What's in a name?

Apparently the guys have some reservations about posting after Dylan dropped his literary bomb on us. I too must admit that I have some concerns; I mean how do you follow up a post that includes a sex toy and a large picture of a swarthy vagina? You really can’t, so this post will just be filler in order to provide a buffer between that post and the others.

That said I will tell you all a tale of my childhood and the time that I caught my man member in the zipper of my footy pajamas. Yes, its true way before Something about Marry, a young boy was zipping up after a bathroom break and did the unthinkable. First off, don’t give me any shit about wearing footy pajamas, because if you were born in the 70s in any state that had a real winter you wore footy pajamas… period. Now, you could ask why at such a young age I was already going commando, but the answer is simple, I’ve always been hard core.

Anyway, so I guess what had happened is I got a little careless with the zipper in my haste to get back to watching the Super Friends. (Ah, that Zan and Jayna, I’m just glad they’re on our side.) Id like to say that it’s a good thing scrotum are already wrinkly… because at least that way there’s a little give. (which reminds me, and forgive the tangent but I think I’ve pretty much perfected the Goat, and the Silk purse and have now moved on to the Bat wing, in preparation for this summers festivities… don’t let me catch you staring.)

On yet another side note the girl and I were talking the other day and she said it was BS that my main man has so many names while the fairer sex does not. I said that for a long time I’ve called him Jimmy Johnson because its seems the most appropriate, if you recall during the late 80s the Big Johnson shirts were all the rage with rural Americans and retards everywhere. While at the same time in Hip-Hop everyone was rapping about using your Jimmy hat. This just so happed to coincide with Jimmy Johnson’s rise to fame with the Dallas Cowboys which made me laugh and so a star was born. Simple right? My other favorite is Mr. Bo Jangles mainly because the song said that he liked to dance and does a mean soft shoe, which I always though was cool.

She maintains that these names seem arbitrary and silly, and asked what would happen if we all referred to the feminine underworld as Phyllis Diller. If used in a sentence, “Sir, would you please unhand Phyllis Diller!” or “Phyllis Diller wants a sandwich!” Which is kind of saucy so I don’t know, maybe it will catch on.

So back to my story of abject humiliation, I went and showed my mom my little problem and she went about trying to free me from my situation. I really don’t remember this part but as we all have moms, I’m sure we can all agree that they can be quite crafty when it comes to problem solving and I’m sure this time was no different. But she was unable to get me out so she did what any mom would do and called… The fire department.

Can you imagine a bright red fire truck with sirens and lights blazing pulling up to your house, because I can. Six guys jumping off the truck in full fire gear and running up to the door all to free my junk from a pajama zipper. And what are you going to do? You got to show it to them right? Well, they didn't have to use the Jaws of Life or anything but eventually they did get me out which was nice. I think I got some reassurance that he would regain normal color someday soon and an impromptu lesson on proper stowing procedure and I then they were on their way. All in all I think I learned a valuable life lesson and started a great relationship with the local FD, who as it turns out would be called out to our place not long after that when my Spiderman web slingers failed to carry me across the alley and I fell from the 2nd story balcony.
Childhood can be a bitch.