Monthly Archives: September 2010
“A couple came up to me in Atlanta and said ‘If we ever met you we had to tell you about when her brother got his nipple bit off by a beaver.’ Well, you have my attention. You couldn’t make that up! They had hit it with the truck and it had gone in the ditch and they wanted to find it because they wanted to take it to the taxidermist cause we all know how pretty they are on a Thanksgiving dining room table holding up the turkey. So he picks this thing up by the *tail* and he said ‘look, it ain’t even cut up or bloody or nothin’!’ because apparently, “nothin” is the word that brings a beaver back to consciousness and that was about the moment the beaver lurched out and bit his nipple off. Did not bite it, bit it off. O-F-F, off, bit it off. That is a new kind of hurt right there. The only thing I can think about is at the hospital that night, the doctor walking in and picking up the clip board – ‘what’s wrong with the guy in room 3?’ – ‘oh, he got his nipple bitten off by a beaver.’ ‘Come on I don’t have time for jokes, what’s wrong with the guy in room 3?’.
Now this was just an innocent mistake. You think you killed an animal with your car, you pick it up, find out it’s not dead but stunned and it bites you. Can happen to anyone, right? But there are animal bites that happen because off complete stupidity on people’s parts and the worst ones always seem to be instigated by the men. Take this one from Russia.
It seems a drunk Russian by the name of Alexander Kirilov decided that the only thing better than being shit faced drunk with his friend was to sexually assault a raccoon. First, who thinks raping a raccoon is a good idea? Obviously a drunk Russian. Fortunately, the raccoon was smarter than the rapist and bit his penis off.
All I can say is good on that raccoon! If you decide to molest woodland animals, you deserve what you get. If that means you have to live the rest of your life with no jimmy, then I guess that will be a daily reminder of what a stupid, dickless idiot you really are. Fortunately none of my friends have fallen into the hopeless idiot category or at least not that I know of. If you are missing your jimmy or have had your nipple bitten off by a rodent, I’m not sure I want to know. You can never get that image out of your head.
(For the next month, I will be posting classic columns as I anticipate being less than useless after performing on the weekends until mid-October. Enjoy.)
Washer/Dryers are an amazing luxury item to me. Things that I covet with increasing regularity especially when it is raining. Like today.
When I was growing up we had a washer/dryer. Everyone did. I mean, only the white trash down by the railroad tracks washed their knickers in the crick with a rock. OK, there were no white trash in my neighborhood and no cricks but the point is made. When I moved out, there were washer/dryers in my next 5 places. Then I moved in with Kat over on California in Pasadena. It was a lovely flat. Beautiful. We had such a deal! There was a hook up in the laundry room but we were poor and living on pasta and potatoes so no washer/dryer. It was the laundrymat for us. That was especially nasty after Faire weekends when we would have to wash our costummes and clothes along with our regular items. My Subaru Justy stinked of Faire. We were the Jode Family. Tents, sleeping bags, blankets, tarps all piled into the hatch of my car that I would drive around with all week.
Then one day Kat bought a washer. A washer but no dryer. She couldn’t afford the dryer. So we would hang our clothes outside like white trash, our knickers flappin in the wind or inside in the laundry room during rainy days. That room always smelled like water and faire and cats and old wine but it was better than the crick and the rock.
A few years later I moved in with Ruthie and we had a washer/dryer again. When I moved back to my own place, no washer. It was then that I discovered the laundrymat. Once I bought my house, one plus was the washer/dryer in the basement. The old lady I bought the house from asked if I wanted it. I curse that woman’s name every time I think about it (like now). As soon as the papers were signed and I got the keys, I brought my laundry over so I could do laundry in my own washer/dryer. Everything was going fine. Until the water in the washer wouldn’t drain. I took everything out, wrung it out in the sink and put it in the dryer. Dryer was broken. I hate that old woman. Do you know how long it takes a washer full of water to evaporate? Three Years. Don’t ask. I was too traumatized to try to drain it with a hose.
So it is back to the laundrymat. I use one in Piedmont. When choosing a laundry it is important to take certain things into consideration.
A) Location: Must be in a nice middle – upper middle class area with open businesses and respectable traffic. Meaning no crack whores and drug dealers to rob, rape or kill you.
B) Price: Must be reasonably priced. I don’t pay $3 a load. That is crap.
C) Appearance: Must be clean. I dont want to sit on sticky seats or have to deal with tables that have large penises carved into them.
