So last night I had the chance to accompany my roommate on an errand that beats all other errands. No pun intended. What errand would that be, you might ask?
Why, a trip to Seattle’s very own Erotic Bakery!
I’ve sampled the goods before, but I’d never actually been inside (and really, I hadn’t truly sampled “goods” – my high school sweetheart’s friend had an older sister who worked there, and once or twice when we were having some stupid drunken party, she’d bring us home their leftovers – but “stale penis cookies” and “goods” are not really synonymous in my mind).
And the funniest part was, we were probably the most “wholesome” customers they’d ever get – because we weren’t shopping for dirty bachelor/ette supplies, but rather, a gift to her mother whose last day of chemotherapy is Monday. My roommate got her mom a boob cake. And not a typical two-boob traditional design, but the ultra-masectomy styled, one-boob-only version. Hilarious. Austere. Stunning.
And the caption? “Breast Wishes”, of course. (C’mon, you saw that coming).
The kicker, though, was how totally humorless the staffer was. He was so dry and bored/ing about the whole thing – I was tickled by some of the merchandise (figuratively) and was running around commenting like a kid in a candy store. When in fact, I was an adult in a confection shop of sorts. And he was so clearly just not amused by his store’s merchandise in the least bit.?? It was like his entire repertoire of boring “erotic” fun was just maxxed out. I have to wonder, does working somewhere like that (or in the sex/porn/stripping industry in any other capacity) just totally sap your sex drive, kind of like working at Starbucks drains you of your love of coffee (so I’ve heard)? His parting line to my roommate when she inquired about the pickup time for her cake was “we’re not particular, we’re not testicular”. Really, don’t you want to at least let your eyes twinkle with mischief just a LITTLE BIT when you say something like that? Come on man, take some pride in your work!