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I wouldn't wear those sunglasses.  But this definitely sounds like something I'd say.

I'm an avid follower of FAILblog, the blog where people post the most bizarre pictures mocking something that is or just seems wrong by marking the photographs with the word "FAIL."  Things mocked include bizarre car accidents, poorly worded signs that end up giving an unintended message, and people just doing crazy (and usually dangerous) things.

To be honest, I often find myself wondering if some pictures are faked.  The picture for the "anti-masturbatory gum" (see left) is one of those cases.  Setting aside the fact that I can't begin to understand how gum can make you lose interest in pleasuring yourself (short of messing with hormones, which I find a rather scary thing to do just to avoid a bit of sexual relief), I just can't imagine why anyone would WANT such a product.

Well, anyone who isn't a repressed bundle of unexpressed sexuality who's afraid that some Higher Power is going to strike them dead for enjoying their own bodies and the pleasure it gives them.  Thankfully, my gods tend to have a much more tolerant view of sexuality and sexual pleasure.  In fact, they think it's something to be celebrated!

Granted, they stipulate that such celebration should be done in a manner that is responsible.  But what could be more responsible than pleasuring yourself?  Let's face it:

• No one has ever gotten pregnant from pleasuring themselves.
• No one has ever gotten an STD from pleasuring themselves.
• No one gets used or abused when you pleasure yourself.
• Everyone involved -- you -- is bound to enjoy the experience.

So please, if you're feeling the urge, give yourself to take care of that urge.  It's far more ethical and responsible than using someone else to take care of your physical needs and hurting them in the process.

And really, am I the only one who thinks that trying to stop people from masturbating by encouraging them to develop a possible oral fixation might be a bit unwise?  ;)

Cast

Queer:  A flamboyantly gay man in his mid-thirties.  Bears a striking resemblance to the playwright.

Straightboy:  A slender, fit man in his late teens or early twenties. Has a brush cut and looks like he works out a lot.

Straightboy Too:  A friend and near carbon copy of Straightboy.

Clerk:  An easy-going, mellow gentleman in his early forties.  Knows Queer, who is a regular customer at the gas station.

Bystanders:  A small group of people of various ages and genders.

Setting

The gas station where Clerk works.  Straightboy and Straightboy Too are at the counter and Queer is standing directly behind him.  The bystanders fill out the line behind the trio.

Action

Straightboy Too:  Do you need to see my ID, too?

Clerk:  Yes.  (Takes the card offered by Straightboy Too.)  I can't take this ID.  I see you have a New York driver's license.  Give me that.

Straightboy Too:  (Handing over a second card.)  You can't take military ID?

Clerk:  They don't have a barcode I can scan, so no.

Straightboy Too:  (Collects his ID and turns to Straightboy.)  I'll go move your truck to one of the pumps.  (Exits.)

Straightboy:  (Turning to address everyone in line behind him.)  I'm sorry it's taking so long.

(Several seconds pause.  Queer looks mildly amused at this point.)

Straightboy:  (Turning to Queer.)  I'm sorry to slow things down.

Queer:  (Smiling and affecting a nonchalant tone as Straightboy turns to face Clerk again.)  That's okay, hon.  You're cute so I'll forgive you this time.

(Straightboy turns with a startled, disbelieving look.  Queer continues to smile and Straightboy turns around and finishes paying Clerk before exiting.)

End Scene

I love this LOLCat!


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And if you don't get it, I'm not explaining it to you!

Well, I thought it was rather humorous.  Thanks to Shivian for pointing it out via Twitter.

MSNBC is reporting that an adult store chain is giving out free sex toys to voters:

The rewards are no-so-subtle reminders of this year’s campaign rhetoric. For men, it’s the “Maverick,” a "sleeve" for self-pleasuring. According to a press release, “He’s always there to lend a hand, he works for every man, and he bucks the status quo.” Women can choose the “Silver Bullet” mini-vibrator, which is “a magical solution to difficult problems” and “a great stress-reliever during these troubled economic times!” The promotion lasts through Nov. 11.

I have to admit that this is the most bizarre and most humorous "reward" I've heard of for doing one's civic duty. Then again, I suppose it also makes sense. I've often joked that the presidential election is merely the process by which we choose which party is going screw us for the next few years. At least Babeland is offering a consolation prize we can use to make it a more pleasurable experience for ourselves.

Hat tip: Greg

One of the interesting things about Freyja acting as my patroness and primary guide is that she often puts in her two cents on my health and any matter related to it. And while she certainly reaffirms my right to make my own decisions about what I should do, she both makes her opinion about the best course of action known and is brutally honest about the consequences of a bad decision I'm considering.

