the hammer is my penis
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Yay me, indeed. Penis stories are the best kind of stories!
I see the logic of not using euphemisms when talking to kids about genitalia. Better to teach them correctly them to fill their heads with silly nicknames just to make the adults more comfortable, I assume is the logic? Makes sense. But I know I would just chicken out and be all, “ummm.. well, Johnny, that’s the doggie’s super-secret special dingalingdong.” Which is why I could never work at a daycare center. That, and the court order.
Thank you Hausfrau for the suggestions. “The Penis is my Penis” and “The Hammer is My Pennies,” are definitely in contention. But after reading your story, I’m now also considering changing my name to, “The Hammer is Mr. Hausfrau’s Dog’s Red Rocket.” I can’t see any reason Gabe would bristle at that.
But see, now I’m torn. I love me some “Dr. Horrible,” but at the same time, Gabe apparently hates my handle, and I am merely a guest in his bloghouse.
Gabe, would, “The Pliers are my Penis,” be less distasteful?
BIG congratulations Werrtrew. Awesome news. (“Elizabeth Rose” is a great name too).
As a father of two, I will tell you this: if you haven’t yet watched, “The happiest baby on the block,” please do. The five “S”‘s will save your sanity.
Isn’t it bad feng shui to have the Rick Astley album cover on the same horizontal plane as the “baby’s first green plastic ring stack” toy?
And I realized that, like, the MOMENT I hit “submit comment.”
Me: “Duh, because there’s three of them, so they make a sandwich, and Steve Martin is the bread, and…” Sigh. My mother always told me I was too dumb to understand sandwich jokes. I never realized just how right she was.
I still love the basic concept of Steve Martin bread, however.
I have no idea what this is referring to, but I still love this quote.
Mr. Richard Schroeder concurs.
I hope you know that now, not only is Jerry Jones going to draft you in round 2, he’s going to trade UP to get you.
Remember kids: Tricks are something a whore does for money. Or candy!
Me, One Hour Ago: “I think I’ll make a dumb NFL reference on Videogum. No one’s gonna read it, probably.”
Me, 30 Seconds Ago: “Let’s check out that sports joke to see how many downvotes it got and… whoa! Lookit all the dudes talking football! Sweet!”
(Me, About 9 Hours From Now: “Goddammit Jerry Jones. You screwed up ANOTHER Cowboys draft?!?!”)
Frigid and square. The perfect metaphor for their love.
Why are we even talking about the royal wedding when the NFL draft is tonight?
If you want me to give a shit about Prince William and Miss Catherine, tell me their 40 yard dash times and which of them tested positive for steroids.
“our wheels touched and ground together and he fell down on the rink ”
Bullshit. You PUSHED me.
“She did HOW much coke?!”
Meanwhile on Earth2, Cindy McCain is watching Charles Gibson and Ricki Lake share a McRib.
Al Roker and Kelly Ripa enjoy a date crepe.
No thanks. I think I’ll skip this movie, along with all the others, and simply stay home this summer to read a few good books.
(this comment sponsored by Barnes and Noble)
“I am not real Saddam. The real Saddam Hussein has a scar on his forehead. I am no scar. I am no scar. Dot com”
I bet in this version, when they wiggle their fingers and make air guitar gestures, the soundtrack just plays the “sad trombone” sound from the Price is Right.
Well, someone was going to do it eventually:
How come every time I click on this story, I get this?