"Mamas don’t let your babies grow up to be gay cowboys."
The movie Brokeback Mountain has done cowboys everywhere a great disservice.
I grew up on a dairy farm.
Riding horses.
And other assorted farm animals…
I used to ride horses without a saddle.
Until I hit puberty and all of a sudden my nuts didn’t like riding on horses without a saddle.
But these days there’s no way I’d ever admit to being a cowboy.
Cos thanks to that Hollywood movie, all cowboys are now Totally Gay.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
I’m just saying I’m not a cowboy, that’s all.
Never was.
(Cowgirls are cool though.
Especially cowgirls who like other cowgirls.
Mmmmm…)
But, just for the record,
I’m not a cowboy.
I guess it’s sort of like with that Independence Day movie.
When Spielberg’s ET hit the screens, people no longer saw aliens as scary monsters. They were our friends, who only wanted to make long distance phone calls and eat our marshmallows.
(Which, lets face it, is sort of like how most of us are after a night of hitting the hash pipe...)
But then the alien-hating Independence Day came out and reversed everything.
And now if you admit to liking aliens, or having sexual relations with one, then people just look at you like you’re sick.
Aliens are people too.
Why can’t we all just get along?
Why do people fear things they don’t understand?
I fear transvestites.
I’m scared of anything with
long nails, and is
taller than me, before they’ve
even
strapped on the
stiletto pumps…
And I’m definitely scared of anything taller than me with long nails, wearing stiletto pumps, that has a big Adam’s apple, and has taken to calling me their
Beearch.
A guy I went to school with had a scary encounter with one.
And by scary, I mean
Humorous.
Well, I found it funny.
Ha!
This guy was staying in a boarding house.
Then he mysteriously disappeared for a couple of weeks.
He was going to be kicked off his journalism course for non-attendance.
But the tutors decided to give him a second chance, after he told them the reason he went AWOL was because…
Well,
He met this girl at the place he was staying at.
One thing Led
To Another and then they were in
bed.
She told him that her plumbing was a little messed up
Down There, and could he
take her Up There
instead?
To which a gentleman can only reply:
“OK...”
In the sober morning, she tenderly
grabbed his hand and brought it around to the front and
that's when this guy discovered that
this girl had
A PENIS
And girls aren’t supposed to have
A PENIS…
He Freaked Out and jumped out
the window and ran
naked into the sunrise.
He was a bit screwed up for some time after.
Haaaa!
I guess (s)he mustn’t have had a hairy nutsack…
I found it the story a little hard to believe when I first heard it.
But then I bumped into a guy who also knew this guy and who had also met this "chick".
He said he totally believed (s)he was a woman as well, and was gobsmacked when he discovered that while (s)he appeared to be a beautiful woman by night, (s)he was actually a burly mechanic by day.
The guy I went to school with can never return home.
The whole district knows of his mis(ter)adventure.
And to think he thought things were bad enough when his hippy dad went down for being one of the biggest dope growers the region had ever seen...
OK.
I guess this is what you’re Really
Here For.
It’s Titty Tuesday.
Or, if you happen to come from my neck of the Wood -- where the time zone difference actually puts me 6-years and a day ahead of the rest of the planet -- it’s Wahoo! Wednesday.
(Or, if I’ve actually stuffed up the time difference thing, then it may actually be Half Nekkid Thursday. In which case, whoops.)
Lisa gave me this Guest Spot, as a challenge to see whether I’d join her club and post a braless shot.
Which, when I think about it, isn’t actually that hard, seeing as I don’t, normally, wear a bra anyway. Normally. Well, not sober anyway.
But the Bored Housewife also entrusted me with a couple of her own Braless Lapsed Mormon shots to post, just in case I chickened out.
Maybe I’ll just keep them to myself…
How much is it worth to you?
Ah,
What
The
Fuck.
You owe me.
Big Time.
I’m only supposed to post one of them. But I can’t decide which one I like better. They both have their charms.
What do you reckon? Blue sweatshirt…
Or grey sweatshirt?
You know what sporting event I’d like to see on TV?
How about the porn O-Lympics?
"Where coming last means coming first."
Their logo could incorporate five different coloured condoms.
And it could be followed up with a Special O-Lympics, where freaks, like hairy-backed octogenarian midgets and one-legged ex-Models Get It On.
OK then.
Something for the ladies.
The D-Man. Braless:
Yeah, I know.
The size of my pecs effectively negate the need for a Man Bra.
I had to take some steroids recently though, so I hit the weights in the hope of packing on some muscle mass.
But my penis dropped off instead.
Fortunately the police were able to use tracker dogs to find it.
I asked the surgeon to add A Bit Of Length to it when reattaching it.
So I’m now a whopping 2-and-a-half-inches.
Pornographers have since approached me, asking whether I would like to star in some hobbit sex flicks.
I’m also hopeful of being selected for the Special O-lympics…
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