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Poop.
What a fabulous piece of onomatopoeia.
Are farts funny? Can you generalize, and say boys would generally say yes and girls no?
My two best female friends both chortle when cheese is chopped. What does that say about me?
Men and women are so different generally, aren't they?
My friend sent me a soft-core German lesbian farting video today.
Do you think that somewhere there's a planet full of baseball watching, beer drinking women lying around farting in their underwear, and men clicking their tongues and saying ,"I just feel like you're not really listening to me"?
It would explain a lot, wouldn't it?
Take your average date.
At first, the girl is reluctant. She sizes up the guy.
The guy is on a sperm sortie from the drop. All through the evening he is Lance Romance. He opens doors, he listens his ASS off, he gives constant, sincere, perceptive compliments and is completely engaged.
Slowly, the woman responds. "This attention is nice. So is this wine. He's really listening to me." The petals start to open.
Let's say that the date rocks. Many laughs, a lot of kissing, and, finally, a compelling roll in the hay capped by vicious and simultaneous orgasms.
At that very moment, something extraordinary occurs. The trajectories reverse. Within five seconds, the woman is now romantically charged., and the guy is wondering what the Giants did and how much sleep he'll get if she leaves right now.
Is that wrong? Too idiosyncratically autobiographical?
I think not.
I should not be giving romantic advice, but girls, here are two gems:
1. Next time you have a man over, be cordial and friendly and attractive, but very early in the evening, say, "let's just relax", and then, don't talk to him for a while. Watch the sun go down. Listen to some music. Read the paper. Inside of twenty minutes the dude will look up at you, smile, and say, "This is nice, we should do this more often". He won't be able not to. We are basically trout with legs, ladies. Put the right pattern in front of us in the right way, and the reaction is straight from the brain stem.
2. Next time you have sex. Right, I'm talking ten seconds, after, say, "Who pitched today?"
Jesus, I just gave romantic advice. Is that what I had in mind all along with this blog thing, to become the plucky sardonic Man Landers of the late bloomers? Maybe I am gay. That would explain a lot too.
Like my constant and unslaked thirst for cock.
Great, I have a gig in four and a half hours.
This blogging thing's pretty ego maniacal, isn't it?
laters,
db
