RANDOMIZER GENIE

I like to frequent retirement homes on occasion for something different to do.  I’m not talking retirement communities where everyone is still pretty lively and beeboppin’ around.  I like the ones where everyone, for the most part, is still pretty coherent but they are wheelchair bound or don’t move around much.  The retirement communities where everyone is still playing golf, bingo and livin’ up their golden years doesn’t appeal to me cause they just don’t have the time for you.  They are still self absorbed in their lives.  The “rest homes” are the types that I like cause those retirees ain’t goin’ anywhere and they’ve got nothing better to do then talk to you. 

                

So I was cruisin’ around inside the retirement home passing by two women playing chess.  On my other side was an old navy war vet relaxing watching television.  Then I came around the corner and I saw him.  He was incredible.  He was sprawled out on a large bean bag chair with his legs apart and kicked out; each one on a bean bag of its own.  In between his legs there was what appeared to be third leg coming out and flopped onto a bean bag of ITS own.  Curious at this odd sight, I went up to investigate.  I said “Hello sir, my name’s Rusty Shrew, I noticed that you have three legs.  Have you always been deformed like this?”  His name was Mr. Jeremiah Walden, and he responded by saying, “Hell, son, that ain’t a leg; that’s mah dick!”  Astonished, I started probing him for details as to how he’d lived such a long life with what looked like a terribly cumbersome appendage coming out from his groin.  It was about 4 ½ feet long and about a Pringles’ can in girth.  He was wearing sweat pants and had apparently needed another sweat pant leg sewn into the crotch section to accommodate his tape worm of a penis.  He told me it wasn’t always that big.  You see, Jeremiah was one of the British soldiers who fought towards the reoccupation of Iraq by the British in the Anglo-Iraq war in 1941.  He remembers a lot of strange things going on out in that desert.  One day himself and three other scouts were patrolling a remote canyon area when they were ambushed by nomads.  The marauders were firing from a top the ravine and killed all three of the other soldiers he was with.  He, himself, was hit in shoulder.  Jeremiah managed to duck into a cave and out of sight.  The bandits eventually lost interest and moved on as it was getting dark and it probably wasn’t worth going down into the canyon just for him.  He gunpowder-cauterized the wound like Rambo.  He then wandered further into the cave to take refuge for the night.  Eventually he came to an enormous cavern opening.  Blades of the day’s remaining light stabbing down through holes in the towering ceiling, the utter silence of the cave, and its soft sandy floor indicated a good place to stop and rest for awhile.  When he sat down however, it was right onto something really hard and sharp that made him jump and then wince in pain from the shoulder pain caused by that movement on his gun shot wound.  Jeremiah grasped the object, which was a brass genie lamp with blue trim and intricate designs.  He mockingly rubbed it a few times, and to his complete surprise, SHAZAM! out came a towering blue apparition of a genie.  The genie was cordial and grateful to be released after millennia of solitude.  The standard three wishes were proposed.  Jeremiah, of course, being young-dumb-and-full-of-cum didn’t think twice about his first wish as he had no doubt he’d be able to get himself back to base camp on his own.  He had remembered a Persian temptress in the town near their camp that he had sex with.  She enjoyed it but said she would be his forever only if he had a much larger penis, as she was not an easily satisfied woman; if you know what I mean.  Jeremiah had fallen completely in love with her yet miserably disappointed in his own shortcomings at the same time; UNTIL NOW!  “Genie, my first wish is to have an enormous penis that will satisfy the woman I love” exclaimed Jeremiah.  “Your wish is my command.  Salabim! Salabam!” The genie chanted with a thundering voice that echoed throughout the cavern.  “It is done, you now have two wishes left” The genie concluded.  Jeremiah grabbed at his crotch but was shocked to find nothing! Nothing at all!  “What have you done you bastard!?  I have no penis at all now! The Genie explained what was happening, “I am not like other genies my friend.  I am Massuliah the randomizer genie.  I have the ability to grant whatever wish you desire but it can either be the exact wish you asked for or the exact opposite.  I have no control over the outcome, it is completely randomized.”  “So you can’t control it at all!?”  Screamed Jeremiah.  “So, if I said something like…. I wish I could be teleported to the inside of a sheep’s asshole then….wait! Oh shit, no! I wasn’t really wishing that…FUUUUCKK!”

