Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

Tag Archives: underwear

Hulk Hogan reviews a thong

Hi there!HulkHogan

Anyone else find themselves bamboozled by all the new technology that appears each week? Seems that every time I walk into a shop there’s a new mobile phone out or someone’s figured out how to put wifi Internet onto a banana. Crazy, huh?

Anyhow. The other day I was out shopping with the wife when I caught sight of some purple elastic things that reminded me of the strings I used to put on my favourite catapult as a kid. ‘Course, these ones in the shop were pretty large so it got me wondering how big modern catapults are and just who in the heck would be capable of holding one… and the only people I could think of was the tallest man in the world and Yogi Bear.  You ask me that seems like an awful small market with little chance of repeat business.

Well, imagine my surprise when I realised that they’re underwear garments! I asked my wife why she liked them and she just shrugged and said “because they’re kinda kooky” without so much as missing a beat. ‘Course, this got me thinking again and I started getting all excited at the thought of biting down on one of these thongs and finding some chocolate chips hidden inside or maybe even a juicy raisin or two. I asked my wife which ones were the oatmeal type and she just looked at me like I was all crazy. “Kooky, not cookie,” she explained, in a way that made me feel about this small.

As a modern man I decided it was only right for me to try them out for myself and lucky for me the shop had a three-for-one offer; I got meself a blue one, a cheeky red one, and a yellow one that had a picture of a cute little rabbit on the front. At first they felt kinda strange but after an afternoon of playing around in the garden with the dog I’ve started getting used to them. Admittedly my little fella popped out once or twice but I don’t think any of the neighbours saw, thank goodness.

Well, I must dash as there’s one heck of a smell coming from out the kitchen; I think my kookys might be burnin’.

Musical maestro Beethoven attends a rave

BeethovenHai, is Beethoven of German classical musics here.

Other day I listen to radio when wonderful song come on that is full of energies and movements. It go like bip-bip, da-da, bip-bip, and had man sing “Pump up the volume, pump up the volume” all the way through. When song finish I wait see if radio DJ say who song was by, but he more interest in asking ladies to ring him to talk about what their favourite colour for underwear is. I throw shoe at radio in frustration, which fall over and scare family cat.

I was very excite to find out from daughter that nearby nightclub play bip-bip songs every Friday night. I ask if she take me clubbing and teach me how to dance but she laugh and say no. I tell her I plan to wear smart velvet jacket but she still say no.  I explain that I can wear nice buckled shoes and freshly powdered wig, but she scream at me.  I call her ungrateful Nazi bitch and she slam bedroom door in my face, so I decide go nightclub by myself.

I queue up outside nightclub and wait patient as big burly bouncer pat my bottom and check under collar for something.  I think he looking for my Unfinished Symphony, so is good job I leave at home.  Once inside I see lots of people jumping and moving like they have caught The Black Death but all seem to be having fun and enjoyment. I get talk with pretty girl and after buying her overpriced warm drink, she show me secret to dancing in nightclub. It go big fish, little fish, cardboard box, and after twisting my ankle a few time I get hang of it.

At 6am nightclub closes but I unable to find where I leave my smart velvet jacket. Bouncer tell me is home time so I call him ungrateful Nazi bastard. He grab me, throw me out, and slam door in my face.

Still, not all bad as I now have special green glowstick as secret souvenir.  Maybe it make conducting orchestra more interesting, no?

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