Hey ladies, do you want a new car? Of course you do. You could work hard, save your money and buy yourself a new car but who has the energy for that bullshit? Why don’t you do it the Mama Gena way and get your husband to buy you a new car. All you have to do is whore it up a little and that new PT Cruiser will be sitting in your driveway before you can say “low self esteem!” Now, when I say act like a whore I’m not talking about simply getting a little kinky in the bedroom, I mean literally be a whore and trade sex for objects, because after all, isn’t that what a healthy relationship is all about. PREACH SISTER GODDESS!
Have you ever seen a mom, perhaps your own, drink a few too many glasses of white wine (with ice) and attempt to skateboard? It inevitably ends with her splayed out on the driveway with her skirt over her head, laughing maniacally while everyone else just stares and feels embarrassed on her behalf. Mama Gena’s pathetic antics are not even CLOSE to being that cool.
For the low low price of $4,750 (you know, that makes a decent down payment on a new car) Mama Gena will help you find your inner vapid bimbo. Oh, it’s worth it, just watch her describe the complex art of “sexy” hand holding in the clip below and you’ll see she really knows her stuff. It’s like watching a virgin describe how to give a blowjob. I should also mention that the virgin is your sister and she’s demonstrating on your dad’s finger.
So there’s no post today but it’s not my fault. Last night was my office Christmas party and I’m surprised I’m even alive. I’m pretty sure I got someone pregnant last night but I don’t know if it was Janet from accounting or Keith the IT guy. Let’s just sum up the night with a list of things I witnessed with my own eyes… a woman throwing up into her own lap, a tow truck, a small electrical fire, 5 breasts, 1 penis (not including my own), my boss’s daughter forcing me to watch her strip totally nude in the bathroom, shoplifting, public urination, a man eat an entire XL pizza in under 7 minutes and a dog wearing pants.
Also, none of that is true, except the boss’s daughter stripping in the bathroom, that really happened but it was 12 years ago. Honestly, I was just too tired last night to write. My office party is Friday but I work with 3 people so the chance of crazy antics is low. I am sorry.
Yeah, I masturbated to this novelty, disappearing clothes pen. Jealous?
I’m not proud of it (maybe a little) but it happened and I think we should all just acknowledge it and move on.
How was it that I found myself straining my eyes to masturbate to a tiny naked lady on an ink pen? That is a great question, thanks for asking. You see, the year was 1998, the Barenaked Ladies (ironically) topped the charts with their brilliant Canadian-comedy-pop-rap, Robin Williams turned the world of pediatrics on its red rubber balls with his touching portrayal of Patch Adams and thanks to pre-9/11 American bliss we were still innocent enough to masturbate to pens at work.
I was an optimistic young man working at a mid-sized company and occasionally I had a little extra time on my hands (ironically). Don’t get me wrong, I worked very hard (ironically) for this company but when I was between projects I had to literally stare at my desk. All you whippersnappers out there don’t know what it’s like to kill time at a job WITHOUT THE INTERNET but it was brutal!
Sure, I perfected the 20 minute walk around the office looking busy and the taking a nap sitting upright at my desk with my hand on the mouse (ironically) but that wasn’t always enough. Now, the following formula may seem foreign to you ladies but do your best to follow along…
Boredom + Time + Penis = Masturbation
The only unknowns in that equation are how and where. And in my case, which pen to bring along.
It was pretty simple really. I would bring my date, either the tall blonde in heels or the cute brunette with the big 70s bush, into the bathroom stall and quickly do my business. It had to be quick because the receptionist’s desk faced the entrance to the bathrooms and I’m sure she knew the time it took the average person to pee and/or poop. Any deviation from those two options would not go unnoticed so I really had to emulate the duration of a normal poo session. If someone walked into the bathroom while I was romancing myself I immediately ceased operations and switched to simulated pooping. It was the perfect plan.
Keep in mind, this only happened a couple times because usually I was too busy and the sadness of jerking off to a pen was not lost on me.
You can’t polish a turd but apparently you can take its picture.
God bless you for thinking some zitty kid at the mall can magically turn your nightmarish face into that of a mid-level 80s porn star. Don’t get me wrong, nothing turns me on like a woman with high hair in an acid washed jacket holding her collar with sausage fingers while giving me that “Do me on top of this cat calendar” look.
I just get so hot when I think about slowly removing your vinyl cropped motorcycle jacket from Walmart, ripping open your velcro fly jeans and making love to you on a pile of Star magazines while your Precious Moments figurines nervously watch the entire sweaty mess. I want to trace the curve (yes, the one curve) of your body with a jumbo Cheeto before placing it in your hungry mouth with my orange fingers. Finally, as we time our orgasms perfectly to verse 11 of “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” I will pour a two-liter bottle of Mr. Peepers (your favorite generic Dr. Pepper) all over our naked bodies right there on the dirty floor of your trailer.
All I do on this website is bitch and bitch and bitch (for good reason) but sometimes you witness something so beautiful it stops you dead in your tracks and for one brief moment all is right in the world. Perhaps you see a baby bunny hopping across a field. Maybe it’s the innocent smile of a child. Sometimes it’s the tiniest things that make you feel the warmth of the universe around you, like one fly banging the crap out of another fly.
Not only was I lucky enough to witness this act of love, I was lucky enough to snap a photo on my phone before the little guy finished up and started making excuses about a big meeting he had in the morning. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about? MEN!
The point is, there is nothing more magnificent than watching a fly do it doggie style. I’ve seen the Grand Canyon and it is nothing more than a crack in the sidewalk compared to the love-making I witnessed today. This fly took his time and knew what the hell he was doing too. You men out there could learn a thing or two from this little shit-eater. He was stroking her hair, kissing her wings and smacking her ass with that teenie tiny little hand of his. It was… I’m speechless.
Today is my birthday, so you are lucky I am even taking the time to write about this creepy bullshit.
Do you know what a “dakimakura” is? If you answered yes to this question and then looked across the room to see your pillow girlfriend sitting on the couch watching TV, I kindly ask you to drive to Home Depot, buy a chain saw and mutilate your entire crotch area. God damn it, I don’t want to live in a world where men marry pillows. Global warming can’t come fast enough.
Sure, I dated a few tube socks in high school, but I never took them to prom or bought them flowers. I may have made out with my pillow a few times in junior high while watching scrambled porn on channel 44, but that was just young love. It never went further then heavy petting and casual dating. To be honest, I had a fear of commitment back then. How could I be sure this was THE pillow I was meant to be with for the rest of my life? I was young and there were lots of linens out there to explore. OK if you want the truth, I had my heart broken by a pillow when I was 16 and I don’t really feel like talking about it!
If I have to hear one more thing about these two drug-filled, incestuous, creepy turds fucking each other, I’m going to punch YOU in the face. I might even punch myself in the face. When I first learned that Mackenzie Phillips and her dad had consensual sex for 10 years, including the night before her wedding, I shit my pants, put on a new pair of pants and shit those pants. Isn’t it bad luck to fuck your dad the night before your wedding? I thought I read that in Brides Magazine. I don’t want to hear another word about it, I’m trying to eat here!
