Electrical Stimulation
December 2007
There is just
something inherently wrong with women getting excited about things that plug
into a wall socket. I am not referring to the electrical gadgets purchased at
the store in
I called my friend CeeCee the other evening expecting to hear her whining about how bad the day had been at work and the trials of being a single mother raising 2 boys. When the phone was answered I was put in a state of shock. The person answered with, “Girl, you got to see what I have in my hand.” This was not what I had expected to hear. This person had happiness in the sound of her words, happiness to the point of making her giggle. I, of course, had to inquire as to the identity of the person on the other end of the line only to be reassured that it was, in fact, my friend CeeCee.
“Oh my god,” she says opening the conversation. “You are not going to believe what I’m doing.”
In fact, I couldn’t even guess what she was doing. But whatever it was, if it made her this happy, I was thinking I wanted to do it too.
“My shark finally came today!” Her words were barely understandable. “It’s so light and just 3 minutes on charge and it gets the job done.”
Hmmmmmm. At this point I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Not many things I can think of are called Shark that can get the job done with so little effort. I wasn’t even really sure what job she was referring to, but if I didn’t catch my mind fast it would be completely gone, and gone down the wrong path.
I was not holding up my end of the conversation so CeeCee continued. “I’ve been waiting for this thing forever. When I got home and the UPS man came in behind me with the box, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was finally here. Ohhhhh. I was soooooooooooooooooo excited.”
I could hear the excitement in her voice so I let her continue.
“It takes care of everything without any effort at all. Plug it in, let it charge, and girl you’re set to go.”
Ok, I’m thinking. Set to go where?
“If you have a really difficult place you might need to use that Mr. Clean sponge thingy,” she said, not knowing that I am totally clueless but armed with a very vivid imagination.
CeeCee and I are obviously not in the same conversation. Mr. Clean sponge? I’ve heard kinky things before, but this conversation was making its own trail into the unknown lands of kinkiness. “Just which Shark is this,” I asked?
“You know. That steam mop thing. The one I told you I was getting to clean the floors.”
“Oh yes, I remember.” I really didn’t have a clue but I was certain if I let her continue I would learn more.
“Just a little push of the button and the steam comes out the mop and cleans the floor. And you can take the cover off the head and just put it in the wash machine.”
I’m cluing in fast here that this device is of the Wal-Mart, g-rated variety.
“Oh, honey. I’ve been cleaning away here. Got me a bottle of wine, and this Shark and I’m going to town.”
“Ok, CeeCee. I’ll let you get back to your cleaning. Let me know when you get done just how good it works.” I hung up fast trying to recover my wandering mind, trying to understand how she could be so excited about this Shark mop thing that charges in 3 minutes. In my opinion, excitement like that should be reserved for the escapades of two people together or at least reserved for one of the electrical devices purchased in New Orleans.
Two weeks later I happen to be home in the evening trying out my brand new, tools on board, vacuum. I had that sucker (pardon the pun) plugged in and was going to town. I was almost excited as CeeCee had been about the Shark mop, and I didn’t even have a bottle of wine.
Today
I would have to say I have some understanding of how excited a woman can get
over electrical devices, but I still think there is just something wrong with
it. It’s just not right. Perhaps it’s time for a trip to