Clean Digs and Dirty Sex

It’s Friiiiiiiiday Chuckleheads and Schmoop took the day off thus I will be engaged in various and sundry sexual activities so let’s make this short and sweet, just like my wee wee.

I picked Schmoop up from work yesterday and on the way home I thought a ginormous bug hit the windshield…

Let me tell you, it was no bug. It was…

Jesus!!


Yep, we drove all the way home with my buddy Jesus looking straight into my eyes as he was pressed against the windshield.

While it was a bit of an impairment to my field of vision, never have I felt so safe while driving amongst the retards here in Bagwine, Ohio.

Praise Jeebus!!

Last night Jayman and I put another award winning installment of I’m With Stupid in the can as we and our vast audience discussed sex in public places.

The sex show lasted 45 minutes but seemed like a mere two minutes long, which is appropriate as that is in indirect proportion to my own personal sexcapades.

Anyhoo it was fun, and you can listen to the show by utilizing this handy dandy BTR player:

I hope you give it a listen as it will help to keep I’m With Stupid near the top of the ratings, as it should be.

Also, if you listen, you’ll get to hear this uber-hot babe call in and talk about her wacky paramoural activities…

Gotta love The Rat, she’s allllll that!!

I must get up and clean the digs and then get down and dirty with Schmoop.

Happy Friday, Bitches, and as always…

Cheers!!

Happy Hump Day: He Said...She Said

It’s Hump Day folks, so how about a Hump Day related installment of, He Said…She Said? I thought you’d like that, and thanks…

Matt: So Schmoop? Thursday night on I’m With Stupid, Jayman and I will be talking about all the hot sex we’ve had in public places. Have you ever had public sex?

Schmoop: Well….just once. I think. Um…let me see. Is this going to be on the air???

Matt: Of course not…I would never act like a town crier announcing your public affairs for the world to hear. It’s me…Matty!!

Schmoop: Ok, I trust you. So there was this one time…thought you had me didn’t you!!?

Matt: Awww, c’mon…Just put it out there, since evidently you already did, at some point, “put it OUT there.”

Schmoop: Ha! Ok, one time I did it in a pool in broad daylight, outside. AND, no clothing was removed.

Matt: No clothing was removed? How do you have sex that way?

Schmoop: Well, let me tell you. You just move the bathing suit aside just the tiniest bit, see, then…

Matt: Oh, gotcha…At least that was safe pool sex because I’m sure the chlorine cut down on STD and yeast infection risk.

Schmoop: Bwwwahhhaaa! Well if it’s any consolation, the sex sucked.

Matt: The sex sucked until you met me, right? Um…Right?

Schmoop: Who loves himself?! Actually though, you are correct. I am totally serious, and truthful about that.

I figured before I met you, in the biblical sense, that men just stuck it in, and went on about their bizness.

Matt: Why thanks; that was sweet. Almost as sweet as your----Well it was sweet…I just try to do my best on you…er for you, like I did in the back of my Saturn with ya one time.

Schmoop: Well…we will keep that one under raps for the show if you don’t mind. Not that you don’t have MANY, MANY others to choose from;)

Matt: Hee…that’s cool, but until then, why don’t ya do a promo for this week’s I’m With Stupid’s Matt and Jay Raw: The Sex Show or as I call it, our Sextravaganza!!

Schmoop: Why sure…



(if the play button doesn’t work, hit where it says: twaud.io)

And there you have it folks…A He Said…She Said and a promo for I’m With Stupid all in one.

To access our show page, just click HERE.

Until tomorrow, I bid you, as always…

Cheers!!

The Post Of Christmas Past...

One of my all-time favorite and touching Christmas posts that I wrote four years ago. FOUR fucking years ago people!! Enjoy...


Awhile back I wrote about changing the definition of sex. I changed the definition of have, having, and had sex to mean eat, eating, or ate a meal.

This has remained one of my most viewed posts even today, mainly because several perverts type in a Google search using the words, “Sex with Mom”.

If you are unfamiliar with the post, you can go to it here:

Damn I’m Starved, Wanna Have Sex?”

Anyhoo, in keeping with the spirit of Christmas, I have altered the meaning of sex once again. I will offer you an insight into my life with following definition alterations. From now on, these are the rules…

Have Sex= Wrap presents
Having Sex= Wrapping presents
Had Sex= Wrapped presents

To wit, and heretofore are some real-life examples...

Back when I was a teen one Christmas Eve, my girlfriend, Sherri, and I were having sex in my bedroom when one of my brothers walked in.

He burst out laughing because Sherri and I were so sloppy and bad at it. Unfortunately, the little sneak also got a full frontal peak at what she was giving him for Christmas.

He left. We finished having sex, and I put a big bow on her box.

During the holiday season, I enjoy going to department stores and watching the young women behind the counter have sex. I don’t know how they do it.

They stand there 8-10 hours a day having sex in front complete strangers. I guess it is not really a bad gig. I mean having sex for 10 hours and getting paid for it, I may look into that.

When I was a wee lad, I remember one Christmas morn in particular. It was about 4 am, and I awoke with a thirst.

I straggled out to the fridge for a drink, and lo and behold, there were my mom and dad furiously having sex on the kitchen floor. Ribbon was flying everywhere, and without stopping, Dad told me to go back to bed.

