Babeland

As this is my fourth post, I deem it necessary to rejoice in the fact that there is one reader of this blog: me. I'm actually kind of relishing that no one has read this--it's some kind of weird turned-against-myself schadenfreude. I might have to start every blog entry documenting my lack of readership simply because it tickles me. Something else that makes me laugh is this story that I've been telling recently:

Two years ago, there was a period of time where I found myself browsing the inventory at Babeland online somewhat frequently (read: daily). I was just trying to acquaint myself with their products. They were promoting a new product(at the time) called Sasi. They were hyping it really hard as a vibrator with sensual intelligence. It's programmable and supposed to simulate oral sex, which personally, I love. When I was reading this, Sasi wasn't available in the US, and Babeland claimed they were going to be the only outlet for this vibrator which cost $185 (now it's $145).

At that time, though it's hard to believe, I had a boyfriend. I was going to the Brooklyn Babeland with the intention of buying him a gift. I opened the door and there was Sasi, in all its glory. Mounted on a plastic altar with a celestial light shining down, and the heavenly choir singing, it had arrived. My face registered Sasi's presence with a look of religious ecstasy. I picked it up and turned it on. I kept looking around the store so I could share my joy with someone, anyone. Then the door opened and I heard someone call my name.

I turned around and it was my landlord who lives below me and who I hear fighting frequently with his family. At this point I've had about 30 different thoughts filtering through my brain some of which included,"oh my god, I'm so embarrassed", "what the fuck is he doing here?", "AWKWARD" and "how do I turn this thing off?". I couldn't turn it off, so I just kind of threw it down. He asked me, "What are you doing here? Are You shopping here?", to which I responded, red as a beet, "Are you?". He glanced around, smirked and then said, "Me? No." Then we said some hasty goodbye and he left. I was mortified.

I turned to the girl who worked there and explained that that was my landlord. Because of the training workers there have, she was unfazed. I had to spell it out for her, "That was really embarrassing". She said, "Well, I guess he shops here too." I tried to save face by making some kind of jokey comment about how there is so much fighting in their apartment, that I hope so. This joke fell pretty flat--to the point where I almost just put the word joke in quotation marks.....

Anyway, because I was already completely discomfited by that encounter, when I asked the woman for help with butt plugs, I couldn't help but giggle. (Honestly, though, butt plug is a ridiculous sounding phrase. Just say it out loud. Can you not giggle a little bit? Try it on the subway and then report back to me.) I just wanted a friendly reassuring smile after my trauma. She just deadpanned and then gave me the educational rundown on butt plugs.

I walked home with my purchase totally dazed. I spent the next day or two trying to puzzle out just what my landlord was doing at Babeland and was totally flummoxed. Had he seen me walking in and came in to say hi and embarrass me? Was he shopping there and seen me and tried to act like he wasn't shopping there? It just didn't make sense because my back was to the door and all he had to do was just walk out.

I was still mildly confused but had mostly forgotten about what had happened a few days later, when there was a knock at my door. It was my landlady and she'd just come to tell me a few things about the apartment. She ended the conversation with, "Can I ask you a personal question?". I said, "okay", and then she asked me if I was expecting. I was completely confused, and said, "no, why?". She said, "well, my husband was at the hardware store and saw you go into the baby store". They thought that "Babeland" was a baby store. Thank goodness Sasi doesn't actually look like a dick.