Vagina Liaison

It took me awhile to remember why I wrote this. I think someone was stringing random words together on a forum where I used to hang out, and came up with “Vagina Liaison.” Naturally, I took it and ran.


As a trained vagina liaison, I get asked alot of questions:

Q: When storing firewood in my vagina, how much is too much?
A: As much as is comfortable, provided you keep your vagina away from open flame.

Q: My husband and I smoke after sex, yet neither of us enjoy cigarettes. Why is that?
A: I’m not sure.

Q: Because I need to lubricate my vagina!
A: I see.

Q: My vagina sometimes emits a high-pitched squealing sound when decelerating. What is that?
A: Your vagina is a car, and will likely need new brake pads.

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How To Shoot An Apple Off A Man’s Head From A Hundred Yards

Steady. Aim carefully. Squeeze the…

“I think we should talk.”

I hit pause and looked up at Beth, the pause/status screen for Halo2 flickering in the background. Well this doesn’t sound good.

“I see.”

“I don’t think you’re taking our relationship seriously enough.”

Is that all? I thought this was going to be difficult. Focusing my mental energy to talk her down from the ledge that was her addled female mind, I said:

“I think I’m taking our relationship very seriously. But first I think we need to define what we mean by ‘serious.’ I mean this isn’t like ‘buying a house’ serious.”


“No, it’s more like… ‘buying a can of soup’ serious.”

Beth put on her ‘Beth is furious’ face. “You’re saying our relationship is about as important to you as a typical soup purchase?”

I sensed I was falling into a trap, but could see no way out.

“Approximately, yes.”

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Campfire Safety Tips

Campfires are a sexy and mysterious way to liven up your camping trip!
But be sure to follow these helpful rules to avoid any distinctly unsexy disasters!


DO be sure to observe all local laws and regulations pertaining to campfires. Follow the instruction of any local officials. Park wardens instructed to “Relax” will almost never do so.


DO pitch your tent at least 15 feet upwind from grills and fireplaces. For the sake of others camping near you, avoid making any overused jokes about “pitching your tent” while doing so.


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Japanese Movie Posters for Die Hard

A couple cute jokes about Japanese translations of English movies. Normally I’m above stuff like this, because making fun of the Japanese is a little like shooting fish in a barrel. Except instead of fish, you’re shooting a perverted businessman, and instead of shooting him in a barrel you’re shooting him beside a vending machine that sells schoolgirls used panties.

Actually, now that I think about it, I guess I’m not above stuff like this. Huh.


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The Most Dangerous Game

Looking around, I concluded that this certainly was nicer than the library in my house. And that’s assuming you would be generous enough to call the stack of Maxim magazine on top of my toilet tank a “library”. No, this place had wood paneling. Real books. No DVD’s. Classy. I let out a low whistle.

The classified ad had read simply:

Do You Have a Passion For Life?

Have I Got The Job For You!

No Experience Necessary!

Pays Well!

Call 687-2768

It’s probably not accurate to say that I have a “Passion For Life.” However I do have a passion for “Pays Well”, and seeing as the only thing I’ve had much experience with lately is reading Maxim on the toilet, this “No Experience Necessary” business was right up my alley as well. The phone number connected to a machine telling me when and where to go for the interview. When I arrived, there were a dozen or so other guys standing
around aimlessly. Exactly on time, a couple vans pulled up and we were shepherded in to them. 45 minutes later we’re out of the city at some estate, and shown to the library.

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I Am Such A Moron

So we’ve entered the silly hour at work (between 4 and 5, when there’s nothing much left to do, but you can’t quite go home yet), and I’ve already read all my daily sites, posted some inane tripe in the forum, and am generally just looking for ways to kill the last hour of the day, when I spy something I haven’t really noticed before:

My white out dispenser.

It’s one of these new fangled white out tape dispensers, where you just press the applicator down and roll it across your mistake and out comes this nice white tape which you can write on right away without it waiting to dry. Pretty cool stuff.

The mechanism itself is conveniently encased in clear plastic, so any inquiring minds can look inside and see how it works. It’s basically one reel of white out tape on a plastic backing that comes out of the dispenser onto an applicator, where the white stuff gets stuck to your paper. The clear plastic backing gets sucked back into the case onto another reel. A couple cogs and gears keep everything in sync.

Here’s the important part. This is the bit where my inquiring mind wanders off and the moron takes over. Even though I can see all the parts, can see what they do, and can see exactly how everything works…… I still feel the need to take the damn thing apart.

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There’s Only One Way To Settle This

Returning from the water cooler with a refreshing cup of water in hand, I paused to reflect on how well the day had turned out. My morning donut had been fresh and warm. My boss was still on vacation, and thus had a difficult time assigning work for me to do. And earlier, during one of my frequent looks out the window, I got to watch a seagull take an enormous dump on the hood of a BMW. Yes, this Friday was starting to shape up pretty well indeed.

I settled into my chair, prepared to wait out the rest of the afternoon, and maybe indulge in a small bit of seagull watching when…..


One of my coworkers slowly turned around. “What is it this time Phil?” The birds laughing at you again?

That’s Tim. Another accounting clerk like me, although he seems to think he’s senior because he was hired two weeks prior to me. The best way to describe Tim, both in personality and appearance, is to say that he’s a complete fuckwad.

I don’t much care for Tim.

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