One thing that always happens to me when having sex is that I run out of tape. It sucks because I can’t get the job done and nothing stays where it should. It’s really quite frustrating.

I remember another source of frustration as well. Back when I was a very young, left handed child, having sex was awkward and difficult for me. Fortunately, I had a number of older brothers and sisters who were always eager to lend me a hand. It was so nice of them.

Our family had a great time in those days. Our tightly knit clan would gather together to eat sausage balls, drink egg nog, and have sex as we listened to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing the Hallelujah Chorus over and over. Good times, good times.

Having sex can be one of the most joyous experiences of the holiday season. In fact, I hope that this weekend my son and his mom go out, buy me something nice, and then take it home and have sex.

What could be more pure and traditional than that?

Merry Christmas all, and if you’re in the neighborhood, stop by, because I would enjoy having sex with all of you.

Cheers!!

Sunday Morning Church Disservice: Beach Blanket No-No

After a stormy Saturday and Sunday morning it will be clearing here in Bagwine, Ohio giving way to a glorious Sabbath.

Last night after work, I was on Twitter and longtime Bagwine buddy Karen mentioned something that happened to her, and it reminded me of something I had written about over three years ago.

It remains timely to this day, so please enjoy and learn…

I have written before how I love to fish especially when the big orange lipped carp are engaging in fish sex.

They wallow around in the shallows, the males trying to lure in a hot female with his crank bait, tossing out some cheesy line in carp-speak.

It is a lovely ritual that harkens in Spring. It also reminds me of something that happened to me many, many moons ago.

I guess I was about 17 years old and one late June afternoon my girlfriend at the time and I made our way to a secluded cove at the local State Park to fish.

Well, actually I was fishing and she sat on a blanket and read, but you get the picture. I was catching a few here and there and having a good time.

I turned to my girlfriend at one point to show her a pretty good sized bass that I had caught, and lo and behold there she sat…

Staring at me, smiling. Her legs spread provocatively, and her shirt unbuttoned revealing her lacy red bra and glistening cleavage. Boo Yah…

I could hear the wocka wocka guitar music from every low budget porn movie I had seen blaring in my head. I could feel a pup tent erecting itself in my shorts.

I put down my rod, (no, not that one you pervs, my fishing rod) and lay down next to her. My lips pressed against hers. My hands began caressing her perky nubile breasts.

My tongue licking the salty sweat from her---Well you get the picture.

We were now entirely naked and going at it like two horny Proboscis Monkeys engaging in sweltering, shape-shifting sexcapades in a mangrove swamp.

Our warm bodies rolling around on white sand and our secret protected by the seclusion and the dense canopy of the cove.

It was a glorious example of young love at its most passionate.

As we neared the state of climactic euphoria, we simultaneously moaned and screamed, for it was at that moment...

That we discovered that we were both covered in ticks.

That’s right...blood sucking, disease laden...ticks.

We were mortified to say the least. My anxious dork went from being a tribute to teenage virility to being a shrunken cowering nob.

We picked ticks from each others most intimate parts like baboons giving each other a rinse and set.

It was as if we were both suffering from the humiliation only a nursing home resident can feel at the hands of a sadistic nurse…young passion gone terribly wrong.

For two weeks after the fiasco, we still felt ticks crawling on us although it was just our minds trying to process the events.

I have recovered for the most part, but to this day, whenever someone mentions lyme disease or spotted fever I cross my legs and let out a little whimper.

I tell you this now in order to prevent it from happening to you.

Amen, and Amen.

Have a wonderful, and tick-free Sunday my friends.

Cheers!!

Poll: Pussy

Today I get to talk about one of my favorite things in the world…

The vagina…

Also known as muffin, beaver, the cradle of love, and hoo-ha.

Personally, I coined and like the term, walking taco, but when I talk about Schmoop’s love lagoon, I call it, The Ferret, unless it’s “that time of the month”, when I refer to it as…

The Angry Tomato. Anyhoo…

A dear friend of mine, whom I have known for years, e-mailed me the other day.

She stated that she had an “unusual question” although knowing me as she does, she didn’t think that I would find it unusual. Ha, I dig that.

She wants to perhaps “spice things up” in the bedroom for and with her husband. She wanted to know how men felt about a chick with a shaved muffin.

Since she knows I have a blog, she wanted me to take an informal poll to see if you guys out there are turned on by a chick with a bald kettle of fish.

When she asked me to do this for her, two things crossed my mind…

First of all, I was flattered that she respected the opinion and level of sexual preoccupation that myself and my readers have enough to bring this issue here.

Secondly…I thought a great title for this post would be, Poll: Pussy. Ha…I crack myself up.

But I decided not to use such a scandalous title, until I decided, yeah, what the hell.

So women and especially men, what are your experiences and or feelings on this matter?

Me personally? I’m not into it.

I dig getting hair stuck in between my teeth like a piece of popcorn. ’Cause then, I can savor the experience and taste until it works its way out hours later.

Plus, at least in my mind, a bald beaver brings to mind a very young, very less than legal chick. It gives me the willies.

