Mr. Sandman

I have this friend, Sal. Honest.

He’s not like lame sitcom dialogue, in “I have this “friend”, way.” He’s an honest to g-d living, breathing, human being. He lives in Philly. So maybe he’s not “living”. For g-d’s sake, he lives in a town that has a National League team! ewww.

Anyhoo, we were talking the other night and he starts laughing. Like many of us do while on the phone, he was multi-tasking. With Sal, that means going on-line to look for…well…..some might call them ‘dates’. Most would call it, a ‘hook-up’ or ‘bootie call’ or something.

Let’s call it what it is;  he was cruising on-line.

I know which site he was on, but won’t reference it here. Let’s just say there are legitimate aspects to said site – not that finding tail isn’t a legitimate aspect. But they have articles and information about lots of things. But that’s not what Sal was looking for/at.

So why was he laughing? Because of this profile:

Visit me in upstate NY expenses paid-jerk me off with pliers, sandpaper, and steel wool, burn my dick, beat my balls, and ream my pee hole with an electric drill, send a private message!!

Allllllllllllllllrighty.

Actually, Sal had me laughing so hard reading it, I made him promise to copy the text and email it to me – which is why and how you have it right this very second.

At first I thought he was making it up, but really – who could do that? It fell off his tongue too easily to be fabricated on the spot. Our conversation deteriorated right into me asking him to ask the guy what grade of sandpaper would he require. Sal shot back with, Palm, Orbital or Belt? He actually sent the guy a message – to which the guy did not seem to get the question. Or the joke.

There were some things about fiberglass too – on our end. Well, we thought it was funny. Maybe it had just been a long day.

So, naturally I knew this would end up here eventually, but I shared it with my trusted email group beforehand. It ran the gamut of comments actually. Jon had the best worst ones – ones I am not willing to share here. Let’s say he gave me the same initial reaction I had when Sal read me the posting: to cross my legs and cover my genitalia.

If my sex life is vanilla, so be it. I don’t need a Brillo pad or a Dewalt power drill to spice things up. Why anyone would wanted to do that to their schwing-schwong is beyond me.

Dity of course, cursed us for our conversation. Not because of the graphic nature, but because Gooooogle started sending her ads that said www.aaabrasives.com/catalog . If you haven’t noticed, Yahoo, Google and the likes will tailor their ads to what you’re writing or reading. It is so 1984.

Anyway, back to Sal’s potential suitor:

On one hand the ad is completely sick and twisted. But on the other, it is an all expense paid trip!


Song by: Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton & Emmylou Harris

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One response to “Mr. Sandman

  1. I wonder what grade of sandpaper. That may very well make all of the difference in the world.

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