craveytrain

So today a few of us were sitting at Texadelphia for lunch (the one downtown that took over Wendy’s @ 7th & Congress). We were close to the door, but my back was to the door as I was watching the TV. I see a shadow next to me and “feel” someone behind me. You know how you can just feel someone is behind you sometimes, it was like that. Then the smell hit. It was a vagrant. I didn’t think much of it until I saw an arm next to my shoulder. WTF?! A hand in my fries. WTF?! I look up and see this homeless lady gobble a handful of my fries. Holy WTF?! Thank god I was done eating already. She walked off. I sat there staring at mamacita and another lunch companion. I can’t believe I didn’t do or say anything. What kept me in my chair?

After the moment had passed logic started to set in. What would happen if I got up and kicked this bum’s ass right here in the restaurant? Is that the kinda image I want to portray? Beating up a homeless woman? Over some fries? Still, those were my fries. My thought process was cut short by her reappearance, this time to the front of me.

She grabbed for my drink. This time I was not caught so off guard. I pulled it away and said “NO! I’m not done with that!” Then I even offered her the rest of my fries “I’m done with these if you want them.” She sorta shook her head and walked out the door. Then it hit me, she was special. Wow! I almost got up and kicked a slow hungry female vagrant’s ass in the middle of a restaurant. How narrowly I avoided an event I would have surely regretted for years.

I’m certain a year or 2 ago, I would have at least slapped her hand and verbally assualted her. I am perplexed at both the audacity of the vagrant and my ability to restrain my violence. I had genuine sympathy for her (which is against my nature). It’s funny, as I tell the story to people, people who know me, they all come back with “I bet you flipped out”. I don’t know what kept me from just going postal, but I didn’t.

Today’s topic is an adult topic not for the weak stomached or easily offended, but is highly entertaining.

We have a couple new members who show up to lunch pretty frequently these days. The first one we shall call Mamacita. She went to a day spa over the weekend and was kind enough to invite my girlfriend. I had to listen to my little lady prattle on about it for what seemed like an eternity, but she really enjoyed it. And that’s what matters. Mamacita’s husband is our soon to be famous short stop for the Bad News BearingPointers (formerly recognized as the Albert Poo Holes).

The other new member is going to be called Jamie (pronounced “high-meh”). He chose this name, but I don’t know why. Oh well. I made up his pronunciation for the hell of it. Jamie started with the company a few months back but is a friend of Jalapeno and mine from gaming years prior to that. Ok, that’s enough background.

So Mamacita tells us today that she got a pricing manual from the day spa, with intentions of getting additional services from the spa. Though the details escape me on exactly how it came up, she mentioned the price of a Brazilian Wax. She said that my girlfriend had expessed ambiguous knowledge of said activity. To which Mamacita responded, “Ask Mike, he will know what it is.” Indeed, I do.

Well, invariably as conversations do at lunch, the topic quickly went down hill. Somehow ponderings lead to if these same services were offered for men. I don’t know how we get off in these tangents, but some how we do. Then question of what said service actually includes was brought up. For those that don’t know, a Brazilian Wax is the removal of almost or all of your hair in the nether regions. Traditionally for women, the Brazilian Wax is really about the backside. You can have a landing strip, small triangle or whatever shape suits your desire in the front (or nothing at all). The brazilian is defined by the lack of hair everywhere else in the region. And by region I mean all the way under and behind. Let me put this in layman terms for those that are having trouble visualizing it. You can have a small patch of hair above your pootie tang. Nothing beside it, nothing beneath it. Nothing around back, including between the cheeks. This is not an activity for the meek (so I can imagine).

Anyways, so we were talking about if this activity can be done for men and what it would involve. I mean, dealings of privacy are different down there for men and women. With women, even with an intimate waxing, there is still a bit of dignity. A bit of untouched privacy reserved for those who are selected by the owner. For guys, that’s it. When you are hanging out, that’s all you have to bring to show and tell. There is no deeper level of intimacy to share. So, are waxers, and I mean reputable ones, such as the ones as salons and spas, willing to do said activities for men?

What does a Brazilian for a man entail? I mean, ok, the back, gone. That is traditional for a Brazilian. The in-between region (here-to-in referred to as the taint) is a goner. Again, expected from a Brazilian. Even the region just beneath your waist-line is expected to be pretty much cleaned out. That’s all similar to a woman’s anatomy and so it is expected would be treated the same. But about the boys? Do they lose their winter coat as well? That is by far and away the most sensitive part of a male, and the level of pain associated with that would probably send most men into a new level of rage previously uthought of. That’s how guys react to strong pain. We get pissed. Well, we agreed someone should call and ask and then Mamacita suggested that us guys have a bet (on whatever, she wasn’t concerned about the bet, just what the loser has to do) and the loser has to get a Brazilian. I will be the first to admit I quickly turned down that proposal. The sheer idea of having someone literally rip the hair off my boys cost more than any possible benefit of a lunchtime conjured wager. No way. Tyrone hastily agreed that he was not volunteering for that one either. Then Ponch suprised us all.