Consider, for example, a brief exchange we had tonight at dinner. After working at the shop all afternoon, Belinda, Amy, and I decided to go to dinner at Red Lobster tonight. The three of us sat in a comfortable booth enjoying our meals. After I finished my chicken linguini alfredo (one of the great ironies of my life is that I eat at Red Lobster at least once a month despite the fact that I don't like seafood or fish), I pondered the possibility of dessert. After all, I absolutely love their ice cream sundae with the big chocolate chip cookie on the bottom. I considered it when Miss Thing decided to make her thoughts known. The exchange went something like the following.

Her: I don't think that's a good idea.

Me: But it's so good!

Her: Yes, but you've already had enough to eat.

Me: I can manage it!

Her: You also had the pina colada with dinner.

Me: I know, but I probably won't come back for a few more weeks, and I really want the sundae.

Her: Okay, let me lay it out for you. Then you can choose whatever you want.

Me: Lay it out for me?

Her: Your digestive system is already a bit out of whack due to your recent changes in exercise and eating habits. You've eaten a large meal and had a drink. Before you order the ice cream, you might just want to stop and ask yourself how much time you really want to spend in the bathroom this evening.

Me: You mean....?

Her: Well, let's just say that if you have the ice cream, you might want to move the television in there as soon as you get home so you don't miss your shows.

I eventually saw reason and went without dessert tonight. Hey, it was my choice. But all the same, it sure feels like she play dirty some days. ;)

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Yesterday, I learned from fellow blogger Benton Quest that this month is National Masturbation Month.

Feel free to have a bit of fun in the comments with this topic, but try not to let things get too out of hand. ;)

I decided to post my favorite joke, since I was writing it up for another site, anyway.

John came from a relatively conservative hometown and had great parents. He went away to a college about three hours from home. During his first semester there, he came out to himself. After a few months, John decided he really needed to come out to his parents. So he called them and let him know that he'd be home that weekend.

On the drive home, John decided it would be best to tell his mother first. He figured it would be easier to talk with her and then have her help in breaking the news to his father.

As he arrived home and opened the front door, he was greeted by the smells of his mother's home cooking. "Mom!" he called out.

Her voice carried through the house despite its soft tones. "I'm in the kitchen getting supper ready!" He wandered back, slightly nervous but determined. Once he reached the kitchen, he found his mother standing in front of the stove, dutifully stirring the contents of a large pot with a wooden spoon. "Did you have a pleasant drive home, dear?"

"Yes, I did." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Mom, I need to talk to you."

She continued stirring as she replied, "Okay, dear. I'm listening."

"Mom, I've been doing a lot of soul searching at school, and I don't really know how else to say this. Mom, I'm gay."

She continued to attend to her cooking without speaking. After several moments, he broke the silence. "Mom?"

"I heard you," she replied in her usual tone, not betraying her thoughts or emotions.

John shifted nervously. "Don't you have anything else to say?"

After a moment, she paused stirring looked out the window. Finally, she asked, "Does this mean you like putting other men's things in your mouth?"

Suddenly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, John shifted and stammered. "Well, yeah, I guess."

Quick as lightning, his mother turned to face him, wielding her wooden spoon like a weapon. She brought the utensil smashing down on his head with a large cracking sound. He was still stunned when she brought her face inches from his own and hissed, "I don't ever want to hear you complain about my cooking again!"

Yesterday, I decided to run to Friendly's for lunch. The place was relatively empty, and I think there were only two servers working. Stef met me at the door and seated me. She asked me if I wanted a diet coke (a sign I go there way too often), to which I assented. As she headed back to the kitchen, the other server, a young man named Kyle, walked by and said he'd be right with me. Apparently, Stef had planned on waiting on me herself, so they had a brief conversation in the kitchen to decide who would actually take my table. (I love it when servers fight over me.)

Apparently, they eventually agreed that Kyle would be my server, because he walked over with my diet coke, introduced himself, and asked me if I was ready to order. I placed my order only to have him give me the perfect opportunity to tease him a little. After I ordered my food, he asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I laughed, glanced at the table, then looked back to him to politely ask, "You mean besides the diet coke you just brought me." He laughed in flustered embarrassment (I consider the fact that he didn't turn beet red nothing short of miraculous) and explained he was used to doing things in a certain order. I just smile and said I understood.

