|Don't do this in public|
|The Scrat Position|
The jerking-shivering-spasms take you to another level. One minute you're looking like Scrat from Ice Age, and the next you're looking like the extreme rabid version of Scrat as you shiver, jerk awkwardly, spasm, and unbeknownst to you, slobber from the corner of your widely gaping mouth. Afterwards, it can make you feel like a failure to society and to the advancement of all mankind.
Product description is as follows: Spine-tingling bliss. The Tingler gently massages the scalp, touching acupressure points to create goosebumps and shivers of delight. It causes a heightened, blissful activation of the senses, awakening your brain while relaxing your whole being. Lots of folks say their headaches disappear. All we know is that it's the most divine, relaxing, goosebumpy, erotic, friend-making, healing Head Massager ever made. If you want something that gives you goose-bumps and exhilarating, toe-curling pleasure that you can still do in public, this is it!
If you've placed some sort of value on your reputation- or life; if you have a modicum of pride in being of higher intelligence than, oh, an amoeba; do not host any sort of "tingler" party for "friend-making" purposes. You may end up showing your Scrat-face to everyone. Do not be fooled into thinking you can carry this in your purse or use this device in public without risk of incarceration for possession of a weapon or for lewd and inappropriate behavior.
Against all said contradictions, hubby swears by this device saying it delivers a pleasureable head massage worthy of its $20 pricetag. I beg to differ. Maybe it's a difference in hormones, hair length, or surface area, but whenever this contraption "tingles" my head, after assuming the Scrat position for several seconds, I develop an overwhelming desire to go on a feral rampage to rip fluffy things apart with my incisors. I tend to look more like this:
While hubby is the king of Narnia, I internalize the likeness of Wolverine with his mutant claws slowly scraping its way down a chalkboard while transforming into Freddy Krueger.
Perhaps you would find it easier to relate this to a popular emo chick flick- Twilight? Because hubby is Edward gleefully frolicking through the forest with Bella.
|Edward- staring at Bella's carotid artery|
|Is that... is that lice?!|
It's because as we lie in bed at night prepared to sleep, I must weave this contraption around and around hubby's head until my arm trembles from muscle fatigue, until my fingers become numb, until my eyelids feel like they've been forsaken from their God-given duty to close. While I may not enjoy "Wizard" stimulating my scalp nerves, hubby is enthralled with it so much so that I am appointed the high role of head masseuse several nights a week. After a great deal of whining, tantrum-throwing, moaning and groaning about the good old days before the "Wizard" came into existence, I have the energy and mental capacity for 30 seconds-worth of head massaging with this device before my arm flops down dead and lifeless on the bed. I then move onto more important things- like sleep. Sometimes I am prompted to continue, and sadly, the cycle only repeats itself. Hubby frowns upon my inconsiderate and rebellious nature, of which I cannot deny.
I must therefore remind myself that hubby gives this wifey lengthy massages without complaint, nor eye rolls nor pouts of annoyance. If hubby is capable of such selflessness, surely I, then, should be able to take a spider-wizard torture-device look-alike and give back to the good hubby an equal measure of the good wife.