Sunday, September 18, 2005

I got your envy right here.

I am the Queen of penis envy. There I said it. I used the word penis right in front of God and everybody and I only giggled a little.

It's true. Freud totally had me pegged. I want one of those things. Take a minute and pull your mind right out of the gutter, you gutter-minded person. I don't mean I want one that comes attached to a person with a hairy chest. I want my very own.

"Why, Sher?" you ask. "Why, oh why do you want a penis?"

Thanks for asking. I'll tell you why. Because having one is the equivalent of having a combination magic wand, get out of jail free card and unattractive but high powered snow-writing tool always discreetly tucked away in your pants, that's why.

You may not know this, but Mr. Man has a penis. I don't like to mention it very often because I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but he's had one for years. It's only after witnessing first hand the versatile and amazing power of his penis during the course of our wedded bliss that I find myself suffering from a severe case of the aforementioned envy.

"Mr. Man, I have cupcakes in the oven and I need to go get my son. Can you watch them for me and take them out when they are done?"

Looking at me and then down at his lap he shook his head and said, "I can try but I can't promise I will remember. I don't know nothing about no cupcakes. I have a penis."

"Mr. Man," I said, "would you help me out and make the bed today?"

"I did make the bed," he said.

"Pulling the comforter off the floor and tossing it on top of the crumpled up sheets does not a bed make."

"Again, I'd like to call attention to my penis. It renders me physically unable to make the bed in any other fashion. If I were to do it the way you want, I fear my penis would actually fall off."

"Mr. Man," I said, "do you think you could pick up your dirty shorts from the bathroom floor? That would be oh so swell."

"Gosh, you know I'd love to help you out Honey, truly I would. Unfortunately my penis prevents me from bending at the waist. You have no idea what it's like to have one of these things. Ownership requires a certain responsibility and with that responsibility one must suffer the occasional sacrifice. Picking up things from the floor is one of them. And for future reference, so is going an entire day without talking about it, touching it or repositioning it."

"Say Mr. Man, could you do me a favor and put your tongue back in your head?" I said after watching him mentally undress an unsuspecting female. "I saw you looking at that girl who is young enough to be your daughter."

"Baby, you know it's not me! It's him. He makes me do it. I bear no responsibility whatsoever," he said, looking down on the area where he keeps his penis like he was almost angry at it. And then he followed with the ultimate penis trump card that every man alive has played at one time or another and every woman who owns a man has been forced to hear. Say it with me ladies....

"He has a mind of his own!"

UGH! One more time for the cheap seats: UGH, I say.

It's no wonder the people who have penises rule the world. (Or is it penis-i?) If I had one, I too could rule the world.

I would wear a crown and a sash that said, "Penis Queen". My car would have a bumper sticker that read, "Proud Penis Owner" or maybe "My other car is carrying my penis". I would never clean the toilet or wash the dishes and any time Mr. Man caught me drooling over the adorable and barely grown up deputy with whom he works, I would simply whip out my penis and everything would be all good.

I have only one concern when it comes to penis possession, though. I would much prefer not to carry it in my pants. Since I’m going to get the biggest one money can buy, I think it might be difficult to fit it comfortably in my clothing. (I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain the rule is the bigger the penis, the more power it has.)

I suppose I could fashion some sort of handy penis carrying case similar to a purse or a backpack. Maybe something with red and gold sequins or pink feathers? I could mass produce them so that women all over the world could carry their penises comfortably and fashionably and I'd make zillions and zillions of dollars. I'll let you know as soon as they become available for purchase.

Until then, may the penis be with you.


Copyright © 2004-2005, Sherri Bailey
This blog may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.

Tell me you love me at: HumorWriter@gmail.com

Tell me you hate me at: Yeah. I'm so sure I'm going to make that easy for you.

Add to My Yahoo!

Visit Ms. Crazy On Her Face Online

1 comment:

jennnn said...

Sher, that was hilarious! I found your blog while I was looking for other Kansas blogs.

Please keep it up! No... the Blog, not the penis!