no vibrators for katie

as you may or may not know, I am not skilled in the art of vibrator ownership. I've never been a savvy vibrator or dildo consumer. it's quite embarrassing. no. really. it's true. I even wrote an essay about it called, born to fuck.

first of all, let me just say, these are not metaphors. they are sad and pathetic truths.

today, the cable man came out to replace my box because my box died a sad and tragic death on sunday. I was so forlorn. I love television. it's my favorite medium.

moving the fucking story along.

I have these two drawers under my television. one is for vibrators. the other is for remote controls.

he plugs the box in and says, you're all set. where is your remote control? like the moron I am, I say, it's in the drawer.

his chubby spanish fingers pull the drawer open. it creaks (I do love vintage chach). my eyes widen. I jump up realizing the drawer that he's opened. he looks inside. our mouth's dropped and our eyes locked for a moment.

until.

he shoved his little mayan hand in my drawer and REMOVED MY VIBRATOR.

I ripped it out of his hand and said, wrong remote control! go. leave. bye.

as I'm pushing him out the door, he says, you have to sign the work order.

I said, yeah. not gonna happen. I've hit my shame quota for the day. just take the work order and shove it up your little ass.

I slammed the door in his face.