A Not-so-Fond Memory of Boys Past

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He was short and round like a barrel with a head shaped like a shovel and lips oddly wormy, like playdoh rolled into strips and squished to his face. "Mount me!" he cried, ostensibly to teach "anti-rape" measures. He tucked his too-small tshirts into his underwear, not caring the band of his Joe Boxers rode above his too-small jeans that gave a terrible view of camel-toe, coming and going. I never knew it was possible for men to be afflicted so until I met this fellow. Apparently, it causes more than a little discomfort as he was continually adjusting himself until I wanted to slap his hand away and tell him to buy looser pants.

It's been several weeks since she so much as listened to a pleading voicemail, yet he invited her on a mini-vacation to the Bahamas. She's declined, scarred at the mere idea of him in the inevitable too-small swim trunks, or worse, speedo.

I understand her subsequent hesitation at encouraging the advances of other men, convinced that once she gets to know them, she'll discover their vaguely freakish idiosyncrasies, like a penchant for fishnets...not on her. One can really only handle so much.

This guest post brought to you by a person who wishes to remain anonymous.

4 Responses to “A Not-so-Fond Memory of Boys Past”

  1. Anonymous Jack Daniels is my Friend 

    He probably just wanted to make sure that his sock was in the correct and atatomical position as not cause embarrassment if, and when, it popped out of place.

    Imagine if you had, in fact, "mounted" him. And for some strange fucking reason you looked down and saw that little red stripe sticking out of the waistband of his underpants.

    What a life changing event that would have been. For both of you.

  2. Anonymous Porkchop 

    Dear Lord.

    I cannot read that post without visibly cringing and wanting to vomit.

    I hate myself.

  3. Anonymous Memphis Steve 

    "Mount me"

    Yes, this is the ultimate pick-up line, used by overweight boys in tight shorts and drunken sorority girls in every college and university in America.

    It only seems to work for the girls, though.

  4. Anonymous Jack Daniels is my Friend 

    I just realized I spelt "anatomical" wrong.


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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


ATOM 0.3