My laundry opens at 6:30am. I usually go on Sundays first thing. This way I can park for free, don’t have to deal with mothers doing 10 loads (taking most if not all of the available machines) while chasing 3 screaming kids around. There is a Starbucks on one corner, a Peets on the other and a Posh Bagel across the street. There is a change machine, very few homeless people come by and bother you and the people I see are nice. It’s like a little club. The Sunday morning laundry club. Same people, there at 6:30am. In the winter it’s still dark and now it’s raining. Have to park across the street and haul my laundry over. I sit, read my book and think with longing of beautiful, shiny wahser/dryers. Even more so for one of those fancy hanging dryer shelf things they sell now. They are so pretty. I sometimes just stare at them at Home Depot with deep envy. Ah yes, washer/dryers and sample kitchens are my fantasy crack. Do you know they have self closing drawers now?!
Anyway, so on the list of things for a new apartment are (a) my own parking place, (b) a kitchen bigger than a postage stamp and (c) a washer/dryer. One of these days I will be able to wash my clothes in the privacy of my own home, starkers if I feel like it. Yup, that’ll be the day!
My sister posted this video on her Facebook page. It seems the network has pulled this segment and will not air it on the show. It will still be available on YouTube for viewing. OK, are you sitting down? I agree with them. Yes, the woman who wears corsets for money and says things like “penis” and “Holy Sparkly VaJayJay Batman” thinks this is going too far.
Is she naked? No. Is she near naked? No. Is Elmo naked? Yes which is a bit of a double standard but that’s another blog where we can also bag on Donald Duck for not wearing pants. Do her boobs show way too much for a kids show whose target market is 2-7 year olds? Yes.
I should say right now I have no idea who this chick is. I thought she was a cast member on the show just doing an ill-fated skit that had really bad double meanings if you weren’t watching the screen. Now I see on YouTube she has other videos (including one on how to put on eye shadow) so I guess she is a singer. The song is fine, the costumer on the show should be shot. Do you see more on the beach? Sure but a PBS show for little kids isn’t the beach. Here is my benchmark. Would you go to the office or would you teach Kindergarten dressed like that? Would you want your kids Kindergarten teacher dressed like that? I’m thinking no. I also would not want a male Kindergarten teacher wearing spray on pants that accentuates his huge, bulging Jimmy that is straining to break out of its cage and go on a rampage.
My sister is pretty conservative. She has two kids (high school and junior high) and does not wear corsets for a living. She thinks I have a potty mouth (which I do) and wouldn’t sing half the songs I do on a bet. She thinks the dress is fine and most Moms would agree with her. I find this Freaky Friday style flip in opinion fascinating. So, do you think it’s too much for a pre-school show? Extra points if you actually have kids. Negative points if you are a guy who solely wants to drool on Katy’s boobs and doesn’t really care about the issue.
Today for Whack-A-Doodle Wednesday I was all set to do a blog on killer coffee but then I started thinking about Man’s Best Friend. No, not his dog, his Johnson, his John Thomas, his Will To Live. Yes, the nick names are endless on the World Wide Web. Pecker, prick, member, junk, sausage, pole, shaft, rod, wang, schlong, and the oddly named bacon plank though I kind of like that one. Yes, I am speaking of course about the penis. Let’s just say cock because penis sounds so clinical and wee. Cock sounds large, loud, trumpeting and obnoxious, just like it’s rooster namesake.
Why the male member talk this early in the morning? Why not? Isn’t it the first thing to get up? I have no idea since I don’t have one myself and frankly I find it a bit freaky. Picture this, there you are asleep in the early morning hours and all of a sudden, of its own volition, one of your body parts sits up and starts roaming around. At least it would if it wasn’t attached to your body. That is strange and kind of weird. Now maybe if science could create detachable members, your Roger could do something useful like get up and make coffee instead of creating havoc and mayhem. It’s amazing how the little meat puppet can get into so much trouble.
Men seem to put all the blame on their Willie for bad choices in life. They blame their best friend for everything from getting into fights, making bad decisions at work to coming home with Quasimodo after a long night at the pub.I’m starting to think either those men aren’t very bright or something sinister is going on that the government should look into. Are penises really jumping ship and running off in the middle of the night to create wanton acts of destruction? Was a skin flute really to blame for the oil spill in the Gulf? Can they be trained to pick up dirty socks and underwear before walking the dog? I really want to know.
