When I was a kid, my mother, Irene, purchased for me a short-lived product called a Squiggle-Wiggle Writer.  The Squiggle-Wiggle Writer was a pen with a little motor that spun around at the top, causing a vibration, or a wiggle.  The result: instead of a straight line, the pen produced a squiggle.  I used to write my name millions of times when I was younger, like girls do with the names of boys they have crushes on, only I was at the time, and continue to be, a narcissist, so I wrote only my own name.  Lenore Lenore Lenore Lenore.

It’s important to point out that my cat just vomited on my foot.  My goal is to ignore the barf until I finish writing what I set out to write, because…I’m not really sure why.  It’s good to have goals.

With the Squiggle-Wiggle Writer, my name was textured and plump. The pen was satisfying to write with.  It was good for penmanship.  But more importantly for a narcissist, the Squiggle-Wiggle Writer filled a much more important function; it allowed me to fuck myself.

The Squiggle-Wiggle Writer was my very first vibrator.  It was a sex toy for kids – a wildly brilliant idea, though the market apparently did not reflect the genius of the design, given its curt appearance in toy stores.   I have to believe that the manufacturers of this product knew exactly what they were pumping out of their assembly lines, much in the same way the makers of those massage tools at Sharper Image know damn well what they’re selling.  People just don’t need a handheld back massager, and even if the thing is purchased with the intention of massaging one’s back, eventually it will find its way downtown.

My cat is now lapping up his own vomit from my foot.  Cats tend to do this for some reason.  You’d think the stomach acid would act as a deterrent, but not so for felines.

Similarly, people don’t need pens that wiggle.  We don’t need to write in a squiggle.  We do, however, need to get off.  Unless we’re really religious, and then we are filled with God orgasms.   Spiritual, divine, Godgasms.

I was raised without religion, so I needed a vibrator.

My Squiggle-Wiggle Writer was not the only one in the household as I grew up.  My brother had been given one as well.  I’m fairly certain that he similarly employed his personal Squiggle-Wiggle Writer, something to the tune of holding it up against his balls while he beat off.  While my parents are no idiots, I do sometimes wonder if they were aware of the masturbatory treasures they’d offered us.

I also sometimes wonder if, in order to protect my fragile psyche, I created the extra Squiggle-Wiggle Writer that belonged to my brother.  I wonder if perhaps there was but one in the entire house, and this one Squiggle-Wiggle Writer was abused by both my brother and myself.  Did I share my very first vibrator with my brother?  I’ll never know.

This kitty puke is starting to get really gross.  There are patches of it missing from my cat’s taste-testing, and now I’m concerned my cat’s rough tongue served as a grinding agent, really working the barf elements into my skin.

The first non-manual methods of masturbation.  Sometimes you get lucky and get a vibrator disguised as a pen.  Other times you don’t, and you spend the first seven years of your sexual awakening fucking an electric toothbrush or a tube sock filled with your sister’s hand lotion.

Screw it.  I’m going to wash my foot.

TAGS: Lenore Zion, sexual awakening, the trouble with having cats, using what you got

Lenore Zion earned her MFA in fiction writing in 2004 and then ventured forth into the cruel world of working at Blockbuster Video. Shortly after being unharmed in a wimpy DVD robbery, she retreated to the safety of academia and began a doctoral program in clinical psychology. In May of 2010, Lenore will once again be released into the real world, this time armed with a more important sounding graduate degree. Lenore is currently working on her first novel, a quirky and twisted exploration of her internal world that she has cleverly masked as a "story." She can be reached at LenoreZion@gmail.com.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, January 22nd, 2009 at 2:08 pm and is filed under Humor, Nonfiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.