How I know musicians were sleeping in my bed last night.

Here's a game I like to play in Portland: Hipster or Expert Sex-Toy Technician. I've got my eye on the calm haunter in the back.

I’m subletting a room in my friends’ house right now. They’ve been shooting some big productions and hosting a lot of people at the house lately, and it’s been quite nice to meet so many creative individuals, especially people who might be my neighbors in L.A. But I went out of town for the weekend and returned yesterday to an odd situation. Here are a few things that led me to believe someone had been sleeping in my bed: 1. It was actually made. Like someone had wiped my lunch crumbs out of the bed and laid my bedsheets not diagonally. 2. My laptop was placed neatly on a shelf beside my bed away from moldy tea cups. 3. My vibrator was laid neatly on my laptop, which, as aforementioned, was placed neatly on the shelf beside my bed. You may think, wow, maybe somebody just came in and cleaned up the place, slob. Yeah, that’s part of it. Thanks. But how I knew it was musicians that slept there? the cord of my vibrator had been wrapped correctly to protect it from any kind of twisting damage. Thank you, touring musicians! I really appreciate your consideration for my things! Maybe next time give me a heads up that you’ll be sleeping in my bed, and I’ll remove my sex toys for you.

With proper cord care, your vibrator could last longer than all of your relationships combined.

(This kind of reminds me of the time my friend and I played a show in Portland and had to crash at her friend’s place, where he lived with two other men. When she accidentally left her bra and underwear in the bathroom, we woke up the next morning with them hanging on the doorknob to our room. She turned to me and said, “He must think we don’t fold our panties.”)


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