Happy Birthday, Preston Michael Spears Federline and other Certain Special Someones!

[ThurgreedMarshall]

Originally posted by ironweed
Section 5 (30 points)

Match the unbearable situation/degrading experience with the appropriate form of self-destruction:

1. Jacking off in BYO porn shop
2. Working mid-level managment job at insurance company
3. Visible stomach below belt line
4. Comb-over
5. Watching shopping network in stained Fruit of Loom Briefs
6. Listening to music with horns

A. Shoot heroin; get it all over with
B. French kiss business end of .44
C. Pop rocks/soda at same time
D. Eat diced pineapple from crack whore's crack
E. Draino sundae
F. Both barrels under chin, toe on trigger

poty

TM

[barely_legal]

Originally posted by Not Bob
As in, it explains why you don't like strippers -- because you have been neutered ("fixed").

Not Bob: He Cares.

paid political advertisement by the Not Bob for Alderman Committee.

New board rule: nobody else is allowed to explain my jokes either.

[Penske_Account]

Originally posted by Flinty_McFlint
How is that any different than a lawfirm?

I have never gotten a reach around. What kind of enlightened workplace are you at?

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
I was in Vegas for a bachelor party. I'd write something, but its all been said before...

Nothing revelatory. Nothing creative. No deepening of friendships. No wonderful experience to rememeber forever.

BUT - As a "forget everything and for a brief minute hallucinate yourself into believing there is no job, home and shitass professional sucker existence to go back to" destination, I must admit - Vegas is the shit. I barely knew my name when I left.

I could live the rest of my life in a casino. Its got all I need. Sure, its low brow culture, but fuck it... I've been to most of the nice places. I've done high brow - its overrated. I love the clock-killing part of Vegas. I had no idea when I got up or when I went to sleep or whether I was drinking or anything else before noon.

I know this sounds silly, but how incredible would it be if we banned the observation of passing time? Seriously, if we banned the observance of time as its presently done (and fixated upon by idiots who have a hard on for "being organized and maximizing the day"), life would pass much more pleasurably.

"So, when will that project be finished, Sebastian?"

"When its done."

Sebastien

This is doable.

[notcasesensitive]

Originally posted by NotFromHere
You frequent a much more casual place. The only male stripper place I was dragged to was in the same city where you cannot drink outdoors in public. So the strippers were 10 feet away behind a velvet rope and busloads of drunk women had to throw "tokens" into his g-string. NO CONTACT. Which I suppose is a good thing now that you mention it. For both sides. I can imagine busloads of drunk women can get a little grabby.

I have seen male strippers exactly twice.

First time was in a non-discript mid-western city at the local Chippendales franchise or whatever. There was no touching there, though, god help them, a large number of women in the audience seemed to want to touch. I've done my best to block all memories of that night out, but I still have an adverse reaction to bachelorette parties screaming and giggling their way through my neighborhood watering hole, so I'm not sure I've managed to completely erase it from memory. I believe there were a managerie of your stereotypical male stripper uniforms - policeman, fireman, etc.

Second time was at someone's house for a bachelorette party. The bride-to-be was my sister-in-law at the time and she wanted me to have to endure the lapdance type thing right along with her. Probably because I was the only one acting mortified by the stripper and his tiny green sparkly g-string. He was close enough for me to see his leg acne, and that is just too close for me, thank you.

I now prescreen "ladies night out" adventures to make sure there aren't any expectations that I will have to be around skanky g-stringed men. Luckily the type of women who like that sort of thing don't typically run in my circles anymore. Or I don't run in theirs.

[ltl/fb]

Originally posted by ThurgreedMarshall
Wouldn't that depend on the sensibilities of the person fucking you in your ass?

TM

OK, so, remember that movie featuring Jay and Silent Bob (as opposed to Not Bob) in which the character played by Shannon Dougherty broke up with her bf, or got mad at him or something, because he farted while she was blowing him?

In another part of that movie, you may recall, one of the characters (either Jay or the bf of the SD character, I think), stuck his hand down the back of his pants to get fecal material on it, and then transferred it to chocolate pretzels (or something) which he gave to the bad guy, who got violently ill.

My question relating to this is, how is it that dogs and cats (and, I guess, other animals) lick their own asses all the time but don't seem to get violently ill from it?

Originally posted by paigowprincess
Sebastien

This is doable.

What about saving every day 'til eternity passes away, just to spend them with you? How about that?

Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
Possibly, in one of the bathrooms. I don’t do the get-the-blow-job-from-the-hooker bit... I hate 90% of everyone and everything. I can’t go and screw up my relationship with one of the few things I really care for and actually respect. Its too bad you can’t cheat on your career and the people in the industry and city you live in. There should be some grand way to show them that level of contempt.

I was driving in this morning and saw this cesspool from the Schuykill and got the most sickening feeling in my gut. Anyone got a lead for a gig somewhere else? I think Sebby needs a new city. Or at least a gig that lets me travle far away from Shit City regularly.

Its ok, honey. I would have been amused if you actually were able to get it up for a bj. This camel needs water.

[Replaced_Texan]

Originally posted by notcasesensitive
I now prescreen "ladies night out" adventures to make sure there aren't any expectations that I will have to be around skanky g-stringed men. Luckily the type of women who like that sort of thing don't typically run in my circles anymore. Or I don't run in theirs.

2. I go one step further and refuse to go to any event where someone is adorned with small pink plastic penises, any item of clothing that says "bride" on it or any cute hats with white veils. Dick dancers at gay clubs, though, are an another breed entirely.

[str8outavannuys]

Originally posted by Mmmm, Burger (C.J.)
Why is the wife not the douche? If you went to YLS for only 2 years it wouldn't count nearly as much.

She's a douche too - she was a hardcore mantrapper. But she's the niece of poker legend Mickey Appelman, so that counts for something.

[Not Bob]

Originally posted by barely_legal
New board rule: nobody else is allowed to explain my jokes either.

Sorry, baby.

[Gattigap]

Originally posted by Replaced_Texan
I'm actually fascinated by sex workers, and I read a lot about them. (Strip City, G-Strings and Sypmathy (i'm really jealous that this was someone's doctoral disertation), Live Nude Girl). I go to the Sex Worker's Art Show when it comes into town, and I talk to a lot of the performers afterwards. The woman who won Ms. Burlesque World last year had an amazing strip-tease. And I've dated people who work (on the periphery) in the sex industry.

My interest is a little more academic than I think yours, and I think it gives me a more detachment. It also sort of ruins any mystery that might exist. My ex- used to say after watching something like 1000 hours of porn in a month, he's totally desensitized to it. Plus, he knows what goes on in the background.

I guess sometimes it's better not to go behind the curtain.

BTW, this is a blog of a stripper from New Orleans. Obviously, the last few weeks aren't that great to read about, but she's quite fascinating to read.

Today's Sign of the Apocalypse:

FWIW, the LA Times' resident smartass Joel Stein wrote an article Sunday (Reg. requ'd) about the premiere of the new porn film, "Pirates" at Hollywood's Egyptian Theater. As Stein observed, "The movie was a lot like "Pirates of the Caribbean," but answered a lot of questions that the Johnny Depp film left unanswered, such as, "What does it look like when two girl pirates have sex with one boy pirate?".

Apparently, this was a breakthrough in the porn industry, as public premieres aren't often done, even in the soulless hellhole known as West Hollywood. Turns out that most of the audience got bored with the cinematography, plot, acting, or who knows what about 30 mins in.

Gattigap

[barely_legal]

Originally posted by Not Bob
Sorry, baby.

baby? Seriously? I mean, that just tripped off your fingers? What has nononono done to the Not_Bob I once respected? The one who liked grrrl music and was scared to compliment waitresses?

baby?

[notcasesensitive]

Originally posted by Replaced_Texan
Dick dancers at gay clubs, though, are an another breed entirely.

Oh crap, if we are counting gay bars, I would have to up my number. Though usually those were just boys in their tighty-whities dancing on little platforms throughout the clubs.

Actually a gay friend's ex- (and it was a BAD breakup) was doing that one night in a club we were at and I had my more straight-laced friends go give him a buck each. He bent over and licked my southern-sorority-chick friend on her face. All the way up her cheek. She was mortified. She probably was right to be mortified. That little boy was fucking anyone and everyone.

[NotFromHere]

Originally posted by ltl/fb
OK, so, remember that movie featuring Jay and Silent Bob (as opposed to Not Bob) in which the character played by Shannon Dougherty broke up with her bf, or got mad at him or something, because he farted while she was blowing him?

In another part of that movie, you may recall, one of the characters (either Jay or the bf of the SD character, I think), stuck his hand down the back of his pants to get fecal material on it, and then transferred it to chocolate pretzels (or something) which he gave to the bad guy, who got violently ill.

My question relating to this is, how is it that dogs and cats (and, I guess, other animals) lick their own asses all the time but don't seem to get violently ill from it?

What is wrong with you?