Trash Bin Titty Thursdays ("TBTT")

Happy Trash Bin Titty Thursdays or "TBTT" as My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I like to call it.

I find that earmarking something to do on a Thursday somehow makes the week go by faster.  This isn't science, it's just my opinion.  Or maybe there is some science to it... Google it and let me know.

Though in all seriousness, who doesn't need more titties in their lives?  And I'm not talking the current day bolt-ons you see in droves around LA.  I'm talking the gratuitously exposed, organically grown titties of the 80's.  Today marks the 5th installment of TBTT.  We're going to feature one of my childhood favorites, Revenge of the Nerds.  To quote my Mom and I's favorite line, "What the fuck is a robster craw?"

So why is today not Titty Thursdays or 80's Throwback Thursdays?  Why is it specifically TBTT?  The "Trash Bin" bit of Titty Thursdays is the reason for this post and Thursday ritual. We started TBTT with one of the worst films to date, Private Resort. Private Resort is part of a 6 movie Blu-ray collection called 80's Overdrive that MSMF bought from the sale bin of God knows where for a whopping $6 or $8.  You know the bin I'm talking about.  The cheap cardboard box full of DVDs marking the turning point of the line at Best Buy that you're forced to look through because you're so damn bored.  Yeah, that one.  Or the bin at your local 7-11 that everyone throws their receipts in.

Though MSMF felt that Johnny Depp's actual ass and appearance in Private Resort made the movie 80's gold, I stood up after an hour and half of my life that I couldn't get back and said, "I don't think I could watch another one of those trash bin titty movies".  Or something like that.  But it stuck.  And so did watching the other three fucking movies in the collection because dammit, we're not quitters.

The only real thing that kept me watching, aside from the morbid curiosity of where the story would actually go, was the gamble - how many titties were we going to see?  Private Resort reached a solid titty count of 6.  Or 7.  I don't really recall, as I was drowning myself in my wine glass to get to the end of the movie. The following week was Perfect, starring John Travolta and Jamie Lee Curtis. I don't think that needs anymore explanation, just that the movie almost ruined John Travolta's career. Titty count: 2  We thought we were losing our tit count as we made our way into the trash bin Overdrive collection but we were mistaken!  Hardbodies garnered a total of 18 titties flashed throughout the movie, followed by a close second for titty count by Spring Break which we both felt had strong male gay overtones until the spring break bar scene where the movie went from a 2 tit count to 14 within a matter of one minute.

Moral of this story?  Be careful what you buy from discount movie bins or you might find yourself, drink in hand, counting tits on a Thursday.  I know, I'm sure there are worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

The Supplemental Sausage

Have you ever bought a "supplemental sausage"?  I didn't know what one was until today.  I also didn't know My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I could spend over 45 minutes in bed this morning, making us both late for work, talking about supplemental sausage.

So what exactly IS "supplemental sausage"?

Apparently, supplemental sausage is a sausage you buy from the meat counter because you're short meat for a recipe.  Our meat failing example was Moroccan Meatballs.  The meatball recipe required 1.5 pounds of ground chicken but MSMF could only find a package with 1.45 pounds.  In fear and haste that the recipe would be in ruins, he bought a supplemental sausage.  Not three, not two.  One.  One supplemental sausage.  And not just any old sausage.

It was a spinach and feta sausage.

Now I don't know what compels a man to buy just one sausage, let alone a fancy Mediterranean sausage that only Greeks and hipsters would eat, but that's what he did.  The funny thing though, is that when we made the Moroccan Meatballs the other night, MSMF didn't mention a single word about the missing 0.05 pound of chicken meat or that there was a supplemental sausage waiting on the sidelines!

Having not used the sausage, I thought it was for tonight's dinner - Orecchiette with Sausage and Broccoli Rabe. MSMF was quick to point out that my assumption was flawed, even though the recipe clearly calls for sausage, by backtracking the debate to the quantity of sausage. The lack of sausages, plural.  Single sausage.

