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Tag Archives: balls

Till the service dog goes blind

There is something off-putting to other people when you lick your nuts in public.

Like a social faux-pas that is a little too blatant to ignore.

Before this goes much further, this is not about me.

I am not that flexible.

And if I was, I sure as hell would not have time to be writing a blog.

I would have “things” to do.

Doug, however, has no issues with licking himself in public, he’s been doing it since I got in line at Starbucks.

“Its obscene!”

The stage whisper ahead of me is from Gladys. (Google “Gladys Bewitched” and it makes sense.)

Gladys is all up in Doug’s shit.

Doug, by the way, is a service dog, a real one with a vest and everything.

And Doug has a serious thing going on with his nuts today.

Gladys is highly triggered by it, but can’t seem to look away.

The two stoners behind me are delighted.

Here is their first comments, verbatim:

“Dogs have all the luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wish I could do that.”

“Try petting him first.”

5 minutes of laughter followed that seemed to upset Gladys even more.

Doug didn’t seem to mind at all, he just continued licking his nut.

“Sir!”
Gladys has officially, “Had enough”.

Doug’s owner was texting and missed this whole deliciously uncomfortable scene.

“Huh?”

Raised eyebrows show no comprehension or acknowledgement of Gladys’ #MeToo ordeal.

“Can you do something about that?!?!”

Gladys wants SOMETHING done.

“Like what?”

The smirk on his face is not helping here. (Its a Service Dog, pretty much, he could kill someone and I think that is legal.)

“Do something about that!”

Gladys wildly gestures in the direction of Doug’s testicular garden party.

“Looks like he’s got it covered.” (Outright laughing only makes it worse, dude.)

“Make him stop!” (Gladys is hitting her peak of outrage. Worse seeing but a little sad, too.)

“I don’t like to interrupt him when he’s eating.”

And then goes back to texting with a chuckle.

In the silence that follows, the stoners lose it.

Gladys fumes and and crosses her arms defiantly.

But she will NOT stop watching.

Jealous?

Maybe she should pet him.

Damn, I need coffee.

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Posted by on August 24, 2018 in Uncategorized

 

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One more thing you can’t do in church.

Starbucks is attempting a hostile world takeover, one cup at a time.

 

I felt a little awkward this morning, yelling at the dog to stop licking his balls.

I mean, who am I to judge?

If I could reach, I sure as hell would not listen to people asking me to stop.

However, I feed him and walk him, so its my way or the highway. (Highway consists of feeding himself and figuring out how to shit into mid-air.)

Upon reflection, It might be the best of all things that me, and by extension males as a species, are not double jointed in a way as to facilitate the licking of our own balls.

The damage to society would be devastating.

We would still be living in caves and the ladies would be cooking cold meals because nobody will stop their activities long enough to invent fire.

So it all works out for the best.

And no one will have invented Starbucks.

So there is that.

Talk about your aggressive organizations.

There was an old school sporting goods store in my town.

Been there since before I was born.

Burnt to the ground a few years ago.

And no one has had the heart to rebuild.

Like living in a house someone died in, there is bad mojo attached to it.

Enter Starbucks.

They could not care less.

Tempt fate? Motherfucker, they OWN fate sprinkled with pumpkin spice! (That line makes no sense, but I laugh every time I read it, so it stays.)

But why? Why do they want to dominate the world?

Two words.

Rechanneled libido.

It makes perfect sense now, doesn’t it?  

Starbucks is spreading like the plague because they can’t like their own balls. (Let that sink in.)

Even I am in awe at the twisted logic that made the concept above possible.

However twisted that sounds, I cannot find a serious argument against it.

Dogs, by the way, do not prefer the taste of pumpkin spice, much less latte’s with pumpkin spice. (Balls yes, P-spice? No bueno.)

It is this that has held dogs down from evolving thumbs and competing for dominance on this planet.

A test reader just made a funny about humans not sniffing each other’s asses.

Beg to differ.

Go to any bar in Hermosa Beach, California during the Summer on “Dollar Shot Night” and you will see manifest ass sniffing on a grand scale.

In truth, we are not that far from the caves, but we like to think we are.

This is the first in a series of posts that unmask plots by the major coffee houses.

My next post will explain Starbucks connection to the Unicorn Latte and nuclear war.

Mmmmm coffee…

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2017 in Uncategorized

 

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Your unsightly unmentionables

There is an ad on an internet site for Scrotox, botox for the testicles.

I have no idea what I was going write about prior to reading that.

Gone, all that is left is Scrotox.

Its disturbing, and nasty and has a tangible feeling of ewww to it.

The gist of the ad, once you click on it, is that there are men who feel bad or embarrassed by their wrinkly testicles.

Go back and read that last sentence again, I will wait here.

I am staring at my screen and shaking my head.

I’m not sure where to go from here.

Is this a thing?

I have never looked at my scroti in terms of their attractiveness.

What is worse, wrinkles or the sparse pubic hair?

If I get Scrotox, and I am not saying I will, will I need to get them waxed?

I mean, if they are going to be smooth, they should be hairless.

It makes for a better photo.

Pubic hair, no matter how much conditioner you use, will never behave.

Now, if you are going to take your scroti to the salon and to use the English term, “Smack your bitch up”, you should definitely have some head shots taken.

So off to the mall for some tacky head shots, maybe even with a big hair wig like your balls are a backup dancer in a White Snake video.

The alternative to waxing would be a comb-over, and that would be worse.

Anyone who saw your scroti with a comb over would see that as desperate, trying too hard.

It would be obvious that your balls are past their prime, no longer able to just roll out of bed, run your hand thru your hair and out the door.

You would have to buy “Product” for your hair, and that is a whole other thing.

I would recommend taking your nuts to a high end salon for a consultation.
Don’t fuck around here, get a professional consultation about testicular grooming products.

Just saying.

But, you ask, how do I know if my “Orbs” pass muster?

How can I tell if my “Makers” lack that “Come hither look” that the “Bits” of male models possess?

Its not like you can just wipe the out at happy hour and begin asking random strangers what they think.

That sounds like a recipe for getting gang tackled and held for observation.

Besides, what does your average Jane and Joe know about truly good looking “Bait”?

But who do you go to for that expert appraisal?

If you are 50 or older, I should think that Antique Road Show might be of help.

But you might have to be a little vague about things until you are sitting across from the expert and the cameras are rolling. (Also may end up in a gang tackle by the production staff.)

There is one suggestion that none of the ads seems to even allude to, and it seems to be so obvious.

Just keep in in your pants, no one wants to see that shit.

Seriously.

No BS.

Don’t.

No.

Just don’t.

We good?

 
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Posted by on September 23, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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