Schmoop isn’t a big fan either. She evidently shaved it once long before she knew me and was less than happy.

When it started growing back, she said that it felt like her ferret was infested with fleas.

So anyway…Throw my friend a bone and let her know how ya feel about it.

I’m sure she will be reading your comments with a razor in one hand and a box of Just for Women hair color in the other, deciding which one to use.

I’ll be gone all day, so be nice to one and other in my absence, and by all means, let your freak flags wave.

Cheers!!

Jessica Alba Naked: Rise of the Flesh Toned Surfboard

From now until Saturday, I will be putting up stories from the Bagwine vault. I felt this a perfect way to end year number four of Bagwine Ruminations and begin year number five which amazingly begins on Sunday May 23rd. Wow.

Here's one from June 18, 2007...

The new Fantastic 4 movie really cleaned up at the Box Office this weekend. I haven’t seen it yet but I do really love one of the characters, The Invisible Woman.

Yes I am a shallow man, but my affection for the character is purely due to masturbation purposes creative respect. I think Jessica Alba through her theatrical genius, has captured the essence of this particular superhero.

I must admit however, that I spend hours on end thinking about the fun I could have with the Invisible Woman.

I even had a dream about her the other night.

She came over and we started drinking some Wild Irish Rose.

We sat on the couch and she began to rub her form fitting superhero suit up against me. We put down our drinks and she straddled me as I sat on the couch.

She put her lips to mine and then proceeded to tickle my uvula with her super tongue. She kissed my neck, I opened my eyes, and there on the TV was a one-eyed toucan singing a reggae version of “I’m Turning Japanese.”

She stood up, took my hand and said, “Let’s go to bed.”

Once in bed, we laid down next to each other completely nekkid. After a few pecks and licks, she whispered in my ear, “Get kinky Matt-Man; do me while I’m invisible.”

I said, “Okay, but how will I find everything?” Jessica…er…The Invisble Woman said, “You’ll do fine, after all, you’re Matt-Man, Bitch!!”

When she said that, I didn’t know what turned me on more, that I was in bed with a gorgeous superhero, or the fact that she obviously reads my blog!!

Anyway, she went all invisible on me and I began the search and seizure mission. It did not start out well. I spent the first ten seconds French kissing her left eye.

I then moved on to kiss and caress her super breasts which oddly had no nipples. It was then I realized that I was sucking on her kneecaps.

I took a minute to sit up and analyze the shape and position of how her body was sunk into the bed. I studied and then hopped where I thought I would be in position for some good lovin’.

When I landed she said, “Oooooo good job Matt-Man.”

Passionately yet gently, I began to make love to her, or as I romantically refer to it, “began to plant the spud in the mud”.

Either the Enzyte I had been taking was adding the size it guaranteed or this was the tightest hoo-ha I had ever come across.

I was nearing the moment of climax when I moaned a super moan, and she laughed a super laugh.

Lying beneath me laughing…she became visible.

I looked down and discovered the source of her amusement. I had just spent the last two minutes fucking the hell out of her belly button. The mood had been shattered.

But then, she said to me…

“It’s okay Matt-Man. I’ll stop by tomorrow and go see the movie with you. You can freak everyone out at the theatre by making out with me while I’m invisible. Just be ready to be called Pee-Wee Matt-Man. Ciao baby!!”

I hope this entry will help you to think of me when you view this fine movie which I have never seen.

Cheers!!

Pat Robertson Is An Asshole

I have covered quite a bit of news on Bagwine this week, so I know that your sensory over loaded minds are exhausted, therefore…

Today, I am simply going to share with you some bon mots, gems of wisdom, thoughts, and observations that I have gleaned over my nearly 45 years on this Earth.

This is but a partial list, but I hope that you at least, partially enjoy it…

*You can use shampoo as body wash, but never use body wash as shampoo.

*Potted Meat Food Product is neither meat nor food, but keep it on hand, as it makes an interesting and humorous conversation piece.

*Drinking Wild Irish Rose is not only a way to enjoy the penultimate Bagwine, it’s a lifestyle.

*Even though he’s been gone for quite a few years, I miss my brother Phil. He was so wonderfully different and thoughtful.

*Being the youngest of nine you often don’t get taken seriously by the older ones.

*Getting a hand job from your girlfriend while watching the Glenn Beck Show on Wednesday can be quite surreal if not psychedelic.

*My site had nearly 1,000 hits yesterday mainly because people were Googling, “Megan Fox Naked.”

*Playing baseball is the purest form of both singular and team accomplishment that there is, and I miss it.

*If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, I guess I love Schmoop because she doesn’t over boil hot dogs and doesn’t undercook a frozen pizza.

*Pat Robertson claimed that the earthquake in Haiti was because Haitians made a deal with the Devil. Pat Robertson needs dirt sleep.

*If Liz Cheney wasn’t Dick Cheney’s daughter, instead of being on TV acting like she is knowledgeable about all things political, she’d be turning tricks at a Truck Stop outside of Elkhart, IN.

*Even if you are, like me, a fan of liver…Never and I mean, NEVER cook it in the crockpot. It doesn’t work well.

And speaking of which…Here is a classic video of Schmoop lamenting the fact that after several years of allowing me to dwell inside her abode talks about the fact that she let me cook liver…

Watch it if you wanna see Schmoop in nothing but a sweatshirt and socks...

