shoes disinfecting spray for chrissakes.
Him: But what if that stuff only kills off the weakest bacteria and makes the strong bacteria even stronger …
Me: Like some kind of drug resistant foot-stank superbug?
Him: Yeah, exactly.
Me: That’s a risk I think you should take, and leave your shoes on from now on.
It’s been a #standardviv kind of morning.