Quantum Faux Pas

So being a good little Pagan, I know it wasn’t a full moon last night, but lemme tell ya, the freaks were out, and it was a sac convention! I really need to stop hanging out at early morning late night bars. But then, where else am I going to find those after-dark oddities (I’m talking about people, not drugs) that sizzle my noodle into a crispy fritter, and stimulating make-out sessions with hot bartenders?

Right. Bang on.

It all started with some drunk (imagine that) dude who was celebrating his birthday. As a present to himself, he decided to light his balls on fire – just to show that he could. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have a cake and candles and he thought his trouser eggs were the next best thing. One of my friends asked to borrow my lighter, but when I found out what it was for, I said hell no! declined. Hot bartender came through with a pack of matches. I think the birthday boy managed to get one, tiny hair on his scrotum to burn. I guess his pants weren’t as hot as he imagined. What a waste.

After this display, it was on. ALL the guys wanted to plop their junk in a barstool. And those that didn’t plonk their stuff on a stool just lifted their shorts and grabbed a handful and said, “Hey! Look what I can do!” So I did look. I love a train wreck!

And another thing: Do you know what a weenis is? I didn’t until last night. I had a weenis three way. It wasn’t very satisfying. In fact, one weenis was a little dirty – and I don’t mean in a sexy-sexy way. And there was no protection involved. And we did it more than once. And the repeat performances were no better than the original. I was exhausted from faking it. The whole experience made me long for strange nuts.

Synopsis: I was balls deep in weenis. But I like sports, so it was a good night.