I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole the bike and asked for forgiveness.
In preparing my chistmas/end of the world gift list, I found this year that I was drawn to several surivalist sites which sold everything from freeze dried food, water containers and equipment to help you last for weeks at a time. I was shocked that not a single one of those reputible sites had on hand a Zombie infestation survival kit. It contains a shark suit divers wear to prevent sharks from biting their skin and a machete. Bullets run out too quick and most people just waste bullets trying to blow zombie brains out. A machete does the trick, but you have to practice first. Nothing worse than a horde of zombies coming at you and you get your blade stuck in the skull of one of the undead.
Here are the things I plan to do in preparation for the end of the world:
1. I will not quit my job (in case 2500 year old mayans were wrong)
2. I will take December 21st as a holiday (in case 2500 year old mayans were right)
3. I will acquire a pet for the kids (one that is not neutered and can therefore provide a sustaining food source... again, in case the mayans were right. If they were wrong, snip snip)
4. I will make sure all the laundry is done (because when the apocolypse comes I have a strong feeling that electricity costs are going to be horrific and I want to make sure I have clean underwear for a few weeks)
5. I will buy the last few boxes of twinkees on the gas station store shelf... you know, long term food stuffs
If the world does in fact not end on December 21st, I will give the gift of clean laundry to my family. Also, expect twinkees in your stockings. Also, I will be hiding the machete in the garden shed...you never know when a zombie might come barging through the peonese bush.
Adult Humor
By definition, anything any adult finds funny can be defined as ‘Adult Humor’. But when we look into the comprehensive understanding of our society, it means Benny Hill doing Porn.
I am not one of those who’s willing to hide who I really am. I am genial and kind and loyal and all that shit. But I am a humorist at heart. I use swear words far too often as my expansive vocabulary cannot quickly call up more descriptive text to use in my speech or writing. Anyway, I enjoy poking fun at things that people are uncomfortable with, and as we are all human animals, that includes things often unspoken but committed in the bedroom. (or on a kitchen table, or closet floor or behind the port-o-potty on the 7th hole at the local golf course).
I watch a lot of movies, okay, I say a lot but it’s more like 1 to 2 a week. Still, a lot. And what is shown on the big screen is just as if not more offensive that some of the stories I’ve written. After all, I rely on you, the reader to use your imagination to illustrate the story. Of course, some of you are just sick perverts and you paint with a very uneven brush.
So, as I find humor in writing about s*xual encounters, misencounters, deviant language or situations where one or many people are nude, it doesn’t mean that I myself condone or practice those actions.
For example:
Pristina who has been without a man and seldom steps out into the dating circuit has turned to desperate measures to satisfy her womanly urges. One day while sitting on the toilet thinking about how she’d like a man to just clean her pipes and leave, no long term contracts, no talking, just do the job and get out. She doesn’t want to call her ex again, it’s been years and while he’d do it, he had a new girl and a new place of his own and it wouldn’t be right. Releasing an unlady like plop into the toilet, she quickly wiped, stood and flushed. As she washed her hands in frustration she noticed in the mirrors reflection, a plunger with a long thick wooden handle sitting next to the commode. She smiled. Later that evening she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower. She let the hot water melt over her and felt her skin tingle. Water began to pool at her feet. Reaching out from behind the shower curtain she grabbed the plunger by the wooden handle and pulled it into the shower. She felt odd, and a bit dirty but her need became greater than her ideals of propriety. She began to work the well-worn handle up and down, and found that if she moved it rhythmically the work was easier. It didn’t take long as she heard suction pulling away from the plunger and a sudden gush of fluids. Pulling the plunger off the drain the water began flowing down the pipe. Pristina felt proud standing naked in her shower holding the plunger that she used to clear out the showers drain pipe. And as she held the handle tight in her hand she wondered what other things that she could do on her own without the help of a man.
My point, I don’t shower and plunge. That’s just gross. But I’ll write about it if it makes you laugh.
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