Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Big Jay goes with me

Apparently I have sprout ovaries. There is no other explanation for why I am sitting here on my sometimes-porn night watching Crossing Jordan on A&E. A rerun, at that. Something the rest of America, or those willing to sacrifice a precious hour of their time, has already seen. I think the medical examiner, Jordan, is hot. Hopefully that redeems my manhood. If not I'll pat myself and pretend it's porn.

The worst part is how I got involved watching it. I turned it on just as a transvestite with prostate cancer asked the medical examiner to remove his willy for him post-mortem. That way he could complete his transition from male to female. In case anyone cares, I don't give a damn what the circumstances are, Big Jay goes down with me. If I drown, Big Jay drowns. If I fall off a cliff, unless Big Jay can grab hold of the mountain on our way down he comes with me. If I get burned, good heavens please spare him, but if we must go down in flames, we'll do it together. If a snake eats me, well let's just hope the son of a bitch chokes midway down... In which case, Big Jay just might survive me.

In the end, the ME cut off the wanker. Maybe he put it in a jar for the his/her kids to admire when they're grown. Now that I think about it, perhaps I should have mine bronzed. Surely Ripley's would want to make a wax mold of it at the least to display in their museum.

Sorry, it was a slow day and you're paying the price. I'll keep my johnson stories to a minimum.