Saturday was my 32nd birthday, and I hereby declare that it was the best birthday party and the best birthday overall that I have ever had. We partied until nearly 5:30 am at Maison d'Afterglide (ok, well I curled up on the living room floor and fell asleep near the front door somewhere around 4 or 4:30 am. And never has there been so much implied (and actual) female toplessness in my home. At least not all at once.

There are photos. So many photos. But alas, you cannot see most of them. I'm serious. It was that kind of awesome party. I'm so glad Ang and I had the foresight to take Monday off. I'm still recovering a little. That's why I'm going to be lazy and simply link to my Flickr set.

Oh, and if you're wondering about the game with the plastic cup vaginas, I'll post the full details on that later, too.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

Join Lulu, Max, Eda Cherry, Amber, Ang, and I as we explore the emotional depths of doing some shit while you cry. Thank you, folks, for your contributions to this important piece of film art. It surely will be the most important film since that one where 50 dudes wazz all over a chick's gigantic fake cans.

Meet the babies.

Baby orgy!


Uh oh, looks like we've got a breakout couple from the main group.


Lick that ass.


That is so hot. Ride that tight ass!


Caught peepin'.


Man, these babies get freaky. Nothing like a mouth full of balls.

In the early morning hours, over my lunch break, and after work on Thursday, I drove all over the south metro's craft stores, toy stores, and dollar stores looking for bags of babies. Plastic babies, that is. I wanted to find small, inexpensive plastic babies in bulk. This is related to a (hopefully) fun activity that will be occurring on my 32nd birthday, which is tomorrow. At the excellent suggestion of an employee at Toys R Us in Burnsville, I stopped at a party supply store after work.

Luckily there is a Party America store in Eagan about 10 minutes from my house. I searched nearly every aisle and came up empty. I was about ready to leave, when I spotted the baby shower section. As I entered the aisle, I immediately spotted little bags full of tiny inch-tall plastic babies. Perfect!! Better yet, they were very reasonably priced. On one hook, there were bags of little white babies, and on the hook below it were little black babies. Sweet! I definitely wanted some of both. I grabbed a few bags of white babies, and as I bent down farther to retrieve the black babies, I noticed there was a sticker over the price indicating that the black babies were on clearance. "Hey, folks. So nobody wants these black babies, so we're going to cut the price by 30%" Uhhhmmm... thanks, I guess?

I proceeded to the front to check out, and the blond cashier warned me, "Just so you know, since these [holding up a bag of black babies] are clearance items, you can't return them. You can return these [holds up white babies] though." I indicated that was fine, paid for my purchase, and walked out the door, pondering the social implications of saving $5 because some racist motherfuckers weren't willing to take in helpless little black babies stuffed into a plastic bag.

As you know, I'm quite the artist. That is one of the many reasons why I was quite excited when I found the Penis Camouflage site. The theme I was given was "Escape," and I created a masterpiece titled "Escape from the house of horror." Click on the link, then click on the "reveal" button below the picture. I hope you enjoy spanking to it as much as I did creating it.

You may have noticed that photos and other images aren't always displaying properly this afternoon. I host most of my images on Picasa, which appears to be having some major difficulties at the moment. I keep telling them to lick my balls, but I'm not getting a response. You get what you (don't) pay for.

FIXED! Stuff your cod with that, momma's boy!

Prior to leaving for Omaha from my house, Max asked if he could use my bathroom. As he walked toward the hallway, an object fell from his jacket pocket and hit the floor with a loud thud. I recognized it immediately. "Oh, you've got boob cream!" I exclaimed. Apparently he had planned on slipping it into my medicine cabinet for me to find upon returning from the trip. It would have been a delightful prank, but alas, it was spoiled by gravity. He really did have to use the bathroom though (or so he claimed), so he continued on his way. Before leaving, I made one last pit stop and found something slightly amiss. For a moment, I couldn't put my finger on it.


Wait, what is that on the shelf above the toilet?


What the fuck? Crystal Gayle and Jeff Foxworthy circa Charles in Charge? The poor guy. He is gazing at her with the truest, most heartfelt love, and she can hardly stand to breathe the same air as him. The forced not-quite-a-smile, not-quite-a-frown look on her face says, "God, stop breathing on me. You smell like hot tuna melt and piss. I only tolerate you because I all of the girls are jealous that I date the guy with the foxy polo shirts. Well, let me tell you, pal, if they knew what was under that polo shirt and down those pants, they wouldn't be jealous of shit."


And he still went through with the Breast Friend cream. I suppose he figured why let it go to waste. I won't go into detail, but I can tell you that my penis skin is much more smooth and supple now.