Home Made Vibrator
Earlier this year when I got back from Denmark my Mother bought me a gym membership at our local club. When I say "local" I mean you have to spend at least ten minutes in a car or an hour and a half (for me) on foot - the latter of which utterly negates the point of going there. In any case, I used to be a model gym-goer, attending several times a week for personal training and on my off-days would go walking. Now, however, I've been tested and found seriously wanting. Whereas before I could lift roughly half my weight I can now just feebly struggle and swat at things. As a result of this I've taken up swimming by way of easing myself back into this whole "fitness" crap they keep going on about.
My gym has an awesome pool, made more awesome by its Greco-Roman style, big mirrors (maybe not that awesome, nobody really wants to know how fat or sweaty they are in a bikini), and the Jacuzzi, steam room and sauna. The latter of which baked my phone.
Yes, it baked my phone.
I make a point of getting swim-attired prior to leaving the house, but I also always carry my phone with me. Since I also generally have headphones on along with wearing garments absent of pockets I tend to put it on vibrate and keep it tucked under my bra-strap. On getting to the gym I pulled off my outer clothing and headed straight for the sauna - my first inkling that bad things were going on was when my left breast began to vibrate. At this point I ran at speeds that would make Jamaican sprinters blush straight back to the changing rooms and franticly fumbled for my still quivering phone.
So yes, I baked my phone.
On return to home I took it apart and shoved it all in the airing cupboard with a desperate prayer offered to the God of Please Please Pretty Please that it might work again in the morning. Epic fail.
Any time I have the damn thing plugged in or insert the battery it vibrates rather alarmingly and will do little else. I now have a very pretty, small, black vibrator.
beats the hell out of putting the washing machine on spin I guess.
Fun Felidae Fact: Hopefully going to be at least in the vicinity of Manchester Pride this weekend. Any offers of being my Weighted Companion are up for grabs.
Earlier this year when I got back from Denmark my Mother bought me a gym membership at our local club. When I say "local" I mean you have to spend at least ten minutes in a car or an hour and a half (for me) on foot - the latter of which utterly negates the point of going there. In any case, I used to be a model gym-goer, attending several times a week for personal training and on my off-days would go walking. Now, however, I've been tested and found seriously wanting. Whereas before I could lift roughly half my weight I can now just feebly struggle and swat at things. As a result of this I've taken up swimming by way of easing myself back into this whole "fitness" crap they keep going on about.
My gym has an awesome pool, made more awesome by its Greco-Roman style, big mirrors (maybe not that awesome, nobody really wants to know how fat or sweaty they are in a bikini), and the Jacuzzi, steam room and sauna. The latter of which baked my phone.
Yes, it baked my phone.
I make a point of getting swim-attired prior to leaving the house, but I also always carry my phone with me. Since I also generally have headphones on along with wearing garments absent of pockets I tend to put it on vibrate and keep it tucked under my bra-strap. On getting to the gym I pulled off my outer clothing and headed straight for the sauna - my first inkling that bad things were going on was when my left breast began to vibrate. At this point I ran at speeds that would make Jamaican sprinters blush straight back to the changing rooms and franticly fumbled for my still quivering phone.
So yes, I baked my phone.
On return to home I took it apart and shoved it all in the airing cupboard with a desperate prayer offered to the God of Please Please Pretty Please that it might work again in the morning. Epic fail.
Any time I have the damn thing plugged in or insert the battery it vibrates rather alarmingly and will do little else. I now have a very pretty, small, black vibrator.
beats the hell out of putting the washing machine on spin I guess.
Fun Felidae Fact: Hopefully going to be at least in the vicinity of Manchester Pride this weekend. Any offers of being my Weighted Companion are up for grabs.
And in case anyone else misses it, I did get the washing machine reference. Had to laugh at that one too.