ANOTHER TOTALLY F'D UP FRIDAY

Somewhere deep inside my brain, normally restrained by his whip-cracking, taskmaster superego zookeeper (think Colonel Klink), lurks a savage cavebeast, drooling, slobbering, and making horribly tasteless jokes. Poor, poor superego... battered by the deluge of vodka and greasy olive brine, wearied by the restlessness of fitful sleep, maddened by the unending adrenal tides of rising and receding testosterone... he's off today. The beast prowls...

It's another totally fucked up Friday in the great circus up there [indicates cranium].

1) On the way to work, I suddenly realized I get to guzzle oysters at my favorite bar this weekend. I love oysters. I love them. I love them so much, in fact, that I whisper, "I want you inside me" into their tiny, molluscan ears each time I eat one. You are the only person I've told.

2) I find the term, "The Wet Spot" offensive. I prefer "Sex Puddles" ("Love Puddles?").

3) A mini-coworker reminded me today that, yes, when I get old, I will also get "old-man-balls." Awesome. "Ever wonder why your grandfather shifts every time he sits down?" she inquires.
Without waiting for my response, she clarifies, "it's old-man-balls... swingin' down."
"Of course," I retort, "I call that 'The Grandfather Clock. Everybody knows that."

You wonder what a quarter of a million dollars in secondary education buys you? "The Grandfather Clock." Fucking priceless.