You think I am blowing this out of proportion? Hardly. Just try to search for a male chicken on the internet and see what comes up, so to speak. It has nothing to do with poultry. Famous wiener expert Mark Wahlberg would slap people in the face with his 13 inch schlong. Don’t worry, it’s not a real one. Hell, that only happens in the movies. I hope. Anyway, Wahlberg starred in Boogie Nights, an excellent movie about the porn industry in the 1970’s. At the end of the film, you got to see his monster whang but it wasn’t real. Marky Mark may be a lot of things but having an oversized ruler in his pants is not one of them. It’s latex and he kept it in his drawer after the movie, slapping people with it for fun. Wow. I’m not sure how I feel about that. As a woman, I feel it’s very Animal House/frat boy/grade school on one hand and really creepy on another. I would be willing to bet if I pulled out a huge latex vulva and whacked some guy in the face with it, he’d cry. Hmmmmm…..
Then of course there is the whole running issue. What am I talking about? I’m talking about the hanging cock and balls combo. That kind of sounds like a pub! Come into the Cock & Balls for a pint! Nevermind, anyway… here is my question. With the rod and tackle swinging free, how do men run? Don’t they catch their wee willie winkle with their thigh? It seems awfully ackward to me but I don’t have to deal with dangly bits so I’m just a mite confused.
I was fully intending on writing about this strange guy I saw in Starbucks but this is what happened. I couldn’t help myself. Perhaps it is part of an evil plan? Long range mind control from space? Who am I kidding? I just thought it would be fun. Besides I found this EXCELLENT commercial that all men should watch if you’re interested in hygiene and Jaime Pressly.
or the antics of the World Famous Poxy Boggards.
Today’s idea is brought to you by my reader Marc. We’ve all seen Jaws. In fact when I was little, I had a Jaws birthday party complete with watching the movie and eating a cake with a shark on it. One of the interesting tidbits about living in the Bay Area is that our waters are Great White Central for the months of August – December. Though the sharks are usually out in the ocean, snacking on sea lions, yes they do snack on the occasional surfer and make trips into the Bay in search of better tasting tidbits. Face it, humans don’t taste very good but a monkey in a wet suit on a surfboard looks a lot like a yummy sea lion!
Researchers from Stanford, UC Davis, the Point Reyes Bird Observatory and the Pelagic Shark Research Foundation have tagged 179 great whites along the Northern California coast. In 2007 and 2008 five Great Whites were recorded inside the bay. So is San Francisco destined to become the new Amity? Nope. The sharks have been with us for longer than we have been here. They don’t chomp many people and quite honestly, I’ve never seen the allure of swimming in our frigid waters anyway. I know there are surfers and wave boarders and other cold water freaks who have no problem with the bone-chilling cold of the Bay but I hope they are also smart enough to understand that when you enter the water, you enter the food chain so try to be aware of your surroundings.
Now if ten – twenty-foot long sharks don’t freak you out, think about this: Carcharocles Megalodon. These prehistoric sharks, “Megs” for short were at least fifty-two feet long and were the second largest predator ever to exist on this planet. Megs were larger than a T Rex, which is pretty damn big. Scientists estimate their dorsal fin was as tall as me (5’5″) and their tail was over twelve feet tall. Their open mouth resembled the size of your average garage door. Now THAT is a shark you should be concerned about. Good thing they are extinct or are they? While there has been speculation of remnants of this predator surviving in deep waters due to the find by the HMS Challenger of a Meg tooth alleged to be 10,000 years old and not the 1.5 million years (since the shark became extinct), later testing determined the age could not be verified.
If you want a good Meg yarn and San Francisco Bay eye opener, I recommend Steve Altens Meg books. I especially enjoyed the one scene where the giant shark chomps on some uber douches parking in McCovey Cove during a Giants game in hopes of catching a ball. Personally I prefer to stay on dry land, watch Jaws, read my Steve Alten Meg books and appreciate sharks from a distance. If you prefer to keep your sharks in the realm of shlock fantasy, there is always Sharktopus – coming soon to the SciFi Channel!
For the next five weeks, something special is coming to the Bay Area’s back yard. The Northern California Renaissance Faire starts its five weekend run at Casa de Fruta near Hollister on the 152 east of Gilroy. If you’ve been to the World Famous Gilroy Garlic Festival you know where that is. The faire site is 15 minutes east of Gilroy and only a little over an hour from San Francisco. It takes longer to get to the Sonoma Wine Country. http://www.norcalrenfaire.org/index.html
For the second year in a row, the Northern California Renaissance Faire is offering after-hours Celtic rock concerts that are included in your ticket price on each Saturday night of the run.
