Join Date: Jan 2000
A Day in the Life of a P****
A Day in the Life of a P****
Wakeupwakeupwakeup! My God, will he ever wake up? Every day it's the same: I'm raring to go by dawn, ready to meet the world, or at least the bathroom, while Jake's face down and drooling on his pillow. Squishing me to boot.
My only recourse is to swell up to full size, making my presence felt. LIKE THIS. MORNING JAKE! PROBLEM IS, NOW I'M POINTING STRAIGHT UP, SO ONCE AGAIN, I'M SUBJECTED TO A PAINFUL 180-DEGREE BACK BEND IN ORDER TO PEE. DID I SIGN UP FOR P**** YOGA? Ahhh. Sweet release.
Honestly, living with Jake is rough, and no one ever hears my side of the story. That's why I asked him if I could guest-write this month's column. Seriously, though, all day I'm locked away like a carnival freak, poked by coins and house keys, and when I'm finally let out, my owner beats me senseless. Granted, I always find a way to enjoy his floggings, but sometimes I just want to be held, you know?
I hate it when he takes me jogging. Hate it, hate it, hate it. BOING BOING BOING. Could you pound the pavement any harder, Leadfoot? Somebody call Amnesty International. Still, at least it's not the bicycle. Will someone please explain why only men's bikes have a steel bar down the middle?
Uh-oh, here comes the outfit du jour. I pray for pleats, but no, it's flot-front pants again. You think your cubicle makes you feel cramped? Try going all day pressed inside a cotton-poly waffle iron. Free Willy!
Wow-I've never noticed that foxy new assistant. Why the hell hasn't Jake introduced me? So rude. She's got a really nice…AWWW, JEEZ, HERE WE GO. JAKE IS REALLY GOING TO KILL ME. AND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ANNUAL SALES MEETING, NO LESS. LET'S TRY THIS: REGIS PHILBIN, REGIS PHILBIN, REGIS PHILBIN, REGIS Philbin.
Psst, Jake - down here man. CAN I GET A LITTLE LOVE? C'MON, NO ONE'S LOOKING. HOW 'BOUT THE BATHROOM STALL? Fine, act like you don't even know me, you office drone.
SIGH. Another workday gone by. And not a moment for me. Why? Jake just doesn't respect me. Whenever he does something dumb, I usually get blamed: "There ya go again, thinking with your johnson!" Like I'm the one who entered his Visa card number on that Web site.
On top of it all, Jake has the nerve to gripe that I'm not big enough. Oh, I'm so sorry, master. YOU try tripling your size in mere minutes on demand. Egads! We fight like an old married couple. Thirty years together will do that.
Home again, and the pants are off! Damn, he's breaking out the clippers for a pube trim. And you ladies thought only YOU battle excess fuzz. Jake always snips before a date, thinks it makes the whole package look more impressive. Careful, bud, those blades are sharp!
Oh, great, a four-course dinner. I get to spend the night trapped under a table while he pickles me in vodka.
And this is the girl from that party last weekend. Ignored me the whole night. Didn't even get a simple handshake. Still, she IS cute. If we can get out of here at a reasonable hour, I might have some fun…
OK, I'm ready! THE MARTINI'S KICKING IN AND IF SHE KEEPS TOUCHING HER NECK LIKE THAT, I'M GONNA UNZIP THESE TROUSERS MYSELF. C'MON, JAKE, ASK FOR THE CHECK! NOW!
I'm getting very groggy. Jake may be flying high after five stiff drinks, but I'm definitely sagging down here. How much longer can this date go on?
Zzzzz…Huh? Wha? Oh, we're home. How'd that happen? She's still with us. And now she wants to introduce herself-just when I've shrunk to the size of a cocktail frank!
Yiiiii! Cold hands! Coldcoldcoldcoldcold! Ok, I'm warming up, but quit pulling me, sweetheart. Who am I, Stretch Armstrong? OK, LOCKED AND LOADED. WAIT, SHE'S IGNORING ME. I DIDN'T MEAN TO CRITICIZE YOUR STYLE, HON. C'MON BACK-DON'T LEAVE ME DANGLING. WHOA! JAKE, WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU, OFFERING TO TAKE THINGS SLOW? WHAT ABOUT ME? MY NEEDS? MY HOPES AND DREAMS? JAKE, ARE YOU LISTENING? THINK WITH YOUR JOHNSON, BIG GUY! JAAAaaaaake