Site icon Thoughts From Paris · Humor Blog of D.J. Paris · Funny Stories

Women’s Feet, Dressing Up Man-Parts, and Drunken Karoake

About once a week I hit writer’s block. It’s then I rely upon your genius to firestart my creativity. Here’s the Facebook suggestions.

There’s simply nothing cuter. Well, unless the cat confuses the drawer with her litter box as my socks could tell you. Since the infusion of nightly gel Prozac into my cat’s ears she hasn’t peed outside the box in over two months. But if I leave that sock drawer open I’m risking Pandora’s Box. Oh, so once my cat peed on some papers I had on my counter top. Well, they were really important papers and I had to bring them to work the next day. Even now they sit on my desk still stained yellow. And yes, they stink. I’m not kidding.

I think the meaning of this simple rejection has changed for me over the years. I’ve heard this plenty of times. In my twenties it literally meant, “You sort of suck” and “Get lost.” It suggested anything other than actually becoming friends. Women that I dated didn’t have the sophistication to come up with anything stronger than, “But I’d really like to remain friends!” As I’ve transitioned to the later part of my thirties I’ve found that it really can indicate a desire for friendship. I was dating a woman recently named Chrissy and she whipped out the line. I was unhappy, but then she actually did the work to build an actual friendship. Now we swap dating stories and have a hell of a time just rapping as buddies.

You’re right KP, it IS Valentine’s Day. All we ever hear about is accessorizing the vagina. Well, I, for one, am dammed tired of it! Let’s get the man parts all dressed up! Enough with you ladies and your business.

Karen suggested the terms Penazzle and Baldazzle.

Let’s dress up the elephant this year. I want to see beads up and down the side. Knit a little hat for the tip. Glitter up the sac. Cover the whole shebang in metallic paint and carry a flashlight to bounce light off of it into your lover’s eyes. If it jogs to the left than let’s feature that by commissioning a small mural on the curved side. There’s really a lot you can do, fellas. Just don’t use lead based paint.

I have to say, I LOVE WOMEN’S FEET. Not in a weird way. I don’t go sniffing or sucking around. Also I will go running for the hills at the first sign of a corn and bunion. The less going on down there the better. But, here’s the thing. Women’s feet are dainty, dry, and don’t stink. They’re usually manicured and not covered in too many veins. It’s good stuff. I’m dating a woman now who claims to have big feet. I wear a size 13-14. I have BIG feet. So even her hobbit-like waffle stompers are tiny in my eyes. Guys, each night do simply three minutes of rubbing on your woman. It’s no big deal and it sends them into ecstasy. I truly believe my wife would have stayed had I spent more time on her toes. Well, that and if I had had surgery to replace my entire personality.

The first time I sang drunken Karoake was in Hays, Kansas (look it up). I was working for the beer company and we did a stop over in this town. They’re famous for a dinosaur museum. Since I’m somewhat of a musician even after seven shots of Ol’ Grandad I still feel the need to sing appropriately. I chose Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown from Jim Croce. The notes are pretty easy to hit and it’s a great song about a white guy singing about two black guys who get into a knife fight. Croce loved writing songs about black dude knife fights. He has several. There was an African American gentleman sitting in the audience and I made a tactical error. There’s a line where Jim sings, “…he got a razor in his shoe.” I pointed down to my shoe to demonstrate the lyric in a sort of interpretative dance. I accidentally pointed directly at the aforementioned gentleman randomly after I touched my shoe. Only I noticed. Truly hilarious.

I love the jean skirt – more aptly titled the “jirt.” WE NEED MORE JIRTS LADIES.

photo credit: kate à la mode via photopin cc

Exit mobile version