This weekend, Tempest will be playing. September 25th will be Culanns Hounds, October 2nd, the Young Dubliners will rock the stage, October 9th Molly’s Revenge will be appearing for the first time at Casa and the season will end with the Wicked Tinkers. These concerts take place in the Joust arena. Gates open at 5:45pm and the concert starts at 6pm. http://www.norcalrenfaire.org/concerts.html
Many of these bands charge $30 – $60 for a performance at various venues throughout the country. However, for $25 an adult (and children 12 and under FREE at all times) you get a whole day of fun, entertainment and get the concert thrown in as a bonus after the faire closes. I can’t think of a better deal for a date or for a family outing. The cost is comparable with admission to a county fair or two movie admissions. Honestly, your value is TONS better than watching a double feature of piranha 3-D and I’m Still Here (that masturbatory dreck about Joaquin Phoenix’s disintegrating life and “rap” career).
While you can sit in the bleachers, standing & dancing in the sand filled arena is the best. Kids have a lot more freedom, can dance off that sugar energy and the adults can get up close with the band. After the hour-long concert, the audience is let directly into the parking lot so exiting is easy.
I highly recommend this as a great way to spend an afternoon or a weekend ($35 for a weekend pass). Tell them the Queen sent you!
Last week, while I was visiting my friend Ragani’s newborn daughter, her husband told me the baby was made of marzipan and I love me some marzipan. I had no idea the tasty almond paste idea could turn out to be so literal. While we were chatting, Ragani turned me on to a topic worthy of Whack-A-Doodle Wednesday. FREAKY BABY SHOWER CAKES! OK people, some of this is just sick! What is wrong with you? The parade of “wrong” is vast and varied. First is the “preggers cake”
I guess this is “Jennas baby shower cake”. Jenna, I don’t know which of your sicko friends who got you this but I think sinking a knife into your pregnant abdomen (even if it is cake) is pretty freaky. I wouldn’t want to eat that. Then again, I never wanted to be pregnant. This cake just rams home to me the reason I made the best choice. It’s almost as freaky as using hair conditioner made with placenta. *shudder*
Now if that isn’t bad enough, how about THIS for a baby shower cake?
I can just hear the unspoken conversation at this party. “Hey Cindy! Congratulations on the new baby! In honor of this joyous event, let us all sacrifice this lifelike replica of the baby, cut into its face and eat it. In this way we can ensure your baby stays safe from space cannibals who might wish to do him harm.”
Did this decorator do a great sculpting job? Sure but just because you CAN do something doesn’t mean you SHOULD. I’m sure this person could also sculpt a fantastic beadazzelled vagina as well but that doesn’t mean I want to serve that at a party either. In fact, I’m so sure someone, somewhere has done it that I refuse to look it up on the web.
Now if neither of those are to your liking, how about this melding of the basic baby shower concepts. Baby and cake.
I don’t know about you but nothing says “yummy party food” like a baby baked into a giant cake ball. The only problem with this cake is the inherent serving issues. I mean, how to you cut this cake? Do you slice the baby limbs and baby head off first and then cut the cake into large wedges? What do you do with the dismembered baby parts then? Slice them into bite sized pieces? Prop them up as a display?
Do you understand now how sick this whole concept is? Do me a favor. Don’t order one of these ever. If this was some kind of ghastly surprise from a friend, I have news for you. They aren’t your friend. Boot them in the vagina, throw the cake at them and slam the door in their face. They wish you and your baby ill. Don’t perpetuate this terrible cycle of baby abuse and bad taste. I know you will do the right thing.
If you want to check out more cake disasters go to – http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/search/label/Creepy%20Cakes
I was born in The City. I’ve lived in other places during my life but moved back to the Bay Area over a decade ago. You can drink the water, the weather is fairly mild and it has some of the best views around. I like that most people are well-read, open-minded and aren’t inclined to tie me to a stick and set me on fire because I don’t share their religious beliefs. But there is something I have heard that disturbs me. Parking.
Not just the regular parking mess that always plagues San Francisco. We know The City is small and there are a shortage of parking spaces, terrible traffic snarls and that idiot bike rider riot that happens once a month. What I am annoyed with is holiday metered parking. All of my driving life, it has been a fact that you don’t feed the meters on Federal holidays or Sundays. These holidays traditionally included New Years Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, 4th of July, Labor Day, Veterans Day, Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day. Some places would also give you Martin Luther King Day, Columbus Day and the day after Thanksgiving. Well San Francisco is poor. We know the economy is shit and while the city by the bay is far richer than Squirrelbutt, Arkansas (apologies to the wonderful people of Squirrelbutt), they are cash strapped.