I have to admit he had me.

But what about the sausage for the Orecchiette?  Did he also buy supplemental turkey, which is the only meat we currently have left in the fridge?  What was the thought process here?  Was MSMF so concerned about the missing ground chicken that he bought a single supplemental sausage but missed the other sausages we needed for the Orecchiette?  And why was the supplemental meat sausage?  The questions just wouldn't stop but the ridiculousness kept coming.

The irony here is that I hate sausage.  I'm thankful we're not doing sausage with our Orecchiette but I do feel some small sadness for the lone, supplemental sausage.

Cannibal Chickens & The Turkey Head

Did you know that chickens are cannibalistic?

No seriously.  Look it up.

I found out in the weirdest, round about way.  I got high with a group of close friends years ago right before seeing a 40mm screening of Baraka.  The weed really started to kick in during the "cute" part of the film, where baby chicks are tumbling around on large conveyor belts to be processed.  Group A got mashed to bits and group B got their beaks burnt off.  I was so horrified I left the movie theater swearing off meat and was a pescatarian for the next 6+ years.  Once the high wore off I did a lot more research into humane meat and why chickens get their beaks burnt.

Turns out chickens are cannibal as fuck and will peck other chickens to death.  Not a fun way to go if you're a normal chicken.  My Mom has had cannibal chickens in her flock and they're awful little shits.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, cannibal chickens and the turkey head.

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") didn't know that chickens could be cannibalistic either.  And because we say silly shit, we started making up little jingles and calling meals with chicken in it "cannibal chicken" dishes.  For example, last week we made Cannibal Chicken Tikka Marsala. This week we may make Lemon Cannibal Chicken or Caper & Mushroom Cannibal Chicken. I don't recall what day it was but last week we were once again saying silly shit in bed when MSMF started singing a little cannibal chicken ditty under his breath.  Something like, "hmm hmm hmm cannibal chicken... hmm hmm coming to get you... hmm hmm peck peck peck cannibal chicken..."

I didn't pay much attention to the humming as he jumped into the shower. I was more concerned with the sound of the water slowly building up.  The shower and I have had epic take down fights of hairball removal or whatever else clogs the damn thing.  Sensing the imminent threat of another clog, I wrapped my hair up hastily in a bun and leaned halfway into the shower to clear the drain. What happened next can only be summed up as incoherent gasps, grunts and sputtering coming from MSMF.

What I did catch was, "Uh...ah! Turkey. Ugh - TURKEY HEAD! ah!"  It was clear that I had freaked him out. Bad.

For the next 10 minutes I could barely catch my breath I was laughing so hard.  And each time MSMF tried to explain what happened, I would die a little bit more and laugh a little harder. The first excuse was that he didn't have his glasses on or contacts in, so I "looked" like a turkey.  His next line of reasoning was that he thought I was taking the "cannibal chicken bit" to the next level.  Seems sensible, right?  You see, I have taxidermy around my place and have even (joked) about taxidermy-ing my cat.  We won't get into that right now but the point is that MSMF thought that I got super clever with the cannibal chicken shtick by taking it to the next level -  seemingly to a turkey head level.  He thought I pulled out some hidden taxidermy turkey head to scare the shit of him with in the shower!

First of all, a shower would ruin a turkey head taxidermy.  Secondly, who has a turkey head they're keeping hidden for just such an occasion?  Lastly and probably the most important question, do I look like a damn turkey head!?  You always hear that women are chicken heads in rap songs but a turkey head?  I don't think so.

We still sing little cannibal chicken jingles and laugh about the turkey head.  And in case you're wondering, which you should be, the answer is yes.  Yes, I've been online trying to find a taxidermy turkey head.

https://www.taxidermy.net/threads/213194/

Fisting

My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") and I say the most silly shit when we're in bed.

