Douches, Anal Swabs and Razor Wire

Soooo… Lucia’s back from her six-month sabbatical with Gaspard. Myself, I can hardly believe they’re still together. He’s a gorgeous pussy and she’s well…. Lucia. I like him well enough; and God knows he’s easy on the eyes, but to put up with a woman who would eat the buttons off a remote because his cat shit in one of her Louis something-or-other ridiculously priced name-brand shoes is just plain stupid .

But…. I digress.

So, this is last night’s conversation when she called to say they’re at the airport.
Me: “Where you going this time?”
Lucia: “Nowhere.”
Me: “Are you between flights?”
Lucia: “Gaspard had to go to the men’s room and I haven’t seen him for over an hour, and someone just peed on my supply of instant noodles.”
Me: (rolling my eyes) “How unfortunate. Is there a point to this call?”
Lucia: “Hey, remember when I suffered in squirmy silence with that thing I was embarrassed about and threatened to slit your throat if you mentioned it to D’Arcy?”
Me: “I do,”
Lucia: “I have it again and I bet you told her when I had it before, didn’t you?”
Me: “Does a cat have an ass?”
Lucia: “Fuck you, Blanche; and by the way, we need a ride. And what’s up with sticking Q tips in peoples’ asses and razor wire around the Capitol?”
Me: “I ain’t ridin’ you anywhere. I bet that thing’s hollerin’ and screamin’ so loud it would knock a buzzard off a shit wagon.
Lucia: “Fine. Oh! There comes Gaspard! Whooooohooo… over here, darling!”
Gaspard: “Mon chérie! Zee Americans even have TV in the men’s rooms!”

Had a text from her this afternoon. They got a ride with “some guy” and they’re somewhere near Cazador, AL; but she isn’t exactly sure where.


Fake Candidate

Really, Uncle Joe? Intercourse? Of all the words in the English language, your handlers/you chose that one?  We all know what it means, but you.. you pedantic, grotty predator.. just made it sparkle like Christmas at Grandma’s house.

I understand; you’re only going through the motions. And, were I a more forgiving soul, could almost overlook the fact you’re losing your faculties. That you’re more to be pitied than believed.
They’re using you, Joe. If you can’t see it, you really are demented.
Or getting a nice, fat paycheck for letting your wife stick her arm up your ass to move your lips.

D’arcy Takes A Ride

So, this morning I get a frantic call from D’Arcy. “I need you to come over right away!”
“Why? What’s up?”
“I can’t explain right now, just please hurry; and I can’t get to the front door, so use the spare key!”

I honestly have no idea how she always knows when I’m not dressed, but she does it every time; this time being no different. I scrambled to find anything fit to be seen in public, dropped my eyebrow pencil in the toilet, and stepped into an insidious shoe that hid a puddle of cat pee. I couldn’t find my keys, or my car. Then I remembered I’d left it parked in the alley behind the bar the night before.

I dashed over to the neighbor’s apartment, banged on the door for five minutes when the bleary-eyed fairy finally threw open the door and screamed, “What the fuck happened to your eyebrows?!”
“Screw my eyebrows, I need a ride, stat!” “Now?,” he asks… while standing inside his door in only his whitey tighties. “Yes, now; and for God’s sake, is that Trevor’s underwear?”

Thirty minutes later, off we go; tearing down Putnam Place; doing 70 in a 30 MPH zone… when the local constabulary pulls us over for the rainbow stickers on the back of the car.
“This your car, son?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. Now get off my street.”

Arriving at D’Arcy’s place, I jumped out while the car while it was still running… frantic to get to her. Once inside, there she is… in the kitchen, squeezing carrots with a Vegematic; except she has her left tit caught in it.
“Where the hell have you been? I’m dying here!”

“You really own a Vegematic?”
“Shut up, you stupid cow! What am I going to do?”
Well, that did it. I laughed so hard I couldn’t catch my breath.
“We’re calling 911, that’s what,” I said in a hysterical fit of laughter. If looks could kill I would have been dead, dead, dead.
“No, you’re not!!”

Long story short, we arrived at the ER, with the Vegematic still attached and her boob was successfully released.

And we both have hot dates scheduled next week with the paramedics.