Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Mortified and Violated

Okay, so first off this post is R rated. If you're under say 18 or mildly prudish close this post and move onto something else.

So, Friday night I had an awful experience. It was completely disturbing.

Let's start the story with a question - if you were to pack your cell phone charger in one of those rolling suitcases with outside pockets where would you put it?

The smaller outside pockets, right?

So, Friday night on our 23 hour* trip from West Tennessee home to Ohio we stopped in Nashville (Brentwood) to have dinner with my lovely parents.

Dad had The Husband grill some great strip steaks and cauliflower. I helped my Dad make chili and hung out with my Mom. Dad put The Husband to work moving furniture with him. We got in some quality family time.

Except I could hardly enjoy it because I was so upset.

My mother arrived from the ATL shortly after our arrival and needed to charge her cell phone so she sent me up to her bedroom and asked me to look in her suitcase for her cell phone charger.

Well, the first place I looked was the logical location - the outside pocket.

I stuck my hand in and felt something jelly-like with two round spheres. I started to pull it out until I figured out what it, erm, was.

Oh, $#!t.




How to say this appropriately?

It was a bright blue jelly marital aid.
Needless to say I screamed/squeaked, "Mom, you need to come up here and fine your phone charger yourself."

I could hear Dad downstairs, "I think she found something."


I run off to the bathroom, scald my hands with the hottest water possible without a stove, then rush downstairs to the Purell in my purse.

Mom and Dad just thought it was hilarious.

Dad was kind enough to let me know its nickname, Big Blue. Yep, it has a name.

My mother who packs her underwear in Ziploc bags inside a suitcase can't manage to pack away her toys.

Me, I think I've developed a sexual disorder. It is now just ewwwy thinking about the incident. I shiver uncontrollably and have frequent urges to wash my hands.

Thanks, Mom.

* This is a whole other story. The trip should have taken us only about 10-11 hours, but the weather was so bad we drove 35 through the whole state of Ohio and almost died no less than six times. I hate the snow and I hate Ohio.

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