While we had been talking, I noticed a chain around his neck, so I looked closely at the two pendants hanging off it. This is a new habit I'm working on developing, as I'm realizing just how much a person's choice of jewelry or body art can offer an opportunity for conversation. I noted the crucifix (which, when combined with my estimate of his age, gave me enough reason to decide to keep things to a bit of fun chat and maybe some slight flirtation) as well as a large "55." So when he stopped by later to check on me, I inquired. As it turns out, he's a football player and that's his number. (Of course, we won't go into the thoughts of being tackled that suddenly came to mind.) He mentioned that it had been his number in both high school and now college. (Of course, I was relieved to confirm that he was at least in college. I'm much more comfortable with feeling slightly lecherous rather than downright criminal.)

When it came time for ice cream, I ordered the recently re-released the peanut butterpan sundae, so I ordered that. Kyle commented that he never tried that one. I said I had it last time they offered it and loved it. I mentioned in passing that it had peanut butter in it, so that meant I'd naturally love it. So the sneak decided to demonstrate just how good a server he was by making the sundae with extra peanut butter. Needless to say, someone got a very good tip (even moreso than usual).

I have to admit, I enjoyed the meal, and I had fun chatting up my waiter just a bit. Sure, he's too young for me (I think I'm through with college students), and the religion thing would be an issue. (After all, he's not goth, so I'm pretty sure he wasn't wearing a crucifix just for the "cool factor.") But sometimes, it's just fun to be able to chat and have a little harmless fun with someone. And besides, I think it was good practice for me. I really could use more practice being chatty and flirty, as it's something I struggle with (especially if I actually find the person I'm chatting with attractive). So this was a great activity. And either Kyle didn't notice or didn't exactly mind, so it worked out well.

And I do like that I'm learning to be more attentive to picking out little things to comment on. It should really help me with starting conversations in the future.

Apparently, the gods decided I needed a bit of a confidence boost this evening. Two different guys decided to check me out while Michele, Belinda, and I were at the restaurant tonight. Unfortunately, neither of them took it to the next level by asking me for my phone number, but it was a nice experience, nonetheless.

In reality, I didn't notice the one guy checking me out, but both of my companions assured me he did. It was while we were standing at the front of the restaurant waiting for our turn to be seated. Two young men in their mid-twenties (or so I'd estimate) stood on the other side of the aisle leading from the front door of the restaurant to the hostess's station. Apparently, the one looked over my way and took several seconds to check me over. What a shame nothing came of it, though.

The other instance I'm not 100% sure of, but the guy who seated us when it was our turn seemed incredibly friendly. Once we took our seats, he turned to me and complimented me on my creative tee shirt (it's the "2QT2BSTR8" one). Now many people have commented on this shirt, but this is the first time someone has struck up almost a full minute long conversation over the topic. Granted, I still might have shrugged it off as nothing if Michele didn't comment on the incident herself. (Indeed, she went so far as to say she wanted to tell him to ask me out already by the time our brief conversation ended.) And he did exchange smiles a couple more times throughout the meal, so it was interested. But alas, he never said anything. And to be frank, I've embarrassed myself one too many times to take a chance on mistaking yet another person in the service sector as being more friendly than their job requires or even suggests.

All the same, it was nice to be noticed. I hope it keeps happening on a regular basis. Though I also hope one of these guys gets up the courage to do more than just check me out.

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Matt Hill posted the following clip from Loggerheads on his blog. I had to share it here.

The horror!

Of course, what I think is particularly funny is how the husband makes the comment about another neighbor only being "half mad" since only one of the new neighbors is Mexican. It demonstrates how we can easily make fun of another person's prejudice while being completely oblivious to our own.

Last night, I took Belinda and Jim to Equal Grounds to hear the musical and comic stylings of a local group called The Monastery Dropouts. Unfortunately, this group doesn't appear to have a website, so I can't link to them (or keep track of their future performances).

I had never heard of group until a couple weeks ago when I received an email from Equal Grounds (I'm on their mailing list) announcing that they would be performing live at the coffee shop. I forwarded the email to Michele, knowing that she and Belinda would be in town the day of the show and suggested it as possible entertainment for the evening. Everyone seemed to like the idea, though Michele was unable to go with us.

The group's act can probably be best described the way Jim put it, part cabaret, part comedy act. The two members of the show are quick-witted, funny, and sing quite well. Their musical repertoire included such songs as The Vatican Rag by Tom Lehrer. In between songs, both men would banter back and forth and even with the audience, making for a humorous atmosphere. It's not clear how much of the banter was scripted and how much was improvisational, though both men would probably claim it's 100% the latter. If so, I would certainly never want to get into a battle of wits with either of them.

The show was marvellous and lasted for over two hours. The four of us (Becky joined us there late) all agreed we'd go see The Monastery Dropouts again if given the chance.