Fuckerware

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Fuckerware

© THE NERVOUS BREAKDOWN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I went to a bachelorette party with my good friend, because it was for her daughter and she wanted company. I was under the impression that they were the similar to wedding showers. I’ve been to one wedding shower in my life and it was quite nice. There was actually a color scheme. Everything down to the plates matched. I was impressed with the planning that went into it. There were balloons and confetti all over, more great treats than you could eat, a big group of family and friends, tons of sensible gifts and a bonus of a really great dog to play with if you got self-conscious because you didn’t know anyone.
Victor was going with his good friend to the bachelor party. I had heard about those and wondered how long into the night Victor would last. (He made it through dinner and then he and his friend left the party to go home to bed.)
We arrived two hours early to help out, but there was nothing for us to do. So we watched one of the groom’s two 90-year old grandmas icing a penis cake. It was big and intricate. Something just seemed out of whack. ( 90-year old grandma icing a penis cake, you know.)
The theme of the party was “The Penis.”
The plastic silverware ended in penises.
The ice “cubes” came in quite a variety. There were penises with scrotums, naked ladies with huge bosoms, couples frozen in flagrante delecto, and vaginas, (I feel that I should repeat that last one; there were vaginal ice cubes.)
The Party “hats” were paper glasses. The eyepieces were testicles. The nosepiece was a penis. There was a choice of flipping the penis erect or flaccid. People were wearing them both ways.
I thought I had seen the full array of the penis theme of the night and there was nothing more ahead of us but the opening of the gifts and the snacks.
Then a woman came in rolling a crate with drawers and a large case on the top. She was setting up in the corner of the room while the ladies placed chairs in a half circle around her. I thought there might be entertainment, a magician, perhaps.
The mysterious lady asked everyone to sit in a booming voice.
“Has anyone been to a Passion Party before? she boomed, you are all about to find out what a Passion Party is!” She could have been a disc jockey with that voice, or a politician. (Definitely not a magician.)
She started out slowly, passing around aerosol cans of “Irresistible Pheromones” to spray on the sheets at night. There was a tube of “Tighten Up!” There was an advertisement on the side of the tube that promised “It would be like the very first time!” I wondered how that worked.
After the sprays and the powders and the gels, Booming Lady brought out the “appliances.”

“The tip of your nose is the most sensitive spot to test these babies,” she assured us. Politely, each lady placed the vibrating appliances to the tips of their noses as they passed from nose to nose from one seat to the next. Many of the devices seemed almost alive: in addition to vibrating, the apex of some of these also moved around in a circle. I can say for absolute certainty that my nose had never experienced such sensations before.
I’ll tell you about some of these things, but many are just too embarrassing to describe here. There was “The Double Bullet,” (“which equaled twice the fun.”) It had wires with which to pull the two bullets out of wherever you were having twice the fun, when you were finished having, um, twice the fun.
There were “Mini” and “Maxi Bullets,” (“press the button and ring your bell!”) No wires accompanied these items, so I wasn’t sure how one would extract them. Booming Lady didn’t sell an extractor. I looked.
Booming Lady claimed one of her biggest sellers was the “Body Wand,” which never needed batteries, since it had a “cord over six feet long!”
This one I thought was pretty amazing. It’s called the “Flutter Frenzy” and it is worn under your clothes.
I pondered how this one could be used. At work? Would you get your work done efficiently while wearing this? At the movies? Would you pay any attention to the plot? While cooking dinner? Wouldn’t you be in danger of burning something in the kitchen?
There were also tubes that had metal ball bearings inside the jelly plastic. These glowed in the dark, which I thought was an extra special touch, although why a man would want parts of himself to glow in the dark was a mystery to me. I myself have never had any problems locating any part of Victor in the dark. I’m just saying.
It was all quite peculiar insofar as only my friend and I were shocked and embarrassed. Everyone else, including the almost 90-year old grandmas was perfectly at ease with all of this.
After Booming Lady’s demonstration, she asked if anyone had any questions. I asked her if her mother knew what she did for a living. She boomed that her mother did indeed know what she did for a living and was very, very proud of her. (I did not believe her. I’m pretty sure that her mother is under the impression that she sells Avon products.)
