That time my vibrator *actually exploded* and then I told the entire internet about it. (Hi! Welcome to me.)

Some day, I'm going to regret this.

PRO LIFE TIP: if you fire up a box fan, a heating pad, and a vibrator all on the same sketchy-apartment-outlet, expect fireworks. And I do not mean the good kind.

Last night, my vibrator COMBUSTED in a truly eye-popping shower of sparks (from the wall outlet, thank Jebus).

It tripped the circuit to the whole damn apartment. Giggling at my own idiocy (a common theme), I staggered through the dark to reclunk the breaker and survey the damage.

Me, totally unharmed.
The outlet, a little singed.
The cord, total toast.

Then (proof of the closeness of my brush with actual crotch fire) BURN MARKS ON THE SHEETS.

At pert-near business level.

Whelp, that coulda gone worse.

Because let’s be honest. There’s no covering a vibrator explosion up. You want to admit that to the already-judgy ER check-in team? No. And any other plausible explanation is WORSE.

“Well…I was perming my pubes.”
“I was lighting my farts up—really hit a doozer!”
“I sat on a crack pipe?”

No. No, no, and no.

My only option? Just quietly and politely die (after hiding the evidence, duh).

And perhaps that was what I deserved for my thoughtless electrical overload.

So thank goodness we don’t always get what we deserve.

Makes it seem a little more fair when what we get, we don’t deserve.

You know what I mean. The last few years have heaped on the history. Personal and collective. If you’re unharmed, wait, Elon Musk reads this!? (Sorry. That’s not funny. Even if he totally does.)

Anyway. Kardashians aside, the rest of us have endured/are enduring some truly crapalicious times. And in the blur of wars/protests/pandemics/death tolls/shootings/housing/inflation/billionaire doofery and on and flipping on, it seems blatantly clear:

My self-induced crotch-fire and subsequent death from embarrassment would have been 100% on brand for the roaring twenties, so far.

So, thanks for the break, universe. And the giggle. I feel lucky.

With my newfound lease on life, I think I’ll start something fresh.

Like this.

Ahem:

Welcome to me…and The Arghonaut.