Why it is so much fun to be me, reason # 812

It is Friday morning, I'm sitting naked reading e-mails and sipping coffee. On the table next to me is a fucking machine. A fucking machine that yesterday was located in my dominatrix girlfriend's dungeon but after a quick text message exchange that went something like this:
"Can I borrow the fuck-zal? Got a special request for one this weekend"
"Sure, I'll bring it tonight. U need attachments? I've got small, medium and a BATTERING RAM"
"Um, C. All of the above?"

Oh and I'm eating cold pizza for breakfast, too.