Saturday, November 04, 2006
The gift of giving and the feelings one feels
(Written Friday, September 22, 2006)
I think I know what it feels like to receive a bouquet of flowers.
I showered at Josh's Portland house the other day, and I left the bathroom to find my clothes split among three suitcases neatly arranged in the corner of his family room. I put on a shirt from one of the larger bags and reached into the small, wheeled travel bag for a pair of socks. Inside the cluttered mess of underwear, socks and dirty clothes, I gripped a heavy sock-covered cylindrically-shaped object. My right hand wrapped around the thin cylinder with distinct familiarity.
Covered on each end by a scrunched up black athletic sock was "Colonel Milton Buttersworth, III," the BMX House dildo. I unwrapped its firm, yet pliable beige body and raised it closer to my face, examining the realistic ridges and fake veins. I had just handled "The Colonel" a few days earlier, when Rebecca, Dominique and I had schemed about planting it in Joey Schwab's Chrystler Concord glove box before he drove back to Dayton.
It made me happy to be in the receiving end of such a prank. It was rather charming knowing that my Cincinnati housemates (probably lead by Rebecca) had taken the time to wrap the eight inch rubber penis in my socks and bury it in my luggage with hopes of embarrassing me in front of the Federal Transit Authority and a sizable crowd at the Indianapolis International Airport. I thought about how eager the culprits must be to hear about who else was around when I surprisingly uncovered the incredibly lifelike (if exaggerated) instrument.
Now, I once asked a feminist-y girl if she was into receiving flowers. Sure, she said, they show that someone is thinking about you. Receiving the dildo helped me understand the meaning of such a gesture (although the monetary investment in flowers and random holiday-ization of the act in some ways cheapen it). There's something to be said for the beauty of nature and its prettier objects (flowers, not penises), but, more importantly, the meaningful gift is the gesture itself.
I gave the dildo a squeeze and wiggled it back and forth. The game of planting a large phallic object in each other's bedrooms, luggage, groceries and automobiles became funnier and sweeter than I thought that first night living in the BMX House, when I found "The Colonel" underneath my pillow. I understood how nice it must have been when Josh Suhre surprisingly uncovered the dildo in his travel bag while in England.
I imagined a small female hand wrapped around ten lilac stems, eagerly raising the bouquet to her nose. The slow inhale and relaxed appreciation I perceived satisfied me as I compared it to the attention I felt through this small, smart-assed act.
All I have to do now is figure out how to get this giant fake dick into something that Kevin's mom will find…
I think I know what it feels like to receive a bouquet of flowers.
I showered at Josh's Portland house the other day, and I left the bathroom to find my clothes split among three suitcases neatly arranged in the corner of his family room. I put on a shirt from one of the larger bags and reached into the small, wheeled travel bag for a pair of socks. Inside the cluttered mess of underwear, socks and dirty clothes, I gripped a heavy sock-covered cylindrically-shaped object. My right hand wrapped around the thin cylinder with distinct familiarity.
Covered on each end by a scrunched up black athletic sock was "Colonel Milton Buttersworth, III," the BMX House dildo. I unwrapped its firm, yet pliable beige body and raised it closer to my face, examining the realistic ridges and fake veins. I had just handled "The Colonel" a few days earlier, when Rebecca, Dominique and I had schemed about planting it in Joey Schwab's Chrystler Concord glove box before he drove back to Dayton.
It made me happy to be in the receiving end of such a prank. It was rather charming knowing that my Cincinnati housemates (probably lead by Rebecca) had taken the time to wrap the eight inch rubber penis in my socks and bury it in my luggage with hopes of embarrassing me in front of the Federal Transit Authority and a sizable crowd at the Indianapolis International Airport. I thought about how eager the culprits must be to hear about who else was around when I surprisingly uncovered the incredibly lifelike (if exaggerated) instrument.
Now, I once asked a feminist-y girl if she was into receiving flowers. Sure, she said, they show that someone is thinking about you. Receiving the dildo helped me understand the meaning of such a gesture (although the monetary investment in flowers and random holiday-ization of the act in some ways cheapen it). There's something to be said for the beauty of nature and its prettier objects (flowers, not penises), but, more importantly, the meaningful gift is the gesture itself.
I gave the dildo a squeeze and wiggled it back and forth. The game of planting a large phallic object in each other's bedrooms, luggage, groceries and automobiles became funnier and sweeter than I thought that first night living in the BMX House, when I found "The Colonel" underneath my pillow. I understood how nice it must have been when Josh Suhre surprisingly uncovered the dildo in his travel bag while in England.
I imagined a small female hand wrapped around ten lilac stems, eagerly raising the bouquet to her nose. The slow inhale and relaxed appreciation I perceived satisfied me as I compared it to the attention I felt through this small, smart-assed act.
All I have to do now is figure out how to get this giant fake dick into something that Kevin's mom will find…
# posted by PASStheTEA_B @ 4:23 PM 
