16 October 2006



So my good friend Sheyanne today dropped off my belated birthday gift. It's from her and another good friend, Fess. When I first heard that they had procured a joint gift for me, I should have been worried. I should have expected the worst.

I don't even know what to do with myself now, but I can tell you I am barricaded in my room and not about to step foot outside again.

Here's a picture of the gem that landed on my doorstep earlier this afternoon:

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That's right, the ever sought-after Hustler Asian Fever Shanghai Nights Vibrating Cyberskin Anal Stroker (TM) is now in my house, marking not only my very first vibrator-based sexual toy, but my first sexual toy of any kind and the item with the longest product name ever produced anywhere in the world.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: I haven't yet looked, but my guess as to where this was made has come down to Hong Kong and Taiwan, though Thailand is clearly a darkhorse, right? If you'd like to place a bet with yourself as to its manufactured inception, do it now...




OK, checking...F*CK! China?!?!?!?!?! They're mass-producing a quaking synthetic anus in a Communist Dictatorship? Well...will wonders never cease.)

Look at that picture. Not only does it look like someone cut off a toddler's arm at the bicep, but the point of rectal origin looks like the sand monster in RETURN OF THE JEDI. And this is only the outset of the horror that is to befall you should you ever receive one. Eventually, looking at this thing, you get to the point where you HAVE to open it - just on pure, unbridled curiosity. I tell you this, friends: it is a move you will regret with the stunning, awful clarity that comes with the realization of the all poor choices you make in life.

Upon manual and optic inspection of the HAFSNVCAS, as I'm calling it, it's horrifying. It has an incredibly disturbing jellylike quality that instantly sent shivers up my spine. It looks and feels like something that dwells at the bottom of a deep, muddy lake, a cosmic joke that God decided to play on some poor, innocent creature. It smells like I can only assume that creature smells. And - though it doesn't seem to be inherently aqueous - it's slippery, like holding a marinated steak. Squeezing it even slightly produces a sound that's not unlike the flat packing thud your balls make when they accidentally slap against your thigh on a humid summer day.

I have an absolutely morbid desire to stick my finger inside it, as there's a diagram and illustration on the back of the box that claims it to be anatomically correct - shaped like the inside of the real Back Nine. However, the illustration used makes the orifice look like a series of engine pistons connected by an increasingly cone-shaped pole. This is not a pleasant image. And yet...I can't stop thinking about jamming my thumb in there. Just to find out.

The truth is, though, that - and I don't want to sound ungrateful here - I am scared to hell of this thing. Just absolutely terrified. I left it out in the living room, and I honestly don't think I can go back out there. I'm serious. Please don't think I'm joking. I am legitimately afraid. It's watching me. Judging. I'm pretty sure it knows all of my secrets.

So thanks, Sheyanne and Fess. Incidentally, if any of you want to know what it's like to have nightmares about squishy fake anuses chasing you down dark alleys, gimme a call tomorrow.