My Robot Penis

Earlier today, on the Twitter, I said:

Do you ever just feel like we’re all part of something bigger than we are? Like a giant robot? Because if so, I want to be his wang.

That led to some friends labeling me Robowang, which could be the best nickname I’ve ever heard.  Conversation about that lingered for a moment until I was contacted by Empire Labs [website] (NSFW) about a kit to make a mold of your wang for a sex toy.

Whoa, that’s incredible. Talk about the perfect gift, right? Just consider the possibilities here, would you?

• Merry Christmas, honey. I knew you’d like this because you’ve told me before how much you like mine.
• Congratulations, you guys. I got you a gift that I think you can use on your honeymoon. I know you’ll recognize it, Susan.

Or even:

• Happy birthday, buddy. What’s that? Why its a replica dildo I made you from my own penis. I wanted my gift to really be meaningful *tear* *punch*

Well, I’m not in the dick mold biz, but it would be funny to make a robot penis. If you don’t think that’s funny, I can’t explain it. My sense of humor may not be the same as yours. I’m very seriously considering buying the kit and, through use of prosthetics and creativity, making a robot penis.

Am I twisted? Has my mind fallen apart during my month away? Maybe. More importantly, do you think there’s a market for robot penises?

Self-Humiliation and Pictures

In school I never minded doing something stupid for a laugh.  That’s right, I was a pre-pubescent attention whore.  Nothing has changed.  If it makes any difference I’m doing it all for you.  In that regard, I’d ask you to please leave some money on the dresser and see yourself out.

I love mystery, but I’m always trying to figure it out.  Effectively, I’m trying to kill the mystery I love so much.  When I read a new blog, or someone I’ve read for a long time, I often wonder what they look like.  How old are they?  Are they cooler than me?  Generally, yes and lately I’ve seen a handful of posts where brave bloggers post pictures of themselves and kill the anonymity for me.

Because I’m not much for anonymity and Aunt Becky, posted a self-humiliation post that I’ve been meaning to respond to for a month now, I present to you pictures from my k-12 years + one.  Here they are in order, as best I can tell:

1983-ish

That’s right.  Suede cowboy boots, a chicken leg in one hand, a popgun in the other, diaper and some character sunglasses.  This is probably my favorite picture of myself ever and the one I provide when anyone requests it.

1987-ish

I pity the fool that didn’t get the “I’m a ghost looking at myself” pictures in school.  This is almost as cool as the laser-beam trick that they did with vinyl mini-blinds and gel lights.  almost.

1993-ish

And here’s when the whole thing went downhill.  Note the BUM shirt, which was WAY oversized, the retarded bird’s nest on my head and the smirk that I know what’s up.  You’ll also notice I’m much fatter in this picture AND wearing a necklace that features a dragon holding a pearlescent marble.  Those last two things go hand-in-hand.

1996-ish

Growing into the pimple-faced rock t-shirt wearing dork you know and love today.  Or know and hate.  That’s a Pearl Jam tshirt, and a lovely example of hair that says “fuck you, hair gel.  I’ll do what I want.”

2000-ish

Oh dear God…  I let my hair grow out into what can only be described as a human mushroom cap.  In profile, as a silhouette, I would have looked like a giant penis.  Lots of people would say that hasn’t changed.  Those people are assholes.  Oh, I almost missed the bit of douchebaggery on my chin there.  That’s right, folks.  I was full-on hippie.

2001-ish

I picked pictures at random and they were mostly from k-12, so I almost threw this one out except that I wanted to detail that in my first apartment I was cooking my own food.  It involved car keys and prescription medication, but I was cooking!  I also got a haircut since I was now out on my own becoming a respectable (right…) member of society.

Well, there you go.  I’m sure there are cuter pictures of me before I was capable of completely fucking it up and there are definitely way more embarrassing pictures of the later years, but these are the ones I picked, so kiss it.

What do you look like?  (I’m betting my comments will be really low on this one…)

Where do you Want it?

The lovely minxes over at Toywithme.com are running my guest article today!  I don’t need to tell you how excited I am.

Head on over to read, and while you’re at it click around a bit.  You’ll find some more great articles by RedheadWriting [blog], Mommy Wants Vodka [blog] and Miss Spoken [blog] to name just a few.

Click here to read the post at ToyWithMe.com

I Don’t Worry About the Sex Tape

I’m not worried about a sex tape surfacing.  I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen?  It seems to work out really well for celebrities, and I don’t plan to be a beauty queen.  I might consider it, but I’ve been told I don’t have the hips for it.  I also don’t have the boobs or vagina for it, but now I’m just being technical.

The video release that I’d fear most would be candid footage of me being an idiot.  I know you do it too, so don’t judge me.  If anything, we should probably hang out more.

What kind of candid footage?  Nothing illegal.  It probably should be illegal…  Footage like me singing in the car.  Nah…  That’s too light.  Everybody knows that one.

How about footage taken when you’re getting out of the shower?  Maybe footage in the shower?  Maybe it’s a solo-sex-tape?  Are you guys picking up what I’m laying down here?

That’s also very common.  You do it to.  If you’re claiming that you don’t know either of the above concepts, you’re a robot.  You’re possibly plotting world domination and must be stopped.

What kind of video could be more embarrassing than that?  How about video of you, just hanging out in your house.  Nobody’s home, so you make up a funny song.  You start to sing it and you get louder.  As you’re singing it, you decide to get a snack out of the refrigerator, so now you’re dancing across the kitchen floor, sliding  and spinning on your socks.  Maybe you fall, maybe you don’t. Either way, is this a video you want getting out there?  I don’t.  Shit.

I’m not saying there’s a video like that out there, but if there is and you see it.  I was really drunk that day, and it was my evil twin and if neither of those excuses work; there’s a slight chance that I have a similar video of you that I’m holding on to for such an occasion.  Or I don’t.  Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

What do you think?  Would you prefer a sex tape, or a stupidity tape?

Going Commando

With a 3 month old in the house, and a long commute to work, and a bunch of other excuses I can generate for you on demand, laundry has fallen way behind the recent months.  So much so, that a little over a month ago it was getting very difficult to find underwear.I don’t give myself a lot of time to get ready in the morning, so that’s a problem.

Initially I stopped wearing underwear because I couldn’t find any.  Later it was habit and now it’s a green movement to save water by not having to wash underwear.  Look at me, I’m saving the environment!

The Mrs is still taken by this.  By taken, I mean that she giggles and makes fun of me.

The convenience is fantastic! One less step every time you change clothes! I’d love to know the time I’m saving.  The comfort, I must say, is amazing.  You see, sometimes things don’t quite “line-up” the way they should and require constant adjustment.  No undies, no adjustments.

Sure there are downsides… You can’t re-wear pants as much as you would normally and if anything did happen to your pants and you had to take them off, you’d be bearing it all.  The most frightening is the zipper factor, which requires a bit more attention to detail.

Still, the way I see it, if Joey Tribbiani can do it, I can do it.

What are your thoughts?  Am I being revolutionary, or just gross?