The bride-to-be was slated to win a large assortment of goodies from Booming Lady’s bag of tricks, depending on how many items were purchased that very evening. A number of enthusiastic people filed, one at a time, into a private bedroom in order to buy from amongst the products.
I, myself, made the mistake of ordering one item which I thought was so totally ridiculous that it would be a funny thing to show to people. It is called a “Car Pet.” This was an item, which could only be plugged into a car’s 12-volt power source, you know, it used to be called the cigarette lighter. It’s important that you understand that this could not plug into the wall, nor could it run on batteries. Seriously, this item was meant to use in a car! Can you imagine anything more absurd?
Oddly, Victor did not think it was in the least bit funny. This really surprised me, since he’s quite raunchy. He says horrendous things in public. Ask anyone! In fact, this purchase of mine made him livid. I had to cancel my order to prevent him from having a stroke or something. It was truly a bummer. I haven’t the slightest idea why it made him so upset. I still think it would be a fabulous conversation-starter at a dinner party. I thought it was hysterical, but I suppose that you have to let the fuddy-duddy partner make the decision about this type of thing.
I have a hard (heeee!) time believing some of these women were that into sex toys, but as far as creating an atmosphere of cameraderie and general inhibition, I gotta say, it works.
I mean, you’re in a room full of strange women, handling dildoes that they may or may not purchase at the end of the night. A lot of pretense falls away after that kind of experience.
Personally, I usually order body wash for my husband. The guys’ body wash smells pretty good. Sometimes some perfume-y thing for me.
I have heard that some men are adamantly opposed to their wives owning sex toys. Fragile male ego and all that.
I swear, if you could just hear him! He says repulsive things all the time. How did he suddenly turn into a fuddy-duddy?
But all that trashy talk is a macho thing.
As is wanting to believe that HE is the sexiest fuckerware ever.
So if your wife starts buying other fuckerware…well….
See the logic? I mean, it’s man logic, so I use “logic” loosely here.
The thing is,
Victor and I are perfectly
fine,
um,
that way.
I only wanted the
Car Pet as a joke.
But he just didn’t think it was funny
and was a waste of money.
“I have heard that some men are adamantly opposed to their wives owning sex toys.”
I will never understand this foolhardy position.
Well, Richard, you are young and hip and fuckerware friendly.
Some men are still stuck on fuckerfoil.
“fuckerfoil?”
“fuckerbutcherspaper?”
Becky, sometimes I do not understand a thing you say.
But even younger guys can be disturbed by it. Instead of looking at it as competing experience, they should think of it has a complementing experience.
Some men like to blame vibrators on a decrease in marital sex. Projecting dysfunction onto a sex toy.
I’m really tired today, been up since 2 am, snuggled with Victor, then did the treadmill, then went swimming, worked out with my trainer, painted most of the day, went to the Post Office, I forget what all else.
I finally understood when you made the equation.
Technology vs. old standards.
That’s probably it.
Victor’s old school.
We just do stuff the old fashioned way.
No room for joking around in the old fashioned way, I suppose.
@Richard – Carry on, Oh Enlightened One. Teach the young ones not to fear the almighty vibrator.
@Becky – Heh. Fuckerfoil. This whole discussion kind of reminds me of “Road to Wellville” and “womb manipulation”.
Me too, but I haven’t seen it ages!
@Cheryl,
I’ve never heard of those movies!
“Road to Wellville” is a must rent. And it is only one movie, but “womb manipulation” is a reference to that movie. It’s a little zany, and as a footnote features the birth of corn flakes. It also features Sir Anthony Hopkins as Mr. Kellogg.
And if those tidbits don’t cause you to run out and rent it right now, I don’t know what will!
It’s hysterically, darkly, uncomfortably funny, Irene. I am absolutely certain you’ll love it.
Ricardo,
I do not understand this either, not one bit!
In MY case,
I didn’t want it
or need it
as a sex toy.
I wanted it
actually needed it
as a joke.
We’re having a dinner party tonight
and I don’t have a Car Pet
to show them!
That pisses me off.
Cause it would’ve been funny.
It really would have been.
Not for nothing, Irene, if some were to gift you with a Car Pet…
… would that person ever be invited back or would that immediately place one on the “uninvited forever” list ???
That person,
Kimberly,
would certainly
be invited back,
however,
I don’t need it
anymore.
I wrote this
instead.
