Simmer down, boys. Pipe down. I realize the title of this entry is making you squirm in or sit on the edge of your seats, in anticipation of a sassy little story to rival even the raunchiest of Playboy Forum emissions submissions, but really, please, save your squirming and edging for another time, ’cause I’m not going to satisfy you that way here. Sorry, but a girl’s gotta have some rules or boundaries. Or at least pretend to.
Besides, if you’ve been here before, you would know that when I write about sucking, I am referring to vacuum cleaners. (You can catch up on all the excitement by going here, which contains links to the saga.) And this time is no different. Only this time I’m here to rave almost lustfully about the magnificent power of my latest machine, the Dyson DC07.
Although I haven’t had it for quite a month yet, I feel confident enough to state that it is, without a shred of an iota of a smidgeon of a doubt, one of the best things to come into my life. Indeed, it knocked my socks off even the first time I used it, which is very high praise, given that very few things have ever knocked my socks off the first time around. In fact, this thing is so impressive that it not only knocks my socks off but puts them back on, adjusts the heels and toes so they fit snugly against my own, and then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, knocks ’em right off again.
It’s that good.