Advice for Bad Men
November 30, 2012 28 Comments
A fellow blogger named Eric is such a fan of my “whacky” blog that he took it upon himself to write today’s post. Make sure to visit his blog http://ericmvogt.wordpress.com. He writes poetry and short stories
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lafemme. She kept getting approached by tall, dark handsome men. They would go out for a while and then turn into schlongs. Then she finally decided that it was just not worth it to be a schlong magnet. She would make some money off of it. So she started a syndicated newspaper article called Dear Schlabby.
She would direct all schlongs there for advice. She was really, really good at it, too. She saved many schlongs from beschlongings (sort of like a beheading but with a different organ). This was the first schlong to answer and start her adventure into tabloid stardom:
My relationship with my woman is going sour. She just doesn’t love me. She is so selfish. All she wants to do is hug and kiss and have wholehearted lovemaking and take romantic walks in the park and drink a glass of wine in the moonlight. And to top it off she told me she has had enough of basketball, football, baseball, foosball and beer balls. What is a man to do?
Lafemme pondered long and hard about how to answer this without pulling out a large set of tree loppers and…lopping. After going through several hundred drafts, she answered:
Dear Mr. McSchlongald,
You are in the danger zone. In other words, you’re about to lose your Top Gun.
Take off the clown suit. First of all, don’t call her “my woman”. She is your unique, precious McDouble. Treat her like it:
Girls just want to have sun. Help her by coaxing her out into the open air. Start by looking at her. I mean, really looking at her. If it’s hard, at first just imagine she’s the ball. And her eyes are the goal.
Important: put down the television remote. If you are having a hard time amputating it from your clasped hand, use some WD-40. A lot of it. Then wash off your hands. Profusely. That means a lot.
Next, take her hand. Treat her like she’s the whole game. And this game is a close one right now. Your team is about to get beschlonged. You have to make that last ditch effort to help her win. The clock is ticking, McSchlongald. Remember that.
Now this is the hard part. I will have to spell it out because schlongs become schlongs because it is so alien to them. D-o w-h-a-t s-h-e w-a-n-t-s s-o-m-e-t-i-m-e-s. Put your heart into the game. Be her wing man and partner. Take the hit for her. Show her that she’s the star player.
McSchlongald, inside every schlong is a great guy just trying to get out. Be that guy. And you will live happily ever after…with your schlong intact.
Lafemme really hit the ball out of the park. I took Lafemme’s advice and instead of being beschlonged I was un-schlonged. Now my sweetheart and I enjoy each other’s company and I don’t mind it when my team loses half of the time, because hers wins that half. And then both teams win. Lafemme has turned my life around and she will turn yours around, too, fellow schlongs! So, give her all of your money and make her a millionairess.
And Lafemme herself lived happily ever after, because the next schlong she magneted changed—for her. And all sorts of schlongs paid her all sorts of money because she saved their schlongs from being “beschlonged.”