Meanwhile, in a small sheep herding community in Cappadocia, Turkey, Ahnwal and his son are petting their favorite sheep Juji.  Suddenly Juji’s lower torso expands rapidly, the sheep screams in excruciating pain. Ahnwal’s son is screaming as blood, shit, and entrails burst out of Juji’s asshole like a geyser.  Then, like a balloon filled with red food dye and macaroni and cheese that’s just been popped, Juji’s entire rear end explodes as the whole of Jeremiah’s body manifests itself in the same space as Juji’s rectum.  Ahnwal and his son run screaming back to the village as a very irritated Jeremiah curses at the sky while lifting himself out of what’s left of Juji’s twitching body. 

“God damnit Massuliah!  I was just using that as an example for clarification! Now I’ve got sheep asshole all over me!”  Screamed Jeremiah.  Massuliah appeared before him again and stated “As I said, it may be EXACTLY what you asked for or the complete opposite; I have no control over it, just the ability to grant it.”  “Alright then, Massuliah, since I only have one wish left I really want that big cock so I’m gonna roll the dice and hope that I’m not doomed to jack off with tweezers for the rest of my life.”  “I wish I had a ridiculously enormous penis!!” Jeremiah chanted a final time.

So, the story ends just about as you might think, almost. Jeremiah gained a ridiculously enormous vagina instead of a penis for his third wish.  He ended up having to drag his new 70 lb pussy out of the cave like you would 5 trash bags full of meat wrapped around your waste.  He had almost lost all hope but luckily he ran across another genie lamp with a regular genie in it who gave him his enormous cock, teleported him back to the base camp, and one wish left over for later.  He also ended up paying Ahnwal for blowing his sheep in half.  He went and married his Persian temptress and banged her so hard her ovaries hurt.  The British ended up occupying Iraq for the second time, and all was well with the world.  Massuliah….well no one really knows what happened to the genie lamp that held him, maybe one day someone else will utilize the abilities of the Randomizer Genie.

VICTORIOUS VOYEUR

I have this female neighbor whose bedroom is easily within view from my upstairs bedroom.  At night, around 6pm she goes up to her bedroom and proceeds to undress, in full view of everyone from her window.  She gets butt naked.  I watch her most nights in the cover of darkness.  So, last night I was peeping, as I usually do.  She was doing her usual thing; halter top off; shorts slid down; steps out of them; bra unclipped and removed; panties drop and then she heads out of view for a couple minutes to grab her iPod and comb for her hair.  So she went out of view and I had a few minutes to sit there, like always.  Out of anticipating boredom I start scanning the other houses in the immediate vicinity thinking I might get lucky and notice another backup nude chick.  I’m looking and looking and looking and….hey….what the?….  I winced my eyes to focus my night vision a little better and notice that just across the way there is another window with some jackass doing the same thing that I am!  Motherfucker!  I curse at him from my darkened bedroom perch, “Get your own god damn voyeur chick, this one is mine!” For the next 20 minutes the girl is combing her hair and rubbing lotion on herself, as usual, but I can’t fucking enjoy MYSELF because dickhead pervert across the way is obviously enjoying HIMSELF by how his window is steaming up.  What a PERVERT!  I was so distraught from the experience that I decided if he insists on looking as well, then I’ll have the better view, at least, and went out and bought a small pair of hunting binoculars the next day.  That night was pretty nice; the binos worked great.  I could see the color of her eyes now and that the tattoo on her inner hip was a pair of cherries, obviously indicating that she must like eating that particular fruit.  I looked over at that fucking douche bag with a smug smile and he knew there was no way he could see even close to the detail that I was.  The next night I was excited to use my binos again until I was shocked to see that Fuckstick now had a larger and obviously more expensive pair of binoculars of his own!  Asshole!  I wonder what the fuck he’s seeing with those things?!  Shit!  I hope he can’t see that ornament attached to her belly button ring with those!  The next night I came with guns-a-blazon.  I stole my nephew’s Junior Astronomer Telescope from his bedroom and it opened up a whole new world.  I could see individual strands of hair being combed, goose bumps on her breasts from the chill of her air conditioner, and finally the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle ornament on her belly button ring!  Fantastic! …….wait a minute…..is that?  No! That motherfucker!  How did he know that….?  Look at the size of that telescope he’s got!!  It’s gotta be 5 feet long and a diameter of 2 feet!  You could see an alien’s dick on Neptune with that fucking thing.  What the hell is he looking at? Her DNA!?  I was sick and tired of this faggul’s antics!  So, I decided to just eliminate the competition rather than try and outsmart him.  You can’t get soft when it comes to these perverts.  He was looking at me with his fucking smug and cocky little face, thinking he’d won.  That is until the lights suddenly kicked on in his bedroom and two police officers, who got an anonymous tip about a peeping tom at that address, came and took him away.  Surprise shithead!  That dipshit should have known that when you throw one steak in front of two dogs that only one is gonna walk away full.  Fuck him! Now back to the show.

