The Joy Of The Junk Shop
Every Thursday it’s the same thing: dig through a pile of crap on the jewelry counter. Occasionally this entails finding a half-eaten hamburger or apple. Usually it involves digging through a pile of god only knows what to find only more crap. And porn. The pot of gold at the end of my proverbial rainbow this week was this.
The above item wasn’t laid out as nicely as depicted in the above photograph. It was all balled up. I picked it up, discerned what it was and quickly dropped it: a cock sock. I washed my hands, things got busy and I promptly forgot about it.
FRIDAY: I found my erstwhile sexual accessory in the dumpster. I protested and my buddy Frantz retrieved it for me. I had plans for this bad boy. BIG PLANS. The beauty of The Thing is its ugliness. Some call it ramshackle piles of junk, I prefer to call it opportunity.
Question: When is a filthy vase not a filthy vase?
Answer: When a cock sock has been attached to it. Then it becomes a cock sock holder.
Step Two: Accessories
Basic black is nice but accessories are really what pulls an ensemble together. Just ask the experts.
I call this one “I Dream of Jeannie”.
Those of you wanting a more masculine look might like this one. I call it “Davy Cockett”. I wonder if Sarah Palin has one of these bad boys on her mantle? I can only hope so!
While I am on the subject of my favorite person (one who makes Dan Quayle look William F. Buckley by comparison) I call this one “Abstinence”. This somehow left me feeling unsatisfied so (like Levi Johnston) I dug around some more. At last I had my “eureka” moment.
I call this arrangement “Moneyshot”. On a scale of 1 to 10 I’d give it a “9”. Being the perfectionist I am I decided to kick it up a notch by leaving it next to Larry da’ Junkman’s lunch.
Real mavericks do not call themselves “Pitbulls with lipstick”. This rhetoric is that of “talkers” not doers. Not only do I “do” but I did.
Leave a cock sock assemblage.
Next to my (male) boss’s lunch.
For the fuck of it.