I know it's been forever, but I had a few funny moments in the past couple days that I wanted to write down so that I wouldn't forget them and so others could read/hear them.
And what else would these final lines have to do with, but genetals. It seems that any respectable night out drinking with friends, this time to celebrate someone's farewell from the DC area, always finds a way to turn to talk of boobs, butts, balls, and bulges. (I know, it was a stretch, but I had a nice trend going).
So there's a bunch of us, all sitting around when someone brings up whether anyone has ever felt fake boobs and how they feel compared to real boobs. Despite my wife sitting right next to me (yes, I'm married now. It has been a long time), I decide to field this one, having had the privelage of feeling two and a half sets of fake boobs in my life (not counting strippers). You're probably thinking to yourself, "a half" and you're just gonna have to keep guessing.
But I digress, after a quick description, and some cross looks from the ladies in attendance, I felt it best to throw out what I felt was a great metaphor, though it was lost on most of the people since we were about 4-6 drinks in by this point...thus my poor decision to field this question in the first place, but I'll get to that. So here's my metaphor:
If someone gives you a glass of orange juice and a glass of apple juice, you can quickly tell that while they're both juice, they're not quite the same. And you can also tell very quickly which one is which. So if someone asks you to compare them, you really can't. I can tell you that this orange juice is better than other orange juices I've tasted, or that I prefer orange juice to apple juice, but you really don't directly compare them.
And that, my friends, is the difference between real boobs and fake boobs. And it is also the original derivation of the term "compare apples to apples."
So, despite this brilliant metaphor being lost on most of the people in attendance, what was not lost on my wife was the fact that I described what fake boobs felt like. She did not find this humorous in the least, and countered that I would not appreciate hearing about her feeling one of her exes penises, to which I countered:
Um, if you hooked up with a guy who had a prosthetic or otherwise enhanced penis, I most certainly would want to hear about that. That's freaking crazy. You only hear about that in porn.
Again, she was not amused.
Moving forward in the night, we somehow get onto the topic of male grooming habits. And from there, it naturally segues into the topic of "manscaping."
For those of you that don't know what this is (and I only recently learned this term after I was confused by the Dos Equis commercial where he doesn't know what this is), manscaping refers to trimming of your pubes in some way shape or form. I haven't figured out if it means shaving it, sculpting it, trimming it, or what, but it has something to do with cutting it in someway. Anyways, I've surprisingly had several friends throw out in passing that they shave the business or otherwise clean up down there, and my immediate response is always, "Why?"
And once again last night, the same answer was given to me:
"Oh, it makes your dick look bigger."
And to that, I had this reply:
"Exactly how big were your pubes??!!!"
And this one pretty much ended my night. A metro ride and some sleep later, and it still amuses me.
Fast forward to this evening and I'm driving with my wife when she apparently scratches herself on her inner thigh. I catch this out of the corner of my eye, and we have this exchange:
Me: What you doing scratching your junk?
Her: I'm not scratching myself and I don't have any junk anyway.
Me: Sorry, what are you doing scratching your junk drawer?
And we laughed. Because you see, well, you put your junk in the...well, you get it. It's just your standard genetalia humor.