Genital Discourse Page 2

I remembered the other genitally whatchahoozits I wanted to talk about the other night.

We have flushless urinals at work. This is generally a Bad Idea. Because by the end of the day, the bathroom stinks like a monkey. Who. Um. Pees. On flushless urinals.

Anyway, it reeks. But it's also given rise to a new game.

For the past few days, I've entertained myself by peeing into the urinal such that the pool cycles in opposition to the Coriolis Effect. When I finish, it's a race to see if the Coriolis Effect can undo my work before the urine has finished draining.

I read the wikipedia entry on the Coriolis Effect this week and they say that the effect is minimal on draining fluid in bathtubs, sinks, and the like compared to other forces acting upon the fluid.

Translation? My pee is mighty!

Genital Discourse

There needs to be a Weird Al style parody of Silent Lucidity that's about prostitution. It should be called High Rent Nakedity. So get right on that. Thanks.

The eye doctor determined that the problems I've been having with my eyes have nothing to do with scratches on my corneas, but rather, I've been continually reinfecting them with the bacterial frappe that's developed in my contact solution case. So he gave me a different kind of solution that fizzes. Everything is better when it fizzes. Contact solution, cold and flu medicine, beer... the list is endless. Which leads me to believe that they should make fizzing condoms. Wifezilla says no. She denies my genius.

I had another genitally charged thing that I wanted to say here but I can't remember it. Oh well. Alien wingwongs. Discuss.

My Lord and Master is pleased.

We seem to be running a theme lately

WIFEZILLA: Hey.

TACO: Hey.

WIFEZILLA: You're pretty cute.

TACO: Mm.

WIFEZILLA: Did you know that?

TACO: No.

WIFEZILLA: Well, you are.

TACO: Explains a lot.

WIFEZILLA: Like what?

TACO: I can't keep my hands off myself.

WIFEZILLA: I've noticed that.

Faceplant

WIFEZILLA: My boob itches.

TACO: Want me to bite it?

WIFEZILLA: It's kinda sweaty underneath.

TACO: Never mind. You're disgusting.

WIFEZILLA: Oh, like you don't get sweaty under your stuff.

TACO: That's different.

WIFEZILLA: How in the hell is that different?

TACO: I don't put my face in there.

WIFEZILLA: If you could put your face in there, we wouldn't have a house.

TACO: If I could put my face in there, there wouldn't be a we.

WIFEZILLA: Oh, come on!

"Special" eyes.

Finished filing my taxes. You'd think I'd file them early since the government always owes me money. But you'd underestimate my laziness.

Got promoted today. Weirdest promotion ever. The boss pulled me aside to ask me if I'd reconsider taking the job because they couldn't find anyone they liked for it, and they thought I was doing a really good job. Turns out to be the job I thought I already had. Banks are fucking weird. Everyone's some kind of vice president so you can't tell what your damn title is. Anyway, that misunderstanding cleared up, I jumped on it, so now... I have the job I I've been doing for the last four months, and thought I'd been hired to do. So yay.

Panicked phone call from wifezilla today. The dryer asploded. Pretty sure it can be repaired -- (the whole upstairs) smells like the motor just burned out -- but the dryer is 10 years old and wifezilla has hated it since day 1. So I'm buying her a new one. Whee.

Nothing makes me feel older than buying appliances. I think I may go buy a new video game to counter the effect. Perhaps that Dante based game Coyote wrote about.

Talked to wifezilla about hiring somebody to get the leaves out of the yard this year, since I manage to injure my poor joints every year, and the leaves wind up killing the grass while I recuperate. A couple of college age kids from the neighborhood came around looking for work today and said they'd do it for $75. That's a fucking steal. I think they're going to regret doing it. Or maybe not. They gave me one of those Come To Jeebus fliers as they were leaving. Maybe I should offer them $100 if they leave me alone about religion.

New puppeh is growing at an alarming rate. I sit and watch her for 5 minutes and I'm pretty sure I can see her doing it. Had her puppeh factoreh removed this week. The Dog Antipregnification Doctor said she's a fox hound. Our usual vet says she's a beagle mix. I'm siding with fox hound guy, because 1) I looked up AKC info and pictures when we got her, and that's what I think she is, and 2) it sounds cooler than "beagle mix."

The 1-800 Contacts "Special Eyes" commercial cracks me the fuck up. I imitate his "my brand!" exclamation for a solid 15 minutes after every time it comes on. Which pretty much means I do it nonstop from the time I get home from work until we turn the TV off and go to bed.

MY BRAND!

It's better than the miitard. And wifezilla hates it even more.

Which reminds me, Coyote, we have a new mail lady, and she asked wifezilla what the hell kind of name Yay Miitard is. I love that joke more every time it happens.

I'm not mature enough for this.

Found in the back of my daughter's activity book from the Easter Bunny.