I Decided On More Torture

If you recall correctly, I unofficially entered the A to Z Challenge last April, well maybe you don't remember because at that point I had like 275 page views and two faithful followers (thank you by the way), so let me catch you up.  One of the two faithful readers, Lily who writes the incredibly funny The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose, suggested on April 2nd that I should enter the A to Z Challenge.  Well I couldn't put my link in because it was past the deadline and after contacting the team over there, they said just do the challenge and link to it each week.  Well, 26 days later...wait isn't that a movie about some sort of zombie apocalypse?  I knew there was a correlation between the A to Z Challenge and survival, oh it was 28 Days Later, anyway...

I did a post a day for 26 days in April and tortured myself by doing so, however I gained some new readers and I would like to say that the A to Z Challenge boosted my blog.  So with that being said, I entered Who Woulda Thought? into the A to Z Challenge OFFICIALLY last night and of course in only my style, I screwed it up.  I entered the blog right, but forgot to add a category and then I Tweeted it out that I entered and was reprimanded by A to Z for not using the hashtag #atozchallenge.  Oops, my bad. 

Don't worry, from now on I will use the hashtag whenever I Tweet about the A to Z Challenge, I promise.  So, if you a reader that also blogs, I would like to urge you to sign up for this challenge, it was great for me and as much as I don't want to admit it, I enjoyed doing it.  Click the A to Z button up top to go to the page.

Dear Walmart Cashier...

It was a typical Sunday like most others and as many of you know Sunday is my only day off.  After a nice quiet morning a morning filled with the Minions beating the shit out of each other we needed to go out and get some things at our local stores.

Now you can judge me all you want but we shop at the Dollar Tree.  I don't care how white trashy it is, they have some normal everyday things that are only a buck...hence the name.  So we started our adventure there and bought a weeks worth of lunches for $3.00, then it was off to our local super market, Hannaford, you know to get the essentials beer, rolls, pie tins and whipped cream.  Whoa, whoa, whoa, before you get all judgmental on me let me explain something.

I am a Cubmaster (as previously stated) and this Thursday I am going to be the subject of a mass amount of abuse at the hand of my Cub Scouts.  You see we sold popcorn last year for our yearly fundraiser and the top sellers from each Den get to choose between silly stringing me, face painting me or pieing me in the face.  So on Thursday I get to have one Scout face paint me, three silly string me and two are going to pie me.  On top of that, each Scout who sold at least one item gets a strip of duct tape for each item they sold to duct tape me to the wall.  Let's just say that we have anywhere from one strip of duct tape to 43 strips of duct tape.

I shit you not.

I didn't start writing this post to tell you that though, I was telling you about my day.  After we went to the Dollar Tree and Hannaford, we needed to hit Hell itself, Walmart.  Just to give you a little background on this particular Walmart, it has been featured on People of Walmart several times, needless to say we try to avoid this Walmart and every Walmart if we can  But like most everyone in America, we are forced to wander into a Walmart from time to time, so in we went.

Myself, The Trophy and the Minions grabbed a cart and made a plan to get in and get the hell out as fast as we could, besides we only needed a few things.  It was record time as we blew through Walmart and then the last leg of our adventure, the check out line.  Come to find out everyone who was shopping there this afternoon decided to get in line at the same time and just like every normal family who is forced to shop at Walmart we picked what we thought was the shortest quickest line.

Live better?  Not if you stand in line behind some smelly bastard.

Despite the white trash guy and his mom in the wheelchair stinking like last week's dirty diaper, we were at least four customers deep in line.  As we were standing there we kept noticing the cashier was announcing almost everything each customer put on the belt.  By the time we got to the front of the line we were thankful we didn't but anything embarrassing, as each item arrived at the electronic eye of the conveyor belt, the cashier picked it up and made some comment about it.

"Oh, green salsa?  I'll be, I've never seen green salsa before!"

"Face paint?  Is someone a clown?"  (No you stupid toothless twit, I'm doing it for my Cub Scouts, plus I HATE clowns)

"Gum?  Someone must have bad breath."

We paid for our items without saying a word to "Nosey Rosey" and departed the hellhole, post haste.  As we loaded the Minions in the truck, The Trophy and I we bouncing thoughts off of each other about the cashier we just encountered.