I understand the need to save money but instead of saving money by cutting bureaucratic waste (of which there is a TON), they have decided to grab some more pennies at the expense of the working man. They have eliminated the holiday meter freebie on certain federal holidays. Since most of us had no idea that “pick and choose” holiday meter roulette was the new law, tickets fell from the skies. One of my readers, Ling, had this experience:
“So, on Monday, Labor Day, I went shopping in the Laurel District of San Francisco when I noticed a meter cop distributing tickets on a row of parked cars. Last time I checked, Labor Day is a national holiday, and parking has always been free, like Christmas or MLK Day. Here in the East Bay, holidays, including Labor Day, are listed as free days. Apparently, the City of San Francisco is so strapped for money that it decided to change the holiday free parking law and ticket its residents for street parking on a national holiday!”
Yup, you are correct and it sucks! I went on-line and found the official scoop. Everyone take notes. You can park for FREE at meters on these holidays in San Francisco: New Years Day, Thanksgiving and Christmas. The city website stated the 4th of July is “Not Enforced in 2010 due to holiday falling on a Sunday”. So does that mean you have to pay in future years when the holiday falls during the week? You are going to ticket people on the holiday celebrating the birth of our Nation? REALLY?!
What pisses me off even more are the holidays NOT covered: Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Columbus Day, Veterans Day and the day after Thanksgiving. I’ll give them the Friday after Thanksgiving but Veteran’s Day?! HONESTLY?! I am ashamed at the thought that a person who fought and bled for our country would get a ticket on Veteran’s Day. Hey Newson! I know you’ve never served in the military. Don’t you think this is a travesty or are you too busy with your own political aspirations to care about the City you are suppose to be leading?
The cost of living in San Francisco is through the roof. A tiny one-room apartment is pricier than a unit of the same size in the Village in New York City . The once friendly, laid-back, progressive image of San Francisco has been replaced with money-pinching politicians, stringent laws and ineffectual police officers. What is happening to our city? If you really care, you will look harder at the fat that exists within the government rather than taxing your already overburdened citizens. You still have time to make this right. You are the Mayor. If you want to make it happen, you can. As for the rest of the “unwashed masses”, here are the breaks you DO get on ALL holidays:
My advice? Move out of San Francisco and move to the East Bay, the weather is better anyway and you are still close to the City so you can visit. How do we change this rule? Well, a start would be a well worded letter to Mayor Newson asking him to do the right thing and remind him that if he can’t do such a small thing for the citizens of his city, he loses your vote for Lt. Governor.
It seems I have a Secret Admirer, or at least I did. Last week a stranger called my cell phone, informed me he was my secret admirer, admitted I was a complete stranger, had no idea what I did for a living and thought “I looked nice”. My iphone told me the call came from Glendale. Now I am wondering the following things:
1) How did he get my phone number
2) Where did he see my picture
Everything points to Facebook. It seems I listed my cell phone number on my Facebook profile. It has since been taken down. In an ongoing effort to discover this mans identity, I have a man call the number back and find the number is a google number. Probably a scype one. Great. Dead end. It was a mystery and a little creepy. Guys, calling a girl you don’t know, saying you are her “secret admirer” IS GROSS AND CREEPY!!!!!! DO NOT DO IT!
Update: So a half hour ago I get a call on my cell phone, this time from Unknown. Now if you have an unlisted number, this is how your number will display and I’ve been looking for a job so I thought it might be a job call. I pick it up. Here is the conversation.
Him: Hi, it’s Ryan.
Him: Hey, how are you doing?
Me: Fine, just fine. It was good to see you!
Him: *confused* huh?
Me: Oh, you’re not my cousin Ryan?
Him: No I called you last Friday from LA. This is Ryan Garnett.
Me: Do I know you?
Him: No. I was at an internet cafe and someone left their FourSquare on and I saw you and thought you were attractive.
Me: Well thank you but I’m married.
Him: Oh I’m sorry, i apologize. I won’t flirt with you anymore.
Me: That’s OK. Thanks!
Now here is the other weird part. What is the chance of a stranger coming along when someone had my Four Square page up? Also my Four Square page, while it does list my picture, does NOT list my phone number. That would be Facebook (or did until recently). This is still a mystery.
