When I finally stumbled out of bed that afternoon, the first thing I did after guzzling Gatorade was head to the computer and check my email. Naturally I had oodles of messages from Twitter and Blogger, not to mention that usual spam telling me my penis size is inadequate [Um, duuuh] and offering various remedies for said teeny weenie. Sadly, it's very rare that anyone I know in RL [with the exception of STY, natch, who more than makes up for it] actually emails me and when they do, it's inevitably about Twilight anyway.
And then I saw the email that I should have anticipated receiving the moment Snarkier Than You sent me a cryptic-but-gleeful email last Monday saying "I know what we're posting about today!!!" It was tucked in between a Twitter message and an email from someone nice old lady in Nigeria who desperately needs my help - and my bank account information... It was the line in my inbox that stopped me in my tracks:
Mommy (not a)Jerkface ----------------- The big pink rubbery thingOh. Mah. gawd. I cringed. I groaned. I felt a Bella-worthy flush flood my face. I was mortified because I knew what she was referring to without even opening up the email.
What? You didn't seriously think I'd post another picture of the pink peeper, did you? Let's not start vicious cycles now... [note from STY: Is this near Clitsville?]
Finally, I took a deep breath and read it:
To: Jenny Jerkface
From: Mommy (not a)Jerkface
Re: The big pink rubbery thing
I normally don’t read your blog because you do have quite the “potty mouth”. At times I find it distressing to know that my adorable daughter has other thoughts on her mind besides her collection of “My Pretty Pony” and whatever strange things you kept in that large wooden box stashed in the back of your bedroom closet. You know what I’m talking about . . . the one covered with all those depressing poems written in magic marker, which, by the way, I never opened . . . too scary. Anyway, unlike your secret box, I do occasionally open your “blog” to check out the pictures because I find the captions amusing. You can imagine my surprise when I opened Twitarded yesterday and scrolled down to find a picture of a very large pink dildo. (Yes, I know, you told me to check with you first before going onto Twitarded.) My first thought was “Oh my goodness!!!” and I quickly closed the blog without reading it. This was way too much information and very weird.
HOWEVER . . . now I need to know. What’s with the dildo? I really liked the Twitarded coffee cup and undies but I’m confused about this other “thing”. Is this in any way related to Twilight? Is it a replica of a certain movie star’s private parts? Are you now selling adult merchandise? Did you lose your job and need money? Please clarify.
I. Can't. Believe. My. Mom. Wrote. 'Dildo.'
I sat there for a minute, shell-shocked by the M(na)J dildo bomb, wondering how to respond, before I burst out laughing. My poor mom. Not only did I subject her to "Jenny Jerkface, the Teenage Years," but now I'm an adult and I'm STILL tormenting her by making her read Twilight and New Moon (among other things - many other things). Then I [well, STY, technically, since it was her post] traumatize her with a sparkly, faux vampire peen.
After weighing my options, I decide to call Mommy (not a)Jerkface because, in my bizarre rationalization, it will be easier to speak to her about sex toys rather than write to her about them. Unfortunately, once I got her on the phone I was laughing too hard to really get the words out, so I just told her to read the damn post and that, yes, I still have a job and no, it's not peddling sex toys. Yet, anyway.
Actually, I suppose that when when the inevitable happens and I finally get fired for blogging all day (when I am not set-stalking, anyway), maybe I could be one of those chicks who comes to your house and peddles sex toys and potions. You know-- like Pampered Chef only for your vagina? I think I know where to find a good customer base...
Anyhoo, M(na)J eventually does take a gander at the dildo post and shoots me another email:
Whew. I’m relieved to know you haven’t lost your job nor are you selling adult doodads. My apologies to STY for not giving her credit. . .it just seemed uncharacteristic of her writing style, though it makes me wonder why I automatically assumed it was yours [JJ's note - because I'm generally far more disgusting than STY, who at least can inject a little class into her posts, no matter how dirty they are?].You called to explain what the article was about but you were laughing so hard I couldn’t understand half of what you said. I went back to read the description of the ugh “vampsicle” but I don’t understand why anyone would pay $39.95 for a piece of rubber that can be bleached, boiled or cleaned via a dishwasher. Would a person use it for other purposes besides the obvious? Stir a pot of spaghetti sauce, pound chicken breasts into cutlets? What than? I’m mystified and totally grossed out.
P.S.@Mommy (not a)Jerkface: Don't EVER open that chest!!! I'm pretty sure that's where I left my tortured teenage soul...trust me, NO ONE wants that unleashed again.
P.P.S.@Brother Jerkface [since the whole fam reads this now]: Hey--remember how you said you liked the posts I did with Mommy's emails??? Hope you loved this one - mwah!