Greasy Sleazy Easy

Three day weekends are odd things for me. My natural rhythms are thrown off and I usually end up spending the extra day lying on the couch, eyes and mind glazed over at the numbing dreck of daytime television. Did you know that there are now 29 knock-offs of Judge Judy out there? Did you know that paternity tests are apparently the subject of every episode of Maury Povich? Did you know that TNT plays Law & Order ALL DAY LONG, cunningly beginning each episode at five minutes before the hour, to stymie the natural impulse to channel surf at the top of each hour?

I had a houseguest this weekend, my friend from Central Jersey. He's only an occasional reader of this blog, so I amused him by showing him my most recent Google referrals, always good for a yuk or two. Aside from the usual top three searches, "I want to fuck my mother", "I want to fuck my aunt", "I want to fuck my sister" (and seriously people, STOP THAT), I was delighted to see the reappearance of an old favorite, "greasy sleazy easy mama anal cream pie". My houseguest thought that the cadence of that phrase sounded sorta cheerleader-y. "Ready...OK! Greasy Sleazy Easy Mama Anal Cream Pie! Woooooo!!!!" (High kicking, hands on hips).

Houseguest and I ventured out to the Eagle on Saturday night, a place he hadn't visited in two years. We immediately ran into a blogger from my blogroll, who was playing pool and being sexy under the fluorescent pool table light. Houseguest turned to me, "You know that guy? Why isn't he over here kissing me?" Introductions were made, Blogger...Houseguest, Houseguest...Blogger. And then began the usual Eagle tongue orgy, but only a two-way tongue orgy this time. An hour later I walked by them, tongue orgy still in progress, which was the last time I saw Houseguest for the rest of the weekend. The next night I ran into Blogger at the Dugout, but I resisted asking him if Houseguest was now buried under his back porch. That would have been rude.