Weather Balloons Make Rotten Sex Toys by Annabelle du Fouet

Posted by Mrs Giggles on May 12, 2005 in 3 Oogies, Book Reviews, Genre: Humor & Parody / 0 Comments

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Weather Balloons Make Rotten Sex Toys by Annabelle du Fouet
Weather Balloons Make Rotten Sex Toys by Annabelle du Fouet

Cerridwen Press, $5.95, ISBN 1-4199-0252-0
Humor, 2005


As a parody, Weather Balloons Make Rotten Sex Toys is supposed to the result of a young woman’s misadventures as she tries to make an academic study of the whole alternative lifestyle thing. The humor relies very heavily on the heroine comes off like a sheltered very young girl approaching the whole thing the way a little girl will look at an elephant for the first time in her life. She is completely cluesless, taking double entendrés literally. She’s supposed to be a PhD holder, mind you. How sad.

Bookshelves lined Uncle Henry’s den, not surprising since he read voraciously. Glancing at the hundreds of books, I decided to pack them first and as I pulled the volumes from the shelves one-by-one, I couldn’t help but glance at some of the titles. The ABCs of BDSM. Uncle Henry always did like word games. Fun with Whips. Obviously, some sort of cookbook about dessert toppings. Leather and Loving It. I remembered Aunt Ruth going on about how Uncle Henry was a “leather freak” and how he liked to hang out with his “sick friends”. Knowing Uncle Henry, he probably liked to make craft items for friends who were in the hospital.

The bulk of this book is our clueless heroine’s research paper on alternative sexual lifestyle under headers like Kink 101 and A Brief Overview of Kink History. The constant punchline here is that the heroine, in her inability to see beyond the literal meanings of double entendrés and jargons associated with alternative sexual lifestyle, always gets things wrong.

BJ: I heard this term frequently on my research travels, usually contained in a sentence such as: “Hey baby, how about a BJ?” As far as I can tell, it must refer to a bologna and jelly sandwich.

BT: Ball torture. I was never able to discern if this pertains to a certain type of ball, such as a baseball or tennis ball, or is an all-inclusive term for any ball.

CBT: Cock-and-ball torture. Ball torture again but this time including a rooster in the act, I believe. Someone will have to explain how this works.

CP: Corporal punishment. Why corporals? Why not sergeants or captains? May be involved in the military aspect of discipline, as noted above.

GS: Golden showers. As far as I can tell, this has something to do with utilizing honey while taking a shower. Perhaps it’s good for the hair.

PA: Prince Albert. I know England’s royal family has had their problems, but I have a hard time envisioning this fine gentleman dressed in rubber and clutching a riding crop while chasing the Queen around Buckingham Palace.

Okay, the Prince Albert is pretty funny, but the rest is touch-and-go as far as I’m concerned. But that’s pretty much my reaction with this book. Sometimes I groan.

Many tops refer to themselves as a dom (if they’re male) or domme (female) or even domdomme if they’re one of those transformers who get confused about the gender thing. A neophyte kinkster should learn early on how to distinguish between a dom and a domme if one wishes to avoid trouble. One easy way to make the distinction is by asking the dominant their name. If the name begins with Sir, chances are you’ve got a dom. Similarly, if the name begins with Lady, the person is quite likely a domme. I don’t know what to tell you about the transformers.

Sometimes I laugh.

No self-respecting dom or domme would want to be known as Sir Hubert or Mistress Hortense. Therefore, a fierce moniker must be selected. The most popular choices are those that imply power and/or evil. This is why so many doms are called Master Unpleasant, Sir Lash-a-Lot or Lord Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Likewise, many dommes opt for such names as Mistress Savage, Lady Surly or Ms. Spiteful. Sometimes a compound name is used, such as Lord IronWad or Lady CrazedPsycho.

Sometimes I howl with laughter until my sides ache.

When kinky relationships were still a new thing—in approximately 612 BC, before kink was all over the Internet and some of the smuttier cable networks—people would often get confused and a dominant would end up with another dominant or a submissive with another submissive. Not only did this prove unsatisfying in terms of anyone getting their needs met, it turns out that while submissives often get along quite well with one another, dominants tend to despise other dominants. This transcript from one of the sessions of the Professional Order of Perverts (POOP) convention is illustrative:

“Good evening, and welcome to the Professional Order of Perverts’ International Council of Masters. I am your leader, Lord ThunderSteel.”

“Leader? The hell you are!”

“Yeah, who died and made you boss? How would you like a taste of the whip, big boy?”

“I am Sir SteelThunder! I take orders from no one, especially Lord ThunderSteel! On your knees, pretender to the throne!”

“Shut up, male worm! I am Mistress Steel Heel! No puny male will ever rule the Council of Masters!”

“A mere woman dares to speak without permission? Assume position thirty-five point six as described in the Gor manual! Or was that the Klingon dictionary? I forget.”

“Ahoy, mateys. I be Captain Tidepool, master of the good ship Wynona. Where be the seminar on keelhauling? Arrrrr.”

“Everyone shut up! Lord ThunderSteel commands it! I am your leader! I have this badge that says so!”

“We don’t need no stinking badges!”

“My badge says I’m the Emperor.”

“Shut up, you twerp.”

“Everybody shut up! I got a tattoo on my butt that says I’m Lord ThunderEmperor!”

“I’ll tattoo your butt, you slimy piece of male shit. Get on your knees and worship my heels!”

“Go make me some coffee, bitch!”

“That’s it! I’ve had it! Stand still while I stick these needles in your inferior male scrotum!”

“Come on, everyone! Pleeeeaase! Just let me be the leader! Do you know how much time it took me to think up the name Lord ThunderSteel? That ought to count for something!”

You get the idea. I’m sure some people won’t appreciate the fact that the author lumps practitioners of alternative sexuality with the best of the more insane Star Trek fans out there, but this book is obviously not meant to be taken seriously. When this book is on the roll, it’s side-splittingly hilarious. The advice section is particularly not to be read in public unless you don’t mind people looking at you.

That’s not to say that this book is on the whole very successful. It’s hit-and-miss (for example, the explanation of how Atlantis sank has a flat punchline where I’m concerned but the comparison to Las Vegas at the same time tickles me) but on the whole, I have a most entertaining time with this book.

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Cantankerous muffin who loves boys that sparkle, unicorns, money, chocolates, and fantastical stories.

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