1 — Fifty Shades of Grey Line $20 to $99
For the past 25 years I’ve been pouring bleach on colored clothing and purposely destroying some of my family’s favorite garments, all in a diabolical plot to avoid being asked to ever do laundry. I am inherently lazy. Not for all things, mind you, just peasant work. My philosophy has always been if I do a task so indisputably awful, no one will ever ask me to do it again. And it’s worked. In my 40 years on this planet I have probably only done laundry four times, for four different people, and they quickly learned I’m a lost cause and not to bother. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” my wife asked when we first got together. I knew she was The One so I let her in on my secret, to which she responded, “Now that you’ve told me you sabotage the laundry you can no longer pull that move.” “Try me,” I said. “I will always dump the bleach! I don’t care if you know. I told you because I love you and I don’t want to ruin your pretty clothes. But I will. If I have to. But now that you have the information you can save yourself by never asking me to do laundry.” She hasn’t. To feel better about my personal bleaching of America, I tell myself that my poor performance only helps to validate the hard work of those that do laundry really well.

I believe that was the thinking behind the making of the first Fifty Shades of Grey movie. The sex in the film was so vanilla puritanical that it actually did what the producers set out to do: send moviegoers home to have unbridled, carnal-circus sex. Granted, the sex (and most likely babies) that resulted from watching the film did not come from inspiration but rather from a nation of sexual peacocks saying, in a Crocodile Dundee voice, “That’s not dirty! This is dirty!” I remember giggling in the theater at the black couple next to us who scoffed at the sex scenes, yelling, “Y’all bullshit! You don’t even know how we get down!” I watched as couple after couple exited the theater after having bleach dumped on their kink, hands on each other’s asses, eager to go home and show the world what it means to get dirty. (How a studio asked for a sequel is still beyond me…) 

Here’s the deal: I don’t know how to do laundry and I’m not going to try, but I’m smart enough to defer to people that do. Fifty Shades author E. L. James cannot write kink. I’m not sure if she’s aware of how unstimulating her books are to anyone that has ever had passionate intercourse in the last 100 years, due to her skewed success with the Cobwebbed Pussy Club demographic, but one thing I’ll give her credit for is being smart enough to realize she doesn’t know anything about sex-toy manufacturing and deferring to a knowledgeable and reputable brand, like Love Honey, to produce the introductory bondage line of Fifty Shades sex toys. From the restraint kits to the vibrating butt plug to the steel wand to the Trust Me Spreader Bar & Cuff Set, they’re all top-of-the-line, quality items that I’d absolutely buy for my wife because of my trust in the Lovehoney brand name. I imagine if E. L. James actually made her own line of kink toys you’d get a shoelace restraint, a paper bag blindfold, a rosé wine cork butt plug, cheeseburger-flavored edible underwear, and a selfie stick riding crop. Luckily for all of us, Lovehoney knows what the fuck they’re doing so you need not worry about your lady’s pussy smelling like a patty melt.
Rating: 9 lovehoney.com

2 — Womanizer $219
I knew this older guy growing up that truly thought he understood life, love, and women. He’d constantly try to pass on his wisdom to me. Most of his advice was absurd bullshit; things like, “A pussy is supposed to smell bad. If it doesn’t that means she just took it to the doctor’s and there’s something wrong with it,” and “Chicks with braces give the best head because they overcompensate,” or “Never tell a girl you love her because once you do she’ll poke a hole in your condoms and make you get her pregnant without telling you.” I generally disregarded his insight — I really only hung out with him because he was old enough to buy beer. But there was one thing he said that I think is a very true and helpful guideline to offer a young man on his way through life, and that was, “Before you get married you have to make sure you fuck one of every type of girl. That way when you close your eyes when you’re banging your wife, you can imagine any woman in the world. Like a mental Rolodex.” Now, when he said “one of every type” I believe he meant: an older woman, a virgin, a blonde, a redhead, a redneck, a Muslim, a J.A.P., a Jap, a Puerto Rican, a mom, a married chick, an anorexic chick, and so on. I thought, This is a great goal to set for myself. I’m happy to say that over my lifetime I’ve successfully had a wide variety of women kind enough to welcome me into their bodies, ladies of every race and nationality, from midgets to lofty professional basketball players, hairy-bushed, unshaved-armpit hippies to completely hairless cancer patients. The funny thing is that the guy who started me on my quest so many years back with all his “wisdom” and “understanding” of the opposite sex started his “to-do” list with an unattractive, portly white chick and never got any further. I think he’s married to her to this day. I imagine when he closes his eyes he sees nothing, save for the fires of hell (which I imagine is a big ol’ disgusting Outback Steakhouse…). 

When this futuristic vibrator called the Womanizer arrived for my wife, I instantly thought back to how convincing that loser was in my formative years and how nearly every word was nothing but horseshit, and it made me want to call bullshit on how the Womanizer’s superior, revolutionary technology “makes it possible to stimulate the clitoris without direct contact, thus avoiding overstimulation and hypersensitivity.” My wife, on the other hand, had already removed it from the package and was sold–hook, line, and sinker. “This might be the greatest vibrator of all time,” she said as she took it on its maiden voyage. “I’d like to try one in every color,” she screamed from the bedroom as she absolutely, without a doubt, was thinking about me and no one else…
Rating: 10 womanizer.com