What if we bought condoms?  "Well, looks like someone is getting lucky tonight!"

What about KY Jelly?  "Uh oh, looks like someone has a dryness problem."

Vagisil?  "Hmmm, problems downstairs honey?"

Twelve pack of beer? "Whoa, you know they have meetings for people like you."

Oder Eaters?  "You have the same problem my husband has I see."

Anti diarrheal medication?  "Whoa!  Someone has a case of the squirts tonight, good luck!"

You could almost call this an open letter to Walmart cashiers, but I don't subscribe into the whole "open letter" thing so it;s more of a common courtesy plea, we just want to pay for our shit and keep the pleasantries to "hello" and "thank you for shopping at Walmart."  Other than that, shut the fuck up, please and thank you.

Theme Thursday: Mmmm Boobies

OK, first before you get all up in my jammy (whatever a jammy is) about this Theme Thursday post being done on Friday...chill the fuck out.



So the theme for this Theme Thursday is breast feeding.  Yup, that's right, breast feeding and right now you are probably thinking "What the hell does a Dad know about breast feeding?"  A lot actually.

No, no, fucking no.

The Trophy breast fed all three of the Minions so I have experienced the trials and tribulations of breast feeding.  I know how sometimes it takes a while to latch on, I've bought those pads for her and yes I know they get sore.  I have empathy for the Moms out there who breast feed, I feel bad that you leak and you can ruin a shirt.  I know that once a baby detaches there is an odd spray of milk and I'm right there with you on the whole breast feeding in public debate.

Yes, I support your right to breast feed in public, do it for shit's sake, it's natural, but there are a few things that should be done while doing it.  ***Disclaimer*** These are things The Trophy did  ***End Disclaimer***

Gasp!  You support the cause to feed me?

First, guys look.  Even gay guys look, it's a normal reaction when you see a boob, I'm sorry we can't help it.  If you get all pissy with us for looking, cover up.  Put a blanket in the diaper bag and cover up before you whip it out.  Plus it is common courtesy and for the human race's sake don't use this...

Seriously?  You want your kid to have a tit head?

Second, don't get all mad if there isn't a designated area for breast feeding.  I hate to break it to you but not every restaurant, department store or other retailer is going to drop thousands of dollars to build a third bathroom.  That's why I fight for your right to booby!  Just find a nice chair, cover up and feed the kid.

Third, pump before leaving home.  When I took the young Minions out I obviously didn't have the facilities to lactate, not that I would want to have milk leaking from my moobs so the Trophy would pump and off we went.  No, I didn't feed the Minion cold breast milk, if you go to ANY restaurant in the food court and ask for a cup of hot water for warming a bottle, they will give it to you.

Speaking of pumping, can they make those devices look more futuristic and torturous?  Next time you are in Target, look at the milking devices on the market.  Jesus milked up Christ, it's like you were abducted by an alien and that is the device the used to remove Earth's secrets from you.  Do you really need a double barrel pump?  It's weird enough to see one nipple getting squashed and sucked into the cone shaped device but why make a mirror image of it?

Look Ma!  No hands!  What the hell is this?

Also, don't expect your boobs to get much attention during the breast feeding season.  I'm sorry ladies, maybe I'm just speaking for myself and I love playing with boobs but when they squirt me, I'm all set.  I'm not into the whole breast milk fetish thing...sorry.  I've watched had friends who have watched it in a video before and yeah, not digging that.

Dude, that's for me, why are you wasting it?

So there you go, Who Woulda Thought?'s tips for breast feeding.

50 Shades of Shut the F@%k Up: Chapter 7

Oh Wonka, how do you read my mind?  I know I am well behind in the game and many, MANY women have read 50 Shades of Grey...multiple times and I have one simple question...how the fuck can you read this shit?  I have just finished chapter seven and the "room" has been revealed.  Are there that many women out there who want to have this happen?

Always look on the bright side..

The door opens in the Grey Man's illustrious "apartment" and the room of fucked-upness is shown to Steeley.  The author, who at this point in the book, we all know to be messed in the head, describes the room with more detail than Steeley.  The "pleasant" smell of leather, wood and polish...pleasant for who?  A stable hand or a BDSM master?  Either way, run..run away!  She describes a large wooden cross with all sorts of bindings on it.  If I recall correctly, the last time someone was forced onto a cross and bound there, it didn't work out so well until three days later.  Unless she is the second coming of Christ ...walk...the..fuck...away.

