Sunday, December 19, 2010


Dearest readers

I need my own place. Desperately.

I was in my younger brother's room with his girlfriend. We were talking about her new pet Betta fish and water quality and some other aquatic type BS.
Their bedroom is like some kind of trippy stoner's paradise. Seriously. Blacklights and glow-in-the-dark stars and all matter of other crazy shit that I don't understand. I saw a little jelly ring on the dresser and absentmindedly picked it up. It felt like one of those sticky hands you get from the quarter gumball machines...only not as sticky.
Brit saw what I had in my hands and gave me the a look that can only be described as a combination of quizzical and delayed horror.
Then it hit me.
I dropped the ring and said, "Brit, did I just pick up yours and Lee's cock ring?"
I yelled "What the hell is wrong with ya'll?!?!?" as I sprinted for the bathroom.

Two full on surgical hand scrubs for at least 10 minutes each and half a bottle of hand sanitizer later, and I still don't feel clean. To be honestly, I think the only way I can get rid of this feeling would be for me to burn my hands off. I am seriously considering that option.

1 comment:

nurse XY said...

Haha! Eww!

At least it doesn't go on the business end...