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Book Sales Are Down

Well I don’t even know how to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it. Chapters now sells….. sex toys.

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Nope, I am not fucking with you. Heheheheh 😈


Seriously, give it a google and check the website. Check the Sexual Wellness category. We’ll wait.

…..

See! To be fair, they don’t really sell sex toys. No foot long rubber schlongs or nipple clamps to be seen. Just vibrators. But still! I can’t imagine how the board meeting went.

-Book sales are down. People don‘t fucking read anymore. What do we do people?

-We could add a baby clothes and accessories section?

-Damn it Frank, we did that five years ago. Come on people!

-Well, how about vibrators?

-Genius!


Honestly though, it is a smart move. They are going to hit a demographic that is untapped in the adult industry. People who are too intimidated to walk into an actual store OR who don’t want to order from those tacky websites that look like you‘re one click away from a massive virus.

So now you can pick up your smut and a little treat all in one spot. I wonder if they’ll have in-store shopping? Can you imagine that display case!!

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I don’t know about you, but these last few weeks have been killer for me. I’m tired and I’m cranky. And when I’m exhausted, that usually makes my anxiety worse, and the little man inside my head that runs the show threatens to go on strIke.

Isn't it weird that I picture the man in my head as a MAN? I don’t know why. Well maybe I do. Quite frankly, I think if a woman were running the internal workings of my brain I wouldn’t have anxiety. Only a man could fuck a brain up this badly.

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Anywho…. To top it all off, we decided to install a new water filtration system in the house. That might not seem like a big deal to any normal person, but in our house this was inevitably going to lead to complete and total chaos.

Scott is very handy and can do all sorts of things around the house. plumbing is not usually his strong suit, but he can get the job done…. It won’t be pretty, but it’ll be done.

I attempted to help for about 30 minutes and around the time steam started coming out of Scott’s ears in response to my constant stream of questions, I was kicked out of the basement. So irritable! But, I did as I was ordered and went upstairs. I assume he thought I’d go to do something productive, but he was wrong. I started playing scrabble on my phone.

I was just about to lay down a 64p word when I heard Scott scream from the basement in a complete panic. “KAY!”

Now for those of you who don’t know Scotty personally, you should know that he never panics. Never. He is always mellow. Strong and silent. I feel like he could cut his finger off, not make a peep, wrap it in electrical tape and carry on with whatever he was doing. It’s what I both love and fear about him.

So when I heard panic in his voice, I immediately began to panic and I froze as the internal dialogue in my head kicked into overdrive. -Fuck, he cut off his arm. -No, no. The most that’s happened is that he has blinded himself with the torch. -Well neither is okay. If he has lost his arm or blinded himself, he can’t be a lineman anymore. And his income isn’t optional here. -Shit you’re right. -Ya, so if he makes it, which let‘s be real…. He’s probably already dead in a pool of his own blood down there, you won’t be able to keep the house. And you not only will lose the house, but you can’t get four cats and a dog into an apartment.

-The smell would be just freaking unbearable. -Exactly. So Scott’s dead, and now your going to lose your pets too. -Scott never answered the damn question when we asked if he wanted buried or cremated a few weeks ago. Selfish prick. -Right. All he kept saying was, “that’s morbid, shut up Kay”.

-I guess we’ll just flip for it. Hey, do you think that we could get a permit to bury him in the back yard? But I guess if we lose the house then I’d have to dig him up again to take with me and it would be a whole freaking thing.

-Ya, it’s probably best to ju-


“KAY! GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE!”


Scott yelling the second time snapped me from my conversation with myself. I’m not really sure how much time had passed, but he sounded much more pissed and less panicked this time.

I crept down the stairs expecting the worst and instead found Scott up a ladder, soaking wet, holding a bucket up to a pipe on the ceiling.

When I asked him what the hell had happened down there, he told me (rather rudely I might add) that water doesn’t run ”Up fucking hill” and the backwash on the system had overloaded the drain pipe.

So long story short, we spent the next two hours taking turns holding a bucket up to the ceiling to catch the overflow coming out of the broken drain pipe that he accidentally installed at the wrong angle.


And this is why god made plumbers.

So anyway, enough about me, how was your week?


-Kay




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