The few things she is "startled" by are the paddles, whips, riding crops and "funny-looking" feathery implements.  These startled her?  Not the cross or the iron grid hanging from the ceiling?  Are those things normal in Seattle or Oregon, wherever the fuck she's from, I forget now. She notices carabiners hanging all over the ceiling and wonders what they are for..duh..they probably have something to do with the metal grate bolted to the roof, is she really that naive?  As she is looking around the room she notes that is kind of soft and romantic...soft and romantic?  If you use the word oxblood in the same sentence as romantic, somethings wrong with you.

"Would you like to go to a nice romantic dinner?  I heard about this place called Oxblood's."

Steeley is intrigued by the "feathery thing" and the Grey Man tells her it's a flogger.  A flogger?  Isn't that what pirates did to insubordinate sailors?  Arrrgh my Steeley, I'm going to beat your ass.  Shouldn't this guy be on some sort of sex offender list?  I mean with all the warning signs that have been revealed, he has to be on at least one of them out there, some small town in Idaho or Wyoming.  Reading this I'm waiting for Chris Hansen to pop out and tell the Grey Man to "have a seat right over there".


Out of all the implements of destruction positioned around the room, she is "depressed" to know that he likes to hurt women...depressed?  If I were her I would be scared shitless of this would be rapist.  He tells her that he has rules that she must follow, for her benefit and his pleasure.  Steeley will be rewarded if she follows them satisfactorily and punished if she doesn't.  How many more warnings do you need before you look at him and say, "This is where you and I end." and bolt for the door?

One thing I have noticed while reading this book is that he is constantly telling her to eat.  What is he doing fattening her up for slaughter?  Stick a metal rod up her ass and roast her over a fire?  Probably...this guy is a bag full of cats, you can smell crazy on him.  As if the "subtle" hints didn't set off the red flags, he tells her "I will punish you when you require it and it will be painful."  Hmmm let me think here, kick him in the nuts and run dumbass!  As mentioned before there are the rules:

• Obedience - She must obey everything he tells her to do.
• Food - She must eat three squares and NO snacks.
• Clothes - She will wear what he wants her to wear.
• Exercise - She must work out four times a week for an hour at a time.
• Personal Hygiene/Beauty - She will be saved/waxed and visit a beauty salon as he tells her to.
• Personal Safety - She will not drink excessively, smoke, take recreational drugs.
• Personal Qualities - She will only fuck him.

Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant. 
  

Stay away from me you freak!  I still can't picture her as Steeley.

Steeley took the words out of my mouth, "Holy fuck."  There was a group in the past who had rules like these, they were called Nazis and I'm pretty sure Captain America kicked their asses.  So after looking at these rules, Steeley's first concern was accepting money for clothes, it made her feel like a "ho".  First...THAT'S your primary concern about these rules?  Second, obviously she has never watched Pretty Woman, it worked out for Julia Roberts.  On top of the rule there are "Hard Limits", whatever that means...

• No acts involving fire play.  (But beating the shit out of a woman is kosher?  Got it.)
• No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof.  (Whew, thank God for that, at least he has limits....sort of.)
• No acts involving needles, knives, piercing or blood.  (But waxing everything is fine?)
• No acts involving gynecological medical instruments.  (But whips, chains and floggers are acceptable?)
• No acts involving children or animals.  (Yes, this would have made him out as sex offender...)
• No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin.  (Um, if hit hard enough, scars can occur..)
• No acts involving breath control.  (Again drawing the line somewhere....)
• No activity that involves the direct contact of electric current, whether alternating or direct.  (Really?  You have to specify AC/DC?)

Steeley says that any sane person wouldn't agree to do those things.  What the fajita?  But shoving a broom stick up your butt and that's cool?  The Grey Man asks if there is anything she won't do and...ready for this?...she tells him she is a virgin!  (Cue the dramatic music)  Who saw that coming?  (No pun intended)

Imagination Factor

I gave the imagination factor four cuffs in this chapter, the author's imagination skyrocketed with her idea of romantic fun...yeah whips and chains excite her I guess.

