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TMI Thursday: The Wearing of the White

July 2, 2009

Wow, Thursday already? Or again? Or whatever adverb you wanna slap in there? If it's Thursday, it must mean it's time for me to embarrass myself and those nearest and dearest to me. If I can get a few of you to mutter "My God, man, have you no shame?" along the way, then I'll consider that a successful foray into the soft underbelly and dark shadows of my memories.

In college, I seemed to have a propensity toward hanging out with two other friends at the same time. I've told you of some of the shit that my friends Will and Giles and I did together. Today, let's meet another couple of friends, Scooter and Young Bob. Scooter was a short little chap, and quite the dirty birdy, I might add. In those days, it was still difficult to download clips of *ahem* certain types of the internet. Scooter was my go-to guy. He had a stash of them. Sorority Pink 3 was my favorite.

Young Bob was a local kid (Will actually gave him the moniker 'Young Bob') with a true gift toward using the word fuck and girls with really, really huge cans. He is the one who likes all our pretty songs who introduced me to Clerks and the Askew-niverse that I used to hold near and dear to my heart before Kevin Smith's movies veered toward the unwatchable. He's also the coiner of the oft-uttered "Mother of fuck!".

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Renssalaer, IN is not the booming metropolis that you might imagine. Oh, sure, it has traffic lights--something noticeably absent in neighboring Newton county--and my beloved alma mater Saint Joseph's College and the Little Cousin Jasper Festival, but aside from the Wagon Wheel bar or Wal-Mart or late-night walks into the town past Dave Chesak's house, there isn't much to do.

Fortunately, a mere 45 minutes in either direction is Lafayette (to the south) or Merrillville/Schererville/Dyer (to the north), where wondrous things known as "book stores" and "malls" and "commerce" exist. Extra fortunately, Scooter owned a car. This meant that we could sally forth on the weekends for a few hours and spend our hard-earned coin look at things we wanted to buy but couldn't. A lot of times, we ended up to the south, in Lafayette and West Lafayette. Being that Purdue is in West Lafayette, there were all sorts of great little shops and stuff sitting next to the campus. We found some excellent used CD shops and a place where I was able to buy a Periodic Table of the Elements t-shirt (the radioactive ones glow in the dark!). Yes, I still own the shirt.

There was also a mall in Lafayette and, next to the mall, was a Barnes & Noble where a friend of mine (whom I had an overactive interest in, we'll say) worked, so we would venture out there from time to time, as well. Behind the mall, however, was a Toys R Us. And behind the Toys R Us was a sex shop.

As far as sex shops go, this was a particularly good one. The guy who worked there recognized us...which is probably where this story should end, but I'll forge ahead. This is the place where I learned that blow-up dolls come in various sizes according to how much weight they can support. I learned about double-headed dildos, browsed through movies wherein every particular fetish one could ever imagine was sated, and I learned a valuable lesson about anal beads: don't yank them like you're starting a lawn mower. Not a first hand experience, mind, but a bit of wisdom that I'll pass along to you all.

The best part about this particular sex shop was the movie booths. Pay a single crisp, green one dollar bill and get access to a booth with a tv running countless channels worth of porn. Much like the movies in the main part of the store, every size, shape, taste, whim, fetish and desire could be found glowing from the small square in the wall. Being pervs, all three, we fed our dollars into the machines and went our separate ways.

I should interject here that, at the time of this story, I had a serious crush on a lovely girl from the South Side of Chicago named Jenny. She had beautiful brown eyes, short, silky brown hair and awesome legs. We had done a few shows together, she liked the same sorts of music and I did, and we just meshed really well. I think there was a time when she liked me, as well, but I was too much of a chickenshit pussy to pull the trigger, and so my love for Jenny went forever unrequited. *insert dramatic sigh here*

Okay, back to the porn.

Beneath the box of glowing sex on the wall were two buttons. You could use these buttons to either scroll forward or back to find the movie that you so desired to watch for however long the dollar bought you. I cruised through the channels, unimpressed by what I saw, until the station lit upon a beautiful, dark-haired, brown-eyed girl. What she was doing (blow job) and what she was wearing (nothing) mattered very little. The thing that mattered most was that here was my Jenny.