Cheers!!

Wrap It Up, I'll Take It!!

Back in 2006, I began altering the definition of what sex consisted of. Like the 12 year old that I am, I have always found this experiment amusing. What follows, is my Christmas edition of sex change definitions. Enjoy…

In keeping with the spirit of Christmas, I have altered the meaning of sex once again. I will offer you an insight into my life with following definition alterations. From now on, these are the rules…

Have Sex= Wrap presents
Having Sex= Wrapping presents
Had Sex= Wrapped presents

To wit, and heretofore is the following.

Back when I was a teen one Christmas Eve, my girlfriend, Sherri, and I were having sex in my bedroom when one of my brothers walked in. He burst out laughing because Sherri and I were so sloppy and bad at having sex.

Unfortunately, when the bastard walked in on us, he not only got a good laugh, he also got a full frontal peak at what she was giving him for Christmas. He left. We finished having sex, and I put a big bow on her box.

During the holiday season, I enjoy going to department stores and watching the young women behind the counter have sex. I don’t know how they do it.

They stand there 8-10 hours a day having sex in front complete strangers. It’s adorable watching the young boys and girls watch the chicks have sex with Daddy’s package.

I guess it is not really a bad gig. I mean having sex for 10 hours and getting paid for it, I may look into that.

When I was a wee lad, I remember one Christmas morn in particular. It was about 4 A.M., and I awoke with a thirst.

I straggled out to the fridge for a drink, and lo and behold, there were my mom and dad furiously having sex on the kitchen floor. Ribbon was flying everywhere, and without stopping, Dad told me to go back to bed.

One thing that always happens to me when having sex is that I run out of tape. It sucks because I can’t get the job done and nothing stays where it should. It’s really quite frustrating.

I remember another source of frustration as well. Back when I was a very young, left handed child, having sex was awkward and difficult for me.

Fortunately I had a number of older brothers and sisters who were always eager to lend me a hand. It was so nice of them.

Our family had a great time in those days. Our tightly knit clan would gather together to eat sausage balls, drink eggnog, and have sex as we listened to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing the Hallelujah Chorus over and over. Good times, good times.

Having sex can be one of the most joyous experiences of the holiday season.

In fact, I hope that this weekend my son and his mom went out to buy me something nice, and then took it home and had sex together.

What could be more pure and traditional than Ryno and his mom having sex? Nothing...or maybe there could be...

When I pick Ryno up this Thursday maybe he and I will have to time to grab hold of his mom's present and have sex together as well. I'll try to make it happen.

And by the way, friends...

We still have a couple of days until Christmas. If you’re in the neighborhood, stop by, because I have gotten pretty good at having sex over the years, so if you need it, I would love to help you have sex too.

Cheers!!

Because Schmoop's Brother Said So...

I occasionally take requests.

As this is Saturday and nothing much is going on, I thought I'd take one that I received yesterday.

Schmoop's brother, David, was over and said:

"Ya know...sometimes I think, what is this Communist crap you're writing? Why don't you just put up some pictures of some naked women?"

Keeping in the Christmas spirit, and (partially) honoring David's request, I offer you some partially naked Christmas Babes...

Of course...

Just to make Schmoop's brother uncomfortable I'll once again put up this picture...

Damn David...Your sister is HAWT!! Merry Christmas!!

And to all of you...

Cheers!!

I'm Livin' With A Man, Baby!!

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!!

It's Okay...I'm Gay!!

Folks…I have decided that I need to have more women in life. You know…

Spice things up sexually. It would make my life more exciting, and would afford Schmoop the opportunity to relax more.

If I am otherwise occupied, she would not have to constantly look over her shoulder to see if I am getting ready once again to grab her hot, little ass and/or grope her boobs.

Of course, not too many other women really want to have sex with yours truly. So Sad. However…

I think I have come up with a solution to that problem.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am now officially GAY!!

That’s right. I have come out of my incredibly messy closet and converted to Gay-Ism. I have trimmed my goatee. Shaved my chest.

And, even switched from Wild Irish Rose to Bartles and Jaymes Strawberry Daiquiri wine coolers.

I have become one, major league flamer….a raging, homo love machine.

How in the hell does my new found gayness help me if it is my desire to sleep with women, you ask?

Allow me to ‘splain…

Me being gay gets me into the women’s club. I can hang out with them without being a threat to them. They’ll be relaxed around me if I am gay.

If I am dishing and drinking spritzers with a group of women and Tiffany says, “Gee girls, do my tits look and feel saggy. Would men still like to suck these puppies?”

In unison the other women would respond, “Why not have Matty try them out; it’s okay Tiff…He’s Gay!!”

After sucking and groping Tiff and giving my approval, the other chicks will certainly want to know how theirs stack up. They’ll all want gay Matty-Boy to try theirs out.

Let’s say I’m at a lingerie and sex toy party, and Tammy Schneider is unsure if she should purchase a pair of sexy, crotchless panties.

She voices her ambivalence to the other ladies, “I really like them, but I think my husband thinks my hoo-ha smells and tastes funny. I wonder if it does.”