Did Irene just write the word fuck?
I’m co-opting it for all future fuckerware events.
Then all my friends will think I’m a hilarious genius.
And I’ll want to give Irene credit, but I won’t be able to because otherwise I’d have to explain my internets friends.
which is a bit like admitting to imaginary friends – or at least that’s how it perceived to the unenlightened
Right. Exactly. And all the fuckerware hilarity will be lost.
Wait,
Gloria?
Becky?
We’re imaginary?
I call Vaginal Ice Cubes as my next band name!
Damn it – I get to go home. I’ll have to finish this later…
But you’re special and other people don’t understand our love.
I tried to save one to photograph, but it melted.
I think I see what you mean, Becky,
we’re real to each other,
but to people who don’t use the internet as we do,
we’re virtual.
Is that it?
Silly people.
They miss so much.
I love you too.
HA!
Whether you’re real or virtual,
you’re the same to me.
But I’m not sure, “My internet friend says…” is the place to go at a fuckerware party.
Here all this time, Becky, I thought we were all real.
I’m sort of disappointed.
But “who’s Irene?” will surface, and I’ll have to tell them.
And while I know you’re real, to them, you are imaginary.
Oh, Irene. You missed the big debate on this very subject that the sneaky Justin Benton roped us all into on ARIELLE BERNSTEIN’s premier post.
I think you’re real, Irene. I totally believe it.
Darn, Gloria,
I guess I missed that one.
I’m too tired now, but I’ll read it after I wake up.
I’m always missing cool stuff when I don’t get enough sleep.
Stupid brain just will not turn off when it should!
Gloria,
None of my responses to comments are nesting under the comment,
so this looks like a bunch of psychos writing randomly and not to each other!
That vaginal ice cube comment of yours?
I answered it and it showed up two comments down,
so I don’t know if you know I answered you.
Also, I couldn’t answer your comment about imaginary friends because there was no place to comment under it. I find this frustrating.
I see what you mean, though.
When I tell someone something about one of you writers and what you said
they look at me differently than if you lived next door,
at least those who do not use the internet as we do.
You have to remember my age.
Most of my friends think I’m looney
for just that reason…I have “imaginary” friends.
Because I can’t drive over for coffee with you,
you aren’t truly a real person to them.
Na uh, Gloria!
I said “Fuckerware.”
Completely different!
Gloria: Irene called me a ‘bitch’ once. Does that count?
Was she being facetious? She couldn’t possibly have meant it with any amount of seriousness. Not only is she as sanguine and sage as a person can be without doing exercises in a sauna, but you’re twelve kinds of neat-o.
Can you remember the circumstances?
I forget,
but I barely knew you at the time
and I remember biting my nails
because I was afraid you wouldn’t realize
it was a joke.
It took forever for you to respond,
but, of course, you are too sharp not to get a joke.
(My kids say I go too far.
They’re probably right,
but, oh well.)
Erika Rae IS 12 kinds of neat-o, Gloria!
The fact that you called me sanguine and sage is delightful to me.
I’m going to learn to cross-stitch and put that on a pillow and sign your name!
(Then maybe the men in the white coats will see it and not cart me off to the funny farm.)
I totally believe you, Erika! Irene called me a whore on twitter once!!
I wish I could remember which post it’s in. It was fabulous, whatever the case. It may just be that it was the same day I asked her to be my TNB mommy (I’ve always loved to be verbally abused). At any rate, Gloria, yes of course she was teasing.
Five for you right now, sweet thing!
Zara,
I don’t remember calling you a whore,
but I only use those epithets for those I love,
so it’s entirely plausible that I did it.
It wasn’t then.
We were having an exchange and that’s how I ended it, I think.
Now I have to go back and read everything you wrote!
I have a dinner party tonight!
I don’t have time!
I addressed this down below,
but just to show you an example, Gloria,
my response to your asking if I just wrote the word
you-know-what
is fifteen comments below your comment.
It’s hard to hold a conversation if you are not
consistently at the keyboard,
which regular people can’t do
because they have stuff to do!
(Which I thing proves we are not virtual.)
“I thought I had seen the full array of the penis theme of the night and there was nothing more ahead of us but the opening of the gifts and the snacks.”
“Many of the devices seemed almost alive.”
