Zip It!

Continuing in the somewhat tawdry vein my blog has taken lately (Crescent Moon, Pissing Wedge) I feel compelled to share something intimate:

A few days ago I zipped my tip.

I'm sure the times I've successfully zipped without incident number in the 100's of thousands. Yet, this once........

The pain was short lived, but quite intense nonetheless.

Crescent Moon?

There's a million names for the many different, shall we say, wardrobe malfunctions. You've no doubt seen or heard of many of them and if you haven't, google them, you'll get a plethora of information.

Nip slip. Upskirt, Camel Toe. Pokies. VPL. Downblouse. Etc. ad nauseum.

Believe it or not, Britney Spears has NOT cornered the market on nearly all of the above (but she does own a huge portion of it). Friday night, dealing at the casino, I saw one that I propose we call Crescent Moon.

A somewhat overweight, 30-ish Hispanic woman was at my table. She wore a black clingy low cut top wherein the lower hem of the top pretty much lined up with the top of her also black bra. Is that clear?

Dunno. But after a time, perhaps because she kept leaning onto the table, both garments were tugged down enough to reveal the top of her left areola. Since I was dealing I didn't get a real good look, nor did I want to in order to embarrass her, but this thing was peeking out at me for a good half hour before one of her friends across the table said something in Spanish and I could hear and sense all sorts of elastic snapping and adjustments. Upon another glance as I dealt her a card, things were all back in order. For a while.

The Crescent Moon made an appearance about 2 hours later for another half hour or so.

How could one not sense that?

PIssing Wedge?

Pissing Wedge? Seriously? They're not kidding? I've spent a lot of time on golf courses in my life. Usually they will have a rest room or two installed so that they're reachable from 6 or more holes. In lieu of that, nature, too, has installed many a restroom throughout the course. Its called a tree and they're not too hard to find.

Sex and the City

From what little I've seen of the television show; if you bludgeoned me, dragged my corpse to the cineplex, propped me up with a Sprite and some popcorn, I would still figure out some way of not having to sit through the movie, Sex and the City.

Ugh!

Hot Dogs

In racking my head about what to write about for a blog, I came up with a summer job I had while in college.

I worked in a hot dog factory. Yep. Where they make hot dogs.

Guess what? I'll eat a hot dog in a second and not think twice about it.

There's a great many misnomers about what's actually in a hot dog. Stories of rats and hoofs and beaks are not at all true in my experience. While I didn't actually make the hot dogs myself since I worked maintenance, I did witness that while hot dogs aren't necessarily made from the best cuts of meat, it did not at all look disgusting or gross. The rest of what's in a hot dog are some filler, like a corn meal and spices. That's really it.

When first cooked (packaged hot dogs are not "raw" - they merely need reheating) they are very tasty and we were allowed to eat as many as we liked in a day, since they made like 100,000 each day.

There was a USDA inspector on the premises full time and the place shut down after lunch for about two hours of complete factory cleaning.

So, this 4th of July, when someone offers you a frank. Go for it. Tell them I said its okay.

Back

I'm back!

Whew!!

Sort of odd not to be waiting in any lines today.

No line for breakfast, then to pay for breakfast, then for the bus to the park, then the bag inspection area, then the ticket booth, then the attraction (x5), then lunch, then a ride (x8), then a snack (x3), then to exit the park, then the bus again, then dinner and then to pay for dinner.

No wonder our feet ached.

All-in-all though, a BLAST!

Who's Calling?

Ring, ring.

Hello?

Yes, this is he.

Oh, hi!

Yeah, pretty much all set.

Right.

Right.

I won't.

Stop worrying I won't.

Listen, I won't forget, ok? How could I?

Of course. She's way too excited.

Ok.

Yep. You too. See ya tomorrow.

Ok. Bye Mickey.

Click.