Not that I'm interested in fruity sex, but...: by Stream of Consciousness Eddie

Not that I'm interested in fruity sex, but...: by Stream of Consciousness Eddie

I was bored at work during my lunch break and attempting to cut the peel off of an orange in one unbroken peeling. I got about an inch down on the orange and there lay a revelation. I saw the baldness of that hole on top of the orange, peeling shaved off like it had a fruity Brazilian wax (Yeah, I'm not sure if that quite fits either). Staring down on this orange hole, I couldn't help but think that it looked a lot like Ava Devine's anus. Now, if you've never seen Ava Devine's anus, (formerly Ava Divine) than I suggest you Google it. Google it hard. Actually, Google it slow and steady if you get the invite. It's one of the most attractive of the anuses on film. So, anyway, I'm not into RJs (If you know what it stands for, go wash your mouth out with soap immediately...then, go to jail. Go directly to jail...Do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars, etc...).

So, although I am certainly not into RJs (No more requests, thanks), I was hungry for oranges. I wanted this orange in my belly and there's only one way to do that properly. This miraculous anal/fruital Doppelganger effect left me undeterred... I ate the hell out of that orange hole. I ate that orange hole like I was R. Kelly on a fruitarian bender. Besides, if you've got to eat an orange hole, one that bears a resemblance to Ava Devine's chocolate starfish is certainly the best orange hole that you can eat.

*Interesting fact: Many candies mix orange and chocolate flavors together because it is pleasing to standard human palates. Coincidence? Not really. I just thought I'd mention it.

Disbo and the Shirts: Military humor by Fitzgerald

LTE: Hi, guys. Today, we have our second guest post. This one is from Fitzgerald at: Fitz Blog of Comedy
Fitz also has several other blogs which you can check out on his Blog Catalog page, including his Blues music blog and his modern parenting blog. See them here: Fitzgerald's many blogs

He's a master blogger, if you will. He's also a retired Navy man. He submitted this story to us from his Navy days and we hope you enjoy it and go visit his blog(s). Thanks, Fitz.

Fitzgerald writes:

'' Disbo and the Shirts

When I was in the Navy we often told stories called sea stories. Do you know what the difference between a sea story and a fairy tale is? Well a sea story begins with "Back on my old boat" and a fairy tale begins with "Once upon a time."

Back on my old boat, the USS Valley Forge (CG 50), (yes it was kind of like being with President George Washington back in the colonial days. That is how tough it was.) I had a friend and fellow officer who because of his height, general body size, demeanor and race, was often confused with me. I was the Damage Control Assistance and he was the ships dispersing officer, we called him the Disbo.

He was also in charge of the ships laundry and this caused some tension between us. His men would laundry my shirts and invariably ruin them. They were washing my shirts with ink pens, which caused black stains all up and down the front of my Khaki shirts.

This happened about three or four times, and I would complain to the Disbo. He would tell his men to be more careful and then it would happen again. I was spending a small fortune buying new shirts.

So one day I show up at the stateroom that we shared, and what do I find. Freshly ruined shirts from the ships laundry. Well I am about to blow my stack when I realize that these shirts are not mine but are the Disbo's shirts and his men have confused him with me this time.

So I wait for the Disbo to show up in our state room and when he walks through the door I show him the offending shirts. He goes into full apology mode and begins to explain how easy it is to make this mistake and how other officers are leaving ink pens in their shirt pockets and how he will remind his men to be more careful again. He apologizes as he has done in the past and gives me the general look of I hope you understand.

I graciously accept his apology and then point out to him, that these shirts are not mine, but are in fact his. And that his men down in the laundry have confused the two of us. I go on mocking him, by repeating his explanation and apology.

The look on his face was priceless, he storms out of the stateroom and goes down to the ships laundry. By some stroke of magic, or luck, the ships laundry never destroyed another one of my shirts. It is funny how that all worked out.''

Stream of Consciousness Eddie's thought for the day: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

Stream of Consciousness Eddie's thought for the day: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

The reason why canine flatulence is so terrible is that you don't know it's coming. At least when you do it personally, you can feel it coming and have a sec to brace yourself properly most of the time.

PS: I've been working on some poetry since some people liked my sexual haiku. What do you think of this: ''Dog gas . . . comes from Dog ass. . . I am the walrus.'' That's pretty good, isn't it? I mean, I don't think it's technically stealing from The Beatles. Mostly because I plan on pronouncing it Wal-RASS, just to make it rhyme. Well, you think about it and drop me a line when you've thought it through.

Verified Facts Americans & Canadians Should Know:

Ladies and gentleman, there is a threat to American homes that has never been more prevalent or dangerous. A threat so big and so potentially alarming to the public that most news programs refuse to cover it. A threat that could have you as John or Jane Q. Public running for the hills. It's invaded many American homes and a few Canadian ones already.

Why isn't this issue taken seriously? Why aren't these threatening figures out there being reported by CNN or WKRP? Because they've been made to look like benign factors by the very misinformed Michael Keaton movie known as Multiplicity. The threat I'm talking about is of course, clones. Clones are not nice life-helpers or neat conversation pieces. You can't take your clone out on a double date or order them to mow your lawn. The fact of the matter is that you can't live with your clone at all. But, they don't tell you this.

*Fact: Clones immediately kill whoever they're cloned from, if and when the opportunity presents itself.

