Written By: Jenne
I
used to live a fairly ordered life. Then I became a webmistress,
and although my document files and computers are always organized,
I can hardly say the same for my office. Since I began reviewing
adult products my work has encroached into my bedroom, my bathroom,
and on many occasions has been found on my kitchen table. I try
to be organized, I really do. I try to be methodical, but it's
just not me, and it's hard to file a sex toy anyway. I mean, where
exactly do you put it? Most won't fit in my filing cabinet and
my amassed collection of lubes, knowing my luck, would decide
to explode or leak, which might solve the squeaking drawer problem
but imagine trying to clean up silicone lube that can stay slippery
for 10 years!
The
closest to organized I've ever come is two huge storage bins in
my office, one marked to review and the other marked reviewed
with a huge smiley on the sticker. Of course I still have two
shoeboxes full of lube samples under my desk, and a few bottles
scattered around the bedroom, and on the top shelf in the bathroom.
I learned the hard way to always keep lubes on the top shelf of
the bathroom after my youngest decided to try Mummies new shampoo.
All I can say is Probe is definitely not a substitute for shampoo,
or even a good conditioner.
My
job is full of hidden dangers that many don't appreciate, and
this is especially true because I have kids. I reviewed some body
jewelry last Christmas, clip on nipple rings and the like, and
my daughter mistook them for Xmas ornaments. Before I could say
anything they were dully placed on the tree with a ceremony fit
for the queen, and there they stayed throughout the holiday period.
Then
there was the case of the disappearing condoms. I bought a bunch
for samples and stored them where I thought they were safe, but
they simply kept disappearing. My youngest again solved the problem
when she told me that she loved my bubblegum. Now I hate bubblegum,
so I asked her to show me. Sure enough I soon discovered, to my
horror, exactly where my condoms had disappeared too. Apparently
the strawberry ones are particularly tasty to a then five year-old.
I hasten to add that she didn't swallow them, instead spitting
them into the nearest bin.
I
also have to contend with the fact that I work from home and can
often be found photographing anything from a bright blue plastic
vibe to a Pyrex glass dildo, and people round here tend to have
not heard of the custom of knocking before entering. I have one
rather prudish friend that is especially good at this. She also
has a knack for knowing exactly when I'll have something particularly
sinful cooking on the table.
There
are times when I swear the FedEx guy knows what I do for a living.
There are times when I'm tempted to invite him in for a quick
try-out, but so far I've resisted the urge. Something about screwing
the mailman just doesn't seem right, and he does such a good job
of bringing me my goodies... apart from the time I lost a consignment
of lube samples. Have you ever tried to ring FedEx and explain
that a parcel containing several bottles of personal lubricant
is missing? My advise is don't even go there. I did get my parcel
delivered eventually and it turned out the tasty FedEx guy had
hidden it so well outside my apartment only he would have been
able to find it again. Maybe he had a hidden agenda, ummmm...
Then
there was the time I caught my son and Hubby happily trying to
take my latest review piece, the Audi-oh, to bits on the infamous
kitchen table. As I screamed at them from across the room they
both exclaimed they just wanted to know how it worked.
Over
all though, I love what I do for a living now and wouldn't change
it for the world. Despite the odd mishap, I get to test-drive
some great toys. Of course there are also a plethora of duds as
well, and they get consigned to the box in the bedroom marked
for duds. The most memorable dud was probably a toy called the
Triple Balls. Take three large plastic balls with weights inside
and insert them, then go about your normal business was the idea.
The only problem was every time I moved they clanked. I swear
I could hear them. Even if no one else could, I did. I might as
well have put cannonballs inside myself, because with each minute
movement I made, it sounded as though there was a small explosion
occurring inside me. And I'm sorry, but shopping that day was
so not fun. Needless to say, their review was less than favorable.
Many
people think my job is just fun and games. Personally, I think
I should get danger money. Never mind the cannonballs, there was
the time I almost killed myself when testing a waterproof vibe
and a new silicone lube in the shower, definitely a powerful combination.
In fact so powerful I lost my footing on the slippery tub floor
at the most important moment and almost spilt my head open on
the side of the bath. A headache ensued and not one orgasm was
had.
So
next time you read a sex toy review, spare a thought for the reviewer
who has probably lost some sweat, tears, and occasionally her
dignity to bring you good, honest, and down to earth reviews.
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