Wishful Thinking Factor

Also four cuffs for the wishful thinking factor.  It's wishful thinking to think that there are billionaire rapists running around with medieval torture devices in a specially built room.

Visualization Factor

Up until this chapter the visualization of most everything was bland, except for the Grey Man so I give this chapter five cuffs.  The room of fucked upness was described to the last bead on the feather flogger...if I was married to this woman, I would be scared to close my eyes at night.

Pornographic Factor

I gave the pornographic factor two cuffs.  There was too much detail and description and not enough banging.  Normally it would have been one cuff but the way the chapter left off it was the making of a bad porn.

High Expectation Factor

I gave the high expectation factor three cuffs.  It's not out of the realm of possibilities to find a closet sex offender/borderline rapist but for one to be Bruce Wayne rich and have a room built just for that, not so much.

CSI: Bathroom

Ah, never a dull moment in the Domicile with the three Minions.

The other night the Minions had all showered and the family was sitting on the couch watching Honey Boo Boo The Avengers when all of a sudden The Trophy's nose started twitching.  The Trophy has an uncanny superpower to be able to smell things far away and even before they happen.  She can smell that the litter box needs to be cleaned a day before it really smells, can smell a fart five minutes before it happens and can smell a curdled cup of milk three rooms away.  She is the Sniffer.

I looked over and saw her nose twitching in disgust and the first thing out of my mouth was, "It wasn't me!".

"I know it wasn't you, the cat is still in the room."

Sniff, sniff, "Did you shower #1?"

"Yeah of course I did."

"#3?"

"Yesh."

"#2?"

Silence.

"#2!?"

More silence.

"NUMBER 2!!!!!!" (sounding like Dave yelling for Alvin in the Chipmunks.)

"What?"

"Did you shower tonight?"

"I think so, my hair is wet."

"OK...something smells really bad in here."

The Trophy is never happy until a mystery is solved, so she gets up and heads to the bathroom to check the towels and make sure there is water and soap bubbles left in the tub.  She turns into some sort of CSI agent and after ten minutes or so, she comes back into the living room holding an empty body wash bottle.

"I put a new bottle of body wash in the shower for you guys."

"Oh, yeah I forgot, we're out of body wash.", #1 proceeds to tell her.

"Yes, I know...I just put a new bottle in the shower."

"No, I forgot to tell you on Sunday."

"Sunday?  Today is Wednesday..."

"It is?"

"Yes...how long have you been without body wash?"

"Ummmm...", says #1.

"Ummmm..", says #2.

"Ummmm..", says #3.

"You mean to tell me you've been without body wash for more than three days?"

"Maybe.", said in unison.

"What have you been using for soap to wash?"

"....."

"You mean to tell me that you've been taking showers for a minimum of ten minutes and just washing your hair?  What are you doing just roaming around the tub?"

"No, we are cleaning oursel..."

"With what?  Did you use my body wash or Dad's body wash?"

"No..."

"So, instead of looking up and grabbing one of the other two body washes, you just didn't wash?"

"We washed our hair and let the soap run down."

".....get...in...there...and...shower...again!"

"OK...", as they jump up running to the bathroom, leaving a trail of Children's Place pajamas in the wake.

She turns to me, "This is your fault you know."

"Yeah, I had a feeling it was but let me remind you that all I did was plant the seed, you were the one who grew them for nine months."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, I'm going to make sure they are cleaning properly."

I Love Me Some Awards

I interrupt your regularly scheduled blog once again with some breaking news...

I still love me some awards!



And speaking of awards, I was the People's Champ in Dude Write with the popular votes.  Thanks to all that voted and I guess my Pocket Pussy post was a hit!  But...

Mother Fluffer!  Yesterday was  my birthday and it went pretty well too.  I went to work and asked my boss if I could leave early.  To my surprise he said yes and told me to have a happy birthday, normally it is "What the hell do you mean leave early?  You need to work seventy hours a week so that we can yell at you sixty-five of them.", but this time I was able to come home early and chillax for a little while.

