rolling numbers, rock & rolling, got my KISS records out

There are a few reasons why I'd want to be a celebrity:

• One - The opportunity to nest myself into Bono's inner circle. Believe me. I can do the whole compassionate and caring thing. You want me to wear a red tshirt and hobnob? I'll drape myself in them, Mr. Hewson. I believe!


• Second - My signature already has the making of a great autograph. I sometimes practice it while on the telephone. Sometimes I'm "Mrs. Hewson." Why? Because I'm a 14 year old girl.


• Finally - I want to make it my hobby to attend award shows. Any award show, from the Oscars to the stuntman awards or whatever knock off thing there is going on. Not because of the opportunity to wear couture fashion and drip diamonds, though. Nope.

I want to be a celebrity for the free swag. Seriously. Who other than a celebrity with their multi-million dollar film contracts and such actually needs another 80 GB iPod, week long spa retreats, $2,500 sunglasses and designer shoes?

Me, that's who.

So I have to admit it was with a bit of intrigue that I opened my email Monday to an invitation from a reputable adult toy and novelty company to review products for their website. How do I know it's reputable? I do things on the web other than browse your blogs, my pumpkins. In fact, I'd spent a pretty big chuck of Sunday on said company's site.

Because sure, God would've wanted me to.

While I'm not certain how I cropped up on their radar, anyone browsing my site would learn I've a fondness for my small cache of toys. Cripes, my beloved dolphin and bullets could very well be co-authors here (however, they are on brief holiday after this morning). My fondness for my bedside beauties is so great that you might be inclined to taunt "If you love them so much, why don't you marry 'em?" But than that would make me think of these as "marital aids," and while they can be and have been, thinking of them as such would then make me think of my parents (shudder) and my enthusiasm for these vibrating and bouncy toys actually wains.

But just for a bit. Because seriously, I do love them. Like a fat kid loves cake. With pink frosting.

Give me a moment...

OK.

So my question is this. If you got such an invitation, coupled with an addendum about being paid a small fee for your opinions, and were told your mail would begin to contain discreetly packaged boxes filled with tingling treasures (Heh...I'm leaving that last part in. Because I may actually be a 14 year old boy instead!), would you accept? If it only involved taking something and using it for an activity you already do, would you yell out, "Oh God! Yes! Yes!"

(btw, my 14 year old boy self? Name is Spencer. My friends just call me Spence. Or "D-Spence" 'cause I'm always busting out with the killer sex references)

I have to admit, there's a part of me that wants to give it a whirl.

A really big part that resides comfortably below my neck, at least.

But here's a little conundrum. Say you have a spouse who may or may not know about your blog and who may or may not read it, but has definitely never said anything about it to you. Would you tell them you'd gotten an offer like this, or just make it appear as if you had a running tab at the neighborhood "lingerie shop" (which is what they're called in the suburbs so they can be right outside your backyard)?

I'm leaning toward inquiring deeper (what up, D-Spence!).

Not just because I like to say "swag" and have an inquiring mind, but because I've had my eye on an item that would actually allow me to achieve something just a little deeper.

Or, I'm just a sucker. But good girls like me and my 14 year old self don't talk about that on the internet!