Miscellaneous Bullshit
It seems that it has been a while since I have written anything worth reading on my blog. I doubt that will change with this entry, but I figure my one reader is tired of looking at a retarded picture of a sock dangling on my equipment. So, I will just make this a little update of what's been going on in my life.
T.B. contacted me a short time ago. She came online and asked if we could be friends. I replied "that depends." When she wanted to know what "depends" meant, I said, "on who this is." I did not want to get into it with her freaky, Chunk obsessed boyfriend. She convinced me that it was her and I told her that it would be great to be able to talk to her again, but what about her relationship with psycho boy. She told me "There is no relationship." Like I didn't see that coming. I haven't heard from her since, so I'm not sure what is going on there. I'm glad she isn't dealing with Mr. Over Possessive though.
The little sweetheart that I'm calling my girlfriend (whether she likes it or not) did the nicest thing for me yesterday. She called and asked what my address was. I thought "this is odd, she has been to my house a dozen times." I tried to be a half-assed jerk-wad about it, don't ask me why, but eventually gave her my address. Turns out that "Sugah" bought me tickets to the Cardinals-Cubs game on the 23rd. Unfortunately, I am on call that night and can't get out of it, but it's still the sweetest thing ever. We will figure something out.
The two of us have been having another issue that I'm not sure how to address because it involves s-e-x. My little porn star and I were having fun scaring the dogs one night and during the after glow, when our hearts are beating a mile a minute and the sweat is making everything a whole lot cooler than it has a right to be in West Tennessee in the summer, I reach down to dispose of my jimmy cover. Damn if the thing wasn't gone. We checked there, believe me. It wasn't in the bed, it wasn't in the sheets, it isn't hanging from the ceiling fan, the dogs don't look particularly guilty, I simply don't have a clue what happened to it. It has been two weeks and the damn thing still hasn't turned up. Her theory is that my jack hammer ass simply caused the jimmy hat to disintegrate. I have no other explanation. I'm thinking about calling the company and asking them about their failure rate. I can hear the conversation now.
me: "Ummmm, your product failed, and that is not a good thing."
them: "Well, did you use our product in an appropriate manner?"
me: "What the hell does that mean? If you want to know if I was trying to stretch it over my melon or if I was using it as a water barrier for my .50 cal machine gun, the answer is no.
If you are asking if I put it on my, umm, *cough*, penis correctly, then the answer is yes.
(It's true, I am a medical professional and still have trouble saying 'penis' to strangers.)
them: "Did it tear or was there a hole in it?"
me: "Uhhhh, nooooooooo. It kinda, sorta just disappeared."
them: "Disappeared?"
me: "Do I stutter, fucker? It disappeared, it's gone, the condom gnomes ran off with it. I want to know if your product ever spontaneously disintegrates."
them: "Uh, sir, maybe I should transfer you to product development. Possibly they can help you with your problem."
me: "Forget it. You turd munchers suck. I will have you know that if I have a son born with a clear rubber skull, I'm gonna sue your ass for support and that's after I name the little rug rat 'Trojan' so that I can tell everybody this story when they ask where his name came from.
them: "Listen you twit, just because you can't use a condom correctly, don't call me trying to chew me a new asshole. Read the directions on the product box or call the retard hotline next time."
me: "click"
I'm sure it will turn up. Either on the bottom of my shoe in the middle of a meeting with the hospital CEO or next time I mow the yard and hit a pile of dried dog shit. There will be a big puff of white turd dust and then a smack as the missing item hits the fence. Sugah, my little porn star, is completely unconcerned. I'm still gonna name the little leg puller "Trojan" just for kicks.
T.B. contacted me a short time ago. She came online and asked if we could be friends. I replied "that depends." When she wanted to know what "depends" meant, I said, "on who this is." I did not want to get into it with her freaky, Chunk obsessed boyfriend. She convinced me that it was her and I told her that it would be great to be able to talk to her again, but what about her relationship with psycho boy. She told me "There is no relationship." Like I didn't see that coming. I haven't heard from her since, so I'm not sure what is going on there. I'm glad she isn't dealing with Mr. Over Possessive though.
