It's All About the Penis

Ah, yes. I know. It's been a few days, since my last post. Nine to be exact. There've been lots of excuses. School starting. Obama being in town. Sick kids. Season premier of "The Hills," Eating. Sleeping. Dumping.

Mostly, I just haven't had that many irreverent thoughts the last nine days. I know, I know. That is unusual for me.

Don't get me wrong. I continue to have irreverent thoughts internally. Crude thoughts. Disgusting thoughts. But are these blog-worthy? I'm not sure.

One thing that has caught my attention is that no matter what the subject, it all has to go back to the cock. The penis. The dick.

I was fortunate enough to attend the Obama speech at the Bronco's stadium in Denver on Thursday. I am a big Obama fan. Always have been. Going to this event was a big deal for me. I felt fortunate, elated, excited. When I feel this way, I usually want a t-shirt to show the rest of the world that "I care about something." Look at me! I am making a statement about being a lesbian, liking Bon Jovi, caring about global warming, adoring Little Kitty, or being a member of the Little Itty Bitty Titty Committee by wearing this shirt. Well, I'm not really a lesbian and don't care for Little Kitty, but you get the point.

So naturally, at the Obama event, I NEEDED A SHIRT.

Well, all the shirts to be found were dumb, unoriginal: Obama/Biden '08 (boring), Obama for Change (no duh!), I am Black and Love Obama (well, you should but I'm not so I can't wear that), Obama is my Homeboy (yeah, if I wore that I would be the uncoolest mom at school trying to look cool). So, I didn't buy one at the event. But I came home with the intention of buying the coolest t-shirt EVER on line. Turns out Cafepress has a killer t-shirt collection. There are "My Mama Loves Obama" shirts, "Barack the Vote" shirts, even "Joe'Bama '08" shirts. What I didn't expect was that the shirts would embrace the "cock" theme. I was surprised to see this:
























I'm thinking to myself: Why? Why do you need to make a Barack Obama t-shirt or a McCain t-shirt or any political t-shirt about having your cock out? I mean, what does it mean anyway to "Barack with your cock out?" Certainly it's a play on your words meaning to "Rock with your cock out." So given that, does that mean when you wear this shirt you have to unzip your fly, pull out your penis, and start rocking? Only you're not really "rocking," you're "Baracking," which I guess means you must be doing some cool, groovy black man dance with your cock out. I don't know. It just seems it would take a very special person to wear that shirt. And I don't have no cock, so I am not the person for that shirt.

I finally settled on the very boring "Yes We Can" shirt. I probably should have gone for the "Disco Dance with Your Vagina Out of Your Pants," but I passed on that one.

Topless in Colorado

My very informed husband has just let me know that Saturday August 23 is "go topless" day throughout the U.S. The go-topless society is encouraging women to organize events in their cities and to remove their shirts and bras at about noon. We, in Colorado, are lucky that the Democratic National Convention is starting because it has been suggested that we go topless "at the doors of the convention." The motivation behind this movement is to prove that women are equal to men in this arena, i.e., we should be able to go shirtless just as men do, especially in the case of the above scenario (see pictures).

I, for one, am planning on starting my day by removing the t-shirt I sleep in every night (thereby leaving me topless), going to the farmer's market, getting my hair cut, visiting the local nursing home, having my kids' friends over for a play date, then wrapping up my day at a Rockie's game. Anyone who knows me knows that my double-A cup size is certain to shock and excite any bystanders.

I think what would be most exciting on this day is if all lactating mothers could participate. No breast pads allowed. That way, we could add some dripping to the whole scene. This is also a good day for those with silver dollar sized areolas to come out of hiding as well as those with unsightly nipple hair and those who have had major breast augmentation. It should be a time of self expression as well as people-gawking, don't you think?

Gotcha By the Nuts

My ten year old, Sam, went to a camp all week at our local Humane Society. He hated it. Not that he doesn't like animals, he does, but the camp was mostly girls and he probably would have rather have been out hitting golf balls or finding snakes.

Yesterday, however, was "surgery" day where the campers get to watch an actual animal operation - one that spays or neuters a cat. Lots of the kids were queasy, saying they wouldn't watch the surgery. Even one kid fainted last week. Sam said he would be willing to observe, and I was psyched that maybe this would be the "thing" that suckered him in to liking the camp.

So when I picked him up yesterday, this is how it went:

Me: "So, Sam. Did you get to see the surgery?"

Sam: "Yeah."

Me: "How was it?"

Sam (smirking): "Great! I held a cat's balls."

Me: "What do you mean? Like you held the balls while they did the surgery?"

Sam: "No, I held them after they took them out of the nut sac and removed them from the cat."

Me: "Oh. Did you wear gloves?"

Of course they wore gloves.

While he didn't love the camp, I don't think he'll soon be forgetting the feeling of the cats nuts in his palm.

Kelly's Got Camel

Argghh!! Ick!! As I was searching under "Camel Toe" I happened upon this. You have to understand - I love, love and idolize Kelly Ripa. I never guessed that she, off all people, would fall prey to the mighty CT.

Camel Toe

Sorry, I couldn't resist. I'm going to buy this, place it just right in tight jeans and head out to the bar. That should make for a good blog story. I'm going for the "Cougar." Click on the picture to get a better view.

Sex with Santa

We had "the talk" with Sam a few weeks ago. You know - the birds and the bees and all that.

This is how it started - during dinner Sam said, "there is a rumor going around the 4th grade that one girl wants to have sex with another."

I threw up a little in my mouth. What exactly was disturbing about this? Sex? Fourth grade? Girl on girl? All of it, maybe?


