cannabineer

Ursus marijanus
Not long ago I experienced something odd yet of no consequence involving one (1) of my armpit hairs. Looking for a context in which to rationalize a) telling it and b) feeling smug about it, I sought a category that might merit a thread. T&T has several long-running threads where the old-timers and the surviving rookies congregate to smoke their coffee and share tales of our town. These long-running threeads are home, in a sense, for some of us. This thread will certainly not become one of the Page 1 Elite (I think of Accomplish, Pix LOL, Random Jib and Friday Dance as examples.) But perhaps it will have its place (which will be to be necroed by a surviving mainie in 2024).


I recently came to the realization that i had a tale to tell This is a thread our "other" superpowers. The things we can do that are odd, fun but otherwise without utility or other redeeming value. We already have a thread for legitimate accomplishments, wherein some folks give beautiful and inspiring pictorial essays on laying stone, rebuilding vehicles, cooking something lovely.

These then are our guilty pleasures, things we did or experienced that require no effort or discipline at all, and yet we are unreasonably pleased by them. They feed our egos while getting exactly "the square root of dick" actually done. Like growing an awesome armpit hair, or accidentally farting a word in Spanish.
Spotting a Madonna in a Chee-To.
Coming up with a lyric to a persistent commercial jingle.
Accidentally getting a basketball balanced on a telephone pole.
Talking a squirrel into doing something.
Being able to call in a duck using your voice.


Caveat: It is too easy for such a thread to cross the line into gross, offensive, repellent things. For that, we have other threads. There's a poop thread somewhere else for the tier-1 secretions, and other threads constantly being deleted as someone shows off some genitals. Let's endeavor to keep this thread "family friendly" for our under-18 clientele. Someone must think of the children.

OK on to accomplish lots and lots of nothing! Preee-sent BONGS (a hundred boots go Thump)
 

cannabineer

Ursus marijanus
I will start by recounting the tale of Big Long. It is a mighty tale full of metabolic exceptions, the narrative power of insignificant things, and naked males with rulers.



Some months ago I noticed that my right armpit was growing an unusually long hair. I figured it would fall out soon, being about twice as long as the next-longest hair growing in that shady spot of me. It was way out past the end of the size distribution graph for my body hairs, and that graph is broad and deep.



I do not know if this is correct, but I have a hypothesis that the responsible follicle grew a full-sized hair, then decided to do it all over again without dropping the mature hair already there. In any case, I have never noticed such a hair before, ever since the age of thirteen inducted me into the mysteries of coarse hair in hidden places. At more that four times that age, I now have more unhidden coarse hairs than the entire census in the Three Odorous Declivities can bring.



I have grown long forearm hairs and some pubes that would not look out of place in an imam's beard. (I do not suggest you pursue that mental image too far.) But Big Long was something special. I watched with the sort of pride we reserve for the truly inconsequential distinctions, as this hair slowly grew from seven to a full eight point zero inches long. (Picture a middle-aged, naked man with a complete contempt for “manscaping” squinting at a ruler under his arm.)



A few days ago I reached into my t-shirt armhole to twirl this fidget toy I made all by myself. It was gone. A more serious look confirmed the absence of Big Long. My dragon boat among dories had weighed follicle, hung the shields from the gunwale and sought adventure beyond the horizon tended by Fruit of the Loom.



Probably it came off in my sleep, from where it was laundered out or ended up on the carpet, where it may or may not survive several rounds of indifferent vacuuming before going the way of all dust.



I prefer to imagine a more heroic fate for my axillary Viking.



Perhaps Big Long fell out while I was walking outdoors, where it will have blown who knows how far until it was found by a delighted finch, intent on founding a most excellent nest upon this exceptional pit-timber. A starling will have battled the finch for ownership of this builder's treasure - until the mockingbird noticed. From there a raven, a buzzard … if I extend the progression, I can make the case that it now adorns the nest of some majestic beast raising its brave new offspring. Even an armpit hair may become a part of big dreams and long love.



