I'm not a freak. I'm surprisingly not overly disappointed by this.

I mean, maybe I wish I was freakier. Maybe I could have been freakier if I had come from a different gene pool or had different life exposures.

What brought on this not-so-shocking revelation? We decided to go to the sex store tonight. It was totally random but Scott suggested it and I was like okay.

They've got weird stuff there. Things I am pretty sure I would not want to meet the person in whom they would fit. Like a life sized rubber fist.

Man sized fist.

Scary big fist.

And why are the costumes so darned expensive? I mean, they're really cheap quality and it's not like you have them on long. Do they charge that much because they can? Because they have to make up in price what they lack in volume of sales? It's puzzling. But it's just not worth $60 to me to be a naughty nurse.

I mean, maybe if I could charge someone whose money doesn't share a bank account with mine...

And then there was the porn. Wow. 7 levels of scary there. Old lady porn, porn filmed by secret camera, anal sex porn, fat girl porn -- who wants to see this?

Don't tell me -- I don't want to know.

Right now the only porn we have access to is the soft core Skin-a-max kind. Not enough sex and too much really bad story line. And I think I'm the only person lame enough to actually get sucked in to the bad story line and want to know how it turns out.

Speaking of which, Emanuelle and The Alien Sex Slaves is about to come on -- so I've got to dash.