Yeah, I’m talking to you. How does it feel to go through life with a giant pole up your ass?
For starters, how do you poop?
Isn’t awkward to bend from the waist and pivot on a giant pole all day? Forever doomed to snapping on the 1 and the 3 instead of the 2 and the 4? Always getting jokes a little too late? Dancing is out of the question, because you know that you would look like a dork and you can’t stand people laughing at you. And goodness knows you can’t laugh at yourself. Laughter in general causes the pole to vibrate in an uncomfortable way.
I bet you were the best Hall Monitor your elementary school ever had. Teachers handed you the award for “Perfect Attendance” and “Neatest Handwriting” by default, year after year, but they didn’t exactly like you. Your schoolmates would double over laughing every time you played kickball - it’s hard to kick a ball or run with a pole up your ass. Your college roommate hated you, and your co-workers call you the MAV - “middle-aged virgin” behind your back. No one likes a person whose entire being has been taken over by a giant pole wedged up their ass!
It’s not that you aren’t a “good person.” You unfailingly are. Your house is very clean, you return your library books on time and in excellent condition, and there is not one blemish on your credit report. Your children are very well-behaved. But are you happy? Are you healthy? NO! Because there is a giant pole up your ass!
Good lard*. That’s uncanny. It’s such a perfect description of my gf’s housemate that I immediately had to email her** a copy. I hope you don’t mind this infringement of your copyright.
I’m waiting for a Doper to quote the part of the Bible that goes “Before removing the pole from your neighbor’s ass, look first to the oak tree growing out of your own? There’s a freakin’ flag waving from it!”
wring, it just seems like everyone I run into this week is in training to be a petty customs official of an East European country who longs secretly for a return to a Socialist Paradise. Bosses telling me that I must clear all paper and files (i.e. work) from my desk at the end of each day so that the desk looks nice at night when no one is here to see it. People responding to my ad for a new roommate by arguing with me “Your ad doesn’t SAY that utilities aren’t included in the rent.” (Of course, you are so right. Well, you can move in July 1 and I’ll gladly cover all utilities. Truth in Advertising is paramount, after all!). People on the train getting miffed that they have to move their briefcases to let me sit down, crinkling their Wall Street Journals and sighing loudly. No one laughs at my jokes.
THE ENTIRE CITY OF CHICAGO HAS A POLE UP ITS ASS THIS WEEK!
** Well, then you don’t want me there after all. When I actually DID deal with petty customs officials of Eastern European countries (plural), I always got the most attention - I was frisked in Chech. (:eek: ) and had my carry on luggage unpacked & purse emptied in Romania. Sigh. It must be that evil look in my eyes.
** Grrrrrrr. that one frost my ass too. Grrrrrrrrrrrr.
As a member of the SDMB gay contingent, I just wanted to remind y’all that there are times when having a pole up one’s ass can be downright entertaining.
No, really you didn’t, but if you derive pleasure from being the board poster child for anal pleasure, far be it from me to stop you. We’ve needed a new one ever since poor Satan got banned.
Public Safety Announcement (this is for all you hijackers): Please be sure to remove your ass-pole before engaging in anal sex. Failure to remove pole could cause severe discomfort and in some cases splinters.
This has been a public service announcement of the Sodomy Safety board. Remember, Safe Sodomy is Sexy Sodomy!
