Did any of you ever see the movie “The Inkwell”? The title is a line from the film. There’s a scene where this kid’s Dad is trying to explain sex… along with the importance of the CLITORIS. Now I’m not sure if the Dad actually says the word CLITORIS, I mean it’s quite possible he just meant the VAGINA as a whole.
But something makes me pretty sure he was referencing the almighty CLITORIS.
I have no reason to mention this quote other than to say I still don’t get what the Dad meant. How is it like a guitar string? What exactly is getting plucked? I’m not going to lie: I’m VERY familiar with my “sex” parts, but I don’t know anything down there that requires plucking. Rubbing? Sure. Stroking? Of course… but plucking? Not so much. I pride myself on having a good relationship with the big “V”. We’ve known one another my whole life, and the relationship is so good I don’t even have to call before I visit. And let’s face it: whenever I DO drop by, we both know it’s only for one reason. Well, if you want to get into specifics, maybe it’s more than just ONE reason, but you get the picture.
Interested in MORE clitoris?
Ever since I saw the episode of ER where Noah Wyle pulled a live roach from a patient’s ear, the fear of suffering the same fate has lived in the back of my mind. I’ve thought of wearing earplugs at night to prevent such an occurrence, but I never do. Instead, I clean my ears several times a day. Before I could adopt such a regiment though, I had to face the challenge of choosing the proper tools.
As a kid, I was taught to clean my ears with a Q-tip and a bit of alcohol (NOT the Jack Daniels kind). I would immerse one end of a q-tip in the sanitizing liquid, then stick it in my ear and swirl it around. This accomplished two things: 1) absolutely nothing; and 2) it pissed me off. Apparently this method only served to shift the wax slightly to the right instead of just removing it altogether. After a few failed attempts with this system, the time had come to move on.
More about my bad habit...
It’s a tough business to break into, but I knew that before I got involved.
Currently I’m sitting at a solid number 2 in the lunchroom. It took months of bugging my mom, but I finally got her to bump me up to Salami sandwiches with an extra dessert, instead of carrots and that horrid Egg Salad shit she tries to pass off as food. What’s wrong with her anyway? Doesn’t she know what sells? Her concoction of eggs, relish, and mayonnaise is so bad the dog won’t even touch it. Every operation has a weak
link, but I never thought it would be my own mother. If my cards aren’t played right, I could wind up with a scandal on my hands. When Jeff Wright accidentally traded away several spoiled turkey sandwiches, he almost lost it all. Even now he struggles to break back into the Top 20. There’s no humor in shame like that.
Everyone knows I covet the Top Spot. And it’s true I stepped on a lot of people to get to where I am now. It was me who added cayenne pepper to Billy’s Mediterranean chicken, it was me who stole the extra bags of chips I knew Cindy brought to school, and it was me who committed one of the worst deeds our lunchroom has ever seen. I got David Trekker suspended for a fight I started, when he jumped in to break it up, I lied and said everything was his fault. And the teachers believed me, they always do.
More of this engaging lunchroom saga...
