Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

heheeeee me want! :-)

$8.99 is very reasonable for a toy with thrusting action.

Well, whatever the hell it is, it’s already out of stock!

Okay, now dig this.  I’ve heard it said by my elders, of whom few are left, that pickles served as pacifiers before plastic became king.  Pickled cukes were easily made at home, usually in stoneware crocks.  (All my Polish relatives apparently engaged in this activity.)  So tsk and titter not.  The pickle is a time-honored…uh…sucker (or is it suckee?)

WryHag, this sounds like something I’ve been told before but have forgotten. I’ve certainly heard of someone looking as though he or she has been “weaned on a pickle.”

As for the “making pickles,” indeed, my grandfather (first name Casimir) engaged in this activity during my early childhood, using stoneware crocks which I’ve since inherited. Lots of salt was involved, and I recall messy soggy herbs, including whole constellations of dill floating inside, looking a lot like Queen Anne’s lace. The aroma was unpleasant, actually, so rich with spices you could practically feel it coating your palate when you breathed near the crocks. They had wooden lids & sat atop a high shelf, down in the dirt-floored basement. (Which doesn’t seem sanitary.) Canning jars with their sterile seals were apparently a wimpy (or too expensive) way of doing things.

Sorry for wandering off into memories. I suddenly feel like a historical repository.

But HOW WERE the pickles, Sherry?  You know, after they emerged from the crocks. I felt you were moving toward some tasty climax, and now I find myself hanging.

I remember those crocks, my German dad made bread & butter pickles, and pickled eggs.  I remember he experimented with different spices, and the homemade recipees were less standardized than commercial.  Some were good, some were not.

And this has what to do with sex toys?  Hope this isn’t related to the carp.

Holy Moly Batman!

Reminded me of the. . .disturbing Harry Potter toy out a few years ago.  It’s not on Amazon any more.  Can’t imagine why.

http://www.seattleweekly.com/diversions/0237/arts-smallworld.html

Well, this is dreadfully off-topic, but ... Robin, I loathed those homemade pickles passionately. I was a child, with a child’s palate—I had no taste for the artisanal, the authentic or for anything remotely ethnic. (I wouldn’t even eat red sauce on spaghetti—buttered noodles was what I got when it was served up.) I was troubled that my grandfather’s homemade pickles did not taste like the pickles that came out of a supermarket jar.

I know, I know. Times have changed. I’ve got friends whose precocious kids beg for takeout Thai.

That Batman . . . oy, I had to share it with my office staff just now. Oy, oy. Give him an enema and he vomits when you press his—well, you know.

On that Constructive Playthings site, I looked everywhere for Uncle Maury’s Hide the Salami, but no go. Oh, well.

Okay—I work in a library and the Children’s Librarian bought this to use in one of the kid’s prgrams. She’s telling the others in the department about this when everyone suddenly turns red and starts giggling. It’s sitting in the workroom right now. I took pictures.