The Minions came home from school and The Trophy made a nice lasagna dinner.  I poured myself a glass of Angry Orchard Strawman and settled in to watch the Minions play Skylanders.  Throughout the day I was reminded via Twitter that I had to do something to do on my blog, you see I was given another one of those blogger awards by Sleepy Bard over at Insomniac's Dream.  Who by the way is an awesome blogger and if you are not following her go do it now...but come back here of course.  At first glimpse it looked like a pretty cool award.

The Very Inspiring Blogger Award...wait, the Very INSPIRING Blogger Award?  That's kind of fucked up right there, how do I inspire people?  All I do is bitch about the human race and tell messed up stories about the the Minions.  The only things I could inspire other bloggers to do is:

1. Inspire them not to have kids. (Just kidding, kids are great...yeah that's it.)
2. Inspire them that any old schlub can blog.  (3,000 views in October to 40,000 now?)

But alas, Sleepy Bard seems to think I inspire her because here is what she said:

Kevin, who hates being given these awards, is getting one.  Not just out of spite (I do so enjoy watching him squirm when has to write these pieces) but because he does inspire me.  He's a very talented writer, full of amazeballs humor.  If you have not been following his blog, you need to do so now. Who Woulda Thought


I do like the sound of amazeballs humor...but there was an ulterior motive, to MAKE me squirm because she knows I am an award whore and I will blog about the award.  So strap yourselves in, here we go....

Like every other blogger award there are your basic rules, you know kicking a pygmy goat in the balls, wearing a loin cloth in the mall and stabbing Fran Drescher in the uterus.  OK, not really but you are supposed to explain seven things about yourself and pass the award onto other bloggers...wait, any seven things about myself I want to explain and how many bloggers?  Those rules seem very vague but oh well.

1.  There are very few things I hate, I despise a lot of things, but I hate cotton balls.  I simply cannot stand cotton balls and the way they squeak.  Pulling them out of a bottle of aspirin or removing them from a bag is pure agony for me.

2.  I am "Gay for Star Wars" but I am not your typical Fanboy, I don't believe Jar Jar ruined the franchise, I like the changes Lucas did to the movies and it bothers me that Chewbacca doesn't get a medal alongside Luke and Han during the ceremony on Yavin IV in A New Hope.

3.  I can fart on command.  I consider it to be a super power of sorts. 

4.  I'm not a big fan of reading books.  I read a few chapters and then stop for months on end.  I will eventually read the whole book but it takes me a while, however I do enjoy reading blogs because they are short stories.  Don't judge.

5.  I secretly want to be a stand up comic, well I guess it's not a secret anymore.  I love attending comedy shows and I always hope that one time there will be an open mic.

6.  Although it goes without saying, I am a geek.  I was a geek before it was cool to be a geek and there is a difference between a geek and a nerd, but I cannot delve into that right now, it maybe a published work on a different site at some point.

7.  I am an award whore and I love it when people give me awards because I am funny and they enjoy me.  I despise the stupid ass rules that come along with some awards.  The first award I ever received was the Leibster award and there were no rules with that one, but the ones that followed...what the fuck?

Now, on a serious note, there are blogs out there that inspire me, MANY blogs that inspire me and if I listed them all it would take up my whole post so I am going to limit it to three.

Ken-inatractor - Ken has some awesome story telling skills and I envy that.  Every post he writes is captivating and I love picking on him because he is from the Great White North, eh!

The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose - Lily, dear sweet Lily and Spawn, we can't forget about Spawn.  Her way of writing is none other and the way she uses words put's Edgar Alan Poe to shame.  She has in fact inspired me to write more and jump into the blogging world head first.  Lily was one of my first real followers and despite being across the Pond, I feel close to her.

The Six-Fingered Monkey - Six has been dubbed my non-official Arch-Nemesis after his Bendict Arnold maneuver on Instagrams (you bastard).  Despite being my Arch-Nemesis, he inspires me to try to be funnier and get more awards than him.

Alright, enough of the sentimental crap, take your award and begone, oh and enjoy coming up with seven things!

Sixty One Years Later

On January 15 at 8:26 AM, I will be 36 years old.  Only four more years to the big four-oh.  I have already told you about my early warning system and wrote about turning 35 but things have changed since those posts.

Let me paint a picture for you first, my Cub Scout Pack has "adopted" two Soldiers who are in Afghanistan.  By "adopting" them, the Cub Scouts will write letters, send cards, pictures and care packages to give them a taste of home. 

