Here are some flowers up against a wall.
As seems to be the usual for my Wednesday evening post, it's late and I'm tired, so this will be quick. Tonight is my childless night and so I did my supper club gig at Shakespeare's with some girls and had a great talk and ate greasy food and drank a soda. All of which were wonderful.
After that, I headed down to the Dublin where I had my two beers and hung out with some funny guys and my friend J., who I love. I can't remember how, but we got on the subject of how we refer to our private girl or boy parts (you know how you do that in bars sometimes). The owner said he called his a pecker and I told him I thought that was non-threatening and pretty tame. Most of the guys agreed that they usually used the term cock because that was a little more sexy. J. and I were joking about calling our girl parts cooches. The boys seemed to like that term, although Scooter, the bartender said he had a hard time calling it a cooter because it made him think of The Dukes of Hazzard. I definitely had to agree with him. Imagining someone calling it a "C-c-cooter" is sooo not sexy.
Well, kids. I think it's time to end this quaint little bed time story and call it a night (or whatever you feel comfortable calling it). The end.