THE BELL CURVE OF BOSOMS

Every one, by now at least, has seen a T-shirt that says something like “These aren’t my eyes” or “My face is up here” (with an arrow pointing, at breast level, up towards the face).  The implication of the shirt being that women are annoyed at the fact that men stare at their breasts when they should be respecting them as an equal, rather than some sex object.  I can imagine, if I put myself in their shoes, that someone staring at my breasts all day would get rather irritating.  I was about to say “If someone was staring at my crotch all day” as a way to try and relate but that’s apples and oranges, cause I wouldn’t give a fuck, and, in fact, might appreciate someone staring at my junk on a regular basis.  Anyway, so everyone understands that staring at a woman’s breasts is considered rude and men try their best to fight that genetic urge. The thing is, is that, during their lifetime, women aren’t always so opposed to men staring at their bosom.  The BELL CURVE OF BOSOMS, as I like to call it, is what I use to try and understand this curious phenomenon.  

 The bell curve starts at the bottom when they are just going through puberty.  They don’t give a shit at this point; in fact, they probably wouldn’t even realize it if someone WAS looking at them.  They are just happy that they’ve moved out of the mosquito bite realm.  They then head into early womanhood and now are getting progressively more and more attention from the opposite sex.  This attention leads to self confidence and a raised self esteem and they may begin to even flaunt what God gave them.  They wear tighter and tighter clothing, lower v-necks exposing more cleavage, will spontaneously do jumping jacks, etc.  After that its college and we now have an explosion of hormones, sexual drive, freedom from parents, and youthful exuberance, all at once.  Titties start flying everywhere!  Wet T-shirt contests, booze cruises, frat parties, lesbian experimentation, Mardi gras, Girls gone Wild, etc.  Then they graduate college and need to get into the workforce.  So the titties, for the most part, get tucked away into business suits and more conservative clothing, still revealing some feminine traits, but considerably more subdued.  Now these guys that grew up with them didn’t forget the Mardi gras, Girls gone Wild, and those drunken frat party lesbian make-out sessions.  In addition, like I said, we have a genetic predisposition to stare anyways.  The business woman, mother, school teacher, etc., is now getting tired of the men now staring at her and becomes annoyed.  This annoyance turns into a full out opposition to the stare.  This then perpetuates itself for years.  The men around her begin to finally respect her for who she is and are pretty much well behaved and not constantly staring or are at least doing it discretely.  This is the peak of the curve.  As the woman gets older, however, she begins to lose her looks somewhat.  She may lose self confidence and self esteem because she feels she has lost that youthful femininity.  The bell curve begins, at this point, to drop back down.  She tries to rekindle that young girl that she has lost over the years.  Titties, that haven’t seen the sun’s rays in years, starting coming out again.  She starts hunting after the men who once stared at her breasts, but whom no longer will.  The cougar is born.  She wants to be stared at again like she used to be before she started scolding those gawkers of her middle aged years.  The bell curve has come back down to the bottom.  So you see, that is how I understand this phenomenon of the rise, fall, and the rise again of the titties.    

THE UN-GAY BOYS 2 (MAD MONEY)

So Rawbee and I decided we needed some extra cash so that we could buy some fly clothes and a new car to take bitches out to the clubs.  We were thinking about that shit for awhile an then suddenly an idea hit me!  I would go be a bartender at this gay club downtown called the CHOKING CHICKEN.  Since I know I’m totally not gay it’d be a piece of cake.  All I’d have to do is pour drinks for those flamers and pretend like I was gay, you know, flirting and shakin’ my butt and shit, what ever those gay boys do, and I’d be makin’ so many fucking tips it’d be crazy!  Then Rawbee came up with an idea too.  He’d go be a stripper at a gay strip club.  I was like “Hell, yeah brotha’, those queers will finally see how a REAL man dances, instead of that limp wristed sissy dancing they do!”  Rawbee figured he’d just do the helicopter with his dick a couple times and pick up a champagne glass with his butt cheeks, or whatever they’re into, and he’d make MAD money!  So, by the end of the week we were rolling in dough just like we had predicted!