"Holy shit!" I bellowed.

"What?" "What?" answered Scooter and Young Bob.

"Come see. Come see this right the fuck now."

Both of my friends burst into the porn booth. Simultaneously, they both uttered, "Holy shit! It's Jenny!"

"You're in love with a porn star!" Young Bob said.

All three of us stood there, awestruck, by this girl. Maybe it wasn't my Jenny, but this girl was more than a mere facsimile. If this wasn't Jenny, then it was her doppelganger. Enraptured, I pulled up the chair provided in the booth and sat down...

...and immediately felt something wet.

"What the fuck?" I said absently, looking down.

"It's called a boner. You get those when you see the girl you're madly in love with being impaled on some guy's dick." Young Bob had a way with words.

"No, what the fuck did I just sit in?" I queried.

"Holy fuck! You just sat in some guy's spooge!" Scooter cried.

It was true. There, across my left ass cheek and down the back of my left leg was a streak of man juice. It was undeniable. I was scarred. It was like I was wearing my own scarlet letter, except it was white. And it wasn't a letter. So, really it was just like I was wearing a giant jizz stain.

Fortunately, my dollar ran out. I never got to see what happened to my Jenny (or her lookalike), but I'm pretty sure I can guess (money shot). Instead, I stood, horrified, as the masculine jelly cooled and congealed upon my shorts.

"Fuck! Now what?" I asked.

"You're not getting back into my car with those on. I have upholstery!" Scooter announced.

"Let's get the fuck out of here and I can figure it out from there," I said, and so we left in short order. On the way out, the guy behind the counter said, "Now, you boys know it's only one to a booth." Then he leaned in, all conspiratorial-like, and uttered just above a whisper, "But since we're buds, I'll let it slide this time." Great. Thanks, chief; you have a heart of pure gold.

We get outside and my only recourse is to remove the soiled pants before I get back in the car. Normally, we always saved the sex shop for last, so we didn't have to rearrange our plans due to my sudden wardrobe malfunction nor did I have to traipse around anywhere with a giant jizz stain on my shorts.

In the car, we're underway, and we hop on the interstate to cruise on back home. It's night, so it's not like anyone can see me hanging out in the back of some other dude's car in just my boxers. However, as we're cruising along, the musky odor of whomever's spuzz I'm carrying on my pants is filling up the interior of the car. I had hoped I could go home and wash the shorts and everything would be cool, since they were my favorite shorts and all. As the odor grew stronger and stronger, I knew there was only one course of action.

"Scoot, roll down the window."

"What? Why?"

"These shorts stink like cum, and I don't want them anymore."

"Fuck. You're going to get me arrested."

"It's night. No one will see."

"He's right," Young Bob added, "That shit's beginning to stink. We have to get rid of it."

So, Young Bob rolled down his window. And I waited for my opportunity. As we crossed the bridge over the mighty Wabash river, I bid my shorts one final good-bye, and chucked them. Softly humming taps, I watched as they disappeared into the darkness, a single flash of green being the only sign that they had ever been there. A second later, and the ordeal was over.

"Now, roll that fucking window back up. It's cold back here and my sack's shrinking."

And that was when I learned yet another valuable life lesson, courtesy of the sex shop: never, ever, NEVER, sit down on one of the chairs in the porn booth. Ever.

Does this not sate your thirst for awesome TMI stories? Then check out all the other glorious tales of things we probably shouldn't tell at LiLu's home for the staunchy raunchy, TMI Thursdays!


Scope said...

Later, somewhere around Terra Haute, an IVY TECH student found a new pair of shorts.

Cowguy said...

"don't yank them like you're starting a lawn mower"

I couldn't see my screen after that line...

Oh Lord oh Lord oh Lord.

coolred38 said...

So its true...guys always get the wet spot. Nice to know some myths are true.

liferehab said...

What on earth made it smell that bad?!

Nikki said...

