>Yesterday was one of the weirdest days I have had this year. It began with a 9 am post office call. As it is the holidays, I knew that I'd be waiting in line for a long time, so I prepared to spend an hour there. I brought plenty of reading and a crossword puzzle, so when I finally left the post office after an hour and change, I didn't feel like too much time was wasted as I departed to buy dry food and hay for Tycho's country estate visit.

Long story short, my quest for Tycho's sustenance led me to three different pet shops over a mile long walk through a hail storm. Not expecting hail, I wore a pair of clogs, which meant I had to walk extra slow (i.e. - at the pace that most people in this country consider normal) for fear of slipping and breaking my ankle. I pictured myself trying to clamber up the side of a volcano in Hawaii next week with a broken ankle, and it seemed even less fun than wandering around in a hail storm looking for Oxbow Bunny Basics T rabbit food.

Mission accomplished, I returned home in a snow storm, only to find myself in the midst of seething hatred and resentment between the residents of my co-op apartment building who are rich and those who are filthy rich. "Thank the hell god I am going to go hang out with Des at the Museum of Sex later today," I thought to myself as I fled the raving lunatic woman in the laundry room who told me to fear "the people with the big apartments." Des is normal, and a sex museum promised fun.

An hour later, I stepped out into a raging hail storm to head to the subway. When I got out of the subway and headed a few blocks over to the museum, it was in the pouring rain. Fortunately, the museum provided a different type of crazy refuge from the insanity of daily life. A big sign for the museum read, "Impressionism. Objectivism. Cubism. Jism." Oh, this made me laugh and laugh as I sat under it on a bench waiting for Des.

In the current exhibit on Kink, Des and I were disturbed to learn about very extreme kinks like cannibalism, where people get off on pretending to be cooked on a spit and then consumed. On the other hand, I was delighted to read more about furries and plushies, the subcultures of people I learned about on my very favorite ever episode of CSI. Furries are people who dress in sexy animal costumes and have sex. Plushies are folks who fuck actual stuffed animals. According to the museum, their motto is, "In Plush We Thrust." In order to do this, they add an SPH or SPA (strategically-placed hole or strategically-placed appendage) to a yiffy (a sexy plush toy). OK, I admit that this does gross me out and makes me want to hide Theo to protect his innocence, but it is far less troubling to me than being tied up on a pole next to space heater, having a meat thermometer shoved up your ass or vagina, and then being slathered with sauce and "eaten." I'm not even going to go into the balloon fetishists who inflate and pop the items on their genitals. But to each his or her own, right?

Anyway, Des and I were then treated to an exhibit on porn. While the big hairy snatches of '70s and '80s porn were fun to see, the highlight of this was far and away clips from celebrity home movies. Watching the Pam Anderson/Tommy Lee (holy shit, his dick is big) film and Paris Hilton sexcapade with Des and two dykes was good fun. One of the dykes kept saying that, while not into penises, she could not get over how hot Colin Farrell is. (All I can say is that he really likes close ups.)

Finally, we happily ended (heh heh) in the permanent collection. This includes some very freaky sex machines that sometimes involve the engines from $300 KitchenAid mixers. Said machine's inventor felt it would be wasteful to tie the use of such an expensive appliance to only a sex machine, so buyers of the machine can detach the motor from the fleshy dildo apparatus and put it back in the mixer if they want to bake up a nice cake or something.We also saw a display of sex dolls, one of which was touchable behind a plastic sheet. Des is a very gifted cell phone photographer, as the torso was mounted on the wall vertically, and the photo of her fingering its silicone vagina does it look horizontal, doesn't it? I think her true career calling is as a porn photographer. I got nearly my whole hand up the silicone cooter, but neither Des nor I could figure out how deep the hole went, so I stuck my pen up it. Coincidentally, my pen is six inches (the size of he average erect dick), and a little bit stuck out of the cooter, so I think the vagina was five inches deep. As long as I am repulsing people, I will also mention that the silicone breasts were both ripped where they meet the body. I'm not sure if I am saying that this indicates poor craftsmanship or overly rough handling, but it disturbed me a bit. More so than sticking a pen up a fake vagina to measure its depth.

Anyway, so that was my very strange day yesterday. I'm sure this post will lead to an increase in visits from people looking for fake vaginas or plushies. Yay!

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