*Fact: Your clone will pretend to be you and refuse to ever come clean about being your clone once they've disposed of your body and taken over your life.

*Fact: You can't know a clone when you see one. You might be living with one as we speak. It might have killed and chosen to impersonate your wife, husband, roommate, Uncle, Grandmother, child, nanny or that young Norwegian art student who rents out your attic.

*Fact: Clones eat kittens for fuel. You'll never know because there will be no remains. They eat their cute kitten ears and their tiny kitten paws and their scrawny kitten tails. They do so indiscriminately, with no regard whatsoever to whether or not the kitten deserves it and they don't care if it's a family pet. Clones need to eat and they have a very strong instinct for self preservation.

*Fact: Clones purposefully spit in your food. If you allow a clone to make you a sandwich or cook Sunday dinner, there will be clone loogy hawked all over it.

*Fact: Clone loogy isn't like normal human loogy. It's highly acidic and will give you heartburn. If you've ingested enough clone loogy, you will develop ulcerative colitis.

*Fact: Clones are racist. Whatever race a clone is will be the only race they like. *The exception to this rule is a multiracial clone. They tend to not be racist but they are usually communists.

*Fact: Clones are predisposed to follow Scientology. They won't say anything about it but they'll never miss a John Travolta or Tom Cruise movie. Given enough time, all clones will be able to recite all the dialogue in Battlefield Earth and Jerry Maguire. No one knows why but many conspiracy theories have been offered by Richard Belzer.

*Fact: Clones are not exact replicas of the person they are cloned from. In fact, clones are smarter, stronger and have more pronounced genitalia than their predecessors.

*Fact: Clones are evil. They will not use their intellect, strength or enhanced sex characteristics for the forces of good. Only to eat kittens, watch John Travolta movies and spit in your food.

Now that you are aware of the danger of clones, please be careful. When a clone is found out, they become extremely homicidal and sometimes explode, engulfing you in flame. For more information on buying a home clone detector for just $19.95 or, roughly the cost of one cup of coffee on the way to work, please call 1-800-AcidLoogyBad or go to Amazon.com.

The true origin of the song 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey

The true origin of the song 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey':

Elbert P. Munkee was the head chemist and researcher studying semisynthetic psychedelic drugs in the ergoline family when he discovered what he called ''The ultimate truth, no longer to be hidden from the human mind.''. This drug was called Lysergic acid diethylamide or LSD. Now it is known mostly as 'Acid' in street slang. LSD became a vice and a cause for Elbert. Doctor Munkee, a chemist, psychologist and trippicist, openly took the drug and promoted it to fellow people from Amsterdam. He claimed that they should stay off of Marijuana and other street drugs because they weren't ''laboratory tested or doctor approved.'' like his precious LSD was at that time and in that particular vicinity. It should be noted that the only doctor who approved of it was Munkee himself. Elbert would take the drug and go on hours-long ''confession sessions'' where he would air out all of his questionable actions and somewhat amoral fantasies.

He became a cult leader and led numerous Amsterdamian youths and hobos into using his dangerous 'truth medicine', as he called it. ''You'll have nothing to hide with modern science's all-purpose truth medicine.'' he was quoted as saying in a sermon to his flock, just before trying to fly on an invisible pelican's back and falling off of his kitchen table. Around this time, the popular band known as The Beatles, from Britain, had toured through Amsterdam and been confronted by a very high Doctor Munkee. Munkee converted the band into users of LSD, resulting in numerous songs being written. Many of the songs were never published like ''Owoohadoobah hahaha!'' and 'On the sand, riding a crab taxi' which was penned by Ringo. Munkee's preaching of LSD as well as the band witnessing several ''confession sessions'' inspired John to write a tongue in cheek ditty called 'Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey'. Of course, monkey and Munkee are pronounced the same and no one would ever know.

That is, until Doctor Munkee finally passed away a few years ago in an insane asylum located by an Amsterdam brothel where he spent years after his cult followers lost interest and became wine drinking, yuppie businesspeople in charge of a line of disposable hemp underwear products. Once Munkee passed away, his lawyer released video footage of him with the band which showed John playing the song for him and telling him he'd written it about the good doctor. That solved the mystery once and for all about the meaning and origin of the song.

*Interesting note: Doctor Robert Freymann and Doctor Munkee were bitter enemies, oddly enough. The band actually attempted to bring them and their methods together in friendship and harmony by recording a mix that combined both Doctor Robert and Everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey and adding the line ''We can work it out.'' over and over in the background. It didn't work. They always hated each other, bitterly.

The Traffic of Your Twitter: A Graphic Sexual Haiku: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie

The Traffic of Your Twitter: A Graphic Sexual Haiku: By Stream of Consciousness Eddie






The sun shines - when I Google your Twitter.
The sun shines - when you Yahoo my web log.
It is storming - when I ping all over your Twitter.
I have an umbrella - to shield you from the storm.

A cloud disappears - when I Google your Twitter
But - alas - your Twitter has too much traffic.
Slut.

*Okay, so maybe that doesn't technically classify as a Haiku but that bitch broke my heart, man. She had an amazing Twitter. Ladies, don't go off getting a bunch of traffic with your Twitter. It's not right when you've got a steady guy who's crazy about Googling your Twitter and you clearly enjoy Yahooing his web log until he Pings like a mutha. Anyway, I think I've made my point and done it in a classy, artsy-fartsy, high brow type of manner at that.