An Ex Dildo Saleswoman...

If I told you I used to sell dildos as a living, would you believe me? Probably not; however it isn't entirely far from the truth - in fact, it's pretty much spot on. 
The other day I was standing at the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth and hurling daft insults at Scott because that's what we do for fun kiddos. Anyone else? Out of nowhere, Scott blasted me with, "Shut up you ex dildo saleswomen!" I chuckled at the sheer stupidity of it until it slowly dawned on me that I had in fact received money for the sale of  little, plastic sex sticks. Or, not so little, plastic sex sticks, more often than not. There you have it folks, at nigh on 27 years old, I realised that I'd been lying on my C.V. all these years. There's a small spot, circa 2007, in which I'd dabbled in the sex industry. Ha, hark at me, in reality, I'd worked as a party girl for Ann Summers, which, (if you've never had the pleasure, oo-er!) usually involves only being allowed to call your best mate a horrifically crude name and getting face-deep in whipped cream, trying to pick up Maltesers with your mouth. So, just your average Saturday night pre-drink really. 
For about six months, I paved my way down this career path lined with butt plugs and lube; although career path is probably a tad ambitious. I guess it was just a fun way of earning some dosh whilst I was studying, plus I'd always been a bit of an underwear hoarder, in a non-creepy, Channel Four documentary kind of way. Bras and knicks are technically still clothing in my books, and anything that comes on a hanger, isn't to be scoffed at, and Ann Summers do, or did do some pretty pants back in the day, you know, if you step away from the leather, crotchless, whip-wielding kind.
So there you have it, Weird Fact About Me Wednesday, maybe we could kick-start a mini-series as such? That is, if you've made it reading this far. I may have sent some of you screaming for the hills. It's funny how even the most innocent of sentences become twisted when you're writing on a topic such as this. Yes, 'anything that comes on a hanger' wasn't lost on me either. Apologies times a billion for anyone whose cup of tea has been sprayed across their desk at speed, I'll be back with something a touch more PG tomorrow. 
Until then, I'm going to sit back and watch the weird and wonderful Google searches come rolling in.