I met with one of the Soldier's grandparents last week to get to know them and find out more about her.  I pulled up to the small lake house and was greeted by a sweet elderly lady with white hair who reminded me of my own grandmother.  She was wearing a sweater over her blouse and a flowered skirt that went to her ankles.  She welcomed me and showed me to the living room.  Taking in my surroundings, this house was maybe 800 square feet and decorated in your typical elderly person fashion.  Candy dishes filled with candy, pictures hanging perfectly on the walls and an afghan on the back of the couch which you could tell was knitted by her.

In walked the Soldier's grandfather and sat down on the loveseat next to her.  There was a plate of cookies on the coffee table because she knew I was coming over.  We talked about their granddaughter and how happy they were that the Cub Scouts were doing this program.  We talked about my life and how much I reminded them of their son.  While we were talking, I noticed that they were holding hands.

I turned the conversation around and asked how long they had been married.  In unison they said "61 years next month."  61 years!  Holy crap on a cracker!  They have been married 61 years and still holding hands!  That is freaking awesome.  After doing some quick math in my head I figured out they must both be in their eighties but that was impossible, they were both too alert and active to be in their eighties, so I asked.  She was 82 and he was 84.  Amazing!

We wrapped up the conversation and exchanged phone numbers because they don't use that "silly internet" and she ushered me out the door because it was supper time and I should be home with my own family.  I walked through the snow to my truck and got in.  I sat there for a moment looking at the small house nestled on a lake.  I mad the trek home and told The Trophy the story and told her that I couldn't wait to spend the next 48 years with her.

When 80 years old I reach, be like them I want.

Anonymous, You Pussy

I love getting comments, a fellow blogger summed it up perfectly by saying, it's like finding the stray Chicken McNugget in your french fries, in other words it's a great feeling.  One thing that has been on the rise is the amount of anonymous comments I have been getting.  I used to have an open comment section because there are some people who comment but are nutless enough to leave their name, which is fine, I still read them and try to respond to them, but then I started getting the SPAM (and not the gelatinous canned meat) anonymous comments.

I have it set up that every time I get a comment, Blogger sends me an email so I can read it right then and there.  90% of the time when a SPAM anonymous comment appears, Blogger is smart enough NOT to post it.  Sure, nobody is perfect and a few slip in but whatever, no biggie.  Back to my thought, I get an email every time I get a comment so I can read the SPAM anonymous comments and most of them are things like refinancing your mortgage or increasing your stamina but I got one the other day that I saved in my email box, it was posted to my More Power! post.  Here is the email:

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "More Power!":

The Doc Johnson Monique Alexander Pussy Pocket Pal is
cast from the woman herself and makes the perfect companion.
You don't even need to buy it dinner first.. Tonight is Night Out by Little Man Ice.... The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy Videos ... Title: The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy : Description: The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy.
Feel free to visit my web blog pocket pussy

Feel free to re-read it if you have to, it took me a few times to get it to sink in.  Alright, now let me break it down for you because this comment raises all kinds of questions...

The Doc Johnson Monique Alexander Pussy Pocket Pal is
cast from the woman herself and makes the perfect companion.

First, who is Doc Johnson and Monique Alexander or are they the same person?  Is the Pussy Pocket Pal made from Monique Alexander's pussy?  How would I know if I like the feel of Monique?  Who the hell needs to carry a fake rubber vagina in their pocket?  I am sure it DOES NOT make the perfect companion.  How do they cast the mold?  That must hurt like hell unless Monique is a corpse and that is just fucked up right there.  Is it like my Minion's Creepy Crawler set where they squeeze hot slime into a hard plastic mold?  There are so many unanswered questions there.

You don't even need to buy it dinner first..

Whew!  Thank the maker!  That would be awkward on the first date.  You're sitting at a table for two and the waiter comes over to take your order.  "I'll have the steak, medium rare and the rubber twat will have the tuna."  The waiter would come back and offer bread as a starter and you would have to refuse because your date would get a yeast infection (try the shrimp, I'm here all night).