The response from her peers…"Why don’t you have Matty give you a thorough taste test. It’s okay, Tammy…He’s Gay!!"

And dig it…With all of the lunches and spa sessions I’ll be doing with the babes, I’ll become involved in their personal lives.

At some point, there will be heartache for many of them due to an inattentive husband, an angry boyfriend…an unexpected weight gain.

Who will be there to pick up the pieces and console them? That’s right. Gay Matt.

I’ll have every one of them over for dinner in their time of need. We’ll talk, drink wine, and paint each other’s toenails.

And when the woman begins to sob uncontrollably from her situation and too much alcohol, I will say…

“I hate to see you like this. You can stay with me tonight if you’d like. You really shouldn’t be alone.

Hell if you’d like, you can sleep with me, and as much as I won’t enjoy it, I will even have sex with you. It‘s okay…I'm Gay.”

The forlorned chick will respond…

“You would do that for me? You are so sweet, Matty. Let’s go my BFF, I’ll ride you all night, my pretty.”

I will let her take me by my supple hand, lead me to the bedroom, and giggling like a little schoolgirl, I will say…

“And don’t you worry about what’s going to happen being made public. After all, I’d never tell any of my gay friends about this.”

I think I am on to something. Oh yeah, I am one smooth chested, wine cooler drinkin’, gay genius.

Cheers!!

Hamburger Helper Saves The Schmoop!!

Well, all of the tea bagging is over and I hope everybody got their fiduciary rocks off yesterday.

Large groups of people tea bagging each other is always a lot of fun.

On a related note, I tried something similar when I got home from work Wednesday night.

Schmoop isn’t usually up when I get home but last night she was, and my tea bag was steeping, so I initiated a conversation.

It reads just like a theatrical love story…

Matt-Man: Hiya Schmoop. Why are you still up?

Schmoop: Eh, I was just getting ready to go to bed. How was your night? Any freaks come through?

Matt-Man: Not bad…no freaks…Want me to hop in the sack with ya?

Schmoop: If you want. But don’t bother me, I’m going to sleep.

Matt-Man: But you’re off tomorrow. Let’s stay up and fool around. (Matt-Man pulls her close)

Schmoop: No, and get your hands off my ass. (Pushes Matt-Man away)

Matt-Man: Aw c’mon…(Pulls Schmoop close again) It’ll be fun, Schmoop.

Schmoop: (Pushes Matt-Man Away) I said no, and quit pawing my boobs.

Matt-Man: Sheesh…Off tomorrow and can’t stay up for some sex with the love of your life.

Schmoop: Fine, love of my life (rolls eyes) How about I get in bed, spread my legs and go to sleep, while you DO me…

Matt-Man: (Drops pants) Sweeeeeeeet!! (Pulls her towards him)

Schmoop: I was KIDDING. You’re such a pig, Mahoney.

Matt-Man: But I love ya…

Schmoop: Fine, we’re both off tomorrow. Love me then. I’m going to bed.

Matt-Man: If you have sex with me now, I promise to marry you.

Schmoop: And that sweetens the offer for me how? (Places Hands on Hips)

Matt-Man: Now that was just plain hurtful. I’m quite the catch. Plenty of women would love to marry me.

Schmoop: Name one. (Taps Foot)

Matt-Man: I hate pop quizzes. Let’s have sex. (Lunges at Schmoop with Tongue Hanging Out)

Schmoop: (Arms Keeping Matt-Man Away, and in a Lilting Voice, Says) I made you Hamburger Helper.

Matt-Man: Really? (Opens Fridge, Fingers The Hamburger Helper, Eats It) Sweeeeeet. Thanks Schmoop.

Schmoop: (Smiling and Walking Away) You’re welcome.

Matt-Man: (With Mouth Full of Hamburger Helper) Night, baby. I love you.

Schmoop: Whatever.

And there you have it. A personal glimpse into our undying love for each other.

For Friday’s post? I will have a pictorial offering of the crockpot liver I am making for Thursday’s dinner.

Of course, for Schmoop, I’ll make Chicken Nuggets and Fries.

Until then…

Cheers!!

Hear Dick Speak

(Ed. Note: Matt-Man’s penis, after being the focus of many a Bagwine Ruminations post, has requested equal time. What follows, are words of the Matt-Man penis.)


Yo Matt-Man. Hey, buddy. Can you let go of me for a minute and listen up?

I appreciate the love and camaraderie you show me, but dude…the weather has turned cold, windy, and dry, and I’m chafing and molting like an ancient cobra.

Lighten up on the auto-erotic love sessions, would ya? Good God, Man!!

And seriously, if you do feel the need to stroke your ego vicariously through me, would it kill ya to apply a little lotion to your hand?

And while we're at it…I have a few other…um…bones to pick with you.

When standing around the house or waiting in a line could you refrain from scratching my boys.

I know you tell people that you have an itch, but we both know that that isn’t true.

When you’re done taking a leak, could you wait a second before zipping back up? You always seem to put me back in before I am completely done.

Ya see...

I don’t know about you, but especially in this cold weather, I find it very annoying to be lying around in your pants, in my own urine.

Speaking of your bathroom habits. When you sit down to clean out my buddy, Mr. Butt, do me a favor.

