Chatty Carl the Talking Dildo

Now there's a dildo that really knows what a girl wants...it talks.  It's like a Chatty Cathy Doll...it has a string to pull and it says things like:  "You want to just cuddle tonight?"

Or, "Have you lost weight?"  They come in various sizes and colors....from Finger size to Humongous.  You have a choice of languages as well.  There's a big South American style that asks, "Que pasa, Baby?"  What won't they think of next?

 

 

Fatty, Fatty. Two By Four. Can't Get Through the Smokehouse Door.

; Obama visited Asheville recently. His first stop after the plane landed was at 12 Bones Bar-b-que Smokehouse to get some ribs. They should have named the place 12 Bones and a Million Flies. It's an indoor/outdoors kind of place and the flies do love the ribs. My wife said she doubted if the President and the First Lady ate any ribs since they are so opposed > to fat...and fat people. She thinks they stood at the door and chanted, "Fatty, fatty. Two by four. Can't get through the Smokehouse door." Maybe, but they probably would have been beaten up with naked bones by the Smokehouse loyal customers. I can attest to the fact that they are good ribs even if you have to share them with lots of flies. When you order and get your silverware, you also get a fly swatter. But these savage flies don't just buzz around your face...they land on your lips and try to eat the meat off the bones before you can. So you really need to smack yourself in the face with the fly swatter, and who knows where the flies go? The Obamas moved on to the Grove Park Hotel, a luxury place where no flies are allowed. Before they left Asheville, they went to see Billy Graham who > lives not far away at Montreat. He's 91 now...he greeted Obama with "Did you bring me any ribs, Boy?" Billy's too old to worry about fat. Or calling "tan" people "Boy". They prayed for each other, Billy's son said. > > Billy has been chums with a lot of Presidents, mainly Republicans. I remember a couple of years ago, my wife and I were listening to an interviewer talking with Billy Graham. The interviewer said, "You're getting up in years, Reverend Graham. It won't be long until you are sitting in Heaven with God." But Billy objected. He said, "I'm not sure I have done enough to sit with God." I turned to my wife and said, "We are in deep doo-doo, honey. If > Billy doesn't think he's getting in upstairs, we'll never make it." But she said Billy was probably worrying because he was palsy-walsy with Richard Nixon...probably afraid he will go to Hell and have to play golf with Nixon. Besides, she felt confident that she would make it because she polished brass at church once a month and thought there's probably a lot of brass in Heaven. I told her I was not interested in going if there was work to do, especially polishing brass.

Lifestyle Article for May

YOU CALL THIS A SPA?

I wasn't born yesterday, but apparently the Spa Movement in America was. It seems like there are spas everywhere...but they are girly things where people go to have facials...mudpacks on their faces with cucumbers on their eyes.

When I think about Spas, I think of The Greenbrier Resort and Hot Springs in

West Virginia. To my mind, those are real spas and not just because George

Washington came to The Greenbrier and drank that awful sulfur water. It tasted

so bad, I spit mine out. They assured me it was the smell and not the taste that

turned my stomach. But how are you going to get the water past into your mouth

without going by your nose?

A friend and I took the famous "treatment" at Hot Springs. We signed up one afternoon for an appointment the next day. I had the attendant "walk" us through what we would be doing because at that time I had a hearing aid and wanted to make sure I would know what was coming next since I would have to store my hearing aid with my clothes. He was kind enough to give us a tour.

The next day we arrived on schedule and the woman at the desk asked, "You boys here

for the Treatment?" We told her we were so she buzzed a mountain man from the back.

Our first stop once we got naked was to the soaking tubes. And they were tubs literally.

The water there is a constant temperature. The tub looked close to full...when I stepped in I could feel the water rising...and as I sat down, the water really rose...right over the top. I

yelled "My goodness, the water is going out of the tub." But before I could panic, the attendant said it was suppose to. The tub had fresh spring water coming in constantly so one's body temperature didn't cool the water too much. They had not told me that part the

day before so I was greatly relieved because it was like a waterfalls once I got all the way in the tub.

Our next stop was into a steam room. The attendant gave us each a wash cloth and, at first I thought we were going to have to wash one another. I was planning to draw the line

there, but the steam was filled with eucalyptus so as the room filled up with steam, he said we might have to put the wash cloth over our faces. (Did I mention that we were paying handsomely for this?). The room filled rather rapidly with steam and I told my friend, "If you have anything to say to me, say it now because I'm not going to be able to read your lips once the steam rises." I was about to break out of the room from the smell just when the

attendant told us our time was up.

Next we went to have a rub down with rock salt...we were stretched out on a marble slab that seemed like what they might use for dead bodies. Actually the attendant was rubbing

(and not gently) dead skin off our freshly steamed bodies. After he got us rubbed down, we went around the corner to a huge tiled room. He had me stand against one wall and he was on the other side with a fire house. He was yelling something to me, but I couldn't read his lips across the room...then he started doing hand-signals by putting his hands across his crotch. Finally I realized that he was saying, "Cover your privates." When I did, he turned on the firehouse and the power of the water almost knocked me down. He was rinsing off the rock salt and the dead skin but there must have been a better way to do it.

My friend was laughing...but his turn was next.

Finally after these ordeals, we were ready to towel off and get dressed. The female attendant out front asked cheerfully, "You boys want to sign up for another treatment

tomorrow?" I said, "I've had all the treatment I can stand in this lifetime." She said that

some people have the treatment every day.

Real spas are in the Black Forest in Germany...palatial buildings with extravagant pools,

etc. And needless to say, extravagant prices. These are where Kings and Queens and rich South Americans come to relax. We had planned a trip there one year with some friends. Normally I would have felt too fat to get naked in one of these places. But in

Germany, the richer you are the fatter you are. Rich industrialists, you know, so I was

actually looking forwrd to parading around with them. Unfortunately because of a terrorist

attack (not on the spas), our trip had to be called off. Now I'm too poor to go. But I have a

sweat lodge under my house at Lake Sheila. Close your eyes and it feels like a European

Spa.