Names have been changed to protect the innocent as well as the guilty.

Cheerch 

A few years ago I had a dream about Adam. It was more than a dream and I told SavageHusband about it as soon as I woke up. I felt like I needed to contact him. Then the phone rang. It was Adam! ??? (I hadn't heard from him in 15 years. He had called my mom and she gave him my number.) He said, "Hey, this is Adam and I had a dream about you last night and I knew I needed to call you when I woke up." How freaking weird is THAT?? So we met up with Adam and his family and they invited us to go to church with them. We already have a church we like, but the polite thing to do was to go with, so we did. Oh man! That weren't no church, G. That was Cheerch. It was um what do you call it, uh.......... crap - you know the denomination that people say "swing from the chandeliers?" THAT one!

It was the craziest thing I ever saw! Screaming, red in the face, sweating bullets preacher who had been tossed out of 3 or 4 previous churches, people speaking in tongues and faintin' all over the place. Men is suits covering the fainted with blankets so you can't see up anyone's dress, I guess. I kept looking around for the Blues Brothers or maybe even James Brown when this crazy chic from the back of the church came runnin' up the aisle screaming and waving her arms in the air like Bob Barker just done told her to COME ON DOWN .......she's the next contestant on The Price is Right!

Her hair was in a tight bun on top of her head but by the time she finished her tangent she looked like Buckwheat! Or Don king! LMAO! Oh man I wish you coulda been there!

It reminded me of that time Travis went to church with his girlfriend (I think in 10th grade) and he said they were sitting there listening to the preacher talk and they heard the church doors behind them slam open, then baritone heavy breathing/growling. He said he turned around it was this man looking like he'd slept in a dumpster with his hair sticking up all over his head and walking up the aisle staring at the preacher and growling. He said everybody got up and left the church and they exorcised the man. Two weeks later he was back and the same thing happened. Travis said he decided not to go to his girlfriend's church anymore; it was just too dangerous and scary. LOL!

 
Wasted

Oh and remember Jenkins? Back in the day of experimental drug use, me and Jenkins had been hanging out and getting f@@ked up together a lot. One day Jenkins was so stoned, he was telling me and Jean and Joan and who knows who else, a story and he kept losing his place in the story. It was cold and he turned on the gas in the fireplace but kept talking. We all sort of forgot about the gas. Finally Jenkins, still sitting on the hearth, turned to the fireplace, leaned in and struck a match. Flames just engulfed his head - like flames shot up and wrapped around his head and made that flame engulfing sound. (I'm laughing so hard here and hoping to accurately translate the humor in this story with no visuals and no sound effects). So Jenkins turns around to us and I'm laughing but asking him if he's ok. Jenkins then suddenly laughs, too, and when he does, his eyebrows, lashes and mustache & goatee go poof! and fall off his face! I think I pissed my pants right then and there. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe! He had no hair at all on his face and half his head hair was singed. Try and explain that one on Monday morning! LMAO!

 

Bath Soap

You know when you're a teen and/or pre-parent, your own parents seem pretty gross to you. When I was still living at home with mom and dad, they didn't have the liquid shower soap like you buy today. It was bar soap. I remember everyday when I would get into the shower and reach for the soap there would be several pubes firmly planted into it's surface. I knew I didn't leave any pubes on the soap. But SOMEONE was shedding from the nethers in a big way. Now, I knew it had to be one of my parents. But which one? And did it really matter? It didn't change the grossness factor to know the owner of said pubes. But the imagery that popped into my mind as to how they might have gotten there and embedded so deeply was enough to cause a teenager to want to drive the porcelain bus.

I had to use the soap but I did not want to have to pick those grody pubes free first. Who knows where they've been! So I would hold the soap under the direct hit from the shower head until the water had worked them loose and cleansed my soap of parental impurities. This took at least 15 minutes of my shower time. Right about the time I had purified my bar of soap my dad would knock on the door, "What are you doing in there?"
"Taking a shower," I'd say because even though I thought it, I didn't want to say "Not what you were apparently doing last time you were in here!"

 

ED and GYN

I was talking to a man today about ED. Which ain't funny. But he was telling me about how many men are too proud or whatever to go to the doctor about it because they are embarrassed my the ball exam. The humiliation of having another man that close to their naked crotch, closely examining their nuts... holding them, probing, lifting, squeezing as if they were produce at the supermarket.

