Today I'm grateful
for eavesdropping.

For the record, I’m not sure when penis lollipops, wiener sunglasses, glow in the dark dicky sippers and games like pin the pecker on the porn star became all the rage for bachelorette parties. My friend is getting married, and for some strange reason, I didn’t have any of those must-have items on hand. So I had to take a trip to my local sex shop. I hate going to those places because they’re filled with weirdos. But I’m incredibly secure and self-confident so I put on my baseball cap, hoodie, and dark sunglasses and went shopping. While browsing, I “accidentally” overheard a few conversations, I thought I’d share.

Guy 1: Lookie!

Guy 2: Guuuurrrrrl, that’s the answer to all your problems, a buttplug shaped like the devil’s tail. (Yes, I included a link so you could see what devil’s tail butt plug actually looks like, you pervert.)

Lady: Can you tell me about these vibrators?

Sales guy: It’s the same paint they use on the space shuttle, reflective technology for heat transfer.

Lady: I take that one and name it Sally Ride in honor of the first woman in space.

Older woman: Are any of these personal massagers UL approved? Any have the Good Housekeeping Seal of approval? Are the dishwasher safe? I don’t want to electrocute myself, you know, on my neck.

While all the other shoppers are looking inside the display cases with the excitement that should be reserved for a shelf of warm donuts -- I’m creeped out. Everyone is so freaky with their tattoos, branding, piercings, forked tongues and teeth filed into fangs. I’m grateful for eavesdropping because it put everything in perspective for me. As I was leaving, I heard the sales guy say to a customer (who was wearing a mesh vest and spiked dog collar) “yeah, we should stop carrying all the bachelorette party crap. It brings in all the weirdos.”

That’s why I’m grateful for eavesdropping.




Forget about rainbows and unicorns, I’m grateful for double martinis, single men and pretty much anything covered in chocolate or cheese. This gratitude journal is anonymous because the stuff that tends to fall out of my head and land on the page makes HR departments cringe -- and guys lose my number.
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