As part of my ongoing reign of terror as a guestblogger at Slate's The XX Factor blog-for-the-ladies, I posted about how I got My Very Own Private Sarah Palin Love Doll. True story! You could fact check it if you could see the semi-deflated Palin inflatable sex doll sitting in the corner near my desk.
Like I said in the post, I looked out the window this AM, and there was the FedEx truck leaving, and I was like OH MY GOD. So I ran downstairs, and because God loves me, I found a note on the door, and the nice delivery man had left my box with my Sarah Palin doll in it behind a potted plant. Anyway, she was hell to blow up--hell, I tell you!--and it gave me a headache. To be perfectly honest, she never fully inflated--partly because my head hurt and partly because I think she has a hole in her left armpit, and there's, like, something wrong with her, where, like, her right arm will not inflate. Very difficult!
If you're a perv, and you are because you read this blog, don't think I'm fool enough to think you come here for my "deep thoughts," you should know that she has, like, a Xeroxed on face of, like, some random chick with brown hair, and a hole for, ya' know, in her mouth, and a hole for, you bet, in her crotch, and a hole for, ooh, she does that, too?, in her butt. My design complaint, and I am sure all kinds of inflatable sex doll designers are reading this with baited breath and wondering what I'll say next, is that, like, the painted on thong thing she's wearing is blue. Shouldn't it have been red? As the kids say: I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, I assure you with the utmost sincerity that nothing untoward happened between me and My Own Private Sarah Palin Love Doll. Except for when she was lying on the floor, and I gave her a kick, which gave me a certain kind of pleasure, assuredly, although it was mostly political and not at all sexual.
In any case, if you want to find out what Sarah Palin and Gloria Steinem have in common, according to me, you can read all about it.
