Counsellor- You can talk about anything. Anything at all. What did you have for breakfast?
Penis-I don't eat breakfast, I'm a penis. I discharge breakfast. But I think we had orange juice. And a vitamin b tablet. The urine was very yellow.
Counsellor- Right, and are you having any problems in that area?
Penis- What area?
Counsellor- The piddling.
Penis- No. I can honestly say I'm a very good pisser.
Counsellor- That's good. And it's healthy that you recognise that strength.
Penis- I'm not a very good 'fucker' though.
Counsellor- Would you like to talk about that?
Penis- Well...I love fucking. Absolutely love it. But I'm way too often with the whoops.
Counsellor- The whoops.
Penis- Yeah, it's doing my head in.
Counsellor- What are the whoops?
Penis- When I come too quick.
Counsellor- And what is it that makes you whoops?
Penis- Definitely it's the fucking.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Left Wondering
So, I'm sitting on the train right? I see her a few seats away. She's so damn cute. She looks up and our eyes meet. I look away, but not too quick. I try to re-focus on the Arcade Fire in my ears. I look up again. Eyes meet again. I look away, but not too quick. Again. I try to re-focus on the Arcade Fire in my ears. I stare at my shoes.
She's putting some make-up on now. She's so damn cute. She ties her curly black hair back. I'm trying to be inconspicuous. It's not working. I wonder if I should try a smile at her. I stare at my shoes, wondering how to go about smiling. My shoes could do with a clean.
I look up again. She's not there. My god, she's walking toward me. She sits down beside me. She's so damn cute. She says Hi. I say Hi with what must be the goofiest smile ever smiled. I feel my cheeks reddening. I can't believe she's sat there. And now we're talking. Except I can't hear very well because Arcade Fire are burning in my ears. I take out the plugs.
Okay, where were we? Where are we? What are we doing? These aren't the questions we're asking each other, but these are the questions I'm asking myself in my busy little head. We smile and nod and she laughs and I think, 'she's laughing'. I fall in love. Just like that. I think I fell in love with her the moment she sat down. But now I know I'm really in love, because she's laughing and I've stopped blushing and the talk is easy and my heart is Keith Moon's drumkit. But it's my stop next stop and I have to make a decision. I don't even know her name. So I ask what her name is as the train pulls in to Morningside. I shake her hand when she tells me, and I tell her mine. It could seem formal but it doesn't because I do it in such a way that makes a joke out of the formality of it. She tells me where I can find her at tech. The student union is where she hangs. She's a student rep. Gosh I'm learning so much about my new love, it's wonderful. I leave her there and exit the train.
I can't take the smile off my face. She's so damn cute. I can't take her face from out my brain. I don't want to. If I could, I would sit and replay that moment forever; the moment that so-damn-cute girl sat next to me on the train and laughed at my words. I wonder, as I walk with that stupid smile all over me, what our kids are going to look like? When I get home I write a song about her on my guitar. It's called Morningside. It's really good, if I don't mind saying so.
The next day I track her down. It takes a lot of repeating cycles through the student union, but I finally spot her sitting in the sun, smoking a cigarette. That's something she'll have to rethink when she gets pregnant with our first. I make my way toward her, nonchalant and indifferent, as if I'm just passing by.
We pick up where yesterday's conversation left off. I've made the decision I'm going to ask her out. Just a coffee. Something easy. I've never asked a girl out before. That's pretty sad for a thirty-eight year old man, there it is. Besides, it's not quantity, but quality that counts. She's so damn cute.
I lay it on her, as cool as I can....
It's the pause that lets me know I've made a mistake. It's the moment she takes before her eyes meet mine. I can almost hear the words inside her head before she says them. And then she says them. "I'm sorry but I'm actually seeing someone. Thank you so much though, I'm really flattered."
I try to make a cool, unconcerned departure, but I don't succeed. How could I have been so wrong? Why did she sit next to me? Why did she laugh? Why did she tell me where I could find her? And how can I be so emotionally involved? I almost had the kid's middle names sussed out. She was so damn cute. I've really got to stop falling in love like this.
She's putting some make-up on now. She's so damn cute. She ties her curly black hair back. I'm trying to be inconspicuous. It's not working. I wonder if I should try a smile at her. I stare at my shoes, wondering how to go about smiling. My shoes could do with a clean.
