Me, Myself and Irene

My ass has become a soft serve ice cream machine.

Now, hear me out on this one.

I was sitting on the can, looking through the new Maxim magazine, the real swimsuit issue *wink wink nudge nudge*, when I did what comes naturally to all of us.

Now I swear it felt like it was slowly, but softly squeezing out between my butt cheeks like smooth ice cream which makes me wonder what the hell did I eat.

To much information right...ok lets talk about something else.

Good god my balls are huge!

I'm not talking elphantitus huge, but I'm talking child size bowling balls huge. I'm talking about, if I get to excited when getting oral pleasures from a woman, I'll probably knock her out as they slap repeatidly off her chin.

Which a large set has its advantages, it also has its disadvantages.

Like you try and find a pair of pants that fit comfortably when you look like you are smuggling cocunuts into the country.

Or how about it takes a serious amount of soap and elbow grease to get those bad boys clean.

Lets not forget, with balls this big it makes my dick look smaller in comparison. Like for example, lets use a pretzel stick to represent my dick *not saying my dick is ACTUALLY that size, I mean I have a good few inches on that pretzel stick I'm telling you*.

Alright, now put that pretzel stick between two peanuts, looks preaty decent sized doesn't it, nothing to complain about. Ok, take that same pretzel stick between a set of bowling balls......whoa, looks tiny doesn't it.

Still to much information, not what you had in mind. Ok, next subject.

I had a dream I was riding Britney Spears like a wild stallion with a bur up her ass and I kept thinking, "my god is she really soft down there." Then I woke up in my kitchen with my dick in the tub of country crock butter. How fucking strange is that!

Try explaining to your friends how THAT imprint in the butter came about.

"I uuuuuhhhhhhhhh accidently shoved a bratwurst in there......yeah and it had some wierd liquidy white fat leak out the tip of it!"

Alrighty, now that I throughly disgusted you, lets move on.

*This is a ficticious tale meant to bring some humor to your day. No part of this story is real nor are the people real. And for your reading enjoyment, imagine the story being told by one of those old time movie detectives doing the voice over while attempting cheap Boggart impersonation.*

I was traveling down the long and lonesome highway fifty five, my car purring like a cat suffering from an azhma attack. Lucky strike dangling from my lips as I listen to the DJ on the radio go on and on about the musical dynasty of ABBA.

Feeling hungery as a Ethopian and as horny as a teenage football player on prom night, I spotted a diner on the side of the road.

"Well, if I can't get my freak on I might as fill my stomach with some grub," I say to the DJ on the radio. He never listens to me.

Yak's diner flashed brightly in neon pink above the tin roof of the road side cafe. Parking lot filled with cars that remind me of my grandfather, decrepetly old, covered in strange stains and falling to pieces.

Since my breaks are like the US mail, slow to work and yielding no results, I stop/slam my car into the nearest post, fall out my car and crawl into the diner.

Inside the patrons hunker over there plates of food, looking like a bunch of AA members after a open bar wedding. The florecent lights giving them a healthy "corpse" blue tinge to there skin, making me wonder if I hit my head harder then I thought or I was in one of those zombie movies.

I plop down on a stool and order up a cup of coffee with whiskey, skip the coffee, and a menu as I try and avoid touching the counter top covered in more grease then a teenage boy's forehead.

Her name tag read Flo, my name tag read Bubbles, so theres no telling the truth of name tags when you hit a diner thats straight out of the twilight zone.

Flo, with her red stringy hair, bruised knees and a hacking cough that sounded eirely similar to a 57 Studabaker without a muffler, brought me my drink of retired baseball players with a pension to gamble.

"What will you have," she says to me in a voice like rubbing steel wool over a cheese grater.

"I'm a man of adventure. I live for risks, push the envelope, leap head first without a thought to the consequences of my actions. I live dangerously with out a care in the world or a fear I might be dead before the next sun rise."

"So that would be the tuna melt you want then."

"That is correct ma'am."

As I sat there and waited for the fat cook with the mysterious red stains on his apron and crazed look in his eyes to cook up my order, I day dreamed of the days when I dated Mary J. Rottencrotch. With a buck tooth grin, noby kneed legs, and a ass the shape of Texas, I loved that woman with all heart and soul tell the next day when I was sober and realized it was a middle aged chinese dry cleaner.

Mental note, never drink tequila and Nyquil margaretas again for the rest of my life.

I quickly leanred the source of the name "Yak's diner" when I tried choking down my tuna melt which I suspect was really ground up rat meat with cheese made with cat's milk.

As I sit there fighting to keep my food down, losing the battle like a white boxer fighting Mike Tyson, she walked through the door.

She was a real looker with a cart full of mold. Or is that a hooker with a heart of gold, I get those two mixed up.

