Archive for the ‘what makes special sauce so special? yo.’ Category

Actual conversation overheard between some of the Next Door Jrs.

“Does anyone even live there?”

Some people live there…”

You heard it here first. That crotchety old man, who never answers the door on Halloween, whose beady eyes can be seen peering from just behind the tattered curtains, who’s rumored to have been dead for ten years? That’s me.


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I recently received a letter from an associate, addressed to T.S. Eliot from Dr. Seuss. Little did she know how right she is, for I am quite the poet. Observe.

[untitled #1]
The main sign of your masculinity must be bigger
Big dick can feel multiple orgazms
Huge rod is what all girls dream about
Huge male machine is the fact that all chick like
Don’t you think it’s time you stopped being a loser with a tiny penis

[untitled #2]
Try this and you’re welcome in the world of sexual giants
New world of sensual delights is open to you
Take just a candy and become ready for 36 hours of love osmosis

[untitled #3]
With bigger penis you’ll experience more sweet moments
Women acknowledge that big phalli are more attractive
You’ll spend much more pleasurable time with your girlfriend
Satisfy her!

[untitled #4]
Wanna pass an unforgettable night?
Hear her scream your name in passion
She will always be hungry for your new big sausage
Best prices for impotence cutlet

[untitled #5]
Bang your way through the party!
Be Apollo in bed
For you and your lady-love
For you and your mistress
Wives like big male organ
Hot wild nights of pleasure await you.

[untitled #6]

Blast your way through the opposition with your giant gun!
Women will fall at your feet once you have this!
Blow them all away with your GIANT cannon.
Change from dagger to BROADSWORD!
Viaaaagrrrraaaa is your magic weapon

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Things the Big Brain enjoys:

  • Well-done young adult novels.
  • Board games.
  • The 50 Cent/Lil Kim classic “Magic Stick”.

Conversely, things the Big Brain does not enjoy:

  • The Next Doors, who are a raucous bunch with, as near as I can tell, a revolving door as far as cast goes. The only constants I can determine are the mentally damaged six-year-old who likes to follow neighbors into their houses, and the bearded fat man who likes to sit shirtless on the couch on his front porch at all hours of the day. (Really, he is there and shirtless when I haul myself to work at 7:30 every morning.) The Next Doors tend to throw loud parties on the weekend, which I do not mind, complete with barbecue smoke that leaves all the laundry on my line smelling mesquite-y, which I do mind.
  • Cranberry juice. This is a necessity, good for cleaning out one’s, er, front plumbing, shall we say, but also something of an acquired taste. I have an acquaintance who swears by the stuff and drinks it – get this – for fun. Personally, I find her crazypants, from her loafers up to her belt. The taste is bitter, vaguely reminiscent of grape juice but not enough to con my taste buds for more than a millisecond at best, and seems altogether cruel, like most health food. And this is coming from someone who consumes no soda to speak of, and only 100% juice. A beverage elitist. Normally, I’d be all over this good-for-you drink. So what’s a Brain to do? Would I still get all the sparkly health benefits of le cran if I switch to a cran-grape or cran-blueberry or cran-pom blend? Or will that cran taste just contaminate everything it touches? (Et tu, Cosmopolitan?)

A side note: this very afternoon I found a spent firecracker-type thing on my roof. My roof. I’m looking at you, fat man.

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