I will offer no prayer for this former part of me. Luke 12:7 teaches us that He numbers the hairs on our heads. The unspoken corollary is that the Lord merely points&giggles at the hair not on our heads. Body pubes are a divine practical joke, and Big Long was something of a punchline.
 

cat of curiosity

Well-Known Member
I will start by recounting the tale of Big Long. It is a mighty tale full of metabolic exceptions, the narrative power of insignificant things, and naked males with rulers.



Some months ago I noticed that my right armpit was growing an unusually long hair. I figured it would fall out soon, being about twice as long as the next-longest hair growing in that shady spot of me. It was way out past the end of the size distribution graph for my body hairs, and that graph is broad and deep.



I do not know if this is correct, but I have a hypothesis that the responsible follicle grew a full-sized hair, then decided to do it all over again without dropping the mature hair already there. In any case, I have never noticed such a hair before, ever since the age of thirteen inducted me into the mysteries of coarse hair in hidden places. At more that four times that age, I now have more unhidden coarse hairs than the entire census in the Three Odorous Declivities can bring.



I have grown long forearm hairs and some pubes that would not look out of place in an imam's beard. (I do not suggest you pursue that mental image too far.) But Big Long was something special. I watched with the sort of pride we reserve for the truly inconsequential distinctions, as this hair slowly grew from seven to a full eight point zero inches long. (Picture a middle-aged, naked man with a complete contempt for “manscaping” squinting at a ruler under his arm.)



A few days ago I reached into my t-shirt armhole to twirl this fidget toy I made all by myself. It was gone. A more serious look confirmed the absence of Big Long. My dragon boat among dories had weighed follicle, hung the shields from the gunwale and sought adventure beyond the horizon tended by Fruit of the Loom.



Probably it came off in my sleep, from where it was laundered out or ended up on the carpet, where it may or may not survive several rounds of indifferent vacuuming before going the way of all dust.



I prefer to imagine a more heroic fate for my axillary Viking.



Perhaps Big Long fell out while I was walking outdoors, where it will have blown who knows how far until it was found by a delighted finch, intent on founding a most excellent nest upon this exceptional pit-timber. A starling will have battled the finch for ownership of this builder's treasure - until the mockingbird noticed. From there a raven, a buzzard … if I extend the progression, I can make the case that it now adorns the nest of some majestic beast raising its brave new offspring. Even an armpit hair may become a part of big dreams and long love.



I will offer no prayer for this former part of me. Luke 12:7 teaches us that He numbers the hairs on our heads. The unspoken corollary is that the Lord merely points&giggles at the hair not on our heads. Body pubes are a divine practical joke, and Big Long was something of a punchline.
*sniff*
That... was fucking beautiful...
 

neosapien

Well-Known Member
I had one of those proud, although I shouldn't be, dad moments a few days ago. Last summer was filled with lots of daddy/daughter hikes. But this summer has been so rainy that we have not been on a single one. I lamented to my wife that I'd still like to get one in "if it ever stops fucking raining". This Sunday looks like it will be perfect. So when I told my daughter what we're doing this Sunday she got wide-eyed and beamed "Yay daddy, did it finally stop fecking raining!". That little sponge. She's learning at a voracious pace. It's pretty awesome to watch.
 

cannabineer

Ursus marijanus
I had one of those proud, although I shouldn't be, dad moments a few days ago. Last summer was filled with lots of daddy/daughter hikes. But this summer has been so rainy that we have not been on a single one. I lamented to my wife that I'd still like to get one in "if it ever stops fucking raining". This Sunday looks like it will be perfect. So when I told my daughter what we're doing this Sunday she got wide-eyed and beamed "Yay daddy, did it finally stop fecking raining!". That little sponge. She's learning at a voracious pace. It's pretty awesome to watch.
My daughter at one-and-change could not say "cranky". So one morning she looked at me with those dead serious heart-phaser eyes and said "be careful around Mommy this morning, she's feeling kinky." I assured her I would be very attentive.

It is the agony of every generation to have to hand off stewardship of this troubled life to the next. But your kid has got it on board, and youngsters like her make the agony bearable. Hug her for me.