Tonight is Night Out by Little Man Ice

What the fajita does that mean?  I thought you were trying to sell me a portable masturbation device not a dating guide by some white rapper? It's OK, I can say that, I'm white.  Wait a minute, I thought I didn't have to take the Pocket Pussy out to dinner but now you are suggesting I go clubbing with Monique's vag instead?  It can't be a very good dancer.  "Oh my God Becky, look...at...that...twat, it's like stuck to the floor."


The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy Videos ... Title: The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy : Description: The Pocket Pussy VS the real pussy.

I did not check the video out but I can only imagine that they answered some of my other questions about this little contraption.  How do you clean it?  Let's face it, guys make a mess, there's no way around it.  Are there testimonials?  Who would really show their face saying how great this product was?  "I bought Doc Johnson's product and it changed my life, I'll never need a real woman ever again."
   
Feel free to visit my web blog pocket pussy

Then they direct you to their blog.  What kind of blog is this?  Do you review sex products?  "After I tried the Doc Johnson Pocket Pussy, I was compelled to try out the Double Ended Super Snake."  Most blogs that I follow post anecdotes about their lives, do we get to read cute little anecdotes about the life of Monique Alexander?

Holy shitballs people, what is wrong with you?  I am curious though to how many people have actually used a portable masturbation device like this, I mean give yourselves a hand for shit's sake.  Yeah, I went there and did a dick joke.

I am entering this post into Dude Write this week, head on over and read the awesome Dude Bloggers and then go back and vote when the time comes!

Pillow Talk

*NOT* The original Foamie

Before I was encased in the matrimonial binds thirteen years ago, I was a single pillow kind of guy.  It was the same pillow I had for years.  It was a fantastic pillow, one that never lost it's shape and kept the support of my melonesque cranium.  The problem was it was a foam pillow so it couldn't be washed easily.  When The Trophy placed the ring on my finger, that shit changed.

The pillow was shoved to corner of one of my parent's closets never to be seen from again and a new pillow took it's place...things haven't been the same since.  I continued to be a one pillow guy for a couple of years until I broke down and needed to add one more to support my Charlie Brown head.  The pillows just weren't the same as Old Foamie.

I have been on a quest for thirteen years to find the perfect pillow and the quest continues.  I feel like King Arthur in his search for the Holy Grail...the Monty Python version.  I have looked high and low, near and far with no luck.  Every pillow I have come across (and there have been many) have proved flawed in the proper support of my squash.

I have tried more than two pillows but that usually ends up being to high and my neck hurts.  I have encountered obstacles in my quest and I feel like I will never find the Holy Pillow-Grail.  The Trophy has been one of the biggest hurdles, much like the French Knight who taunts me a second time, she won't allow me to spend too much on a pillow.  There are times I just want to give up and settle for fluffing (yeah, Motherfluffer!) and flipping each and every night, spending my future years waking up with a crick in my neck, but then it happened, I caught sight of the Holy Pillow-Grail.

The Sobakawa Cloud Pillow.  There it was, tempting me on TV, with some infomercial host shouting at me to order this product, much like the troll at the bridge asking me questions so that I could pass.

"WHAT is your quest?"

"I need a new fucking pillow and the silly K-nig-it won't let me get one."

"DO you wake up with a sore neck and back?"

"Uh, yes I do."

"WHAT is the pressure that will crush a dozen eggs in a clear plastic cylinder?"

"Well, according to the commercial I'm watching, it's a ten pound dumbbell and the only thing that will stop it is the Holy Pillow-Grail."

"WHAT is your favorite color?"

"Blue...no green, yeah green."

"THE pillow doesn't come in green, it's only off-white,but I shall let you pass this one time."

"Oh..OK, thanks...I think Mr. Infomercial Troll who is in my TV."

"AND for an added bonus we will let you have the chance to get TWO Holy Pillow-Grails!  Now, begone dumbass who is still watching this infomercial."

I have crossed the bridge and now, the Holy Pillow-Grail is in my grasp.  The problem is there is a vicious beast guarding the pillow.  It's  beast with BIG pointy teeth and is blood thirsty, it's called money.  I am working on my strategy, which will work out eventually where the cost of the pillow is only ten dollars because you are getting two for $19.99...plus process and handling of course.  For now I am reevaluating my position and will reconvene with my knights.

**All Monty Python images are from Google Images and are free to download.