Vaguely Urban

A Thanksgiving Miracle

I was sure that the feral kitties were drowned by our practical-minded neighbors.  I looked for them every day for the last most, with nary a glimpse.

But on Thankgiving Day, my little brother walked in my front door and told me that he had seen a Thanksgiving Miracle over on the far side of my neighbor's house.

"They're tussling!" said my little brother.  "I thought they were all very dead!" said I. 

"No!" said my little brother. "They're alive!  And they're tussling!"

And do you know?  My little brother was right!  They're alive and tussling!  And ever so cute. And a little dumb looking, in a good way.

"Say 'Hello' to the Internet, Kitties," said my little brother.  Indeed!

The Genitalia Not Taken

A couple months ago, Embee and I got to talking about what our names would have been if we'd been born boys.  Mine?  Devin.  Hers?  Russell.  We decided that these names - especially paired together - are very gay names indeed, and, had we been boys with these names, we would have been very gay little boys. 

So if we'd been male, we would have been gay.  Other than that?  Not much would have changed.  We still would have met in law school in New York, or - more accurately - singing and dancing to Hit Me Baby One More Time in the law school cabaret.  We still would have moved out to LA.  Still would have lived together in Santa Monica.  Still would have shopped together at Fred Segal; still would have gone to South Beach for a sexy weekend with Douglas, Kenny, Jon, and Trae; still would have left our home with each other for Dave and John.

Still would be best friends.

That said, I'm glad my name is not Devin.  Point being, this year?  I'm thankful for my lady bits.

At Our House, Every Night's A Piece Of Cake

In addition to being Eia's bachelorette party, last weekend was my birthday.  (BALLOONS AND STREAMERS FALL FROM THE SKY.)  The bachelorette celebrants very generously included my aging process in the bachelorette festivities, and Embee made me scrumptious cupcakes.

When I got back on Sunday, Dave had set up a surprise mini-celebration which included a dinner with 4 cheese-laden courses.  The final course was Dave's world-renowned chocolate cake with vibrant orange, cream cheese (there's the cheese part) frosting.

The cake's deliciousness was exceeded only by its size.

Naturally, we ate cake for dinner each night for the next week.

Cake, the whole cake, and nothing but the cake.   

Weekend of The Silky Peen

This weekend was Eia's bachelorette party.  Nine slightly-reformed party girls headed up to Santa Barbara for some phallic phun.

Under serious time pressure, we each molded a Play-Doh dong.  Then, Eia had to adjudge the most realistic, the most original, and the most like Bunny's.  Bunny being Eia's fiance.

Jodster's (in green) took the prize for most realistic.  I have to admit, I envied her frenulum-scuplting abilities.  Apparently, as a newlywed, she has been extra studious of the form.  Jen (pale pink, far right) was most original, with the Blue Balls.  As for Most Bunnificient?  "Mine is most like his," Eia flatly declared.

So no prize for mine (orange), though Eia did compliment it for being silky. So that was something at least.

Then, Captain Pecker (the Party Wrecker) paid us a visit.

6 inflated feet of manhood.  So manly a peen that it has a peen. It's very meta.

 

And that was all before the sun went down.   There are no post-sunset pictures that are suitable for decent people.  Sorry about that.  To take the sting away, I'll show you a picture of two Monster Ring Pops duking it out.

I'm declaring my Evil Jack-O-Lantern the winnah winnah.