Mexican Wrestling with Snoop Dog Reffin'

I just remembered I did this. Pretty hilarious. There isn't much too it other than I'm the girl in all black with just one sleeve, and the other girl was not making the job easy.
Oh and Snoop never stops smoking and NEVER stops rapping whether the camera is on or off.
I actually had to deny the blunt because I was too high to wrestle from just standing next to him.

Here's the video!

Bag of Dicks

Eat a bag of dicks.

This has become a semi popular phrase that has erupted in the last several years.

I’m not exactly sure how to take it….the phrase I mean…not the bag of dicks.  It’s vulgar to say the least, but is this intended to be a message of ill will? It seems to me, that if you’re the type that eats dick, then this may be a message of galactic abundance.  Like a cornucopia of cock.   Someone set the table! It’s dick for dinner again!

All that aside, it does remind me of a rather embarrassing  moment in life, that did involve a bag of dicks.

In my college years, I had a friend Arik, who was, and still remains to be one of the crudest people that I know.  He would insult people for sport and package it up with such artistry you kind of had to look back at him in awe.  He is a near carbon copy of Coach Sylvester from Glee, except Asian and gay.  He’d say things like, “I’m dating a Mexcian now and when I lick his butthole, it tastes like beans.”  Or do things like tell a guy that the self tanner in his hand was lube and wait for them to scream like girls when they saw their orange dicks…Yeah Arik was a piece of work. 

But underneath all of his vindictive humor, he earnestly cared for those he loved, and could be incredibly supportive and loyal.  So despite the voracious teasing I would get from him telling people my vagina had teeth or that I was actually a man in drag, I stuck around.  I knew who he was on the inside.

Well Arik had this tradition where he thought he needed to help a sister out.  So for EVERY birthday, Christmas, Easter, Graduation…anything that seemed like a time for gift giving, I would always get the same thing.  A dildo.  But they weren’t all the same kind.  There were a few traditional dildos, some glass,  some vibrated, some unfathomably big, some weren’t dicks at all but fists….After 4 years of friendship, the collection grew past what you’d think the average college girl should have. Not knowing what to do with them really, I would just stuff them in this cheap blue GAP bag and shove it under my bed.

Once I graduated from college and received my graduation dildo, I moved back into my parents home for a few months.  I took their downstairs bedroom and had it pretty sweet for a little while.  Eventually I found a home and moved all of my stuff out of there.

A few years after my move, my parents told me that a pipe had burst in their home and flooded the downstairs bedroom.   Thankfully that was the only room to get hit and the rest of the house seemed fine.

They did tell me however that I should come back and collect the things I had left in that room.

No problem.   As I entered the room,  I looked around and felt sorry that they had to gut the room out, toss all the old furniture and repair the damaged walls.  I inspected the room and looked in the closet for my remaining things.  When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a very familiar looking blue bag.   Oh NO! It was my bag of dicks.

My.bag.of.dicks!  The bag of dicks that USED to live under my bed.   Seeing as how they weren’t a part of my every day existence, I completely forgot about them when I moved out, and now here they were neatly put away in the closet.  Horrified, all I could imagine were my parents opening the door to the flooded room and dicks just floating across the floor.  Who discovered these dicks and decided to put them back in the bag and on the closet shelf?  Was it my mother or my father? Is there really a better scenario to this? Did they towel dry them before placing them back in their cheap, drawstring, plastic bag?

It immediately brought me back to my childhood when I would repeatedly hump my grandparent’s vibrating back pillow, and not understand my parents and grandparents when they would look at me highly alarmed and ask me to stop.  When my parents saw that bag of dicks, they had to have assumed their daughter grew up to be some sexually obsessed freak.  Ugh. Completely mortified and upset with embarrassment, I tossed the bag into the trash, hoping that the terrible feeling of shame would go with it too.   But it didn’t. 

Thankfully the bag was never mentioned and we all pretended like nothing ever happened. 

“Eat a bag of dicks” you say?  Too ambiguous for me.   I say, “Mind fuck your parents with a bag of dicks!”  That’ll get ‘em…