[ME]  “Yo!  This shit was the perfect plan!  I made so much damn money at that bar. I made it rain dolla’ bills on them fools.”

[RAWBEE]  “Bro, I’ll bet that I’ve got you beat.  Just my tips on Thursday alone at the BLACK STALLION STRIP CLUB probably topped your WHOLE week’s worth.

[ME]  “ I dunno bout that, I was doing this shit called THE DRINKING FOUNTAIN, and those fags loved it!  I’d sit on the bar, you know, with just my thong on as usual, then I’d lean back and pour champagne onto my neck and it’d run down my chest and stomach, hit my belly button, and shoot out into some gay motherfucker’s mouth who was there waiting.”

[RAWBEE]  “Dumb queers probably got turned on by the shit, I’ll bet.”

[ME]  “Damn right they did!  This one dude, after drinking some of the champagne fountain, starting running his tongue from my belly button all the way to my neck where I was pouring it at.”

[RAWBEE]  “AH MAN!  That’s SO GAY!”

[ME]  “I know right?!  But check this out.  When the fruit finally licked his way all the way up to my neck, he looked into my eyes as I was still pouring and I said to him, I’LL BET YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE LICKIN’ UP ON ANOTHER FAG DIDN’T YOU?  WELL GUESS AGAIN!  CAUSE THIS..GUY…AIN’T…QUEER! HA!

[RAWBEE]  “Hahaa!  Oh shit son!  I bet he wasn’t expecting that shit was he!?”

[ME]  “Ha ha, hell no he wasn’t.  He gave me this look like I was just playin’ or somethin’ but he knew he fucked up!”

[RAWBEE]  “Ah man, that shit’s funny as fuck, but I gotchu beat!”

[ME]  “For real?  Cause that shit was pretty fuckin’ gay.”

[RAWBEE]  “It was, but check this out.  So I was doin this trick that these homos love called the LEMON DROP BEE BOP, where I Velcro a wine glass filled with a Lemon Drop Mojito onto the dance floor, I slide down the stripper pole with my legs spread wide onto the glass, I keep sliding down until the wine glass is up my ass to the stem, then I twirl on the pole until I’m upside down, the mojito pours into my ass, I twirl around again, placing the glass back on the dance floor with the drink still inside my ass and then stand up.  I then do a little dance to tease those fags some more, after that I squat back over the wine glass and pee the mojito back out of my ass into it, then drink it.  Those sick fucks go totally gay boy over that shit!  That’s how I make the mad money!

[ME]  “Damn bro, that shit is nuts!  To think you’ve got all those flaming cocksuckers thinking, that WHOLE TIME, that you are some butt pirate JUST LIKE THEM.  I’m actually impressed.

[RAWBEE]  “It’s crazy how dumb they are.  I’ve got them all fooled.  I even had this one queer come up to get my autograph.”

[ME]  “What an idiot!  Please tell me you signed some crazy shit to make him feel stupid.”

[RAWBEE]  “Shit, you know me.  I signed:  YOU JUST GOT PUNKED BY A STRAIGHT DUDE! HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES!  WITH LOVE, THE UNGAY BOYS!”

INADEQUATE ADAM

Adam gets picked on at work cause he’s a loser

Harry, a coworker, doesn’t have that problem because he’s not a loser

Adam messes up his paperwork sometimes and says the wrong things trying to be funny and fit in but it back fires and he gets scolded.

Harry is always on top of his paperwork and says the right things at the right time and is the life of the party

Adam stays late trying to catch up on work that he just can’t seem to get right

Harry takes off half day almost every day cause he likes to surf and wants to catch the tide

Adam goes home to a nagging wife that hates him cause he is so-so in bed and is generally a miserable human being

Harry is an awesome human being who goes home to a smokin’ hot wife who likes threesomes and used to be a porn star

Adam, at least, had his dog that loved him, until it got swooped up by a falcon then dropped from ten stories high down onto another dog, killing them both, and he’s now being sued over that.

Harry owns three prize winning show dogs and, unbeknownst to him, his lawyer is the one who is suing Adam over the falcon dog drop incident.

Adam just got demoted in his job due to corporate cutbacks designed to save the company money

Harry, on the other hand, just got promoted because his porn star wife got her stripper friends to give the boss and his buddies free lap dances.