When your business is done, could you wipe and get off the pot. You’ll sit there for twenty minutes reading some magazine.

And while you are sitting there reading and chuckling...

I’m stuck face down in the toilet staring at the fecal manifestation of your latest meal of chili fries and fried Spam topped with Velveeta.

Sweet Baby Jeebus, now I know the horror that little Jessica McClure felt when she was trapped in that backyard well.

And although it’s behind us now, let me say something about some of the women with whom you have been intimate.

Dude, WTF? Remember the chick you nicknamed, The Carp?

You got the nickname right, but getting naked with her and involving me was soooo wrong.

And Matt-Man, we both know there were quite a few others, don’t we?

Hell, compared to some of the women you've been with, Nazi guards at Auschwitz were getting better pieces of tail.

Another thing…I know you like Shakespeare, but that was no reason to pull up a porn clip of Romeo and Julius on the net.

I know you say you did it “accidentally” and you let it run for 4 minutes and 37 seconds “inadvertently” but could we get back to the hot chick on chick action?

I do want to offer a word of thanks to you. I am very glad that you have lost so much weight.

It’s nice to be seen again and be able to breathe once more.

Anyway...

These were the thoughts that were bouncin’ around in my head. I hope we have a continuing and long, joyful relationship together.

Sincerely...Your Penis,

Seamus

Cheers!!

Warning: Wednesday on Bagwine, Seamus will be here, up close and personal. Oh yeahhhh.

Dirty Bathrooms and Christmas Cards

Another Saturday…another day off to lose myself to the wiles and charm of the Bagwine.

But first, I am off to see Ryno this morning, and to do something that I dread…

Clean his mom’s bathroom.

It’s disgusting, and I can’t help but want to clean it.

Don’t think that I am doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I am doing it because I can’t help myself.

Both her and Ryno use the shower that’s in her bathroom, (No, not at the same time you frickin’ perverts) and I saw it when I dropped Ryno off Thursday after his dental appointment.

Good Lord!! I can’t help but think that they come out of the shower dirtier than when they go into it.

The entire bathroom needs a major douching. So this morning, just think of me as Mattsingill.

Man, the things I do for people…people who don’t even like me that much. Oh well, it makes Ryno happy to see me help her out, so I can live with it.

And now, on to some lighter Saturday morning things…

Believe it or not 18 of you knuckleheaded Bagwine readers have requested a homemade, handmade Christmas Card from me.

Yes folks, 18 people in a drunken stupor the spirit of Christmas, have entrusted me with their home address. I know what you’re thinking, and I can’t believe it either.

Anyhoo…The cards are not going out until after Thanksgiving, so if you’d like one as well, drop me a line along with your address, and I’ll send one out.

You can email me at: neshobadude @ yahoo.com

I was also touched that several people asked me for my address so they could send a card to me and/or Schmoop.

And then, it hit me…They just want my address in order to notify authorities should things in their homes turn up missing.

C’mon folks, it’s me. Matt-Man. Have you ever seen a more trustworthy face in your life? Of course not.

So let me know and I’ll send you one. I have a couple of other ideas as far as Christmas gifts go, if you’re interested.

Do you have a burgeoning teenage daughter, niece, or nubile young thing otherwise close to you?

Christmas morning make their eyes flash as brilliantly as Sarah Palin’s wardrobe by giving them a subscription to Teen Girl.

They are doing an expose' on me in the March 2009 issue!! Here’s a sneak peak.





Need another idea? Ladies, if you want the man (or woman) in your life to take you to a level of consciousness and sexual delight that you have never been, get my new book for your partner.

Damn straight…Buy that book for Christmas and you’ll be shouting Ave Maria all damn year my friends.

I don’t know if it would make a good Hanukkah gift because I don’t think Jewish chicks dig that sort of thing.

I’ll have to go down the hall and ask Mrs. Schlotzsky. Of course, that would take forever, what with her having to use the walker to get to the door and what not.

So, I’ll just assume Jew bitches don’t find the lickity-lick thing kosher.

Anyway, enjoy your Saturday. I know I will. Well, after I recover from cleaning that disgusting bathroom.

Cheers!!

Hey, Brent Musburger!!? If I Want Pussy, I'll Go to John Madden!!

I have a Fantasy Football team in Jay’s League.

They suck. Even though I am one of the highest point scoring teams in the league, I have managed to be 1-3 at this point.

In a word, abysmal.

So, I was thinking…How about starting my own Fantasy Football League?

One where the football, instead of “pigskin” is made of cat skin, and will now be called, a “Pussy.”

And…

Where the touchdown, is now referred to as, a “Blowjob.”

In my world, this would be much better…

Just think of the scintillating and titillating commentary we would have while listening to Mayonnaise Mouth John Madden, when the football is now called a “pussy” and the touchdown is now called a “blowjob.”

I can hear Madden saying, “The key to this game comes down to which team controls the line of scrimmage and doesn’t turnover the pussy.”

Of course, weather always plays a factor when playing in the National Pussy League. Madden might speak this gem on some December Sunday when the Colts are playing the Bills in Buffalo…

“Y’know folks, you are going to be seeing Peyton Manning wiping his hands on center, Jeff Saturday’s ass all day, because with this heavy snow that is going to be one, wet pussy. You don’t want to fumble the pussy when it gets snapped.”

