Fetishes. It makes people what they are, really. You could tell alot about people if you knew what rocks their socks off. What hits them the right way, how pleasant and content they feel when they put on a diaper, wank over their Sneakers, and then shove a barbie doll up their ass so to speak for that cherry on top flavor. All they have to do from there is wipe themselves off with a tissue and go on with their lives, go back to your cubicle monotone blue collar mine digging job you call a life.

But no, none of that for me, I might enjoy the next psuedopregnagangyiffkake as the next person, but I’m talking about qtips. Yes. Fucking Q-tips. pieces of strung together cotton on a bendy paper stick, wound together roughly 20 to 30 times then lined seamlessly with non-toxic adhesive, all bundled in a neat 100, 200 or if you’re like me, 500 pack of these babies. I love them. they’re like endless sex. And unlike sex or touching yourself, there’s no climax with this habit, oh no. That means the pleasure never ends. Fucking hell, you can put a qtip in each ear. There’s your damn double penetration you perverts.

You need to get in there for it to actually be pleasant. Which means ignoring the safety warning that says “DEAR GOD DON’T PUT THIS SHIT IN YOUR EAR CANAL YOU MAY ANSWER A PHONE WHILE HAVING IT ON AND NAIL IT INTO YOUR BRAIN” Which would be an obscure, unusual response, since disclaimers aren’t that long.

If you can, shower first, it gets everything moist and makes it more enjoyable. From there, you simply and easily guide the swab in, and if you feel like you’re so afraid of perforating your eardrum, twist the cotton loosely and fluff it up, bam. You’ll have roughly a centimeter of room to work with before you sink that thing into your cognitive skills part of your cerebellum.

I was in the military once, out in the woods. Guess what I did when I stared out into the stars while I wished I was somewhere else? Other than touching one’s self? Okay whatever. I think I would know what I’m talking about. I’ve been doing this for all my life, and I can self claim to be a professional q-tip technician, just like my mom.

The addiction is so bad, I wish they made cigarette sized boxes to tote them around in, so they wouldn’t spoil in my pockets; Like how they normally do.