For those of you who have read my other recs (none of which are in the sex toy genre, I might add), you are familiar with the slew of complexes that inject themselves into my posts- almost all of them exclusively having to do with being Irish and Catholic. We're not going to get into the third part of the Trifecta- my mother's role in playing mental origami with my psyche. At least not right now. Given the subject "at hand" (DAMN my naughty puns! There must be a chapter SOMEWHERE in a clinical textbook about the need to make them....right now I just hear the Cha-Ching of my therapy bill going up...).

ANYWAY, those of you who DO know what a whackjob I can be will thus have a fairly accurate idea of exactly how much red wine it took for me to post this particular little ditty. Yes, there are a few grapes left on the vine. But I did some damage, I assure you.

Ok, here's "the thing" THIS time because you've probably figured out there is always a "thing" with me:

Honest to god (I'd swear on my father's grave but a bit inappropriate given the obvious), I am so off-the-turnip truck at times I didn't even KNOW I had a vibrator until I saw the infamous Sex and the City Sharper Image episode. The one WITH MY HITACHI NECK MASSAGER. That I used FOR MY NECK. And yes, it was a magic wand alright. It was just casting entirely different, Irish Catholic spells. On my neck. Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the whole frat house of saints as my witnesses, I did not know.

We won't even get into the recovery THAT shock required. And the wine.

Anyway, once I discovered that what I had been tossing around like it was as innocent as a potato peeler was actually a vibrating love sword, modifications to its transport when travelling to Ireland had to be made, what with customs and all.

That is where these lovely cases come in.

And finally, we have arrived at the point. I'll drink to that.

For the girls, this is agreat item for a gift or whatever

Pretty sexy and cool..