My first thought is: “Not in a million years!”.
Kissing this dude would be like giving oral sex to my dryer’s lint tray.
Someone, out there, reading this, knows for sure.
AND….some, might be turned on, but I digress.
My second thought is: “Smashup!”
I want to do what Reese’s did for peanut butter and chocolate.
Idea: Let’s put two things together and make something magical.
Condoms and Glasses
Still don’t see where this is going?
(Please help me come up with a wonderful name for this new product.)
They deploy at the exact moment of visual arousal.
Why do we need these you ask?
For those women, you know the ones……..
”I get pregnant every time someone looks at me.”
We have to have some type of protection, some type of birth control for men who have the power to release microscopic sperm from their eyes. This is quite an epidemic people. It is also quite reckless. It’s astonishing how many children are brought into this world because someone looked at their momma in the wrong way. What’s even more disturbing is this: How does that child even know who his/her daddy is? It’s going to take a retinal scan on the Maury Povich show to straighten that shit out. AND seriously……The chances of finding the “baby daddy” are pretty slim. God help you if you are identified as giving someone “the pregnant eye”. You can look forward to child support for that kid and probably hundreds more. If you are capable of giving the pregnant eye to one, then chances are, you’ve given it to another. Aren’t their enough excuses to put kids in therapy without adding this to the list?
SO…Let’s come up with a fabulous name.
Let’s get this product out in the world.
AND…Let’s start protecting ourselves.
I wonder what the Sharks would think?
I’m sorry to overwhelm you with my incessant flashing, but I wrote these a bit back and never posted. Get comfy and prepare yourself to be entertained or bored to death. Either way, you might be at your computer longer than expected. These were submitted to the M3 Flash Challenge (Flash in the Pan) Winter 2012.
Wake (125) Exact word Count
Snapping out of his drunken daze for a brief moment, Jeremy noticed the cold beer in front of him at the bar. Usually the cap is the only thing off, but this bottle had a note attached. Focusing the best he could, Jeremy read the message.
Drinking is only a temporary feeling and solution, but when there ain’t no solution, temporary ain’t a bad way to go.
He realized he’d spent years, night after night, sharing his life with a bottle. As he looked around the bar, he saw others just like him. Realizing the solution to his problems didn’t live inside a bottle, he did the only thing he could. He raised his bottle and slurred cheers in the wake of his temporary solution.
Flash (100) 87 Words
Here again, I lie in the charcoal-colored night, approaching my once again deep sleep. Yet, this night is unlike all the others. My dreams will be replaced with memories. Visions that I could not recollect under any other circumstances flash by me.
My morning? Oh, please let us not forget my great awakening. Instead, those too will be replaced — replaced with a wake and mourning. How alike those words sound, yet their meanings are entirely different.
At least I don’t have to worry about insomnia anymore.
Dance (50) Exact Word Count
Much time has passed since my eternal slumber began. My body is frozen to the core as I listen to the thumping through the wood. My earthly blanket is covering me. Yet I feel no warmth. My departure is final now. There’s no turning back. I’ve had my last dance.
Fish (100) Exact
When I was young, maybe ‘bout nine, I ‘member that ole swing Daddy built an’ swingin’ to high heaven. On that swing, I found myself thinkin’ ‘bout important things. At home the only things I’d be thinkin’ of were frogs, county fairs, Momma’s apple pie and Joey Crawood. Joey was some weird, freckled-faced kid, who smelled like fish. He also used to put mud in girls’ hair. Meggie, my best friend, said Joey put more mud in my hair on account of him liking me. It was that or ‘cause he liked the way the mud clung to my braids.
Fire (125) I used 120
The side door of the van flew open and there was Rain. I figured she was around my age, but I couldn’t quite tell. Her clothes were simple; t-shirt and jeans, and she wore lots of makeup. You could tell she was a plain girl, who in all cruelty would be lucky to be considered homely. Her figure? She had none. She was as straight as an arrow, all arms and legs, her eyes a pale icy-blue. The dark mascara and liner around her eyes made their color even more stunning. And her corn-colored hair danced in the wind. Well actually, it really didn’t dance. It sort of resembled the aftermath of a brush fire, but it had its charm.
Today is my four-year wedding anniversary. Condolences can be sent to my husband at a later date.
Making it through another year of marriage is amazing.
I’m proud to say, I’ve handled my relationship almost completely sober, 100% drug-free and without stuffing my face with Crisco frosted Twinkies.
We’ve had our ups and down. We fight like cats and dogs, but we make up like sex-starved teens with better stamina.
There are some people I’d like to thank who made this union possible. First, I’d like to thank my ex-husband.
If it weren’t for his penis constantly popping out of his pants and going into others, I might still be in an unsatisfying marriage.
Next, I’d like to thank my husband’s ex.
Due to the high probability that we’ll end up as victims on an episode of Snapped, we must be delicate.
Thanks for your “inappropriate” relationships.