I said, "oh, Mary, please! I think every man should have to accompany his wife to the gynecologist and bear witness to the annual exam. First she has to disrobe completely - not even socks are allowed and many women don't even get this nekkid for their husbands! Then she must get on the exam table, put feet in the stirrups and the knees just automatically lock together, because well that's an embarrassing position to be seen in even with her clothes ON, by anyone not her husband. She is then given a piece of paper to lay across her pubic hair. AS IF! I mean what is this supposed to do anyway? "Oh THANK GOD! A piece of paper to cover my pubic hair! I would have been embarrassed to death were it not for this piece of paper!" I mean this is like wearing a pasty, is it not? Everybody already knows what's under there and has a general idea of what it looks like. Never mind that her butt is feeling the breeze among other things!

The doctor walks in and takes a seat front and center - eye level with her crotch. Turns on the brightest light and aims it at her nethers. He says, "Ok, go ahead and let your legs fall apart," which directly translates into "spread 'em, lady, and let's get this show on the road!" She does as instructed while trying to find a happy place in her mind. Some thoughtful doctors tape funny comic strips on the ceiling to help distract their patients from this uncomfortable predicament. The doctor then grabs a metal instrument that resembles a pelican's beak and inserts it right into her hoo-ha! Then he starts cranking the thing open like a dang car jack [clink, clink, clink, clink]. Next he inserts a Q-tip then hands it to the nurse who dabs it on some jelly looking stuff in a little dish. Next he inserts an instrument that shaves off a little piece of flesh from the inside of her vagina! Did you hear that, guys? He puts that in a dish, un-jacks the pelican beak and pulls it out. Just when she thought it was over he comes back and puts an inordinate amount of KY Jelly on his gloved finger and sticks it right up her hoo-ha! He says, "You may feel a little pressure..."

"PRESSURE?" I'd swear he was feeling for her tonsils! He's probing places she didn't even know she had!

Now it's titty time. Assume the position (place one hand behind head). Then he starts feeling her breast...... thoroughly! in circles. Till he gets to the nipple. Then he pinches her nipple and pulls it upward like he is playing games with it, lets it bounce back and the boob jiggles like a bowl of jell-o. Then the other one. Finally he is leaving and tells her to get dressed and he'll be back.

When she stands up all the KY Jelly is now making it's way down her legs and she knows she gonna feel creamy in the nethers all day because you just can't get rid of that shit! How much lubrication does one finger need anyway? There's nothing to wipe the junk on. Except that piece of paper that saved her dignity by covering her pubic hair. She grabs it and wipes, folds it, wipes, folds again, wipes, folds some more, wipes....

GREAT SCOTT MAN, WHEN DOES IT EVER END???

..........fold wipe, fold wipe. There's no more room on the paper so she drops it in the trash and is just grateful to put her underwear back on. 3 seconds later there's a knock at the door and in comes the doctor and his nurse while she's still trying to pull her panties up over the sticky trail of KY down her legs.

He starts talking like this is just totally normal everyday stuff and for HIM, it might be, but for her, it's just weird! He tells her that as long as everything checks out ok at the lab she won't hear from him till next time. It's kind of like they just had a one night stand, except there was no pleasure in it.

Now if a man witnessed this supreme humiliation that women must experience once a year or more, he would not be crying about the totally non-invasive nut exam. I have no sympathy. The good doctor sees 100 dicks and assholes a day, 5 days a week and yours is probably not so remarkable that it will be remembered after you pay up at the front desk. Go to the fcuking doctor!

 

Duct Tape

A friend of mine named Douglas is a resourceful fellow. It was a hot summer's day and he was suffering badly with a scorching case of jock itch. The pain and itching was compounded by the fact that he was sweating like because of a broken A/C that would not be fixed for 2 more days. Nothing he tried could relieve his misery.

His wife had gone out shopping with a friend and he knew they would not be back for hours. So he did what any man in his predicament might do. He got nekkid. And while this helped a little he found himself walking around the house holding his man bits up and away from his legs. He figured if he could just find something that would do that for him - that he could **wear**, he would be in good shape.

That's when his mind went the way of most American men. DUCT TAPE. Douglas set about duct taping his nuts but now what was he going to tape them to? At a loss and tired and weary from his search for comfort, he opted to just duct tape his nuts to his stomach. First he vertically attached them  from the bottom. He worried the weight of his package would  cause a breach in the tape so he taped the tops of the vertical strips horizontally around his waist. Sort of like a reverse thong, but with a purpose.

