I’ve been thinking about butthole a lot lately. My hemorrhoids look like a clitoris. I sat on my butt way too long at the comedy club squirming. When I got home, papa bear was working in the garage so I walked up to him, with my date holding my hand, and asked, “Dad, where is your Preparation H?” Seemed casual enough to me, my date was laughing hardcore, but my dad’s red face said it all. “Ugh, I don’t have any.”
The fact that my hemorrhoids make better conversation than the jokes I heard at the comedy club says one of two things, and considering the comedy club was rather funny, so yeah…
I think the word platonic is a joke. I walked by a coffee shop a couple weeks ago and saw an attractive blonde at the register so I took my younger friend in to show him how it was done. I walked right up and said, “I didn’t come in for the coffee, can I have your number?” She blushed. Then said, “I have a boyfriend, but thank you so much for the compliment.” So my smartass friend was like, “He does platonic dating too.” And I had no idea what the word meant at the time. Neither did she apparently.
I apparently wanted to feel pretty awkward today, so I went to Walgreens with my girlfriend and went to the lube and condom section. I had recently seen the commercial from KY about His and Hers and when they meet, they make some sweet action. Sounded liked good lube, but they didn’t have it. We bought a sampler back and walked up to the cash register giggling like fourteen-year-olds. I strongly recommend buying lube if you’re so bored you’re pulling your hair out of your head.