The Dog Ate My G-String

It was the baby-blue one. The one with the lace around the top. Really, can you blame her? If you were a dog, and you were going to eat a G-string, wouldn't it be the baby-blue one with the lace around the top? Stop lying, bitches. You know it's true.

She's a good dog, really. This is the first time she's done anything like this. She's never even so much as eaten a sock. But again, if you were a dog, and you were going to eat an article of clothing, what would you choose: the sock or the G-string? That's right, bitches. The G-string.

The remnants of the baby-blue G-string were discovered very, very late Saturday night, when we went out for our middle-of-the-night potty break. There were the telltale signs of the G-string, right there in the shit. I thought to myself, Now what the hell is that thing sticking out of the shit? Oh. It's my G-string. In the middle of the shit. Of course.

There's a lot of shit in the world. It was really only a matter of time before my G-string ended up in it.

Arguably, I had been sitting in a pile of shit all night. Sometimes it just gets flung in your face, and then what are you going to do? It's not like you can always avoid it.

He said, “How boring does your sex life have to be if your wife enrolls in a pole-dancing aerobics class? How boring does it have to be if you have pull in the pole dancing?”

All I said was, “First of all, pole-dancing should be included from day one, and second of all sex is so expansive, there's just so much you can do. It just seems like there's no reason to ever get bored.”

And he went on to say that he's dated some “heavy hitters,” some really knockout women, and sex got boring with them, and if those women had a hard time keeping it exciting, then sex is just hard to keep exciting in general.

I mean, really, if the “heavy hitters” can't make it a thrill a minute, then we plebians must be doomed.

Of course, the conversation quickly turned to anal sex. Frankly, that happens to me quite often. Occupational hazard.

Within minutes, I had the details of his experience with women and anal sex, right up to bending a girl over a car and giving it to her.

The thing is, he was running game on me. That was his game. The “heavy hitters” and the anal sex over the car. In his defense, that kind of game is a bit of an occupational hazard with me. Like I said, a person asks what I do, I tell them, and the next thing you know, we're talking about anal sex. I think it's the heavy-hitters line that got me. You can't be talking about all the hot women you've boned when you're running game. It's an automatic foul.

’Twas mere hours later that I discovered the G-string in the shit. That's when I realized, it had only been a matter of time before bowel movements started to mimic life. My ass had been sliding around in shit all night.

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