THIS BOX SHOULDN'T BE SHAKIN' ON IT'S OWN

The apartment is almost empty. There are just two pieces of furniture here waiting to be picked up tomorrow, bags of clothes, some garbage cans, two lamps, a vacuum, two TV's and a sleeping bag on the floor. I feel like I'm living like a squatter in an abandoned home with minimal cable.

Tonight as I emptied out my closet and drawers, I came to the "toys". If you don't know what I mean, you shouldn't be reading this blog...you are too innocent or too young. You may think this is no big deal, but in my mind it is. This isn't simply a "throw it in that box" type of thing...at least not with the way my mind works. My mind asks, do I ship it or do I take it on the road? Wait. When I ask, "Do I take it on the road?" I don't mean it the way of wanting a hotel companion. It's not a necessity on the road like my sunglasses. I mean, do I keep it with the stuff in my car so it can never fall into another person's hands?

While it may sound ridiculous, there are hazards to shipping a vibrator. Hell, I know someone (I almost named you, but think I could permanently scar a particular person if they know you own one) who was simply moving locally and an 18-year old family member was carrying one of her boxes and it started shaking and humming as he carried it. Somehow when he picked up the box, it turned on the vibrator. Needless to say he announced that something in the box was vibrating, and while she could laugh about it, she was quite embarrassed. I've been sending all my boxes through the post office...a post office where they always tell me to "have a blessed day" when I leave. Do you know what this could do to someone who blesses me daily? If my vibrator were to go off in the box when they lifted it, they might try to exorcise my box! Even worse was if it had to be opened in suspicion of a bomb! I can see a picture of me in the box with the bomb squad pulling my vibrator out of cardboard box, the redness of my face unable to be properly displayed since the picture would be black and white.

The other concern of mine is where I'm shipping my stuff. I'm going to be living at my dad's to save and then go to school. Granted, I have the bottom half of the house, and for the most part a lot of privacy, but I can just see the box arriving torn, or he tries to do me a favor by putting stuff away and comes across it. My father is Mormon! It might give him a heart attack! It might make him regret the person I am even more! I mean, the man is already scared of me and according to my mother, has legally made sure that I have no say in any medical choices should he be unable to. This stemmed from a conversation we had after we saw Million Dollar Baby and debated over being kept on life support (I believe in pulling the plug; he believes in miracles). I got really pissed, as I think that is selfish and horrible.

"Well you better not leave that choice up to me because I will trip on that cord and unplug your ass so quick!"

He laughed and said, "Oh trust me, you won't have any say in it!"

I legally don't now. He apparently called my mom to let her know.

So you see what I'm saying? I know he loves me, but I'm not the ideal child to this man in the first place, so I fear shipping it to his house. And let's not forget the mystery that STILL remains when he shipped me pictures I had left at his house in a plastic bin. Thing is, when they arrived they weren't in that bin, but a box. I freaked. I had some old pictures that no one should ever lay eyes on, and as I went through the pictures I realized they were gone. Oh my god! My mind raced as I went through all the pictures again. Oh my god, they weren't anywhere in there! This was bad. This was very bad.

I imagined the whole scenario that surely happened... My father was kindly dumping my plastic bin of pictures into a cardboard box to send to me in my new living abode. While dumping pictures, out came the two that I should have burned years ago...me nude, with a tree painted on my back in body paint all pretty. At least this was not full frontal nudity. But the other one... The other one was of an ex that same night where I had drunkenly graffitied him naked with body paint, writing things like, "F*ck me!" and "S*ck my c*ck!" (obviously not censored though) with an arrow pointing to his junk. My dad either immediately prayed for my sins or quickly burned the pictures himself, concerned that someday these could get out and he must save his daughter from embarrassment. I know it wasn't creepy, but still, it's not something I was mortified. I cannot let anything similar happen again.

As I stood there holding my toy bag, all of this ran through my head. There was no other decision. I put it in my "go in the car" stuff and finished packing. And then I paused and thought, "But what if it rolls out of the car when you open the door at a rest area? Gas station? Hotel?" At least it'd give a fellow traveler an interesting story.

"There was this girl from North Carolina at the station not five minutes ago who got out to pump gas and my god if a vibrator didn't roll out of her car! Poor thing didn't even see it. What's worse is that she had a picture of a naked, graffitied man stuck to her ass. Bet she's been walking around with it there for years!"