Volcano Scallops and Mountain Oysters

     So testicles are a big thing in Virginia City, Nevada. Let me rephrase that—it sounds like I’m saying the men in Virginia City are particularly well-hung and while that may be true (I’m sure they’d tell you it’s true) that’s not the tender meat I refer to. And yes, they call it tender meat.

    They call them Mountain Oysters. And you have to wonder where the name came from. I mean, was it the Donner Party doing the nasty cannibal thing and they tried to make eating the man parts sound all exotic and surf and turf?

    And is there a visual that goes with that name? I mean I’ve seen Oysters, haven’t seen any testicles outside of photographs and those were covered as nature or God intended with a sack to carry them in. Holy-Mother-of-National-Geographic-Porn, I’m so sheltered. So are they slimy and do you have to kind of shoot them down the back of your throat to get them down?

     So I guess there’s a big festival there. And they serve sheep balls all sorts of ways. I wonder if they serve them on spaghetti and sing the meatball song? Or in a soup—you know that Italian Wedding soup with the pasta balls and meatballs? Kinda gives a whole new twist on the whole wedding soup thing, right? Talk about a fertility honeymoon. I’m sure some crazy culture has already thought of it and I’m sure the bride is the only one who actually has to eat it.

     But then think about this…what’s the female equivalent of Mountain Oysters? What does a vagina look like outside of the body? Isn’t it just a tube of muscle? So sea cucumber? (going with the underwater theme) One legged sea star? Clams? Scallop? (More labial I guess but keeping with the theme)

    And would it be a Volcano Scallop? It’s catchy. I bet I could get people to eat it without knowing what they were eating. I bet I could. Now I just have to have a festival and publicize it. Go all Top Chef.

     Or we could just order pizza and call it good. I don’t think I’ll ever been hungry enough to eat sheep testes—not even for a party.

I bet it started as a drunken dare. A couple of cowboys got drunk on their whiskey and had nothing better to do. It’s all Brokeback Bestiality style. Yum, yum, yuck.

    Or we could just order pizza and call it good.

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The Green Club goes Mellow Yellow

This just in: the environmental/green club at school has posted signs in the bathrooms. Beautiful hand colored and stenciled signs they obviously spent precious time creating. (I think they could have made a desalination plant with duct tape in the time these signs took. Both genders of bathrooms are so blessed. I asked Adam if they had them too. They say “in an effort to green our school and save the planet, here’s a catchy motto for the toilets: if it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down.”

I’m not kidding. Really. I’m all for recycling and I realize that maybe I’m a bit of a prude, but my seeing your pee isn’t going to save the planet. It’s not. It’s going to make me never eat again, never look you in the face without knowing how yellow you go, and then I’ll be too thin to have children to enjoy the planet, let alone make it to the end of the week without passing out from starvation. In which case, I guess you could send my food to Darfur or India or someplace and then maybe that would help the planet. But I digress. It’s just gross.

I think we’d do better to ask people to refrain from peeing so often—think about it, if we all held it and only went once a day? Really, it’s brilliant. And better still did everything, and I do mean everything in one go—think how much water we’d save with flushes. So don’t let it mellow—no, hold it, covet it, treasure your urine and feces (doesn’t that sound like a word for snack food? It’s catchy!). Keep it together, flush it once.

Which I think is a better plan than using the signs as target practice which is what the boys seem to be doing. Again, I’ve only heard this, but I sure would love to see them trying to hit the signs since they can’t seem to hit the urinals. Again, I’m just reporting the facts.

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Haremquins: Coming to Mall or a Sex Store near you…in England

     So a man was arrested in England for breaking into a cleaning supply service. You’d think he was after money or nasty-ass chemicals to turn into drugs or even I don’t know seeking revenge over an ex-lover. Nope. Wanna guess? He needed a maid’s uniform. Several.

     Not because he was starting his own cleaning service and just too cheap to front for uniforms. Not because he had a harem and needed them all in the same get ups to um…get it up. Okay, that’s not entirely true.

    He does have a harem. Police found a house full of mannequins. You know like posed-plastic-faceless-anatomically-incorrect-starvation victims that sell us clothes in malls? Them.

    Holy-Mother-of-Undead-Models, a whole freakin’ Chin’s army of mannequins dressed in maid’s uniforms. This is taking Barbie and sexual fetishes to the whole new level.

    I have two thoughts. Don’t they sell dress up costumes in England? I mean I’m fairly certain they don’t do Halloween like we do, but doesn’t they have the internet?  And two, do you really want REAL uniforms that have been warn and cleaned in, on your um…haremquins? I’d personally be afraid of getting a toxic chemical on something that didn’t need that oh-so-fresh feeling.

     And where did he get all the plastic people? There is a mall near you with outfits in piles on the podiums. It’s a sad day for customer service representatives everywhere. Maybe they have to model the clothes and not move. Oh, that’s a picture. Macy’s be very afraid. Blow up dolls have been replaced…or so I’ve heard.