Yes, the number is 6. Shit I kinda ruined the suspense on that one, huh? I shoulda’ made you wait until the end. Yes, it was premature elucidation, which is fairly common when talking vibrators.
More importantly, you should be wondering, How did you calculate this number and what does one do with so many vibrators?
I was wondering the same thing. See…I was at the BlogHer conference along with 5000 other peeps this weekend and I’ve never witnessed anything quite like the Trojan booth, which was giving away free Trojan Vibrations Tri-phoria at the Friday expo. Only in video of the LA riots, have I seen the type of mad rush/looting that I witnessed. Like a freakin apocalypse was happening. Is this what people are putting in their basement bomb shelters these days? Are they edible or something? Do they combat radiation? (I asked myself all the obvious questions.)
There were women walking away with 4, 5, 6 vibrators… tucked in their bags, under their arms, under their chins, and g-d knows where else. Scrambling to the floor to grab boxes that had dropped in the shuffle, like someone had busted a massive vagina piñata or something. (Which, by the way, is an awesome idea for a birthday party, right?)
Not one of these ladies seemed the least bit ashamed or embarrassed. They grabbed their swag with the same nonchalance that you would take a handful of mints on your way out of a restaurant.
I, on the other hand, smushed my one lonely vibrator to the bottom of an opaque tote, fully aware that in 3 short days some TSA agent would insist on checking my bags, only to have it resurface in front of the group of Hassidic Rabbi’s that would inevitably be behind me in line.
Psst. Rabbi, can you hide this in your hat? No? Whatever.
Now that you know how I got the number, I must ask the next question, what could one possibly do with 6 vibrators? Look, I read 50 Shades, I’m a worldly gal. I’ve even outed myself as a dry hump slut, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out the logistics of this lofty endeavor.
I drew a diagram on the plane, but stopped when the elderly gentleman to my left started clutching his chest. Plus, he was of no assistance, as I asked if he could think of any *orifices I’d missed.
So, I ripped up my diagram and pondered the other options.
Maybe some chicks are even more OCD than me, treating their vibrators as if their wet naps.
One and done.
Rip open the box, use, toss vibrator with ease into a trashcan where it circles the rim and “score.” “Honey, let’s tear into another box, shall we?” Though, as someone with OCD, who often washes every towel after a single use, I find this possible explanation rather wasteful. I mean, do you know how many horny women there are in Ethopia who can’t afford a vibrator? I don’t know either, but I imagine the stats are astronomical.
Why, just one of your 6 vibrators could probably satisfy an entire village. I bet you didn’t think of that when you haphazardly threw your barely used toy in the trash. You cold hearted waster!
You probably didn’t even recycle it, Earth killer!
I sincerely hope I’m on the wrong track because that line of reasoning seems unnecessarily insensitive.
I was given another explanation while questioning a woman at the an event on the last day of the conference as to how many vibrators one needs (cause that’s an awesome icebreaker… seriously, try it).
Yep, she’d taken 4, and why?
She said, “they make good gifts.”
WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?
Oh, I know… because it’s a freaking vibrator, not a scented candle! There is not one person on earth, not even my closest friend, that I would think, I should grab one of these for her. She loves to be sexually pleasured with and without her husband and so this is a truly thoughtful gift.
I mean I could get her a mug, but that’s generic and we’re tighter than “generic mug friends.” I could give her some of my beauty swag, but we’re not that tight and I don’t share that shit. Nay, a vibrator says, I thought of you in my travels and I want you to have better, more frequent orgasms. If that’s not friendship, I don’t know what is.
Oh, and while I’m here, I should grab one for my mother and the dog sitter, and oooh, my son’s teacher. I never have anything for teacher appreciation day and I bet none of her other student’s parents take a second to consider her vagina.
Wait, I hear they’re giving a big tub of lube at the Banshee party, so I should make sure to swing by there because a true friend would consider possible vaginal dryness.
I know, you wish you were my friend now. But alas I only got 1 Tri-Phoria, so don’t try to become close with me in the hopes of getting free sex toys.
Plus, I’ll know that’s why you’re calling to have coffee.
So, Blogher was a success, here’s my highlight reel in case you were there — or wanted to be there — or know peeps who were there — or you’re one of those people who loves reading the credits. If not, feel free to tell me how many vibrators you think it takes to satisfy a blogger.