Madden would continue...

“If you spend sixty minutes dropping a wet pussy, you aren’t going to score too many blowjobs.”

The kicking game plays a major role in some games…Your views, Mr. Madden?

“When I coached the Raiders, I had the privilege of coaching the greatest punter ever, Ray Guy. He could boot that pussy 80 yards. He could really make that pussy scream when he put his whole foot into it.”

Even the “Red Zone” (when a team is inside the opponent’s 20 yard line) would take on a new meaning. Eh, John?

“The Bengals offense has fumbled seven times this year within the Red Zone. It’s almost as if when they encounter the Red Zone, they want nothing to do with the pussy. That really cuts down on their chances of getting a blowjob.”

I bet a fantastic catch would sound great with these new definitions, eh John?

“Did you see that, folks? Romo threw the pussy from midfield and Terrell Owens caught it on the run, bobbled the pussy twice, pinned it against his face, and then did a forward somersault into the end zone for the most spectacular blowjob I have ever seen...

That’s what pussy is all about, sports fans!!

It's acrobatic blowjobs like that, that remind me why I wanted to get into pussy in the first place.”

I like my idea, but with one MAJOR, non-negotiable caveat…

Thinking of Madden saying this crap is creepy enough, but I DO NOT want my word change applied to the college game, because if I ever hear Brent Musburger utter the words, “pussy” or “blowjob”, I will forever avoid sex.

Have a great Monday, all.

Cheers!!

If Elected President, Work-Related Masturbatory Mishaps Will Be Covered!!

Beginning this past Sunday, July 27th through Wednesday August 6th, I am working every day but one.

Yepperdoodle, I am working 10 out of those 11 days.

And that is in addition to supplying you with a daily dose of incredibly banal blatherings humorous observations, bon mots, and satirical insight.

What’s the Matt-Man to do?

More importantly…what will I be missing? Well, let me tell ya.

First and foremost, Sex!!

Schmoop comes home at around 4:40 P.M. and I go in at 5. By the time I get home, she is usually asleep.

Over these 11 days I will only really see her this Thursday. WTF?

In my book, it takes 10 masturbation sessions to equal 1 session of real sex with an actual person.

Let’s say her and I over an 11 day period, typically have sex seven times. Subtract at least one sexual encounter this Thursday, and I am still out six coital conferences.

That means between now and August 6th, I am going to have to stroke off the Bagwine Boner 60 times to make up for the shortfall.

When I wake up August 7th , my wanker is going to be a piece of gnarled flesh looking remarkably similar to a rotted Horseradish root or the blighted branch of a Contorted Filbert.

And my palm!! There won’t be enough Aloe in the world to soothe my blistered and arthritic Matt-Manus.

(Although telling people that my bloody palms are a result of stigmata, would be kind of fun. I just won’t tell them exactly what I was worshipping when it happened.)

Secondly, I only have one day when I can cook. I love to cook. It’s fun, relaxing, and most of all, when I do cook for Schmoop, it nearly always leads to SEX!!

I should demand compensation from my employer for my lost sexcapades and soon to be damaged dork.

But what could he offer to relieve me of my damages? Bagwine, beer, a bag of chips?

Well, when I drink Bagwine and/or beer I get horny...

I won’t be able to have sex for awhile because of the painful, penile protrusions due to the copious amounts of masturbation.

The bag of chips? I don’t think that handling salty potato chips with a bloody and blistered hand is such a good idea. Do you?

Boy, I just don’t know. Any suggestions? C’mon folks, throw me a bone here. D’oh, I said “bone”. Damn.

I have to figure something out.

Have a great Tuesday, all.

Cheers!!

Relaxment

As you know, this week, I am just kinda takin’ it easy from posting anything that takes any thought.

Phonin' it in, as it were...

Yeah, I heard some of you laughing…I really do put thought into many of them, so shut up.

I am just trying to recharge what‘s left of my grey matter and relax a bit.

Well, lo and behold, this week I am going to get quite a bit of recharging and um…relaxment?

I know, but from now on, relaxment IS a word.

Schmoop, sensing my mental tension and sexual distress due to Aunt Flo messin’ with Sid for an inordinate amount of time is bringin’ home the bacon…so to speak.

She is taking Thursday and Friday off. So, since the R-Man is in Chicagoland and I won't be with him…

Tonight after I get home, through Sunday morning, Schmoop and I will be participating in:

Flesh-Fest 2: Revenge of the Engorged Member.

I have already been stocking up on the essential party supplies such as Bagwine, beer, smokes, and Cheez Whiz.

Also, between now and Thursday morning I will be eating six dozen eggs, three pounds of bacon, and four dozen ribeye steaks in order to get my protein levels up.

I am feeling relaxment just thinking about it…and feeling more than a bit aroused.

I guess I should pick up a box of oyster crackers. Schmoop and I have a neat little trick we do with them.

I can place one in her Hoo-Ha and she can turn on her Kegel skills and pop an oyster cracker eight feet across the room right into my mouth.

I never get any closer when performing this feat, because once I was only four feet away and she damn near put my right eye out.