Thread's off to a good start. I feel ... ~stands straight, inhales, smiles~
 

neosapien

Well-Known Member
Also my useless helper just told me he is leaving me and starting a new job at Best Buy next week. So I scolded him for not giving me a 2 week notice then asked him if he thought he was up to snuff for Best Buy. Then before he could finish answering I told him the very first question that they're going to ask him is how many dicks can he fit in his mouth.
 

dagwood45431

Well-Known Member
I will start by recounting the tale of Big Long. It is a mighty tale full of metabolic exceptions, the narrative power of insignificant things, and naked males with rulers.



Some months ago I noticed that my right armpit was growing an unusually long hair. I figured it would fall out soon, being about twice as long as the next-longest hair growing in that shady spot of me. It was way out past the end of the size distribution graph for my body hairs, and that graph is broad and deep.



I do not know if this is correct, but I have a hypothesis that the responsible follicle grew a full-sized hair, then decided to do it all over again without dropping the mature hair already there. In any case, I have never noticed such a hair before, ever since the age of thirteen inducted me into the mysteries of coarse hair in hidden places. At more that four times that age, I now have more unhidden coarse hairs than the entire census in the Three Odorous Declivities can bring.



I have grown long forearm hairs and some pubes that would not look out of place in an imam's beard. (I do not suggest you pursue that mental image too far.) But Big Long was something special. I watched with the sort of pride we reserve for the truly inconsequential distinctions, as this hair slowly grew from seven to a full eight point zero inches long. (Picture a middle-aged, naked man with a complete contempt for “manscaping” squinting at a ruler under his arm.)



A few days ago I reached into my t-shirt armhole to twirl this fidget toy I made all by myself. It was gone. A more serious look confirmed the absence of Big Long. My dragon boat among dories had weighed follicle, hung the shields from the gunwale and sought adventure beyond the horizon tended by Fruit of the Loom.



Probably it came off in my sleep, from where it was laundered out or ended up on the carpet, where it may or may not survive several rounds of indifferent vacuuming before going the way of all dust.



I prefer to imagine a more heroic fate for my axillary Viking.



Perhaps Big Long fell out while I was walking outdoors, where it will have blown who knows how far until it was found by a delighted finch, intent on founding a most excellent nest upon this exceptional pit-timber. A starling will have battled the finch for ownership of this builder's treasure - until the mockingbird noticed. From there a raven, a buzzard … if I extend the progression, I can make the case that it now adorns the nest of some majestic beast raising its brave new offspring. Even an armpit hair may become a part of big dreams and long love.



I will offer no prayer for this former part of me. Luke 12:7 teaches us that He numbers the hairs on our heads. The unspoken corollary is that the Lord merely points&giggles at the hair not on our heads. Body pubes are a divine practical joke, and Big Long was something of a punchline.
 

UncleBuck

Well-Known Member
Being able to call in a duck using your voice.
every night my ducks try to stay out late doing whatever the fuck it is that ducks do. hunting bugs i guess.

and every night i walk out into the backyard, yell at the ducks to get into the fucking coop, and all three of them waddle their happy asses into the fucking coop.

one of them has turned transgender and has assumed male characteristics in coloration, feather pattern, and behavior. chases me out of the coop every single night. i let that fucker think he/she is winning. it's fucking pathetic.
 

UncleBuck

Well-Known Member
also, i got a call today from an unknown number. i answer those calls with "quack".

apparently i kept interrupting her as she was beginning to talk, and she asked if i was ever going to let her speak. to which i replied "quack".

she said i was being rude and she was going to terminate the call. i told her i had no desire to speak to her anyway and asked her who was winning then.

an exasperated sigh ended the call. LOL
 

Singlemalt

Well-Known Member
also, i got a call today from an unknown number. i answer those calls with "quack".

apparently i kept interrupting her as she was beginning to talk, and she asked if i was ever going to let her speak. to which i replied "quack".

she said i was being rude and she was going to terminate the call. i told her i had no desire to speak to her anyway and asked her who was winning then.

an exasperated sigh ended the call. LOL
LOL
 
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