“The way I figure, if you have a woman down there, then you are already there”, confided Ponch. We really didn’t have any idea what he meant by that, so we asked for clarification. “You know, once she’s down there, the hard part is over”, he reiterated.

“But she is down there because she is being paid for a service. She is not there just to play with your wang.” I retorted. Basically, Ponch felt that if a woman was down there, it was just a precursor to “sealing the deal”. Someone sure thought highly of himself.

“The woman waxing your taint will succumb to the power of your wang”, Jaime exclaimed!

Mamacita then semi-defended his statement. “Well, it’s not like they would rip and go. They would have to rub aloe on the affected areas. So she will be down there handling everything.” We all then agreed that “happy endings cost extra”.

Ponch chimed in. “I mean, she has to touch it if nothing else, to hold it out of the way.”

“What is… it”, I asked.

“It!” He emphatically claimed.

“Oh… your wang. After handling you, she will want to bask in the healing light of your wang.”

“Something like that…”

Someone sure is proud of himself. The conversation then waned into comparisons of strippers performing a service and not getting turned on by the task, etc, but to no avail. Ponch is certain his wang will convert all. And for his confidence in that, I have to give him credit. I am proud of my wang, but he has all but erected a statue in reverence. I salute you (with my hand, pervert).

Translating lunch time conversations to contextual tidbits of reading goodness is harder than one might imagine. Jalapeno was trying to impress us with his currency origami (which he has done many times before) but this one was giving him difficulty. Let’s just say he doesn’t deal well with those situations when people harass him.

He had been trying to show us how to do a dollar bill origami of a t-shirt for the last seemingly half hour. It was practically all lunch. However, he didn’t tell us that’s what he was doing. He did his redneck’s last words Hey, check this out and commenced to the folding. He sat there, furtively folding George W every which way but loose. He then would undo it and refold. A couple times he would think he just about had it, and would command the attention of the table. Then, under the hot beams of the spotlight (or in this case, the ever piercing gaze of Tyrone) Jalapeno would realize there was something not quite right and would insist on a momentary reprieve while he corrected his error. This went on for seemingly days. Wanda, Tyrone, Ponch and myself had been teasing him the entire time about how long he was taking. While we were waiting, Ponch showed us how to make a mushroom with the doller bill. Then this golden quote of the day happened.

Ponch

Wouldn’t it be funny if he finished and it was a mushroom?

Jalapeno

God… What’s up with Your Dickness?!

And there we have it folks, comedy gold.

On a quick side note, it’s been so long since I did an update, I had to go find my password again. I forgot what it was to log into this thing.

So, we were at lunch, and we were sharing stories. Some of these stories need to written down, cause they are priceless. I have a very entertaining set of friends (at least we think so) so I am going to share stories, or even just comments, from time to time. However, to protect their identity, i will use code names for everyone. Not all the stories are funny. Some are just… well… need to be shared. Today is one of those days.

I’m kinda screwed being the host, everyone who reads this knows who I am, so I’m Mike. Then we have the lady of the group, Wanda. We have the HMIC going by the alter-ego Jalapeno. Also, we have our very own coconut by the name of Ponch (as in Erik Estrada based on his need for “a name that indicates ‘I like women so much I should be a lesbian or gay or a male dancer’”). Finally, we have our indian (dot, not feather) named Tyrone (I wanted Hank for him, but Tyrone was just so much more funny). There are others from time to time, but this is the core group that goes to lunch on a regular basis.

So today, we were talking about religion, different things. Someone said “has anyone ever played with Ouija boards?” Then Ponch tells a story that has us just stupified:

Ponch

When I was a young teenager, my mom kept seeing things at the end of her bed, so we had a priest come bless our house. This house had 5 closets. Mine, my sister’s, my bro’s and both my parents had their own. The priest comes in and immediately points out 2 “hot spots”. My closet and my sister’s.

So he opens up her closet and finds a Ouija board. He starts throwing holy water on it. Then he heads to my closet and finds a poster of Cheryl Ladd (or Tiegs, I can’t remember). He starts throwing holy water all over my poster, ruining it.

Wanda

So the bottom line is your mom was seeing Cheryl Ladd at the foot of her bed with a Ouija board?

Like I said, not really funny in the traditional slap stick way, but we were rolling from it. Then Jalapeno had one of his gems.

Jalapeno

One time I played Ouija board without my contacts and all the responses were mispelled.