Shake It Up, Baby

Disclaimer!! If you are my child, parent or sister... STOP READING NOW!

I have this friend, we shall call her Lola, and she has an amazing toy. No. Really.
It's a little bigger than the palm of your hand and it has elastic straps to firmly secure it all the way up your wrist. As sex toys go, this was very interesting to me. It's flat, but rounded and soft, like a big plastic pebble. It is battery operated and well...mesmerizing.

The problem is, it's a little too powerful. After thoroughly disinfecting it, I admit to trying it on for size. Not to use it, just to, you know, check it out. Lola helped strap it on (Oh, my. That sounds way worse than it was.) my hand and stepped away with a little smile on her face. Mind you, we were standing (fully clothed!) in her living room, with the windows open and the music blaring...Just two girls with nothing better to do.

So, there I am, looking at her smirk, puzzled but unafraid, while I hit the power button and WHAM! POWER is the key word here. That thing threw my arm straight into the air like it had been shot from a cannon. My arm was flailing around, nearly knocking dear Lola in her laughing head, which in retrospect would have served her right. I had no control, I tell you! I turned in wide, wild circles trying to get my free hand in a position to hit the off switch. My whole body was vibrating. The more I turned, the dizzier I became. My teeth were clicking and I couldn't feel my face. I was literally bouncing off the walls like a pinball, fearing for my life! A little help would've been nice, but no! By this time, Lola was in a fetal position on the floor, laughing uncontrollably and thoroughly incapable of offering her assistance. I realize now, she wouldn't have helped me even if she had been able to control her hysteria. That was a once-in-a-lifetime spectacle if ever there was one.

Which naturally, Dear Reader, got me thinking...later...after soaking my wrenched shoulder in a hot bath for an hour. What in the world happens when you use that god-forsaken thing in the place for which it was intended?? I immediately conjured up a mental picture of it bouncing you (me? no.) so hard the bed starts to shake like a porno version of The Exorcist. Bouncing you so hard you're off the bed and down the hallway in no time flat. This is no carnival ride I have ever imagined. A whole new rodeo, because with this thing, seven seconds could put you in a body cast. For life.

Needless to say, this death-trap no longer entices me. I have come to the conclusion I am old-fashioned and completely capable of maneuvering my way down my own hallway without the aid of a body-numbing contraption.

Oh, and by the way... I now understand why Lola walks like a cowboy.