Squeezee Wonder Wiener

Warning: Contains suggestive content that might not be suitable for minors.

As a nine-year old, the highlight of my day came around 11 am when the mailman stopped by with letters and junk mail. Every day was a delight;  if I wasn’t receiving a letter from one of my fifteen international PenPals or my National Geographic subscription, I would at least get my beloved Oriental Trading catalogue. I spent many hours browsing through that brochure of shoddily-manufactured products, wishing that I was old enough to have a credit card so I could buy a gross of glow in the dark necklaces and Squeezee Wonder Wieners (those 80′s toys that would “slide, slip & slither” out of your hands). Yes, I know I had big dreams.

One afternoon, I spotted the giant pile of mail on the kitchen table and make an immediate run for it. After tossing  three bills on the floor, I spotted a catalogue that had the words TOYS written on the front with the words ”NEW GLOW IN THE DARK PRODUCTS!” printed in giant block letters on the corner. It was sealed, so I ripped it open to discover a big glow-in-the-dark Squeeze Wonder Wiener prominently featured in the first few pages.

I presented the publication proudly to my mother. “Anyu, Anyu, can I PLEASE have this? I know I’m not old enough for a credit card, but can I please have this? It glows-in-the-dark and glow-in-the-dark is my favorite color!”

“Jaj!* Oh, noooooooooooooooooo…” (*A Hungarian expression of surprise that does not translate well. See also: Jaj definition on Hunglish.org.)

My mother tore the catalogue out of my hand and immediately called my aunt, speaking in Romanian so I could not understand them. I hid in the corner, trying to understand why she was so upset.

Anyu called in my aunt, who started inspecting the catalogue, pacing and frowning and muttering all over the place. “I can’t believe it’s addresses to her! We’ve got to call dem and put a stop to dis,” she said.  She dialed a long stream of numbers on our old rotary phone. “Yes, I vant to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Xan…Xani…Xandi? No, I am not a prank caller…”

My mother grabbed the phone from her hand, “You’re sending my young daughter porno magazines!”

“What’s a porno magazine?” I asked.

“Jaj!” my aunt and mother both screamed. They didn’t see that I had come back into the room.

My aunt looked at me straight in the eye, “It’s a magazine filled with really scary pictures of all of the things you hate, Stephie! If you look at it, Jesus will know and he’ll cry and then you’ll go to hell.”

From that point on, I only looked at the Oriental Trading catalogue in secret. And then I prayed for forgiveness.

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered that the catalogue had been the XandriaCollection, one of the largest distributors of [adult] toys and novelty items in the USA. Looks like I asked my mom to buy me a glow-in-the-dark dildo. Jaj.

You see, what I REALLY wanted was this: