This spam email phenomenon has got to stop. Seriously. I mean, the first few �hot teenage sluts!!!� that popped up in my inbox were sort of titillating, I guess, and I�ll never get tired of seeing the phrase �lesbo sorority action�, but now things are just completely out of hand.
Now, they spell things wrong on purpose! Not because they�re just stupid, but because they don�t want to be caught by spam filters. Hence the proliferation of things like �pr0n� and �sl;uts� and �pen is�. And speaking of the pen is, I�m quite happy with the size of mine, thank you very much. I mean, I�m not The Hedgehog (and thank all the powers that be for that -- that man is fugly), but I really don�t think I need to be able to �break walls apart with [my] massive Johnson�.
And, as if all that wasn�t bad enough, my mother has email, you guys! Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sit down to a nice, family dinner, and have your mother start going off on a tirade about how many offers she�s received to enlarge her penis, or watch �barely legal Asian girls� frolic together in a bathtub? Thanks, mom, but I�m not hungry anymore. Ever.
Now, I�m not easy to shock or offend -- this is a great big world, and it�s full of all kinds of people who get off on different kinds of things -- but there have been a couple that made even yours truly blanche and clutch at the pearls. Like the time my inbox inquired as to whether or not I�d ever seen a �whore� gargle with�well, let�s just say it wasn�t Listerine, and leave it at that. KillerWorkout and I enjoyed a very long and hearty laugh about how unbelievably tasteless that was before realizing with a very sobering jolt that inside of a few scant hours, we would likely be sitting down to an exceptionally uneasy dinner of piping hot invective, served up with relish by our apoplectic mother on the subject of what, exactly, whores are wont to gargle with these days.
And may I just take this opportunity to tell you that there is a very specific list of words I never, ever, ever need to hear my mother say, and it doesn�t matter how mature either of us get? For example, any words contained in an email from someone called �bl0ndeQT69�. Because I don�t care; when my mother starts going off about that stuff, all I hear is, �Blah blah blah hard-on�� and then I lose all the rest of it, because my brain is filling up with the sound of feedback and alarm bells clanging in my cerebellum, and the top of my head blows off with a blast of hot vapor and a high-pitched whistling sound like a cartoon teapot. And then, across the dinner table, my brother and I exchange looks of abject horror mingled with twelve-year-old amusement at our mother�s usage of streetcorner vernacular, and she rolls her eyes and snorts, �Oh, grow up, you two!�
I�m sorry, but I don�t want to grow up! I don�t want to be mature in a world where my mother gets to use the term �cock ring� at the dinner table, and I can�t scream because of it. I liked it better in the old days, when moms said stuff like, �Well, fiddle-dee-dee!� and, �She�s in a �family way�!�
I never thought I�d say this, but I could do with a few less �blow jobs� at the dinner table.