That was more like it! In fact it felt so good he figured he'd just lye down on the couch and take a quick nap.
 

Douglas is a heavy sleeper, apparently, because when his wife and her friend returned from shopping they thought someone had accosted him, tied him up with duct tape, ran out of tape, and then knocked him out.

Douglas woke up to the evil smell of smelling salts and the faces of his wife, her friend, 3 cops and 2 paramedics standing over his nekkid and duct taped body. If that wasn't bad enough, he then had to explain to everyone why he was in such a state.

 

Marking Territory

What the hell? Why is this so damned necessary? In animals I can see why they might mark their territory outside, but what the hell is my dog thinking when he hikes his leg and taps out a little squirt on my bed post? He must be thinking he'd like to get chased through the house with a water bottle and squirted, or maybe he wants me to sneak up on his ass with the vacuum cleaner when he's sleeping and hit the power button to make him think he'd died and gone to doggie hell. Because that's what's gonna happen if he doesn't govern himself accordingly.

What could my cat, Knuckles, be thinking when he squirts his territorial scent (yes he's neutered) on my rug? "Nobody walks on this rug but me, see, myeah, see."

Why do dogs piss on everything and save that shit up just in case? Going for a walk with them is like taking them on a shopping spree. "This is mine," pssss, "and this is mine," psssss, "OH! and that! That right there is mine," psssss, "Nice mailbox.... mine," psssss, "and these bushes, these are SO mine," pssss, "and that yellow Tonka Truck that's mine," pss, "Oh wait there's another dog that lives here. HA! but he's in the back yard. Haha, bark buddy, bark, bark, bark, bark. Oh yeah? Well take a little gander at this action!" cops a squat and puts forth so much effort he nearly bowls himself over face first to lay a steaming turd on the lawn of my neighbors. Hey don't think bad of me for not scooping .......... I have a stop sign in my yard, a highly coveted piece of doggie real estate where every dog that passes must lay a turd upon it's alter. So this is just mere payback, nothing personal, just business.

But animals aside, why do men do it? That's right. We know. Men stand up to pee and this is certainly going to splash, sprinkle and miss. So I feel like, since I NEVER piss on the floor, that the men should have to mop the floor in the bathroom - it's their piss after all.

I noticed that MY bathroom (the favorite out of the 3 in the house) started smelling like a men's urinal, so I broke down and mopped it last night. All spic and span and shiny and clean and pine-sol smelling. Then an hour later I went to the bathroom and the floor was wet around the toilet and someone had pissed on the new roll of toilet paper. WTF?? I was mad and walked away. Meanwhile the teen goes in there to drop the boys off at the pool and when he comes out I am standing there with a mop and Pine-sol and looking like a storm cloud. He asks what I am doing and I tell him I am there to mop the piss up from the floor.  He saw me toss the toilet paper in the trash. With a stunned look he pointed to the trash and said, "That was pee? I thought it was water... You mean I just wiped my ass with someone else's pissed on toilet paper?"

 

Kiss the Cook

In spite of all the gagging and puking that goes on at my dinner table I still consider myself to be a pretty good cook.

Today I made chicken, Mexican rice and yellow corn. I made my oldest son try the corn. He gagged, covered his mouth and ran from the room. A few minutes later my middle child got a corn kernel too far back on his tongue and gagged and puked into his plate. Luckily it was his last bite and he didn't lose too much of his lunch.

Right now I'd like to sing the praises of McDonald's, Burger King and (thank goodness) Chef Boy-Ardee for the disheartened family cook who, after a meal like ours today, wonders why they even bother cooking at all. After all one would gather from watching their children gag and puke that it must be fairly unappetizing.

I know much of "media-American's" are down on fast food and anything less than a home-cooked meal with all fresh ingredients, no salt , sugar, butter or fats, blah, blah, blah is in league with urinating on your neighbor's front lawn. The truth is that Americans just want everyone to believe they are super health conscious but the fact is that I see them in the Play Place at McDonald's every time we go there! Sure we all jump on the Carbs ban wagon or torture ourselves by trying to totally cut out straches, or go on a low fat diet then low saturated fat diet or whatever the current fad may be. But it's just that - a fad - and it too will pass. People will go back to  eating whatever is convenient or the least emotionally distressing, or whatever has the lowest gag reflex until some new fad comes along. Meanwhile, I'll see you at McDonald's!

Buh da bum pa pa....