I asked if he knew what "sex" was. Fortunately, Emma wasn't feeling well on this night, so she was in the other room on the couch.


Sam said he knew what sex was because he and his friend, Suzie, found a miniature toy that was supposed to be Santa having sex with someone. He said they found it a few months ago on the golf course and that Suzie was so grossed-out she kicked it and broke it into little pieces. Apparently, this Santa could mimic the "in and out" motion, as Sam put it.

I had no clue what "toy" he was talking about, and can't say I've ever seen or heard of something like this. I didn't think that Santa was having sex and if he was, it would be with Mrs. Clause, but according to Sam, it was someone else. This is very upsetting. I never knew Santa cheated. Could it have been one of the elves? Maybe it was one of the Hoos from the Grinch?

Anyway - so because we didn't want Sam's only information about sex to involve Santa and the golf course, we gave him the entire scoop. He took it well, didn't act too shocked, but told us he didn't want to think about his mom and dad doing this. I don't blame him. I don't want to think about my mom and dad doing it either.

A couple years ago I had purchased the book "Where Did I Come From" for this exact occasion. This is the book I had when I was a kid. After "the talk," I pulled out the book so Sam and I could read it together. We busted a gut. Here are a couple of the pictures (yes, I'm sure I'm
breaking some copyright law here but it's too good to pass up).

It really is a great book when you're ready to have that conversation. Granted, I had to choke a bit when reading, "The man wants to get as close to the woman as he can, because he's feeling very loving to her. And to get really close the best thing he can do is lie on top of her and put his penis inside her, into her vagina." Yikes.

Give the Dog a Boner

That's not lipstick on my dog, Lucky. That's his dick (or "junk" is apparently the new term) . It's gross and it's been hanging out of its socket since we got him in 2003. That's right. It's been five years almost to the day, that this tip of a bigger-than-your-average-cocker-spaniel penis has been showing its ugly head. No doubt it's dried out. In fact, a couple years ago I was so concerned that it wouldn't go in, that I took him to the vet.

Let me back up - Lucky has three legs. He's missing his back left one. We adopted him like that so DON'T ASK ME WHY HE HAS THREE LEGS (yes, you on the playground, you at the park, you on the street) I DON'T F'NING KNOW.

Well, with the dick thing - I thought maybe his lack of having a back leg had some connection to his organ always hanging out.

So I take him to the vet and explain my dilemma. Let me just say - people who do certain things for a living have a freakishly technical and clinical way of describing things. I mean, they talk as if what they are telling you is everyday information. As if they are a hairdresser saying "you should use conditioner." We've all been there - the gastrointerologist who says, "try some fiber capsules. They will give you nice, soft, fragrant BMs." Anyway, when I tell the vet about Lucky's exposed love log (that was for your benefit - I used the term cock), this is what happened:

Me: I am worried about his penis. It never goes in. I'm afraid it's drying out. Is something really wrong with him?

Vet (fondling Lucky): This doesn't seem to be too much of a problem. I would advise you to stop by Walgreen's on your way home and pick up some K-Y jelly. That way, you can lubricate his penis and put it back in yourself.

Me (gag reflex, but hoping someday I have a blog so I can write this shit down): Really? Fascinating! What would I do?

Vet (continuing to stroke Lucky who is now thoroughly aroused and showing more of the pink tip than normal): Well, let me put some lubricating jelly on my finger tips. There we go. Now just take his penis like so and push it back down into the socket.

Me (speechless):

Vet (now giving Lucky a blow job): See? The penis is back inside and moistened. Do you have some jelly at home or should I give you some?

Me (thinking - no need, dude. I will NEVER be doing this, but thanks for the show): No, but thanks. I'll be on my way.

The funny thing is - I actually DID try this at home. With vaseline. And it worked. I'm not proud. And I never did it again.

I guess that's why Lucky is a COCKer Spaniel.

I know this is the second post about male parts in as many days. I'm not obsessed. This subject just makes for good storytelling. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried!

Break a Testicle

I was surprised to find out the other day that my seven year old daughter, Emma, thinks that testicles are legs.

This conversation came up when we were driving to a friend's house for dinner the other night. Emma was chanting,

"One testicle, two testicles, one penis - yay!"

Kind of random - but, I know where this came from! My son turned ten and went for his annual checkup. The doctor always makes clear that he is going to look at Sam's "private area," and that "no one is allowed to do this but his parents and his doctor." Being ten, Sam was giddy, embarrassed and anticipatory about this whole idea. When the time came for the doctor to check the ten year old package, Sam started giggling like a girl. The doctor, sensing Sam's discomfort, tried to make light of it all and said, "one testicle, two testicles, one penis - yay!" Kind of like a cheerleader would do at a pep rally. The kids found this downright hysterical, as did I. Sometimes grown ups do the queerest things. We spent the ride home imitating the doc. I mean, who wouldn't? Well, probably a more decent mom might take a gentle tone and say "Now, children, the physician was simply investigating Sam's genitalia in a humorous fashion." Not me.

So, back to the car ride. Emma, for whatever reason since this all happened seven months earlier, was repeating this over and over as seven year olds have the habit of doing.


Emma: "One testicle, two testicles, one penis - Yay!"

Me: "Emma do you know what a testicle is?"

Her (quiet for a minute, thinking): "It's a leg."

Me (already with the visual of a body with hairy nuts for legs): "Have you ever seen a penis? Have you noticed the sac hanging down? Believe it or not, there are two balls, nuts, testicles in there. But don't tell your friends or some mom is going to lay me out for teaching her kid about the ball sac. "

I took a long run yesterday. My testicles are sore.