“It had wires with which to pull the two bullets out of wherever you were having twice the fun, when you were finished having, um, twice the fun.”
“I myself have never had any problems locating any part of Victor in the dark.”
“It’s important that you understand that this could not plug into the wall, nor could it run on batteries. Seriously, this item was meant to use in a car!”
Irene, this is the all-time funniest post I have ever read on TNB. This includes posts by comedians. Nothing against my good friend who is a comedian.
Lenore, you must be so proud of your mother. This post is the awesomeness.
You think this is funny?
We were mortified!
Not to mention that in your Gravatar you are wielding a pinkish lightsaber Photoshopped by none other than yours truly.
I can’t conceive of how a post could be better than this.
Richard – you must have psychically known this post was coming up…
Ricardo, my dove,
I thought that was a secret!
Here I’ve been keeping mum about it all this time,
and there you go, Ricky,
and blurt it out!
Humph!
I never knew it was a secret! I mean it was either Slade or me, right?
Well either way there was never a better time to reveal than this post.
You are a sneaky little devil, Richard Cox!
(And awfully good with a keyboard and some know-how.)
Coxy (I feel kinda dirty using your last name on this particular post…), what was I saying? Oh yeah, so you are responsible for bringing The Force to TNB!? I was wondering who photoshopped those light sabers.
LRC, it was a combination effort between Slade and me, actually. The Force is strong with us.
The two best ones I made were Gloria’s (in a dress, dancing) and Irene’s. For Irene’s I had to remove a giant dog and a sidewalk and a park and a chain link fence, and in its place I put the double sunset of Tatooine.
That’s a really, really, really, really great photo. I love it so much.
He is really amazing, I would show you the original picture, which, by the way, was also in reverse. He also put long hair where the huge Great Dane’s paws were!
“Imagine the lengths you could go.” <— also really great
That car accessory – does the car have to be running for it to work? Does it only work at certain speeds? I totally understand your fascination with it.
HA! I liked that one too, Gloria, if I do say so myself.
Yeah, the car has to be running!
Can you see a truck driver driving along and looking down
and
there she is
a woman
pleasuring herself
while driving!
I wonder if there’s a specific ticket associated with that? Moving violation? Violating yourself while moving?
“Violating yourself while moving?” fabulous!
You are so funny!
I’m sure that there is a ticket that would be given,
in addition there would certainly be one for reckless driving.
How could there not?
Love the photo of the penis cake! And what about the two 90 year old grannies…? Hilarious!
You should have seen them dancing.
They had no idea that they were too old for this stuff!
You know what they say – you’re only as old as you feel…
Oh I bet they had fun icing that cake!
They iced that cake like it was a normal, run-of-the-mill round chocolate cake.
I swear!
Like it wasn’t a veiny penis at all!
It was creepy weird.
This was the classiest description of a Passion Party I’ve ever heard. I mean that with all seriousness. I need to show this to everyone I know!
I’ve been to several of these parties but none with a penis cake. One time for my birthday, a few of Nick’s shipmates went and bribed some teenagers at a Dairy Queen to put an enormous cock and balls, complete with frightening gel pubes. It was the best birthday ever. I’ll never forget it!
I agree with every line chosen by Richard. This is amazing. I’m thinking I need to print it and carry it with me for reference.
You got pubes on yours?
I am seriously impressed with Nick.
What a guy!
I’ll bet it cost him plenty to bribe those kids,
since if they got caught, I’ll bet they would’ve been fired.
When are you going to cross the country, Christine?
You’re almost as far away as you were before!
I just want to tell everyone
that I received a photo
of Christine’s
cake,
and it does
indeed
have
gel pubic hair
on the testicles.
OF COURSE I meant to say put the cock and balls on the CAKE. But I left that off. I guess that was an incomplete thought due to lack of food.
Christine,
It is obvious you are talking about a cake here, since you mention it in the first sentence.
What else would Dairy Queen make that was “an enormous cock and balls, complete with frightening gel pubes.”?
(Brad, it was a quote! I can’t put the question mark inside or it will appear that her quote was a question.
How would YOU handle it? You make me so nervous!)
I still have to reference back to books about grammar and placement of commas (I’m a serial abuser of the comma) and many other things I probably do wrong with English. I’m sure I won’t be on my deathbed worrying about that time I put a comma in the wrong place or used “an” inst
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