WARNING: Adult Content
I’m a prude. Oh sure, I have a fairly bawdy sense of humor and I can make sailor’s blush, but underneath the bad mouth coupled usually with some bad timing, is one of the most uptight people you could meet. I’m ok with that. I come by it honestly. You see, my mother was a product of 1950’s sensibilities. She could get giddy and embarrassed talking about holding someone’s hand (very risque). My mother was quite literally the living embodiment of June Cleaver (although, she never vacuumed in pearls) and she instilled those values into me.
There are a number of things that will make me pinch my face, sit upright and make me uncomfortable, which goes hand in hand with how I can, at times, be a funsucker. Y’know, the person that enters the room during your dirty joke, crosses their arms, adopts the insensed look and useless words like “tasteless”, “crass” or “low-brow”. I’m even ok with being a sucker of fun.
So, here’s what’s got me going. (See warning above. Uptight prudish funsucker coming online.)
Dicks. I’m invited to a penis party. Oh sure, it’s not called a penis party. They’re calling it a bridal shower and everyone is encouraged to bring something “naughty”. Now, there are a few people I’d go to a penis party for and I can count them on about two to three fingers without having to hop into a time machine to take me back 18 years to where I might have thought these parties were more fun and I might don the condom hat and dance.
I can already picture it in my head (no pun intended). The penis cake complete with chocolate pubic hair, the penis straws, the penis chocolates made from chocolate flavored wax, the penis covers to sip from your Coke cans, not to forget the biggest rubber penis with a bow wrapped around it that may or may not be battery operated. All the while everyone showing off their penis manipulation skills. And I’m sure there has been some talk of a stripper dressed like a cop who will get down to his silver g-string and fuzzy handcuffs and work the room by shaking his penis at us.
… and the more I think about this, the more I’d really rather be set on fire than go to the penis party. Seriously, there’s not enough alcohol in the world to make me blow a penis straw to impress my friends. “Yay! Look at me. The smallest plastic penis in the world thinks I’m HOT! And I can sip wine through it, too! BONUS!”
But, as I said, I’m an uptight prudish funsucker.
Wait, June didn’t vacuum in her pearls? There goes my carefully constructed Google keyword lure. Oh wait, my reading comprehension skills are slipping. >>I’m actually sympathetic to your position: there are times where I I am the same way. A penis party (or if there was such a thing outside a Frat house, a Vagina party) sounds like something entirely unfun.>>Bonus: once my mother rented the Peter Greenaway movie < HREF="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cook,_the_Thief,_His_Wife_&_Her_Lover" REL="nofollow">The Cook The Thief His Wife and Her Lover<> when I came over for dinner (I think my dad was out of town). Talk about an uncomfortable viewing. We could only watch about a third before mutually deciding to cease the ick-fest.
Penis parties are only fun when they come with margaritas, and even then it’s debatable!
ummm…is this for real or maybe just one of those showers where they make you write things on toilet paper and draw names to see who wins the tupperware lettuce keeper?