Lazily waking, talking, laughing... it's my favorite part of the day and that's saying A LOT because I am NOT a morning person.  My Mom loves to recount that when I was a little girl I would wake up, walk down the hall of my Grandmother's home, and without saying a word - even though my Mom and Grandmother would give me a hearty "good morning Kryslin" - I would sit down in my little kid sized rocking chair and proceed to rock vigorously for 20 or so minutes.  After the rocking stopped I was good to engage but not before.  I don't have an adult sized rocking chair in my place but I still need 20 or so minutes. At least.

After a minute or two of silence, MSMF pulls me in closer and thoughtfully asks me "if you had a penis for 24 hours what would you do?"  What men don't know if that every woman has an immediate response to this question because yeah, we've thought about it.  Without missing a beat I blurt out, "I would pee wherever I wanted to standing up, waggle my dick around for no good reason, and get some bitches to get down on my dick."  Because, you know, in my mind I've got a large perfect penis and can just whistle over some women to please me.  That's realistic, right?  MSMF audibly snorts out loud and says "Yeah, it's that easy."

He then asks me some clarification questions that, for knowing what I was going to say immediately to having a penis, I didn't have the slightest answers for like "how many shakes would I give my penis after peeing?" And "why do I want to 'waggle' my dick around and at what?"  To divert from not knowing what I would say and now feeling overwhelmed by my imaginary 24 hour Dirk Diggler, I ask MSMF "well, what would you do if you had a vagina for 24 hours?"  His response, "Fisting."

Let me make sure you read that correctly.  He said "FISTING."

It honestly came out more like an uneasy question than a statement but damn ya'll.  MSMF didn't go immediately for "I want to pee sitting down." Or "I would pleasure myself to see what it's like."  He went for "what's fisting like?"  Sweet baby Jesus in a basket I have no fucking idea!  I found his response so hilarious and horrifying that I wasn't sure what to say.  So naturally we did what we do best.  We talked it out.

Me: "Why fisting?!"
MSMF: "I don't know.  What would that be like?"
Me: "Jesus I don't know. How would I know?"
MSMF: "Nevermind, I was just kidding babe.  I was going for shock value."
Me: "Well color me shocked but seriously who even thinks of fisting!?"
MSMF: "I mean, is it something worth trying?"
Me: "Personally, I don't understand it though I think I've seen it. Have you seen it?"
MSMF: "You've seen it!?  I don't think I've seen it."
Me: *mouth hanging open slightly not knowing what to say next*
MSMF: "My response was more, like, curiosity babe."
Me: "Who the fuck is curious about fisting? You'd be curious about fisting if you had a vagina for 24 hours? I'm not sure you realize just how hard it would be to work your way up to taking a whole fist!  I mean, you'd have to be like throwing a hotdog down a hallway down there."
MSMF: *mouth hanging open slightly not knowing what to say next*
Me: "Fisting. Jesus."

MSMF/Me: *silence*

MSMF: "So, what do you want for breakfast?"

https://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/news/a56786/how-do-you-fist-a-woman/

Wheelz

Early on in our relationship I got the feeling that My Special Man Friend ("MSMF") thought that all there was between my ears was EDM music and a small hamster running on a wheel. Now, I'm not saying he thought I was stupid but I just got this sense that that's all he thought was going on in there.

Sure, I love music.  More than most.  I would also argue that my life is circled around music more than most - seeing it, listening to it.  All of it.

I don't remember the particulars of how it happened but I surprised MSMF with something I said or did or both, in an intelligent sort of way. His reaction struck me as so odd that I asked him, "what do you think is going on in there (my brain)? Do you think it's just all day all night EDM music and a hamster running on a wheel?"  Of course the only sweet, sensible response that he could make was to say no honey, of course not.  But that's not what he did.  Instead he just laughed.  Which made me laugh.  So the hamster wheel became a little running joke between us.

If I say something off or kind of stupid, the hamster is moving a bit slow.  If I come up with a real zinger and am sharp with my thoughts and words, we say that the hamster is firing on all cylinders.  We even insert little "squeak squeak" sounds to emphasize the speed.

We soon realized that said hamster needed a name.  I came up with Wheelz.