| Wednesday March 14, 2007 | ||
| My skin birdhouse idea. | ||
 I am explaining my new idea to her:"My friend at International Conveyor Belt Corporation told me that underneath conveyor belts at supermarkets is lots of skin." She says: "Skin?" I say: "Underneath the moving conveyor belt where everyone puts their food to be scanned by the cashier." "Huh?" she says. I say: "He services the belt mechanism. He says when he goes into the supermarket to work on the unit he's amazed at how much skin is under the unit." She says: "What are you talking about?" I say: "When people unload their shopping cart dry skin flakes come off their hands and fall onto the conveyor belt and as the food is moved forward by the conveyor belt (toward the cashier) the skin is eventually pulled down and into the mechanism." She says: "I don't want to hear this." "He says he's seen piles of skin under the belts some almost two feet high (60 centimeters)." She says: "I'm not sure this is the kinda thing we should be talking about right now." I say: "You asked me how my day was." She says: "I don't wanna hear about piles of skin as you're pulling off my panties." I say: "I'd like to collect all this skin and make it into some kind of malleable paste and maybe make birdhouses out of it. You know, sell them on the net." "Put my panties back on," she says. I say: "People helping birds. Something like that. Maybe a song will play when people go to the website: It falls off your hands, Into the conveyor it lands... We'll use it to build a house, For a sparrow or a grouse. " "Put my panties back on," she says. "What's wrong?" I say as I reseat her panties back into their original position. She says:
"I've given you permission to
enter me and that in itself is sacred. Of course after you
enter me there's the remote possibility of a pregnancy. From
there I've got to be somewhat concerned with the likelihood of
contracting a socially transmitted disease. Lastly, let's not forget
the emotional turmoil of whatever relationship we may have together.
Now, added into that mix is you pulling down my panties and as
you're pulling them down and kissing my thighs you're telling me how
you'd like to make skin houses for fuckin' birds. Put
my panties back on my gut is telling me you're trouble with a
capital TEE."
I say: |
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