Pop, whirr, no thank you, sir.

Dear Mr. Buford,

Yesterday I was cleaning my apartment when I opened a drawer and pulled a strange little white box out from under all of the clothing in the drawer.  Inside the box was this:

I’m sure you recall your 2005 invention, your (hopefully) one and only contribution to the arena of adult massagers, The Happy Kitty.  And how did I come to own this, you might ask?

In December of 2005, my boyfriend at the time came across an article in Wired, in which the reviewer raves about the revolutionary nature of this vibrator, and you make a list of tried and true sex toys which the Happy Kitty, without a doubt, tops.  This was all very interesting to my boyfriend, who showed me the article, and then presented me with my own Happy Kitty less than a month and a half later, on Valentine’s Day.  I never asked how much he spent on it, but I knew from the article that you were planning on accepting about $100 for the toy in the States.  At this point, it doesn’t really matter how much he spent on it, but I have to tell you, sir, that when I found that thing in the back of a bottom drawer, shoved back into its box in pieces, I remembered its failure on Valentine’s Day 2006, and our disappointment in it.  That made me angry, and that made me wonder just how much cash you got from my boyfriend.  That made me think about all of the other things he could have bought for me that might have been cool, that might not be sitting at the bottom of the dumpster behind my house right now.

Let’s talk about the design, shall we?  Have you ever used a vagina, sir?  You can’t actually just make a vibrator in the shape of a vagina and expect it to do its job.  I mean, that’s like banging two donuts together to start a fire.  You need a MATCH if you want to set a donut on fire.  And let me tell you, Mr. Buford, the Happy Kitty has never, ever, not once, set this girl’s donut on fire.  This toy’s amazing list of failures makes me wonder if you’ve ever actually pleased a woman.  I highly doubt it, sir.  However, the Wired article contains a note to the opposite:

“Jonathan’s girlfriend is as involved in this invention as he is, having the very difficult job of testing prototypes and sending Jonathan back to the lab time and time again.”

Well, sir, your girlfriend is a damn liar.  I hope you dumped her ass and found someone who wasn’t too emotionally invested in your feelings of success to tell you the damn truth about whatever you’re mashing into her cooch.  Either that, or your lady friend has some kind of space-age freak vagina that nobody else in the world has, and this toy was created just for her.  Clearly, that is the answer.

While I’ve noticed that your website is no more, and that Happy Kitty toys never made it to a second run, and are not being sold by any major adult toy retailer at this time, I’ve decided to give you some pointers on where you went wrong with the Happy Kitty, just in case you plan on improving it in the future.  (In that case, I expect a freebie, because of the crap one.  Only fair.)

1.  The thing sounds like a goddamn baby rattle.  Seriously.  LOUD as SHIT.

2.  It looks like a vagina gun.  As in, a gun that looks like a vagina.  Or a vibrator that looks like a vagina that looks like a toilet.  Not cute.

3.  What did you think I was going to do with the backpack carrying case it came with?  Carry it around with me everywhere?  Like, on my back?  The fuck is wrong with you?

4.  Please do not name vibration speeds after dances.  It’s so fucking annoying I can’t concentrate.  And I don’t really know the goddamn difference between a samba and a cha-cha.  As far as I’m concerned, they both suck because they don’t get me off.

I hope you take all of these notes into consideration, Mr. Buford, before you attempt to design another product for special lady parts.  Also, I hope this letter inspires you to give me a refund for whatever my boyfriend spent on this stupid piece of shit.  And send it to me, because I’m the one who really suffered.

Don’t be a twat.  Just learn how they work.