Dirty Mondays

I peer over at the selection of Rampant Rabbits on display, 'they've really run with this concept' I state to the shrew looking sales assistant. She scoffs and precedes to translate sales statements of each re-hashed product to me. Now obviously the Rampant Rabbit is a best seller (thanks to Sex and The City), therefore it must be quite a treat, however surely I'm not the only one that thinks going with the whole Dr Who look in general with Dildos looks like I'm going to be exterminated rather than climax. Sticking spikes on the end of your best selling product isn't exactly wanting me to stick it anywhere near my pussy.

The sales assistant points out the 'real looking' collection, I glaze over, Dildos that look like dicks don't turn me on, if I wanted the real thing I would call up H. Vibrators and Dildos are a luxury item, should look like art, display it on your shelf, next to your pin up shots in your living room with pride.

"This is our best seller" the sales assistant thrusts in my direction, I giggle and respond whilst running my fingers along the end of the vibrator.

"Don't you have anything...more classy, more sleak? Diamonds get me off".

"We would be talking in the hundreds.." she vears off, hands me a booklet. "We'll have to order it in".

"Electric."



S.xxx



(Image: Lelo Yva Gold Vibrator)

A Very Unspangly Saturday

It's been officially a week since I have been on a night out..
I can feel my brain cells reforming. It's a terrifying thought that I actually might be improving my IQ by merely not consuming spangled cocktails.
According to my bank balance, I have to take a hiatus from sociable events and pleasant days spent just shopping, in order to do the immensly annoying thing of giving. I won't mention the holidays name until its December 1st and I open the first window of my advent calender.

This Saturday, I find myself flicking through hair magazines, (a cut and blow dry and full head tint I count as essential, thus a expense I am allowing) drinking non alcoholic drinks and watching The Mighty Boosh, whilst all in my head I can think about, is putting on my Stomping Shoes, shaking my arse to some music that makes my heart flutter in some decadent club..somewhere.

In fact I need some new Stomping Shoes, I may suggest some for the holiday that cannot be named, though I highly doubt anyone would be willing to indulge my shoe fetish/habit. I may have a wee sneak at net-a-porter.com, put down my choices on my annual Christmas Wish List Email, I can only hope a dear friend takes pity on me.


S. xxx