Thursday, May 31, 2012
Guest post by Emen: Thudmuffin
Yeah, you. You know who you are, Prince of Polished Paddles. I don’t use the masculine to profile, I just haven’t met that many women who find hurling logs at peoples’ backsides a pleasurable pastime.
I admire your commitment, Thudster, you do persevere. Flying your flag and singing your anthem, I Can Make This Sting.
“Seriously, just listen to me for a minute, I can – I can do it. I can make this 4x4 sting. Come on, you need to try new things. I’m going to put some duct tape around this end so I can get a good grip and you bend over and hold onto something. No, something sturdier than that.”
You’re so sweet and earnest when you try to convince me. You’re so proud to show me these massive slabs of wood you cherish. And I smile and wonder where you keep the hydraulics you need to swing these
And who would let you swing them at them. I’m not saying no thud, never and all sting forever. I appreciate some thud. I want it in the mix. But you run it right into the ground, baby. And you don’t want me. You don’t because I’ll tell you how it would go. You be THUD, I’ll be everything else.
S**T – does this guy know dry walling or sheetrocking or whatever you call it, cause --
DAMN – if he miscalculates and drives my head through this wall –
OWWWW – he better know how to fix it fast, cause –
F**K – even in my blind Vanilla world somebody’s going to notice –
STOP – a giant honking hole in the wall and –
See, that last one didn’t even connect because I respectfully crawled under the bed to get away from you. This can only end in utter frustration for us both.
Go and find your people. Look for the light. You’re going to be much happier there.
at 8:00 PM