With legs so long they went from her hips all the way to the floor, swaying back and forth like woman with a broken hip as she makes her way over to the counter. She was wearing a simple house dress with a print of little duckys and rabbits which remind me of my bed spread at home, a madona missle breast/snow cone style bra. I could tell it was cold in here since her nipples where the size of the Olsen twins.

Her bee stung lips where pouty as she puffed away on a cigarette, god I never wanted to be a cigarette more at the moment then any other in my life. Her eyes where as big as coffee cup saucers, giving here that "well, I'm waiting" look constantly, which went well with her drawn on eyebrows so high up on her forehead it added a mysterious suprised look to her.

I fell head over heels in love with her the second I saw her walk through the door. I love not even rivaled by the days of Mary J. Rottencrotch aka Yang Chin.

It was love or a really bad case of gas. So I made my way to the bathroom which I have seen porta johns that are more hygenic after they tip over. Like the jury on the O.J. Simpson murder case, I finaly gave into the annoyance and let my food go. After popping a certs in my mouth and sucking on it like a newborn baby attached to the teet of Dolly Parton, I realized that feeling was still deep inside me.

Yep, it was love.

I swagger out of the bathroom and make my way to the dame at the counter, giving her my best lines, my winning smile and five dollars. I blink a few times and realize I was talking to a card board cut out of Richard Simons selling his deal-a-meal shit. I quickly cover myself by setting it on fire then stomping it out as I played "big dicked hero" of Yak's diner.

My manliness oozing from every pore in my body like some flesh eating bacteria quickly catches her eye.

Seating myself next to her, I give her my best shit eating grin as I whisper, "So whats a dame like you doing in a joint like this."

"What?"

She was either deaf or as dumb as a box of rocks, so I say it again to her a bit louder this time.

"What the fuck are you calling me a dog for!!"

"I said dame not dane as in the great dane." Quick reasement, deaf and dumb...it has its benifits.

Well, she blushes and giggles which sounds a lot like a pig squeeling after you grab the pigs nuts and play a old farmer's game called "wind up the pig."

"My car broke down, so I'm here to call for a tow truck and have a something to eat."

"I got something here for you to eat," I mumble into my cup of coffee.

"What did you say?"

"Oh nothing, so tell me whats your name."

"Well I'm Mary, pleased to meet you."

Holy hell in a hand basket, did she just say her name was Mary? My head spinning like a carnival ride, I marvel at the cosmos aligning perfectly to have this moment.

That or a lot of people named there daughter's Mary, which seems the less far fetched of the two ideas.

"So tell me Mary, where can a guy like me find a warm bed and a soft woman to snuggle up to on a night like this."

"If you got a car I can show you where you can find both of them," she huskily says to me with a cocetesh grin.

Liking where this is going, I slap some money down on the counter and escort her to my death on wheels, which I like to call my car.

Rolling into the trailer park, I manage to stop/slam my car into the multitude of vehicles on blocks in the front yard. Climbing out of the car she crooks a finger at me and tells me to come with her if I want to have some fun. I tell her I left my parchese board back at my place, but I'm sure we could still have some fun.

Walking through the door, I couldn't help but notice that it looked like 1977 threw up in her trailer. Green shag carpeting, disco ball in the ceiling, and matching leopard print bed sheets. I have seen pimps with more decrotive taste then this broad.

"Preaty swanky place you got here Mary," I lie like a U.S. Senator.

Mary not being a woman of words, being that she is deaf and dumb, shows her apreciation by shoving her tongue down my mouth as if she was hungery and looking for pieces of my tuna melt still lodged in my throat.

Not being a man who likes to play games, other then parchese, I grab her ass and pretend I'm Tony Danza as I show her who's the boss.

My theory of her being hungery is quickly proven as she drops down on her knees and partakes in my pork sausage of love. Her tongue was swirling faster then tornado and her mouth sucking harder then a shop vac, leaving me wondering "holy Mary and Joseph, when is the last time I got my teeth cleaned."

My knees wobbling like Muhamed Ali's hands and whimpering like a little school girl, I quickly give up my man juice then pass out on her waterbed like a drunken sailor.

Some hours later I awake to finding her lying next to me, naked all except for a ball gag, a strap on, and a copy of "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus" taped to her thighs. Lying next to her is a either a midget or a very ugly, shaved dog.

Being as this is not my scene, I place enough money on her night stand for a Big Mac meal deal, super sized cause my heart is just that big.

Jumping in my car I once again make my way down the long and lonesome highway fifty five.

It's about time - Wednesday, Jul. 07, 2004
An Honor for Chrome - Friday, Feb. 20, 2004
A great loss - Monday, Oct. 20, 2003
a terrible announcement. - Tuesday, Sept. 09, 2003
Chrome speaks: - Friday, Sept. 05, 2003