armageddon -- it's here

I know I said I wouldn't be blogging about my job at the sex shop because I plan on using this material for a different project (don't worry, it's a SFW project), not to mention, I also don't want to get dooced again, but for the good of humanity, I feel compelled to retype a series of text messages sent from the shop last night:

me: Just got asked where we kept the butt plugs again!

mtp: They sure r popular. save one for me

me: Gross!

mtp: Fifty percent off [Editor's note: That's my employee discount.]

me: Someone's getting a purple one.

mtp: I want a brown one. more realistic.

All I have to say is this: MY MOM IS OUT OF CONTROL.*

Seriously, ever since she found out about my new part-time job, she's been fascinated with the, um, novelties I peddle. And although I, indeed, started this message exchange, I never expected it to go where my mom took it.

And in other inappropriate news -- my mom befriended me on Facebook. And, like the trouble I started above, I'm pretty much responsible as I ultimately decided to accept her e-friendship. I did, however, have some reservations about it. I mean, should she really be seeing pictures of me that look like this?


Let me correct that. Should I even be seeing pictures of me that look like that? Because, honestly, I do believe this might be the worst picture of me ever snapped.** So why am I publishing it here? Because I need to make a wider point -- a point that goes beyond my bad angles (correction: really bad angles); a point that goes beyond my mom's decision to join Facebook as a sextogenarian (my God, that is an ill choice of word right now...); a point that goes beyond every previously known definition of "totally f*cked up." See, what I'm about to reveal could change the way of the world.

You see that couple behind me? The one not following my lead in the crunk "USA!" chant that was happening while my brother and his friends sang a moving rendition of "God Bless America" at a Vegas karaoke bar? Well, besides the fact that the couple is obviously a pair of communists, the female freedom-hater looks uncannily like the woman who bought the purple butt plug last night (well, one of the purple butt plugs, as those, unexpectedly, seem to be hot sellers). Even stranger, the woman who bought the purple butt plug and the woman in the picture who looks like the woman who bought the purple butt plug also look to be sextogenarians (interesting...that word is still just as ill a choice as it was a few sentences ago).

Frankly, I'm not so sure this is all a coincidence. In fact, I'm quite sure this is the perfect storm for jumping to ludicrous conclusions, perhaps even a wacky, off-the-wall conspiracy theory type of conclusion.

What I'm saying here is that THERE'S CLEARLY SOME SORT OF SECRET COMMUNIST SECT OF SEXTOGENARIAN WOMEN WHO LIKE PURPLE PROBES IN THEIR REARS! And if my mom didn't make the disturbing distinction that she would prefer any butt plug she owns to look like an actual turd, then I would have half a mind (currently I only have a quarter of a mind) to think that she was a part of this communist sect, as well. OR IS SHE?! PERHAPS THE PROBES DON'T NEED TO BE PURPLE! Plus, I don't remember my mom being a part of my sweet, mind-blowing "USA!" chant either that night! OH. MY. GOD. It's effing Armageddon.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go rock back and forth in the fetal position while my helper horse, Sven, (my helper tortoise, Vladimir, and I continue to feud) readies the bunker. Because, as I've just proven above without a reasonable doubt, the world is clearly about to implode. Take cover.

HAPPY EASTER WEEKEND!***

*Actually, she's just flippin' hilarious, albeit incredibly disconcerting at times.

**By the way, thanks, sister-in-law, for choosing that photo, out of all the photos that could've been chosen, to display of me on your wedding weekend.

***The official Easter Anti DC Original E-Greeting Card For Those Who Want To Simultaneously Impress and Alienate is forthcoming.