Rantings of a Pervert

The way I see it, there are three different types of Phone Sex. The first and probably the most desired is that when you and your lover are separated and you call and encourage each other through mutual masturbation. Creating an image in each others mind of what you would like to be doing with them, and how you would be pleasuring them until you both climax and enjoy a wonderful period of afterglow.

Second, there is phone sex with a Professional Phone Sex Operator. This can be pretty incredible, depending on the operator, I direct your attention to NiteFlirt where some of the best of the best hang their hats, and paddles, and panties, did I just say panties? oh yeah, and dildos and . . . I’ll be back in a minute.

Okay, I’m back. Where was I? Oh never mind, I remember, Phone Sex. This is where you can let your wildest fantasies come to life in your mind, no judgment calls, no sideways glances, no worries, just an enjoyable time with a playmate who, seem to really enjoy what they do. At least the ones I call do.

That brings us to the third, and final form of Phone Sex. If you know of another, please let me know. This is the bad kind of phone sex, the phone sex you are are not looking for nor are you pleased when when you get it. This is the phone sex that I wanted to talk about today.

I recently purchased a television, bought it from Walmart and it was their store brand ILO which stands for Initial Technologies (I don’t know how they get ILO out of it either). It was a 32″ HDTV and I got it all set up and working. The picture probably wasn’t the best, but from what I had before it was exceptional. Everything was just peachy and I could stay up till all hours of the night watching reruns on TV Land.

My peachy picture of paradise was shattered about 100 days later when the picture just went away, and I had no sound. Hmmm, maybe cable is having a problem. A quick check of the other TV put that thought to rest. I finally came to the sad realization that my new Television just died.

No worries, I got it at Walmart, it’s just up the street. I’ll just call them to find out how I need to bring it in to swap it for one that works. Oh I haven’t forgotten, this is a story about phone sex, bear with me for a minute cause this is where it starts. . .

“Oh no sir,” he said, “We don’t accept in-store returns after 90 days.” Damn! That was a bit uncomfortable, I don’t think he used any lube. According to the store manager, they will have someone come out to the house and fix it for me. Well, that feels a little better anyway. I got comfortable with a frosty beverage and prepared to make the call to customer service.

I spent a festive half-hour on the phone with Kunja of Bombay only to find out that the home of the Kama Sutra is also the home of phone rape. I would have to package the television back up, and send it back to them in order for them to fix it. Of course I didn’t have my box so they gladly sold me one for 10 bucks. Now, I have to wait for the box to get here and the call tag then package it all back up and ship it back to them. My ass was definitely a bit sore.

Four weeks later, after the whole ordeal, my television returns and I carefully unpack it and get it set up. Gathering a frosty beverage to my bosom and gleefully sitting down in front of my newly refurbished 32″ HDTV I tune into the Cartoon Network to watch some quality Tom and Jerry. The television lasts almost through the first cartoon before going black again. Geez! Kunja must have left that in me!

I called customer service again, this time it was Kunja’s sister who answered the phone, and she was evidently unaware that my television had just been there the week before. I finally convinced her to put Kunja on the phone and I went off on him. I screamed and shouted and threw the phone up in the air and it didn’t seem to affect him at all.

Kunja promised that they would email me a call tag so I could send the TV back immediately and told me that they would send me a new TV instead of repairing the old one. Somewhat mollified I agreed and hung up heading for my computer to check my email for my call tag, which, by the way, never showed up.

Now I will readily admit that I don’t have a life, sitting in front of my computer and clicking on the check mail button is actually an entertaining evening for me. The next morning slumped over the keyboard, my bleary eyes open slowly and my hand instinctively reaches over and clicks the check mail button, but to no avail. Still nothing from ILO.

I managed to get myself ready and went to work, where I checked all day off and on to see if the call tag had arrived, but it never did, so when I got home I called them back only to find out now that they didn’t email call tags. I raised the roof on their end. . .again, finally told them that I was going to file a complaint with the BBB and hung up.

I don’t know what they were using on me, but it was a bit more significant than a french tickler. I spent the next hour or so filing a complaint with the BBB, and waited.

It was only about a week before I got the call tag and got the television packed back up and shipped back. I also received a response from my complaint at the BBB. It seems that now they said that they do not replace televisions, they only repair them. So now everything that Kunja told me was just a fig newton of his imagination, and they weren’t going to do anything to take care of my complaint. I said as much in my reply to their response, and proceeded to write a note going over the whole thing to the President of Walmart, the largest most powerful retailer in the world and let them know just how po’d I was.

Now I am just waiting to find out if I am going to get a reach around after this ass reaming! I’ll let you know if I do.

More Later::The Perv