Adam bought a filet knife and a sewing kit

Harry bought a Porsche and a new set of double EE breast implants for his wife

Adam killed Harry in the parking lot and took his body home

Harry got his skinned peeled off him like a fish and sewn into a full body suit

Adam is no longer Inadequate Adam; He’s Harry.

URINAL ETIQUETTE

Alright, I'll make this quick.  I've been noticing some serious slacking in urinal etiquette lately.  I'm not going to go over all the examples and rules of urinal etiquette as that would take quite awhile.  I'm just gonna touch on the basics and some errors I have noticed recently.  Starting with the first picture below:1ST PISSER: Always proceeds immediately to the end stall farthest from the door to avoid incoming traffic.

2ND PISSER:  It is preferred that they locate to the most distant stall from the other urinal pisser even if it's closest to the door.  It is not improper to be where this man is as he is correctly spaced, but it is not preferred.

3RD PISSER: As long as there is equal distant and a stall in between each pisser you are golden (no pun intended).

NO TALKING:  Talking is strictly forbidden, in general, but if a moderate light conversation is ABSOLUTELY necessary exceptions can be made for those that are AT LEAST two urinals distance away as to avoid accidental junk viewing.  In addition, it interrupts the sanctity of the piss.  The bathroom is a fortress of solitude for a man and his concentration should not be broken, especially by a fellow man.  His only time at peace is in the bathroom, don't rob him of his peace!

JUNK VIEWING: Obviously this is strictly forbidden.  Even in jest this is forbidden as a "pretend-to-view" can quickly and accidentally turn into a "oh shit-my-bad-didn't mean to-is that a wort or a zit?-never mind-view".  No one wants that, gay or straight, no one wants that.

ENCOURAGING MOCKING OF OTHERS JUNK:
Not cool!  If you are gonna bust on some dudes junk at least do it after you leave the bathroom.  Karma is a bitch.  Just cause his dick's smaller than a new born chicken's dick, doesn't mean that some mandingo motherfucker won't put YOU to shame next week.  Just not good etiquette.

CRUSADER OF THE T.P.

As Lord of the T.P.(post 06SEP2011) my goal was to establish my Kingdom, claim the Toilet paper from the available stalls, thereby creating a single source for shit paper, and then forming a peasant class which had no choice but to beg for my T.P, and could then be more easily converted to the faith.  Since then God has blessed me with much favor in that I now control, not only my own stall, but three of the five other stalls within the public bathroom.  My Kingdom has grown as has my dominance in the area.  I usurped two of the three stalls, which I now control, by locking the stall doors from the inside by reaching over from the other stall.  To outsiders, even though no feet were visible beneath the stalls the fact that the doors were obviously locked completely deterred even the most determined of them, thus forcing them to use the last two stalls.  On the third of three stalls I had conquered, I went so far as to put a pair of spare gym shoes at the base of the toilet itself.  As would-be Lords of the T.P. attempted to get into the stall they noticed the tips of shoes from beneath and were immediately ran off.  I was to be the ONLY Lord of the T.P. in this bathroom!  I was on a mission from God himself to vanquish the vile scum which attempted to inhabit the glorious stalls of Publicus Bathroomus, the land which I now claimed for my own and for the Almighty.  As I had previously stated; three out of five stalls had been conquered; leaving a stubborn two left.  The crowds were already surging around the row of stalls as only those last two were left to facilitate all needs of the scourge outside.  I was determined to take those last two from the demon spawn wishing to pray to their false porcelain gods.  Those hell beasts, who offered chocolate eggs to their evil spirits, within their swirling pools of despair and hate.  I SHALL CAST THE DEMONS FROM THE LAND OF GOD AND ALL SHALL KNOW THAT I AM HE WHO DOTH BROUGHT THE WRATH OF THE HEAVENS TO LIGHT THE PATH TO GLORY!!  I already had six converts to the faith who were ready to serve me as I saw fit.  I dictated my wishes to them that upon my exorcising the demons from the last two stalls they were to occupy the land and stand their ground.  I gathered frigid purified sink water in a bucket and with all the power I could muster, dumped it over the doors of both stalls.  The demons came bursting out in all their half naked filth, writhing, hissing, and screaming.  My apprentices quickly leapt into the open chasms of the stalls and slammed the doors shut barring the spawns of Satan from ever returning.  Despite brief yet passionate protests and howling by the demons, they eventually left, and thus all five stalls had been claimed for the Lord of the T.P., my followers, and for the glory of the Almighty!