The shrinks have a word for it: Obsessive-Compulsive. When Crystal Ray was a kid, her concerned mama had her on the couch thinking there was smth very weird to Crystal's insistence that the family cars be parked in alphabetical order. Her trimmed bangs had to hang evenly, measured precisely by a geometric instrument. The Buster Brown shoes had to be spit-shined. Clothing had to be hung in a closet starched, creased and according to a defined sequence. Eventually living with Crystal was like being on a military base, and this babe'd have shit fits if things were not found in their proper place. This might have been looked upon as idiosyncratic had it not extended into Crystal's sex life. To Crystal's way of thinking each hole had to have occupancy, each hole had to be loaded up. Know what they say about psycho chicks giving the superlatively good sex? There it is in a nutshell.