Kathy Goes to the Museum

Okay, a housekeeping note first: I, Kathy Jameson, being of sound mind...rats, wrong crib sheet. I finagled my way into being an author on Rhianon's Journal - not that I have any complaints about her work in editing, and sometimes writing up, my travels, but sometimes it's easier say it directly. We'll see what works.

To tonight's travels. Once I heard of it, I had to see the Museum of Sex Furniture. Am I right? Come on, folks, with a name like that, I had to go. (And no worries, it's all workplace safe.)

First things first: I didn't try out any of the exhibits. Honest. I won't swear that I haven't seen any of these before, but...a girl's got her secrets, okay?

Anywho, I must say that I was totally at sea about some of the devices. This one, for example:

Looks like a milking device for a cow. What's that all about?

And this thing. It's an outhouse. Primative loo. This is supposed to be a sex museum? Maybe I've just lived a sheltered life.

And I'm totally clueless on this one.


This one, I get: you can roast yourself on a spit. Ouch. But where's the sex? Is it now considered sexy to become barbeque?

I left confused. But there was a second museum to visit this evening...

(To be continued.)