Caps-Lock; the modern-day stress ball.
.. so I was moving boxes around a little while ago, when out of one of them sprang a hot pink, eleven inch vibrator.
I checked the boxes, and all of them seemed to be sealed. So I have no idea where it came from.
So now I have a giant pink dildo in my desk drawer. What seems especially wrong about it isn't that it's a giant dildo, so much as that it's a giant hot pink dildo. If there's a Platonic ideal of the wrong color for a schlong to be, this is it.
After inserting it into... I mean, sliding it... after placing the phallus into my desk drawer, I discovered another open package beside my desk, unrelated to the earlier boxes. This one contains, uh.... well, what appears to be a device for a similar purpose, for people of the opposite sex. What's with the sudden influx of sexual paraphenalia?! (Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Just curious.)
I feel like I should give the toys some time alone together, or something.
All I could think was "man, I want some onion rings." I tried to shake the idea from my head, but it kept getting stronger. David Sedaris tastes better with ONION RINGS. I bet William Faulkner wrote the sound and the fury about DEEP FRYING BREADED ONIONS. It was terrible, I had to leave.
Now I am frying rings of onions. I will soon be in bliss.