tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post3709247844177971280..comments2024-03-24T11:17:10.498-07:00Comments on Unemployed Imagination.: 5 Minutes. Go!JD Maderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-64677326267416998142013-10-23T11:54:41.001-07:002013-10-23T11:54:41.001-07:00That was fucking hilarious.That was fucking hilarious.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-63860549031524758662013-10-18T18:18:01.833-07:002013-10-18T18:18:01.833-07:00So I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich... <br />So I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich today, for my six year old son, and I thought about how back in the day people used to talk about, wait we're all adults here, right? So anyway, I was thinking about how people used to talk about how women would put peanut butter all over their pussies, and they would present their peanut butter pussy to their dog. Supposedly, I've never actually witnessed this event, or met a women who has admitted to doing this, but supposedly the dog will endlessly lick the peanut butter pussy, giving said women endless cunnilingus pleasure. Now I was thinking about this while spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread, and the hypochondriac in me started freaking out. It sounds so disgusting to have a dog liking any orifice, let alone a wet peanut butter pussy, I mean, there has to be hundreds, if not thousands, of communicable diseases that one could catch from allowing a dog to continuously lick an open orifice. And then the worst image arose in my degenerative chimpanzee mind. What if I put peanut butter on my dick? That didn't last long though, not only would I be completely grossed out from the mere thought of dog saliva on my schlong, but I would be scared that at any moment this animal licking my cock could decide to bite down and have a snack of my peanut butter penis. Gabriel Nuñez-Soriahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08849022706547690392noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-5349829034321574052013-10-18T14:16:23.359-07:002013-10-18T14:16:23.359-07:00Beautiful piece, Lynne. The tone is PERFECT - so d...Beautiful piece, Lynne. The tone is PERFECT - so delicate, but meaty. Thank you for playing.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-9460883491379637502013-10-18T14:10:00.564-07:002013-10-18T14:10:00.564-07:00She reached up and turned on the floor lamp. Then ...She reached up and turned on the floor lamp. Then she set down her knitting and crossed to the window, gazing out at the darkening landscape. "The days are getting shorter," she said to no one in particular; not even the cat paid her any heed. <br /><br />The days are getting shorter. She knew it was true in more ways than one. She glanced down at her hands. Were those freckles or age spots? When had she begun thinking of freckles as age spots, anyway? She rubbed the base of her thumb where it had lately begun to ache. Maybe she was overdoing the knitting. Maybe it was arthritis.<br /><br />Her mother used to complain about the aches and pains of getting older, and she would blithely respond, "Well, Mom, it beats the alternative." She had been joking at the time. It wasn't quite as funny now.Lynne Cantwellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05397656985652575608noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-29656027883744434102013-10-18T13:25:39.961-07:002013-10-18T13:25:39.961-07:00Brilliant, Ed. Lovely.Brilliant, Ed. Lovely.JD Maderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13058074115809620653noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1128469884487763839.post-39677691088497742832013-10-18T13:21:15.470-07:002013-10-18T13:21:15.470-07:00Finally, we make our way into the last room on the... Finally, we make our way into the last room on the ward. Bill sweeps in first clearing away the bedside table and chair so I can guide the half scale, half ironing board bed scale weight into position. As Bill flattens and raises the hospital bed up to its full height I lower the flat table of the scale and explain the procedure we are about to do to the frightened little old lady who is busy trying to retain possession of her bedding as Bill attempts to calm her.<br /> Bill grabs two handfuls of sheets from the opposite side as I grab two handfuls over the board of the scale For a moment the frail lady with bird like features hovers suspended over her bed before we slide her over to the scale. I work frantically to slide the weight indicator to the left. 43 kilograms, There's not much to her and there will be a little less every day. This is life on 3 west, at least what remains of it.Ed Druryhttp://www.eddrury.comnoreply@blogger.com