For over a year now I’ve been using a neat plug-in for my web browser which hides advertisements on websites, cutting out the clutter and increasing my surfing speed. However, several weeks ago I realized that this marvelous plug-in was causing weird behavior whenever I tried making comments on Facebook so I disabled it and was astonished to discover what I’ve been missing out on all this time: women!!! But not just any type of women; these are women who are looking specifically for guys who are Continue Reading

It’s that time of the year again kids, the time when stinky, blue plastic boxes dot the fringes of every concert, festival and jamboree this side of the Spring Equinox. You may know these plastic boxes of which I speak by many different brand names, names like: Port-o-let, Porta John, Porta Potty… sure they’re going for the idea of “portable” but after you’ve used one you get the idea that the “porta” prefix might more accurately be derived from the old saying “any port in a storm”. I say that because it’s an act of sheer desperation to clamber up into one of these blue boxes for a quick spot of relief because they reek of chemicals and ka-ka. They’re humid as the Okefenokee Swamp and they’re guaranteed to have an even coating of pee all over the seat. In hot weather the temperature in these boxes can soar, combining with the nearly 100% urine-tinged humidity to create miniature weather systems; perfect storms of pee. I could swear that there was a port-o-let at the 1998 Midtown Music Festival with a chemical blue hurricane crashing around the walls like a wild beast. For years this bothered me. I felt so bad for the women that there were incosiderate guys out there who couldn’t take the time and effort to pee straight into the hole, I mean, c’mon there’s a stand-up urinal mounted to the wall. Everything changed a few weeks ago when the truth was revealed to me by a group of slightly inebriated girls who were out having drinks before a concert…
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