After my speech, please remind me to buy a Taser and get a restraining order.
I’m blessed to have a husband who doesn’t mind having a used/pre-owned car.
Yes. I did just say that about myself. BUT…I’ve got plenty of mileage left.
As my hubby says: “We’ll never get a divorce. The sex alone will keep me here.”
He can use this almost 43 year-old with four kids all he wants.
He doesn’t mind if I work outside or inside the home. I don’t mind if he uses neck ties or bungee cords.
It doesn’t get much better than that kids.
I love you Mr. Articles of Absurdity!
Happy No Divorcesary!
(…thanks for loaning me the dress Jodi.)
After leaving his family, Charlie came home to only a note.
Thanks for getting milk. It would’ve been nice if you brought it back before you left. Don’t worry about the kids or feel guilty. They only cry for you every night. Michael’s therapy is coming along. The shrink says he might be able to drink milk again. Thanks for giving our son a milk phobia.
In all sincerity. I understand the need to find yourself, because the guy who lived here was worthless. I do hope your journey brought you many things, since the things you left, have been burned. Your book is sitting in the toilet though. Apparently, it’s not good enough to burn.
Love ya to lots of little pieces,
This post was inspired by: M3 Flash Fiction Challenge. The word is book, with a word limit of 125. My count is 125 words.
Drop Off Only
Sync to memory
You: Ice, Me: Zamboni
Floorboard to curb
Ain’t that far
Your kids got this
Keep your ass in the car
Drop off only
Not for stalking your kid
It’s for trusting parents
Who let them eat without bibs
And don’t slow us down more
To open the trunk
With backpacks inside
Can’t your kids hold their junk?
Unless it’s a clown car
Needing room for more brats?
The trunk is off limits
And that friend is that
I’ll make an exception
For a body to hide
You can stop very briefly
To tuck it inside
Stop, drop and roll
Next time in the lane
But minus the stop
Or you’ll drive me insane
My wife just couldn’t accept the inevitable. Time moves on. We age and we grow. The twins were no exception. As much as she wanted them to stay their perfect and cute size, it wasn’t going to happen. Time passed, just like I told her it would. New growth spurts occurred with every birthday, but she couldn’t adjust.
“I’ve never seen you so upset,” I said to my wife as I embraced her. “It’s natural sweetheart. Please stop crying.”
“But….Things will never be the same. I can barely breathe,” she said as she gasped for air.
“Sweetie,” I said. ”Fat happens. I’ll just get the vise. Before you know it, you’ll be back into that size thirty-six bra and then we’ll work on those jeans.”
“You’re such an ass,” she said. “Why does your one vice have to be brutal honesty?”
This was another M3 Flash Fiction Challenge, using vice and/or vise and a 150 word limit. This work has a 141 word count.
Before the kids were home for the summer, I was going to the YMCA quite regularly……kickboxing, running, weights and some cycling. Summer hit and that went south quick. BUT………..To my delight, I still lost weight. I guess my move to watered down beer finally made a difference on my waistline. On a whim………I tried on a pair of jeans, I haven’t been able to wear for over four years. Low and behold, they fit! WELL………They fit as far as I’m concerned. I pulled those suckers up over my lower thighs and knew. I got them over the remaining thighs and the backend. SO………Here’s where I tweaked the fit a bit. Could I zip and button them? Well………I suppose. BUT………In order to breathe…..….I couldn’t. I zipped those suckers up, then used a rubber band to loop around the button, through the hole and back around the button. I rigged those bitches and it worked. AND………Thanks to the return of the 80’s, I layered myself with two different tank tops and a mid-drift shirt that fell in just the right spot. Something had to hide the hideous muffin top those jeans created. Did I care? HELL NO! I got into those damn jeans and without a camel toe. I call that……….”A great success”. Maybe in a month or so, ……..I’ll be able to use the actual button……..no rubber band required.
SO………….My unsightly muffin top got me to thinking. Why did I feel the need to hide it?
1. No one wants to see that shit.
2. I don’t want anyone to see that shit.
3. Muffin top models haven’t been approved on runways yet.
BUT……….If my muffin top was replaced with a nice flat stomach or some six pack abs, then I would gladly flaunt them. In fact, people would ask to see them and touch them.
I suppose society isn’t ready to take a hold of some love handles or ask to bounce on someone’s chunky belly or fat ass. BUT……..They don’t feel shy saying they could bounce a quarter off a nice tight one. People like to touch augmented breasts as well, but no one wants to touch the “drooping to the ground” breasts that swing from left to right like a pendulum. Why not? It sounds like more fun. AND………Why touch a pregnant woman’s belly? Is it because there is something growing in there? Why not ask to feel up inside a nose or ear? You’d be surprised at the crap some people have growing in there. Why lick shots off a belly when you could lick snot off a lip? Why hang on someone’s biceps when you could fly with someone’s bat wings?
Just saying people. Just saying.