The little sweetheart that I'm calling my girlfriend (whether she likes it or not) did the nicest thing for me yesterday. She called and asked what my address was. I thought "this is odd, she has been to my house a dozen times." I tried to be a half-assed jerk-wad about it, don't ask me why, but eventually gave her my address. Turns out that "Sugah" bought me tickets to the Cardinals-Cubs game on the 23rd. Unfortunately, I am on call that night and can't get out of it, but it's still the sweetest thing ever. We will figure something out.
The two of us have been having another issue that I'm not sure how to address because it involves s-e-x. My little porn star and I were having fun scaring the dogs one night and during the after glow, when our hearts are beating a mile a minute and the sweat is making everything a whole lot cooler than it has a right to be in West Tennessee in the summer, I reach down to dispose of my jimmy cover. Damn if the thing wasn't gone. We checked there, believe me. It wasn't in the bed, it wasn't in the sheets, it isn't hanging from the ceiling fan, the dogs don't look particularly guilty, I simply don't have a clue what happened to it. It has been two weeks and the damn thing still hasn't turned up. Her theory is that my jack hammer ass simply caused the jimmy hat to disintegrate. I have no other explanation. I'm thinking about calling the company and asking them about their failure rate. I can hear the conversation now.
me: "Ummmm, your product failed, and that is not a good thing."
them: "Well, did you use our product in an appropriate manner?"
me: "What the hell does that mean? If you want to know if I was trying to stretch it over my melon or if I was using it as a water barrier for my .50 cal machine gun, the answer is no.
If you are asking if I put it on my, umm, *cough*, penis correctly, then the answer is yes.
(It's true, I am a medical professional and still have trouble saying 'penis' to strangers.)
them: "Did it tear or was there a hole in it?"
me: "Uhhhh, nooooooooo. It kinda, sorta just disappeared."
them: "Disappeared?"
me: "Do I stutter, fucker? It disappeared, it's gone, the condom gnomes ran off with it. I want to know if your product ever spontaneously disintegrates."
them: "Uh, sir, maybe I should transfer you to product development. Possibly they can help you with your problem."
me: "Forget it. You turd munchers suck. I will have you know that if I have a son born with a clear rubber skull, I'm gonna sue your ass for support and that's after I name the little rug rat 'Trojan' so that I can tell everybody this story when they ask where his name came from.
them: "Listen you twit, just because you can't use a condom correctly, don't call me trying to chew me a new asshole. Read the directions on the product box or call the retard hotline next time."
me: "click"
I'm sure it will turn up. Either on the bottom of my shoe in the middle of a meeting with the hospital CEO or next time I mow the yard and hit a pile of dried dog shit. There will be a big puff of white turd dust and then a smack as the missing item hits the fence. Sugah, my little porn star, is completely unconcerned. I'm still gonna name the little leg puller "Trojan" just for kicks.
posted by Bat at 7:17 PM
14 Comments:
It might've gotten "lost" inside her and exited quietly into the toilet at a later moment when she wasn't paying attention. Try using duct tape to keep the next one on.
No, no, no. I used to deliver babies for a living. I KNOW how to check. It wasn't there! (but thanks for the suggestion)
YOU NOW HAVE A GIRLFRIEND???
Oh, fuck it.
Goodbye, cruel world.
Right, like you were keeping your legs crossed for me. Besides, like momma always said, even a blind squirrel finds a nut every once and a while.
Well, honestly, I was. After I saw the sock picture.
Damn you. DAMN YOU.
Yeah, well.......shoot. Wonder if I can get permission? Never hurts to ask.
Well?????
She said only if she gets to watch.
heheh.. that reminds me of 'Something About Mary'.. you did check your left ear right?! ;-)
Watch, hell. Participate, maybe...
When did you become such a tease? I will check and see if she still has some "equipment" for you.
she said "no"
And so it begins. Just get married, already. *sigh*
I make a great boyfriend, but a shitty husband. So, I don't see that in the near future. By the way. "No" does not mean "never."
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