Monday, April 6, 2009

I said, just a minute! Mommy's shaving her legs... again.

Our power went off last night around 8:15. I was in the tub. Jack was pretending to do homework, watching the Knicks and the Raptors. The washing machine was going. The dryer was going. The dehumidifier was working overtime in the basement. 

Then nothing but silence. And darkness.

It was really nice. Like Earth Hour, without all the money wasted on hype and advertising. Jack got to play pyro, lighting candles around the house, and I just floated in the tub like a contented whale, wondering if I had neglected to pay the electric bill.

As most people would, I started thinking about Ma and Pa on Little House on the Prairie and how they must have had a lot of sex. Pa (Michael Landon) was pretty cute and I bet those wool britches got itchy after a long day of poverty. Once they got the blind sister up into the loft and Laura her A.D.D. meds, what else was there to do but throw back the quilts and rock Ma’s world.

It was always dark on the Prairie. (Must have been Nova Scotia Power territory).

I think that Caroline Ingalls must have been an insatiable vixen in a calico skirt. They had how many kids by the end of that show? 15? Including that little bastard Albert who looked alot like Charles to me. Where did he come from?  

Ma and Pa naturally got me thinking about a small appliance I had seen advertised recently.

Not a toaster. Or a coffee maker. This revolutionary time-saver was called “The Tinge”.

Battery operated and rechargeable, The Tinge would have come in handy last night, minus the doe-eyed dog hanging his head over the edge of the tub, and a boy within earshot. Plus there was the added fear of accidentally giving myself a hysterectomy.

The Tinge, you see, is a ladies' razor, that doubles as a vibrator, or "Pleasure Toy". No joke.

Sleek, pink, and discreet, the Tinge sells for $99 bucks and must have been designed by a man. Multi-tasking wizards that we are, no women I know would marry a razor, with something intended for use, up in OBGYN territory.

Maybe a vibrator and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. Or a vibrator and a Submarine sandwich. A vibrator and a riding lawn mower. Or a vibrator that turns into a bowl of Cheesies afterwards and goes home. But not a razor. Back to the drawing board, boys.  

And, as desperate as my love life is, I have never considered going down Dildo Road. (And please, if anyone has, I really don't want to hear about it.) I can just imagine taking advantage of myself after Hockey Night in Canada with my rubberized Charles Ingalls. With my luck, I’d get electrocuted Or the dog would find it and bury it in the neighbours’ backyard, but only after walking around the block with it a few times. Or Jack would find it – or worse – hear me "shaving my legs" yelling Pa! Pa! Yes Pa! Yes! Yes!

No wonder their kid went blind.

Pick up your own Tinge at or shop locally for a safer version at Venus Envy, 1598 Barrington Street. I think they are still in business... Hey, I'd better go check!