Who is Ryan? Well he sounded like a 28 year old white male. Perfect serial killer demographic. He didn’t sound like he was going to pursue this and who knows? Maybe I just let the Love Of My Life go because his first move was kinda creepy. Naw, who am I kidding?
Next: Facebook Stalking: There’s An App For That!
There was a day when scandalous dance moves, guaranteed to give the dancer a one way ticket to Hades, were of a higher caliber. The Waltz. The Tango. I would even include that strange adolescent “slow dance” phenom that emerged in the 60’s and continues to this day. Kids clinging to each other like ivy and swaying in place because they lack the skill or knowledge to do any actual forbidden sexy dances such as the Tango.
Every generation has a dance that the older folks think will send the dancers to Hell in a handbasket. Well, all I can say is “elevator to Hell boarding here” because I have found some of the most insane, idiotic, crude “dances” to ever pop out of the Dark Lords Kindergarten. So today for Whack-A-Doodle Wednesday, we will look at a few dance moves that make me re-think the sanity of civilization
The first is called “dick slanging”. Here is the YouTube clip that started this whole junk slingin’ craze: http://www.youtube.com/watchv=tVx80aVxsm0&feature=PlayList&p=98DC871DFF060232&index=0&playnext=1&has_verified=1 It appears you need to fulfill a few requirements to participate in this dance. The first is, you need to be male. The second is, you need a long penis. I realize this makes dick slanging more of a piece of performance art rather than a dance, as dance implies an interaction between two or more people. If you don’t fulfill both of the above stated requirements, you are not eligible to participate in this dance.
If you are at work and are unable to open this YouTube video, allow me to give you the run down. Men, bop around to a song called “Dick Slang” while they whip their willies around inside baggy sweatpants like giant meat propellers. If this were “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom”, I could picture the late Marlin Perkins remarking on the mating rituals of certain homo sapiens in the wilds of the savannah. This “dance” seems designed to either spark the attention of a potential mate, provide narcissistic preening time or a bit of homoerotic club fun. Just think of that straight dick slanging guys! In close club quarters, you could slang your wang against another dudes junk and that is kinda… gay. On second thought, I would pay to see that.
The next train wreck on our hit parade of idiotic dances comes to us from Brazil. It’s called Surra de Bunda, which roughly translates into “the ass kiss”. It has become so infamous, thanks to the internet, that the good people of Brazil are working overtime to assure the rest of the world that a dance invented by strippers does not represent the entire population.
Picture this: hot skinny bikini-clad girl dances in front of an audience. She picks one lucky fellow out of the crowd and invites him on stage. The male sites down with his legs straight out in front of him. Now the gal dances around him in “pole dance” fashion until she kneels in front of him with her ass towards his face. She then places her legs on his shoulders, locks her ankles around his neck and proceeds to ram his face into her buttocks with the rhythm of the music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8GQ16jnCxg
After a brief, non-scientific study, involving interviewing a few guys at the local rugby pub, the general consensus on this dance was positive. The men seemed to big on it, could think of worse ways to get your nose broken but also acknowledged they would want this type of “stripper dance” early in the night before the dancer worked up a sweat and had already smashed the faces of a hundred men into her butt cheeks.
Our final dance craze has doctors in Jamaica alarmed. It seems this island sensation has tripled the number of broken penis cases in area hospitals. The new “dance” of “daggering” is basically simulated sex while clothed that has gotten completely out of control. It seems many men enthusiastically dry hump their partners but with clothes and an upright jimmy, combined with the speed and force of the dance it leads to men … breaking their dicks.
Yup guys, your johnson can break. These moves have migrated into the clubs in major cities and have escalated in intensity. I’ve seen films where guys have broken tables, with the stupid girls who volunteered for this madness, on them. This moronic dance craze has even spread to kids. Think I’m lying? This is why I love the internet. Here is a little kid daggering with a mailbox: http://www.youtube.com/watchv=ExK1TpiQ3n4&p=A95858B0F27D65E7&playnext=1&index=57
Now kids, if you are going to try daggering, make sure you save the flashy moves for the more experienced dancers: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EYETrsk6fM&feature=related Getting hit in the head by flying body parts is never fun.
So what is the moral of this story? Kids nowadays are insane, the world is going to Hell and I’m turning into my parents. I am overwhelmed with the desire to yell “Turn off that noise you kids and get off my lawn!!!!” I suppose for now I can comfort myself with the fact there still are people out there who love and appreciate the truly naughty dances of love. So everyone, let’s put these idiot fads back in the box and pull out the sexy big guns! Waltz or Tango anyone? I’m up for that!