Out of Pocket Again

Just when I'm finished with massage classes, I'm off again.... This time it's back to Boston for my Grandma's 90th birthday, then down to NYC for a few days of fun with Mike D (and maybe the Deaners?) Then Austin, Louisiana, and back home. Holy shit, that's a lot of places to go. And a lot of driving. I'm hoping to do some serious truck stop shopping, camera in hand. Look for funny pictures to be posted later. And maybe postcards too if I know your address.

Ultimate Kazoo

At lunch a friend and I were talking about breaking the seal on farting in a relationship. His ex-girlfriend's nickname was "airhorn," and we started talking about the phobia of farting around others. So I came up with this idea to avoid farting in front of anyone while you were sleeping. (This is so you Babu.) You take a butt plug, hollow it out, and fit it with a little kazoo inside. Then you never have to worry about those little bronx cheers anymore. And you can join up with those lovely Petty Booka girls and jam with them in your sleep.

Barfy Bourdain

Yet another attempt to hang out with Steph and Mike was bamboozled by my mid-day need to barf all over everyone I saw. Thank god I maintained until I got home. (Some days I feel this way, but I'm not really all that sick. Today was different...) But in the middle of this barfiness, I got to catch up on some good Anthony Bourdain reading, and read the best quote to sum up some latent thoughts on Asia:

"They say there are sun bears in China, hooked up to kidney drips like catsup dispensers, leeching bear bile into tiny bottles. Rhino horn. Bear claw. Bird's nest. Duck embryo. You've got to be pretty anxious about your penis to contemplate hurting a cute little sun bear."

I think he's got something there.

Smell My Fingers

After the paper airplane incident, there have been a few keen text messages going back and forth between me and Tammy. She took her daughter's Barbie and a dildo and created a nice diorama. I tried for a half hour to get a nice photo with my smiling face AND nekkid ass with my cell phone, but dammit my arms weren't long enough. I settled for a photo of my friend's ass. So when we got to school on Monday, one of our fellow students, the one who needed help identifying hemmorhoids, was feeling a bit left out. She asked me to go in the bathroom with her to take a picture of her ass to send to Tammy. (Nice that I'm the ass photographer now.) Then she wsa looking for a good tagline to send along with the photo. I suggested "smell my fingers," a clever allusion to an earlier aromatherapy joke. She agreed that was good, and asked me "How do you spell 'smell'?" This joke killed at the Starbucks drive-thru window at lunch (but later bombed on the phone with Mike D).

I think ol' girl's gonna have trouble passing the GED.