Friday, July 17, 2015

This is what is wrong with me, right there.

So it’s Friday, and Fridays are for sharing the ridiculous. The most ridiculous thing to have happened to me in recent times, happened last night.

There’s a bit of a back story though, so if you are new here, you may need to catch up.
Remember when I started making crochet penis bags? I called them Cock-Bags. I made one for a hens, then got a few orders, made a few more, got a few more orders and I toyed with the idea of buying up some Etsy real estate and selling them there? Well, I have been stocking up on them, just in case I actually get around to doing that.


Then last night, I was texting my mum a few photo’s, as you do, and I was fondling the notion that each bag needs a name and a bit of a back story.. You know.. Because it would be funny I suppose. Also, these guys don’t come from a pattern, because it doesn’t exist surprisingly enough, not that I know how to read a pattern properly anyway. So I figured if each one is unique then each one should have its own name.

Like this;

Meet Dave.
Dave is perfectly average in every way. He spent his youth playing B grade football for the local team and now spends his Saturdays cheering the perfectly average 2.3 produce of his perfectly serviceable member from the sidelines. Dave is unapologetic about wearing speedo’s.

Meet Channing.
Channing is attractive, and awkwardly oversized. It took quite a while for Channing to become comfortable with his proportions and as a result he is a little reserved. Despite his ability to intimidate others in the locker room, Channing is quiet, shy and respectful of his lovers. He keeps immaculately clean and trimmed and is proud of his foreskins ability to heighten his sensation.

Meet Mayer.
Mayer is impressive and he knows it. Good looking, arrogant and talented he gets around. This one owes it’s rather odd colouring to lashings of fake tan, and a mix of ointments. Mayer wasn’t always circumcised, having made the choice to do so in the late 90’s stating the importance of  good looks and streamed lines  to him as the reason, although rumour has it that the procedure was done to rid himself of a rather unfortunate case of genital warts, and the operation held his only chance for a permanent cure.

Meet Ricky.
Ricky is a little on the girthy side, which gives him a decent dose of self esteem. Ricky is a comedian, a career born of the confidence he gained from having an unusually, eye wateringly wide penis, which came as a surprise to most of his lovers as his overall stature is on the smaller side. Ricky can be found making hilarious jokes about how small his penis is at the pub as he delights in the look of shock his conquests get when he reveals his girth.

So there are several more, but you get the picture yes?

Meanwhile, I was going through a few of the unique qualities of each bag with my mum via text message last night, and she was helpfully and traumatising-ly describing in great detail the other types of bags I could make.

She continued doing this for several hours despite my less than enthusiastic reactions.

At some point I told her I was sharing this on twitter. This didn’t deter her, in fact, this seemed to only encourage her further...

I received a short respite because she loves the shit out of Masterchef…

My break was short lived because as soon as Masterchef was over she was straight back into it.

Then I told her that I was turning this conversation into a blog post entitled; This is what’s wrong with me, because this is exactly what is wrong with me, right there.
Then my phone went flat. I didn't put it on charge right away...

So! Does anyone want to help support my mental health and much needed therapy? Want to buy a cock bag? If not, please feel free to share this post around, some one you know may want one yes?

Happy Friday.


Pinky Poinker said...

What did I just read? I thought I was a bit nutty... I think you are going to be a very rich young lady :)

Zoey Martin said...

My problem with 'mummy blogger' is that it perpetuates the narrative that a woman is wholly defined by her apparent sole purpose of bearing children. You can't dress that way or do that or write this BECAUSE YOU ARE A MOTHER AND THAT IS ALL. And it's at the point where people will add mum to the things they do as if it's some kind of fucking revelation. Like running mum. Like it's so freaking amazing that you CAN DO TWO WHOLE ENTIRE THINGS. I think I feel better now.

bigwords said...

From one mummy writer to another - thanks for the mummy blog link inclusion. You're fucking cool... for a mum ; )

hysterika said...

You're killing me, woman. hahahaha.
Please make every one of these. Every damned one. Do boob hats while you're at it. Feel free to include piercings and tattoos. Maybe a thong bag that has a tramp stamp above it? Is that possible? you have been tasked. Better get on it (not a euphemism).


hysterika said...

I just joined the mom blog community. (Ish? I mean I'm writing one.) I worry that I will be judged because I'm technically not even a stepmummy yet as we're not yet married, but honestly, I love writing and want to remember all the cute little things years from now. And I'll hopefully have other little ones to blog about too.