I look up again. She's not there. My god, she's walking toward me. She sits down beside me. She's so damn cute. She says Hi. I say Hi with what must be the goofiest smile ever smiled. I feel my cheeks reddening. I can't believe she's sat there. And now we're talking. Except I can't hear very well because Arcade Fire are burning in my ears. I take out the plugs.
Okay, where were we? Where are we? What are we doing? These aren't the questions we're asking each other, but these are the questions I'm asking myself in my busy little head. We smile and nod and she laughs and I think, 'she's laughing'. I fall in love. Just like that. I think I fell in love with her the moment she sat down. But now I know I'm really in love, because she's laughing and I've stopped blushing and the talk is easy and my heart is Keith Moon's drumkit. But it's my stop next stop and I have to make a decision. I don't even know her name. So I ask what her name is as the train pulls in to Morningside. I shake her hand when she tells me, and I tell her mine. It could seem formal but it doesn't because I do it in such a way that makes a joke out of the formality of it. She tells me where I can find her at tech. The student union is where she hangs. She's a student rep. Gosh I'm learning so much about my new love, it's wonderful. I leave her there and exit the train.
I can't take the smile off my face. She's so damn cute. I can't take her face from out my brain. I don't want to. If I could, I would sit and replay that moment forever; the moment that so-damn-cute girl sat next to me on the train and laughed at my words. I wonder, as I walk with that stupid smile all over me, what our kids are going to look like? When I get home I write a song about her on my guitar. It's called Morningside. It's really good, if I don't mind saying so.
The next day I track her down. It takes a lot of repeating cycles through the student union, but I finally spot her sitting in the sun, smoking a cigarette. That's something she'll have to rethink when she gets pregnant with our first. I make my way toward her, nonchalant and indifferent, as if I'm just passing by.
We pick up where yesterday's conversation left off. I've made the decision I'm going to ask her out. Just a coffee. Something easy. I've never asked a girl out before. That's pretty sad for a thirty-eight year old man, there it is. Besides, it's not quantity, but quality that counts. She's so damn cute.
I lay it on her, as cool as I can....
It's the pause that lets me know I've made a mistake. It's the moment she takes before her eyes meet mine. I can almost hear the words inside her head before she says them. And then she says them. "I'm sorry but I'm actually seeing someone. Thank you so much though, I'm really flattered."
I try to make a cool, unconcerned departure, but I don't succeed. How could I have been so wrong? Why did she sit next to me? Why did she laugh? Why did she tell me where I could find her? And how can I be so emotionally involved? I almost had the kid's middle names sussed out. She was so damn cute. I've really got to stop falling in love like this.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
More Emotion
Sorry ladies, for reigning in on your parade, but can you stop reigning in on my parade please.
I may not be able to pay for the meal (which aint easy to cop to), but I still want to pull the chair out for you. I want to open the door for you and do the driving too. I think it should be my mouth that gets us to the movies, or puts us on the dance floor together; I just have to remember where my balls are first.
You ladies criticised the power we held over you and fair enough too, but in finding your voice you forgot what it was you were speaking up for, and you've put a whole bunch of the negative shit on your own curriculum vitae. Is that what you really wanted?
Just cos you can, doesn't mean you should. What's the male equivalent of a cougar? I can't identify a label but the descriptor's sound like 'sick' and 'shallow'. It's a shame because you jeapordise the best part of what makes you. Your objectivity. Your lack of bias. Your empathy. You've always been the better person. That's why you win all the arguments. Don't let the power besmirch your legacy.
Of course this is all so much generalisation, but I'm a man. And that's how we roll.
I may not be able to pay for the meal (which aint easy to cop to), but I still want to pull the chair out for you. I want to open the door for you and do the driving too. I think it should be my mouth that gets us to the movies, or puts us on the dance floor together; I just have to remember where my balls are first.
You ladies criticised the power we held over you and fair enough too, but in finding your voice you forgot what it was you were speaking up for, and you've put a whole bunch of the negative shit on your own curriculum vitae. Is that what you really wanted?
Just cos you can, doesn't mean you should. What's the male equivalent of a cougar? I can't identify a label but the descriptor's sound like 'sick' and 'shallow'. It's a shame because you jeapordise the best part of what makes you. Your objectivity. Your lack of bias. Your empathy. You've always been the better person. That's why you win all the arguments. Don't let the power besmirch your legacy.
Of course this is all so much generalisation, but I'm a man. And that's how we roll.
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