My posts lately have been more of the sexual nature than usual so today, I have vowed to avoid using the term sex.
We’ll just use “intercoursal affiliation”.
Of course, being an almost married man, I only have one affiliate that I’m being intercoursal with. So, there’s not much to tell….
Instead, I’ll tell the story of my incarceration 4 years ago.
No I won’t either. I’ve already talked about that event in my life and I refuse to collaberate with people who already suspect me of being perverted and twisted.
I have done nothing wrong and I am not gay. Not that there is anything wrong with being gay….according to my gay cousin.
My fiance is leaving today headed to Dallas, Texas until Wednesday. Unfortunately, I am off until Wednesday.
Being that I am a germaphobe, there will be no orgies but I have invited 2 of my buddies over tomorrow for some XBox, beer drankin’, and porn watching.
Some days, as I did last night, I dig deep into the recesses of my simple mind, past all the pornographic images, to a part that’s so sensible and mature, it literally scares me.
Did I need all those damn commas?
As I was lying in bed last night contemplating on whether or not I should wake Trish or just touch myself, I began to analyze a question that was directed at me earlier in the evening by Trisha’s brother-in-law.
“Mike, do you want a bachelor party? Like at a nudie bar?”
Since Trish was sitting right beside me, my first answer was …
“Hell NO! What kind of man do you think I am?! How brazenly distateful you are my friend! Where’s your damn morals?”
Later on, I asked him where. He told me in Vegas, after we get there.
Look, I can see “uncovered cleavage” for free in Atlanta…well, not for free but I don’t have to pay airfare or a hotel room if we do it here. I’d much rather waste my time sight-seeing, as I’ve never been to Las Vegas and am looking forward to seeing all kinds of shit.
Besides, if we do it in Vegas, I wouldn’t have my friends close by to bail me out of trouble.
Now I ask you, after 36 years, is that a sign I’m growing up?
Throughout my 3 years or whatever amount of time I’ve been spewing my verbal trash, I have often advised women on how to treat their men.
I do so only because I know some of you need to get laid….
Anyway, I have found that an aggressive female is actually a turn-on. Sexually aggressive I mean. Hell, my ex wife was aggressive but it wasn’t in the sexual department and I had bruises and shit to show for it.
That wasn’t attractive.
Be aggressive with your man, sexually. Rip open his shirt soon as he walks through the door. You know, aggressive shit like that.
Talk dirty too.
“Roger, you filthy dog you! A lickin’ is what you need! Oh, your dinner is in the oven by the way and I ironed your shirts!”
Geeez-us, I hope Trish is going to read this post. That turned me on just typing it.
Or just pose like this?
On a serious note…my buddy E.’s uncle passed away last night. Keep him and his family in your thoughts.
Before I get started, click on the “Movie” tab up top for my newest one. I’m not sure if I’m wasting my time with them or not.
Ok, on to today’s post.
It seems somehow, we’ve created a “blogging” relationship. I visit your site, you visit mine…we add a little of our 2 cents and we go about our own way. Not having to worry about telling you where I’m going or what I’m doing.
It works out perfect.
I’ll pop in for a quick visit to your site and read about the proper way to load a dishwasher, ways to cook beef stroking off, and the correct way to use an eyeliner so you don’t look all slutty and shit.
Slick ain’t got shit to say today. Why I’m talking about myself in third person only backs up the theory that I’m an ignorant redneck sumbich.
I’m sitting here with my half frozen quart of chocolate milk, 2 glazed donuts, and a kleenex for my snot encrusted nostrils mentally searching my brain for something to write about.
Nothing is coming to me. Well, except cleavage and that’s only because I have another window opened and I’m looking at my porn collection.
Yep, cleavage. I’m obsessed with it.
A woman don’t need no brains. Just blonde hair and some nice cleavage.
Wait a minute…Trish don’t have no blonde hair.
I’m gonna stop here.
In other news, I have found out how to get off the phone with Trisha without being rude. For example, she calls this morning….
“Hey babe, what you doing?” she asks….
“(grunting) Nothing. You made it to work?”
“Yeah. Stopped and got me a chicken biscuit and they messed my order up”
“(louder grunting) that’s a shame” I said
“What in the hell are you doing Mike??”
“(even more grunting) Nothing babe, just sitting here on the toilet”
I must’ve lost my signal because all the sudden, the line went dead.
Being from the south, I’m not accustomed (did I spell that right?) to being around a northerner for any length of time.
Until these past 30 hours.
I spent 22 of those hours stuck in the cab of a locomotive (about the size of a small walk-in closet) with a guy from Jersey. He ended every phone conversation with his wife by saying “love you sugapie” and then made 2 “kissy” sounds. Is this a northern thing? Cause if it is, I’ll never go past Tenn.
The bastard had the guts to do that crap in front of God and everybody at Subway! Seriously, is that sickening or sweet to you guys?
Look, there’s nothing wrong with guys showing their women that they love them. I mean, I tell Trish all the time. I say “Yes, I’ll rub you down with the KY Warming Oil if you’ll give me a bl….” Well, you get the point, surely.
Me giving a massage is true love. Trish has learned that and accepted my generosity numerous times but would she respect me if I made those dumbass “kissy” sounds all the time?
Does your man do that too while on the phone with you? If he does, I bet you can body slam him.
That’s sad.
On a side note: I have WON my first award thingy! Tracey, over at “The Shores of Carpenter Creek” has awarded me my very first one. It’s under my “My Awards” catergory. She’s also got an upcoming contest with a prize folks! A basket of bath goodies. Check it and her out ( no you, perverts, I meant her site) for more details. Oh, and tell her Slick sent you. I think I get a discount on a pig or somethin’.
Here’s the post I actually had drafted and planned on posting today. The one below only was for referrence to the idiot lady emailer.
Someone asked me if I knew the woman’s place in the office. I said “sure, right in front of the copy machine!”
Calm down…geeez-us.
I am a man of morals. I have proven time and time again that I support fairness and equality between genders. Women are the backbone to healthy meals, clean laundry, and vacuumed floors.
Wait…I didn’t mean that.
What I meant is that women are the backbone to shiny dishes, paying bills, and dusted furniture.
Wait…NO
Dammit, I’m not just some overbearing male chauvinistic pig.
I have worked hard at convincing you gullible nice womenfolk that I am a man of honor and respectfulness.
Seriously.
And while I have your attention, are any of you good at ironing pleated slacks?
Why has this curse befallen me? How could I have been so blinded with lust and need that I would forsake my domesticated responsibilites?
I’m scared. Right now, I’m even vulnerable.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, correct?
My 2 biggest weaknesses have combined to leave me in as close to a vegetative state as I could possibly be in without unconscious drooling.
Golf and XBox.
I purchased Tiger Woods 2004. Yeah, I know it’s older but it only cost 4 bucks so shut the hell up.
Anyway, it’s apparently gotten so bad that I’m talking about it in my sleep, so says Trish. I can’t disprove her but she claims I stated “Wait a minute, let me finish this hole!”
I’m glad I was only talking about golf.
Evidently I need some damn help, but first….I need to finish my 4 day tournament in Lakeland, Fla. I’m 9 under par so far.
Posted by slicksumbich 
Posted by slicksumbich 
Posted by slicksumbich 
