WARNING: The following exposition contains dialogue of a frank, and sexual nature. Turn back now, if that may be unsettling to you, or if by reading the phrase, “frank and sexual nature” you are expecting a story that includes me dorking a goat…
See that huge head of mine in the picture? It’s so big (mainly due to my ego) that the picture couldn’t capture the top of it. But, it is also enormous because I have a massive brain.
My vast cranial canyon is full of knowledge, foresight, and thought; however, I am having a sexual problem with the Schmoop, and in spite of my super human intellect, I don’t understand it.
Schmoop and I have been living in sin together for nearly nine years. Although we have had our ups and downs just like any other couple, sex has never been a problem.
It has always been smokin’ hot. In fact, mere days after hooking up with me, she even got rid of her battery operated boyfriends because they couldn’t compete with me.
That is a fact that I cling to like grim death. ’Cause, well…my incredible ability to sexually satisfy is my only accomplishment in life. Anyhoo…
As many of you know, I have an affinity and skill for what some of us now call, Number Nine.
If you are unfamiliar with that Bagwine term, it means going south of the equator on a chick and seeing what the tuco-tuco of Patagonia tastes like. Schmoop’s little Southern Hemisphere rodent is delicious. I think it may even contain Vitamin C, but I digress…
Lately during our sexcapades, as I am doing my best Magellan impersonation by orally exploring her Terra del Fuego, she will suddenly squirm and cut me off from my lady wallet osculation of her.
Schmoop, with the instant gratification characteristics of a man, will say:
“C'mon baby, I want dick!!”
Y’know…Here I am spending all of this time taking care of every inch of her body, and NOT being a wham, bam, thank you ma’am kinda guy, and what do I get for my efforts?
Heartache, that’s what.
I don’t get it. She likes me doing what I do. I loooooove it, and yet, when I start really getting into it, she just has to have the Matt-Meat.
Have I become so good that she can’t contain herself? Am I just so incredibly desirable that when I tongue her love button, she goes sexually ballistic?
Is my tongue the catalyst for a type of orgasm unseen in history since the time when a newly turned 13 year old Ann Coulter blew out the candles on her birthday cake that was designed in the shape of Richard Nixon’s head?
Or, has Schmoop developed man genes that dictate that she has to have it right here, right now, and with no regard to my feelings of love and longing to share quality time in our sex?
I tell ya…I am at a loss, and I need your help. We need your help.
You see, I am working during the day today, so Schmoop and I will be together tonight. We plan on having sex.
I was counting on you brilliant folks to give us some profound advice.
I hope that when I return home from work Monday evening and I open the comments, Schmoop and I will see some sage advice for my tongue, my Johnson, and her vagina.
I thank you in advance.
Cheers!!
I have had a rotten stretch of days since last Sunday.
Stench upon stench has covered me in an oily pile of mildew that is deep, dank, and nasty…
Kinda like the balls of sweat that drip from Dick Cheney’s scrotum whenever he thinks about snapping the necks of fuzzy, little kittens.
Yeah, I’ve been in a bad mood because of a number of things. But…I’m trying, as I always do, to find a sliver of a rainbow during these times.
Wednesday night at work, I dropped a six pack of Amber Bock. Two of the six bottles broke. There’s eight bucks gone from my wallet for the remaining four bottles.
The sad thing…I don’t like Amber Bock. The upside? My brother, Marte’ is coming over tonight so I can give them to him. He likes ’em.
My son, Ryno…After a month or so, of academic glory, he has slacked way back into a position of near academic emergency.
The upside?
Ryno told me Tuesday that he now officially has a girlfriend. Which means he’s not gay…at this point.
Of course, he initially lied to his mom and I about his grades, so maybe he’s lying about having a girlfriend.
Maybe he is gay. He does, after all, like pineapple and ham on his pizza, and that’s pretty damn gay.
Other than him being my adorable son, I’ll get back to you on the sliver of a rainbow that’s emanating from him.
Schmoop…Mmmmmm, Schmoop. She’s been flooding like the Red River. I think she has stopped. So, maybe today I can pull a Number 9 on her.
That’s encouraging…Of course, she really wants to have a hysterectomy. We can’t afford that being performed by a doctor…in a hospital. Man, that’s expensive.
But on the upside? I had a thought. We had our cat, Corky fixed for a couple of hundred bucks. I think I’ll ask Corky’s veterinarian if he can fix Schmoop.
Hell, Schmoop has the same parts as Cork, only bigger. If the vet can make Schmoop barren for $200.00, that’s a huge ol’ double rainbow.
Slide down and say meow, Schmoop!!
Anyhoo…I’m in a bit of a personal funk right now, but I’m am trying to stay positive. The Bagwine helps.
And, just think…I only have 10 days to go until I can meat again. There's a sliver of rainbow.
Of course, come Easter Sunday, I’ll probably orally rape a Hardee’s Monster Thickburger, choke, and die.
But then again, that will allow Schmoop, and her new found wombless self, to screw like a rabbit.
And on the upside? That would make Corky’s veterinarian feel very proud.
Cheers!!
As one who has always focused on words and language, math has never been my forte.
In school it was the one subject that I actually had to work at, but I did pretty well and I enjoyed it.
Geometry and Algebraic word problems always fascinated me and I liked doing them.
So today in honor of my little known love of all things numeric, I give you me...by the numbers.
5 is the number of pounds I have lost since Lent began 22 days ago.
Akron, Ohio State, Cleveland State, Dayton, and Xavier make up the 5 teams from Ohio that are in the 64 team field of the NCAA Basketball Tournament.
0 is the number of these teams that will, in all likelihood, advance beyond Round 2. Xavier, a Number 4 Seed, is really good, but their free-throw shooting blows.
I hope to have sex with Schmoop 2 times today. It’s been 5 long days since I have done Number 9 with her.
Number 9, by the way, is the new, hip phrase for lickity-lick labia loving that is really catching on. Since the phrase came into being on my post of March 13th, Cheesy and Mystery Chick have invoked its use.
Ladies, be one of the cool kids like those 2 chicks and tell your husband, boyfriend, or German Shepherd that you want some Number 9.
Spread them legs and spread the phrase!!
Oh, and guys? Learn how to love it, and more importantly, learn how to do it right!!
5 days from now it will be Meg’s Birthday, and Ryno and his mom will be leaving for D.C. on a 4 day school trip.
8 days from now, Schmoop will celebrate birthday number 43. There will be no birthday sex because she will be shedding her uterine lining at that time. So I’ll just give her a kiss, say Happy Birthday, sit in the corner, and cry 96 tears.
While typing this post, I had 27 impure thoughts, and touched Seamus 5 times.
Since I am done now, I am going to drink 2 beers, smoke 1 cigarette, rouse Schmoop, and see if she’s up for some Number 9.
Enjoy your March 19th. And, as I have said in nearly all of my previous 1,088 posts…
Cheers!!
Addendum: I was just informed that today, Michele of It's a Dog's Life is celebrating her 26th Wedding Anniversary. Go wish that uber-cool, vegetarian, Librarian a Happy One. Cheers Michele!!
See that huge head of mine in the picture? It’s so big (mainly due to my ego) that the picture couldn’t capture the top of it. 
