Okay, I’m gonna come right out and say it:
I have the shittiest luck in the world.
No, seriously, if something really random and crappy and totally against the odds is happening out there in the world, chances are it’s happening to me. Yes… me. Because I have the shittiest luck in the world.
But I’ve kind of accepted it, really…
Embraced it, if you will.
After all, what’s a girl gonna do? Carry around a lucky cricket in her pocket? A lucky cricket who is more than likely knocked up with thousands of little baby lucky crickets, which she will totally birth in your one and only pair of jeans that manage to make your ass look awesome, and who will, no doubt, be filled with radioactive poisons destined to make you grow an extra nipple and purple hair?
Welcome to my life.
Extra nipples and purple hair aside, I have been winning a few great blog giveaways. Last year, I won a fabulous pair of boots and an iPod Nano (although I never actually received the iPod, so that one might not count. *tear*); and so far this year, I’ve won a nifty little goodie box from Nissa and Eden Fantasys.
So I guess that even if I did happen to have a pocket full of afterbirth, I’d still look good and taste great (that sensual dusting powder is ‘da bomb, yo’). Bygones.
And then he was all like, “Go pick out something.”
Then I was all like, “Dude, giant candy store and kid whose parents believe that sugar is the fruit of Satan…” (The Hitachi Magic Wands are totally the giant lollipops in this analogy, of course.)
So I called up the husband…
“Giving away a sex toy.”
“Not one of ours, dumbass. A new one.”
“Well, not one of the pink ones that are supposed to do the thingie while doing the thingie, I hope.”
“I dunno. I can’t decide. Help me.”
“What about that thing you were telling the neighbor about the other day?”
“Huh? I don’t know our neighbor… ”
Then he laughed at me.
You see, it seems that if you stand in a certain spot in our bathroom, sounds travel through pipes or something, and whoever happens to be in the bathroom in the apartment next to ours gets an earful of “whatever it is” that you’re doing in said spot. A fact that I completely forgot about when I stood in that very spot a couple of weeks ago and spent a good fifteen minutes or so explaining to my deliberately obtuse husband the many interesting workings of a sex sling.
I was just about to begin on the diagram when the disembodied voice of the guy next door interrupted with something that sounded vaguely like, “Honey, we need a sex sling.”
Or perhaps it was, “Shut-up, I’m trying to pee.”
I emailed Drew back and was like, “Dude, can I give away a sex sling?”
And he was all like, “Go rock it out the park.”
Then I was all like, “Hehe… rock it… sex sling. ”
So now we’re here, and I’m totally giving one away to one of you lucky readers. To win it (and you want to win it, trust me), simply leave a comment below with an answer to the following question:
Would it be terribly inappropriate to introduce myself to the neighbors by buying them a sex sling? Or should I maybe start out with a tuna casserole or something and just work my way up from there?
Feel free to use a pseudonym if you’re on the shy side (we’ve totally got cookies over here on this side though), just be sure to leave a valid email! Oh! And if you post it about it somewhere else (facebook, twitter, wherever), let me know below as well, and you’ll get an extra entry.
I’ll announce the winner a week from today.