SHARE TOY

Okay, this is a serious question.  No, seriously.  It is.  What the hell is a fucking SHARE TOY?  Bueller?  Bueller?  Anyone?

Yeah, see?  You have no idea, do you?  No, you don't.  It's not in Webster's Dictionary.  It's not in the Urban Dictionary.  It's not even part of anyone's flippin' vocabulary!  Except his.  It was bad enough when he said it in conversations with me.  But it was bloody embarrassing when he used that term in public.  Made me cringe!  Oh God, I was fearful he'd say it in front of my father.  But since he rarely spent time with my family, there was little-to-no chance that my dad would ever hear that inane meaningless utterance come from a grown man's mouth.  Share toy.  Really.  Sounds obscene.

Say it to yourself right now.  Go ahead, say it.  Share toy.  No one's listening.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Share toy.  Just say it out loud and ask yourself, "What image does that conjure?"   Well, I'll tell ya, it has nothing to do with some rubbery plastic device you might see in a porn movie (if you were to watch them...hey, I'm not judging).  It sounds like it could be.  Maybe.  I guess.  But it's not.

I've come to learn what he means by that expression.  I'll try to explain.  Say we're in a restaurant ("we're in a restaurant") and we order appetizers that we are going to split.  Yep...share toy.  Or a delicious dessert that is just too big for one of us after a big meal.  You got it.  Share toy.  God, how ridiculous and retarded.  And just plain stupid and wrong. 

Share toy. 

He almost ruined a trip to Kauai for me by using that term while engaged in conversation with a couple we did not know but accidentally bumped into as they were coming out of a restaurant that we were going in to.  He asked them about the menu.  They told us that the food was good and all served tapas-style.  Yes, little appetizers.  Uh oh, you already see where this is headed, don't you?  Down that dangerous road called 'humiliation.'  God, I prayed for him not to say it.   I prayed and begged in silence.  But...wait for it...wait for it..."Oh, share toys."   He said it like it was the most natural response in the world.  Oh, horror of horrors!  I almost died on the spot.  The couple just looked at him with blank expressions.  I could almost hear the man thinking, "What the fuck did he just say?"  They had NO idea what the hell he was talking about.  And they turned and walked away without another word.  Well, really, what could they have said to that?  Really.  Share toys?

I always figured maybe he got the term from some stupid little blonde cute-as-a-button girlfriend that may have said it to him in a little squeeky Mini-Mouse'ish voice.  "Ooooh, look..a share toy...heeheehee."  And she was probably just so damned hot that it didn't matter what blather she spewed, he would take it and accept it as real.  Because he has a penis.

A man might accept a woman saying it...because of said dick...but no man in the history of the world would ever actually repeat it.  Out loud.  To another human being.  No.  Never!  NEVER!!!    

I don't make this shit up.

You're still here?  It's over.  Go home.  Go.

50 SHADES OF WASTE OF MY TIME

So I heard all the fuss about E. L. James' "50 Shades of Grey."  Well, who hasn't, right?  As luck would have it, one of the ladies I work with was just finishing up the book and told me she'd lend it to me as soon as she was done with it.
I'm a big reader and can go through a good book super fast.  I look forward to indulging that simple pleasure for about 20 minutes or so almost nightly before I go to sleep. 

Anyway, she lends me the book and I start in on it that night.  I cheated though.  I read several of the online reviews before I borrowed it.  The reviews mostly said the book was awful, but I figured I'd give it a shot and make up my own mind.

Well, what a seriously stupid effing book it turned out to be.  A complete and total waste of my time.  Thank God I didn't pay for that crap.  I did read up to, and including, the much talked about Chapter 8...well, I merely skimmed Chapter 8, it was so retarded I couldn't bear to read every stupid word of it.  Or even one more.

First off, I could not get beyond the utter Britishness of the main female character - yes, the author is from London or somewhere where they are British.  Problem is, the main female character is supposed to be from somewhere like Georgia, I think, where they are not at all British.  And she is living in the Pacific Northwest, which is not a particularly British-speaking part of the United States, is it?  At least not when last I visited.  I tried my best to relocate, in my mind, the story to a London town, of which I've been to exactly none.  It made it difficult for me to see this story in my head, as I like to do when I read a good book.

And then, the plot (term used extremely loosely) of the story is so lame.  Young plain'ish looking virgin just entering the real world meets slightly older gorgeous hunk of a humanitarian billionaire man who never works and all they do is fuck (blushing).  That's about all I know.  Maybe there is no plot or storyline.  It was just too stupid for me to read anymore of it.

I didn't spend a dime of my money on it and not too much of my time, thankfully.  And this was actually the first book in the Trilogy of Trash!  Yes, there are two others out there!  Lord help us - there must be a world of sex-starved, low-readers out there.  This really is an awful book.  Most of the reviews were "spot on" accurate!