The sultry wench has got some well developed pubococcygeus muscles.

No, I didn’t make THAT word up. Google it, if ya don’t believe me.

Man, this is so very liberating…not worrying about meaning, substance, or content when I post.

Again, with the laughter, folks? Why I oughta…

I am beginning to feel refreshed already. It is nice of Schmoop to take time off and spend it with me at a time when I need it most.

Sure, I’m gonna miss Ryno over the next two weeks, but it’s good to know that I still have my best friend by my side.

My wish for you all, is that you have somebody like that in your life, and if you don’t, I truly hope you find someone like that soon.

Cheers!!

Making An Ass of Myself...In the Name of Science Of Course

I recently conducted a socio-sexual experiment.

I e-mailed a few bloggers of the female persuasion out of the blue and left the following message:

"I have to get this off of my chest…I want to have sex with you."

I wanted to see exactly what type of responses I would get and/or to see if I would receive a virtual bitch slap.

Only after I received their response did I let these fine women know what I was doing.

With their permission, I am posting their replies anonymously.

The first is fairly typical and considering my degree of lecherousness, well-founded:

I bet you say that to all the girls who comment on your blog. ; )

This next one is a bit more bouncy…playfully demanding if you will:

And yet? YOU’RE. NOT. HERE. Bring it, Sweet Cheeks!!

Ahhhh, I liked that one…

Next, a hot blogger who I have known for awhile, responded in a fashion that illustrates that she has known me for awhile as well:

LOL…Like this is new, Matty? ; )~~

Okay, cute…but I detected a little sarcastic one-upsmanship in that response. But, yeah, she was correct, dammit.

The next one kind of throws me…Is it elated surprise, or utter disgust? You decide:

You’ve got to be kidding me!!

I need to follow up on that one. Next, I think you may know who this is, especially if you read last Friday’s post:

Give it a couple of days and then you can have whatever you want.

That is so warm, so human, so “I bet I have to cook dinner for her first”. And you know damn well, I will.

Lastly, and this made my hard drive melt….This one just makes me say, “Hot Damn, Baby!!":

*blushes* Matt!!

What a way to start *my* Friday morning!! If it makes you feel any better, that thought has scurried across my mind more than once ... and it's happened several times when I had a vibrator in my hand *giggle*

And here I was feeling sorry for myself this morning! I needed that smile Matt - THANKS!!

Now that is a thing of beauty.

I don’t care if you’re an old man, a young man, or a Central American Strongman smoking banana peels from a Cuban-Made hookah…Boo Yah, Baby!!

What are the results of my clever socio-sexual experiment? Two Things…

Number one, I am HAWT…And Number Two…

I have delusions of grandeur, and way too much time on my hands.

I want to thank those who graciously allowed me to use their messages.

Have a great day all.

Cheers!!

It's Conference Time; Where's My Box Lunch?

I have been skidding painfully upon a dry patch in my sex life.

Okay, more than dry…

I’m talking arid, dusty, un-moist…Drier than bed sheets wavin’ on a clothesline in a Death Valley breeze.

I don’t think Schmoop wants to have sex with me. It’s like I truly repulse her of late.

Why do I think this?

Maybe it’s the the way she avoids me. Maybe it’s the look in her eyes as she seems to look past me.

Perhaps, it’s the tone in her voice when she says, “I don’t want to have sex with you, and of late, you truly repulse me.”

Well, don’t get me wrong, I love the Schmoopster, but I’m Matt-Man, Bitches, and I need sex.

So, I have a plan…An itinerary full of the prospects of hot, tawdry, jungle sex.

I’m going on tour…more specifically, the Women’s Conference Tour.

I was looking through the internets yesterday and I was amazed at how many fun-filled conferences for women only are coming up.

For instance, June 20-22 I will be going to Austin, TX. I have booked a room at the Renaissance Hotel where the Texas Council of Women School Executives is taking place.

This is an opportunity to spend three exciting days and nights schooling some sexy female educators in the art of Matt-Man.

Bend over Superintendent Love Muffin, Biology class is in session and the subject tonight is:

The Talented Tongue…Opening Your Flood Gates, and Tossing Your Salad.

After that, I am off to San Francisco for the 2008 BlogHer Conference on July 18-20.

Seventy-Two hours on the bay with hundreds of hot, horny women bloggers in search of template tips, and orgasms to write about.

I’ll provide each and every one of them with a big, enduring post. Feel my hard drive and scroll down on my trouser mouse baby!!

These should be two very spooge extruding events, but come October 2-4, all Hell is gonna break loose.

I’ll be in St. Louis for the Joyce Meyer Ministries Annual Women’s Convention…26,000 divine babes in search of salvation.

Drink of my Bagwine and eat of my flesh, ye of the holy hole; I am here to deliver you from the bondage of bad sex.

Visions of God will abound when they feel the Matt-Siah moving deeply through their “souls”. Amen!!

So there you have it, my next few months will be a period of stiff, sticky, sexual redemption.

Here’s to the women of America, and their “female only” conferences.

I hope you join me tomorrow for a very special Mother’s Day edition of Half-Nekkid Thursday.

Oh yeah, it’s gonna be disturbing.

Cheers!!