As I approach my 59th birthday, my troubled mind
increasingly dwells on a range of imponderable questions. If you can, please
ease my mental anguish by suggesting answers to any of the following:
- What possesses some people to pursue a career in chiropody?
Do they have a foot fetish? Or
perhaps they harbour masochistic tendencies, relishing the prospect of a life
spent on their knees wrestling with foot odour, nail clippings and flaky gunge?
- Why are testicles crinkly?
Crinkles add flavour to my packet
of salt-and-vinegar crisps/chips, but what do they do for those two orbs swinging –
ever lower – between my legs? (Apart from making shaving a precarious activity).
- Why does my soap dish not have a hole in the bottom?
It seems obvious, doesn’t it? In
the shower, work up a lather, drop soap back in its dish and, by the time you
grope for it again, it remains firm, all the excess water having drained away.
Instead, when I reach for my bar of Imperial Leather it often feels like I’m
dipping my fingers into a frothy cesspool.
- Why do doctors in the gastro-intestinal department all have
fingers the width of telegraph poles?
Is it an essential requirement of
the job of the colon doctor to own a forefinger the size and consistency of a
log? Last month, when I suffered the finger-up-the-bum check, it felt as if I’d
been sodomised with the serrated trunk of a sturdy oak?
- Why do restaurant waiters often wear polyester shirts?
Those fine young men who ferry my
ale, wine and Beef Madras to my table do a wonderful job for which I’m
eternally grateful. In the course of a typical day they must walk miles to
satiate the appetites of their customers. And naturally they sweat a lot. So
why in the name of all that’s holy do many opt to wear polyester or nylon
shirts? A perspiration-and-plastic combination smells like someone’s been
boiling cabbage in a communal latrine.
- Why does my willy shrivel during a hospital investigation?
I’m confident that my wand is, at
least, an average size. When I inspect myself in the mirror after my morning shower,
(and when I go to the loo, get dressed, go to bed, get up in the morning) it hangs
out like a real cool dude. So why when I drop my briefs in front of female
nurses during a hospital examination does it get all bashful and recoil into my
abdomen, leaving something resembling a desiccated strawberry?
These are the crucial questions that torment me. Can you
please give me respite by providing some answers?
Photos courtesy of :
1. imagerymajestic at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
2. Nat_Sticker at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
#2 and #6--OMG! Too funny!
ReplyDeleteI suspected #2 and #6 would appeal to you - just saying.
DeleteYou want answers? Therapy, my friend! Just kidding.
ReplyDeleteYou might not be far wrong with your initial suggestion.
Delete#1's answer comes as an act of revenge. When young, these individuals sustained an abnormal amount of foot tickling by either a sadistic parent or sibling. This is simply their way of getting back at them saying, "Now, don't laugh when I tickle your feet!"
ReplyDelete#2, the answer is obvious ... so we can walk without looking like we've a basketball (or baseball in my case) between our legs! Imagine walking if they were hard and starchy. Walking in corduroy pants would get us jailed for disturbing the peace as it would be ten time louder than it already is.
#3, well, it seems you have a body wash container holder instead of a soap dish. Either that, or it was made by the manufacturer of the soap you use to minimize its life span.
#4, I could say this is similar to the answer for #1, but probably with uncles instead of immediate family members.
#5, it is at the request of wives that they wear these. The female gender is very coy in getting their men home and under their control. Unpleasant smells tend to drive men out of the bars and back into the arms of their prison masters ... err, loving wives. Plus, the smells ensure the wives that the chances of their husbands coming out of the closet and being attracted to the waiters will never happen, thusly, ensuring their ownership will never be threatened.
#6, You must get rid of that carnival "House of Mirrors" mirror you have at home that your wife had installed to build your confidence up. Besides, everyone knows that the older we get, the less we use it. Our second head says, "If you're going to ignore me, I'll just go hide somewhere." I guess it is better that it do this instead of the other option ... exploding!
From one psycho to another, keep asking questions. It's the only way answers will ever come. lol Well done, my friend!
Thanks Rich - it's fantastic to hear from another ponderer who, clearly, has given much thought to these questions. I'm off now to get myself a proper mirror to replace the magnifying glass.
DeleteI hope you're well. Thanks for dropping by.
Life is a mystery, my dear.
ReplyDeleteAnd I can see you've been pondering greatly.
Here's my question? Why do men like boobs?
My friends just don't get it.
I'm serious.
Anyhow, HAPPY 59th. x from Duluth.
Indeed, Kim, life is a total mystery.
DeleteAnd as for boobs, I read somewhere that (from a biological science perspective) breasts are just modified sweat glands - not the most appealing idea. But then again, they are warm, and soft, and squidgy and ... ... I better stop there - I'm getting too excited.
Warmest wishes back at you.
I have the only brilliant answer I, as a female, can give you for the personal questions - I DON'T KNOW. There. I feel better. Truthfully, I'm way too busy laughing at this post to come up with anything more intelligent. SUCH good questions. Happy Birthday from Nan in Arkansas
ReplyDeleteThanks for your contribution, Nan. I suppose not all questions have definite answers - if that were the case, they'd be no need to ponder.
DeleteI'm off for my annual physical this Wednesday. So...uh...thanks for #4.
ReplyDeleteYour welcome, Al - brace yourself.
Delete3. Because it's actually a soup dish?
ReplyDeletePatsy, I never thought of that. I'll try my minestrone in it tonight.
Delete