Recently, I bought a sex toy online. It wasn’t a vibrator or a dildo. It was this weird spreader bondage contraption. Anyway, in case my little Midtown Meltdown indicated otherwise, I’m strong as fuck. I destroyed the bondage toy before my first orgasm. I literally tore the flimsy binding completely apart. The inner-rod detached from the larger outer rod. I snapped the chains in two. This bitch don’t play.
For a variety of reasons, I don’t return items very often even when I’m dissatisfied. However, I’m super pissed, stunned, and profoundly disappointed that this expensive, but crappy accouterment disintegrated at my first healthy tug. Shouldn’t a bondage toy effectively bind? Weak Sauce.
Stymied by my dilemma, I asked around to see what others thought was appropriate in regard to initiating a refund. Let me be crystal clear here: no bodily fluids touched the device. Indeed, I destroyed it before anyone climaxed or even felt much of a tickle. (By the way, even if the thing hadn’t broken, the spreader didn’t actually spread enough, so skip this amateur shit and get your favorite lesbian to build you a sturdy custom device from Home Depot.)
The overwhelming response from a sampling of trusted advisers was to indeed return the overpriced janky novelty to the allegedly reputable website that sold it to me. I packed it up piece by piece, making sure every broken part made it back into the box in some semblance of its original form and shipped it back to the sex toy graveyard. Now let’s see if the site actually refunds the cost of this crap. This junk was over $75 or I probably wouldn’t have bothered at all.
How did the same girl who was duped by the world’s most obvious craigslist scam just negotiate a $1.5 million sex tape deal? In the Teen Mom sea of daft, Farrah might be the daftest of all. Let’s be honest, Farrah’s breast implants demonstrate better critical reasoning than she does, and yet she secured a pretty epic payday for unconvincingly “leaking her own sex tape.” This genius staged a sex tape leak with a professional porn star and still got seven figures. Kim Kardashian must be her sex-tape-selling fairy godmother. G-Sus. 
I’d like to say it wasn’t a good investment on Vivid’s part, but frankly I am DYING to see the Teen Mom’s debut. I love me a celebrity sex tape: Kim, Paris, Colin, and the gold standard Pam. Farrah’s tape won’t rank among the best, but it will certainly compete for the title of most unintentionally hilarious.
Would you rather have your car washed and gassed every week or receive a pair of diamond earrings?
Me = care for the car bitch. 
Would you rather couple with someone of means with no sex drive or a poor person who is always pawing at you?
Me = desire over dinero. 
Would you rather take an exotic trip with four people you barely know or stay home alone?
Me = I’d rather be domestically bored than internationally annoyed. 
Would you rather have 1 oz of premium chocolate or a whole bag of Hershey’s?
Me = It’s chocolate so I’ll take either in a pinch, but quality over quantity. 
Would you rather have a $100,000 home that is paid for or a $1,000,000 home with a mortgage? 
Me = free and clear. 
Liquid Silk is the absolute best lubricant. I’m not going to get into particulars because it isn’t that kind of website (you pervs). Trust me when I tell you to try it. 
Didja all catch the pineapple pussy-off on last night’s Kourtney & Kim Take Miami? In case you didn’t, Kim and Kourtney debated who had a sweeter smelling puss and decided to put their minges to the challenge of cultivating the freshest scent. To enhance their natural aroma, the girls drank pineapple juice like it was the new master cleanse. I wondered if this was just some krazy shit Kris thought up as a desperate ratings ploy, but no, this pineapple juice drinking is an actual thing people do on purpose to sweeten excretions. Who knows if the technique has actual merit? 
All you really want to know is who won the pussy stank-off, right? Guess who judged? Sister Khloe. Yeah, inhale that. Anyway, no surprise Kim’s world famous twat won against Kourtney’s all-natural baby maker.
You haven’t fucked in months.
He abandons you.
She criticizes more than kisses.
Your futures don’t include each other.
You would rather be alone. 
While traveling this week, I broke down and read the much-hyped Fifty Shades of Grey. Don’t waste your time; it’s total drivel. Author E L James routinely refers to the female genitalia as “there.” The writing is consistently atrocious. People claim it is a pager turner? Yeah, because you want it to be over. Want classic BDSM? Story of O exceeds Fifty in every way. It is better written, more graphic, and a timeless classic. If you actually like Fifty, you’ll fucking love O.
So I was talking to one of my favorite people ever today. He’s been mentoring a cousin semi-new to the scene and trying to instill the proper etiquette into the young man for navigating the treacherous waters of the modern gay world.
My impeccably clean and well-mannered pal has extended his home to his ill-mannered cousin on a number of occasions. In the past, cugino harmlessly and forgettably annoyed friend and his put-upon partner when staying over, but recently the off-side twat went too far.
After arranging his cuz comfortably and appropriately in front of the tv on the couch, friend trusted his cousin in his apartment unattended for a short window of time.
How did friend know about the trespass? Cousin left the dirty ass toy on a washcloth next to the sink like a parting gift. He did not even bother to wipe it down with the rubbing alcohol conveniently adjacent.
So just in case any of you extra sloppy-ass invasive bitches (paging punk cousin) need a remedial manners moment, using someone else’s butt fun without permission is not a gesture of gratitude.