Back when I started this blog I had just moved into an apartment in Baltimore with my good buddy Kmart. We’ve since moved out of the apartment; I chose to move into a house in Glen Burnie, and Kmart chose the life of a hitchhiker, befriending and beheading travelers (though not always necessarily in that order) as he aimlessly wanders the US. As an apartment-warming gift my parents bought everything fish-related that they could find in Walmart. They thought it would be nice for my bathroom to have a theme, or something. I don’t know, all those Trading Spaces shows were big at the time.
So they gave me a shower-curtain with an aquarium scene on it. And a bathroom rug with an aquarium scene on it. And towels with fish on them. And fish-shaped candles. And wall stickers in the shape of fish. If I was surrounded by that much fish in real life, the mercury would have killed me a long time ago. And I probably would have smelled bad, more so than normal.
Anyway, over the years I’ve lost or lost use for most of the stuff they gave to me, except for the bathroom rug. Every morning I wander into my bathroom, take a shower, and step out on to this mat:
At this point you’re probably thinking, “Man, I liked it better when he wasn’t blogging.”
Oh really? Well you can go fuck yourself then.
Right, so anyway, you’re probably thinking, “Why the hell is he blogging about his rug? This blog is boring.”
Again, you’re cordially invited to go fuck yourself.
I’m blogging about my rug because I have a problem with it. Like one of those magic eye pictures where you stare at it and see nothing but squiggles and colors until suddenly BAM! a schooner appears as if from nowhere. Then after that every time you look at the thing you immediately see the schooner. No matter how hard you try, your brain immediately focuses on the image as opposed to the colorful squiggles. Every time I look at the rug my eyes immediately go to the lower right section that I’ve taken the liberty of blowing up and posting here:
So what’s the big deal? One day I was looking at the colorful aquarium scene and them suddenly BAM! the sea anenome in the corner becomes a giant, erect sea-penis that’s about to violate the bejeezus out of that poor fish. Now I can’t see anything else. My eyes immediately go there, and the innocuous organism becomes an engorged organ. I look at it and think, “Swim little fish! Swim like the wind! Swim as far and as fast as you can! That ocean-wang is about to WRECK you! There’s no way you’ll recover from a full-on diddling from that deep-sea dong! You’re a goner! You’ll be fish-sticks in minutes! Noooo fish! NOOOOOO!”
The worst part is, it looks like that sea-wiener is just COVERED with some type of horrible Atlantean STD. I don’t know whether it’s from undersexed merladies, or curious merboys, or filthy merpedophiles, but that sea-wiener is in rough shape. (By the way, if your wang, or your partner’s wang looks like that, you should probably get that checked out.)
Finally, what the hell is wrong with my life that almost invariably one of my first conscious thoughts every morning is about a textile fish getting reamed? I need to get a new rug.
I don’t think anything is wrong with your life. You have a beautiful, smart wife, a home of your own, crazy fun-loving cats, and a generous neighbor who gives you his castoffs. (You also have a devoted fan base which I know you love most of all, Scarecrow.)
I didn’t even have to read your explanation to know exactly what the heck that freaked out sea wanger was. Yes, you need a new rug so you can quietly and quickly forget about those poor poor fish who will now have no one to think about them and their pain and fear.
I have similar thoughts every time I walk through the main lobby at work. Everywhere on the wall, there are giant vaginas. Giant, glorious, spread vaginas. It’s so odd. And once I noticed it, I can’t help but notice it and think about it and then try not to think about it. But think about it anyway.
Yes, you do need to get a new bathmat. Yesterday.
That reminds me of the original “Little Mermaid” cover. I believe disney recalled them, but I still have mine. Giant penis in the background and all.
I think you have found the next great design in dildo’s. You could be a millionaire.
Finally, what the hell is wrong with my life that almost invariably one of my first conscious thoughts every morning is about a textile fish getting reamed? I need to get a new rug.
I think the rug is the least of your worries at this point. Therapy might be the better option.
maybe it’s time to graduate to a creepy pedophile clown bathmat.
Seen “Superbad” with the Rorschach inkblot test scene? That’s totally you, dude.
You know, your rug looks pretty clean for one that’s a few years old.
Also, I’m always hungry for sushi.
we went to the boston aquarium recently. i was STARVING for sushi after the giant tank
and
i totally saw that big penis before you said anything :)
i think you should regift that rug to someone. with an explanatory letter.
i can has that bathmat?
I’m sure some website, like MonstersofCock.com, probably sponsored the rug manufacturer… leave it to the porn industry to infiltrate EVERYTHING.
Lori- Lemme consult with the boss and I’ll let you know.
Oh my God… There actually is a MonstersofCock.com!
Yeah, even before you blew up the picture I was all, “There’s a penis on that rug…” So, I don’t think it’s just YOU.
The big fish looks like a sideways twat.
The anenome doesn’t appear as if it’s about to violate the clown fish; if anything, it looks like the clownfish is contemplating deepthroating it, consensually.
Just mho.
Ha! I saw the barnacle encrusted seacock before I read any further. I also agree with Maven. I think that seacock is a John and who could fault a fish for earning a few extra quid?
Bonus: I got to use two of my favorite words- seacock and quid.
Mighty Dykerson and Maven are killing me.
But this post does remind me of going sopping at the grocery store with my mother, who had what one might call an “earthy” sense of humour. She delighted in specials available to “Members Only”, and would ride that double entendre ’til the wheels fell off.
More specifically, however, she took even greater joy in showing us the giant coconut tree cum phallus featured boldly on the can of Libby’s Zoodles. She would stand and proclaim loudly, “Lookit the size of that thing, huh?” Thankfully, I had always disdained canned foods, so the association of Zoodles with enormous jungle wang was peripheral to my life. My sister, though…
They’ve since changed the label.
How old is that bath mat? I also think it looks pretty good. Except the phallus and the poor little fish, of course.
‘Sea-wiener’ and ‘Enormous jungle wang’ would be good band names.