I'm baffled. mjenks went to porn stores? No way! Yes huh! He told me so himself! You ma'am are a liar and liars burn in hell!


For some strange reason I want to start singing Jenny's got a gun "Cock locked and loaded!" Hahaha

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ Scope: And it was the happiest day of his life.

@ Cowguy: I couldn't find the exit fast enough after the guy told us that.

@ coolred38: Yeah, I'd like to see Jamie and Adam test that myth out for us.

@ liferehab: Semen has an amine in it called "spermidine". I'm guessing that, as the shit was drying, the spermidine was evaporating and we could smell it.

@ Nikki: Yep. The key is, never use a credit card, because then shit starts showing up in the mail. Not that I'm familiar with that or anything. *shifty-eyed*

Wasn't it Janie? Or have I blocked that part of Aerosmith from my mind?

FoggyDew said...

If I remember correctly, the line was, "I pulled them out like I was rip-starting a Lawn Boy. There was some poop and a lot of hurt feelings." I laughed so hard the first 20 times I read it I may have hurt myself.

I think, just because of that, that issue of Maxim is still buried somewhere in a box in my closet.

Jidai said...

At least you never rode a giant, gold, mechanical dildo while at the porn shop.

Not that I ever did... Shut up!

LiLu said...

I was about to pour cream in my coffee.

Think I'll skip it today.


Kris said...

Nothing but awesome.

Back in the days of yore, my sis worked in a video store, and, sometimes, in the "back room" she *cough* came across many spooged-upon adult movie boxes.

That's just not right man.

Eric said...

Hey, I wonder if I know Jenny.

Frank said...

You, sir, have no shame.

I like.

Soda and Candy said...


That's even worse than sitting in someone else's ass-warmth on a public toilet.

Moooooog35 said...

..this same thing applies to my office chair.

Perhaps I've said too much.

Pearl said...

I heard "Angel is the Centerfold" all the way through this one.

Your brush with fame! Would you believe that my own personal brush with fame is coming up, the friend of a friend will be featured on an upcoming "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" reality show program?



BeckEye said...

That is fucking nasty.

But am I the only one who sees a major problem with this part of the story: And behind the Toys R Us was a sex shop???

Stephanie said...


Lostinspace said...

I would have purged and tossed the offending garment from my body also. Of course someone is saying, hey look, a perfectly good pair of pants, it's my lucky day!

words...words...words... said...

Your Jenny reminds me of my excellent strip club story. It's amazing that I have one, since I've been to a strip club exactly once in my life. I was the best man for my friend Dave's wedding, so I pretty much had to go. And what to my wandering eye should appear but a naked girl wrapped around a pole...who I WORKED WITH.


Lisa-tastrophies said...

I'm not buying it. I think those are the pants you were wearing when you tried to hug me.

Jeanne said...

Came by from Pearl's because your comment there was so freaking funny.

And I was really enjoying this story until about half-way through, when I suddenly remembered that I'm a 55-year-old woman with 8 grandchildren.

You're a fast crowd over here....

(Although, truth to tell, I've always wanted to check out one of those little movie machines (they only cost a quarter back in the day)).

Chemgeek said...


Cora said...

I went into a sex shop with my ex-husband and his friend when I was... ohhh... about nine months pregnant.

I was the only woman there and I was clearly incubating man seed - not at all sexy. The men in there all did double-takes at me and then *poof* one by one they all fled the store.

I cleared the entire sex store in about 30 seconds without uttering a single word!

Impressive, no?

The cashier didn't think so. F*cker. He totally gave me the stink eye.

Pfangirl said...

A Crown of Thistles: Now with 70% more spooge!

Mala said...

Freakin' hilarious! Spooge on the backside of your shorts, three buddies in a porn booth - Totally psyched I found your blog!

Anna Russell said...

I can't leave a smart ass comment today, I'm laughing too damn hard.

Fancy Schmancy said...

Jesus Christ, man, how many splooge stories do you have?


the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ Foggy Dew: Maybe that's where I got the lawnmower line. I think I remember reading that once. However, the dude running the sex shop said something like "I yanked it out of there and suddenly she started screaming something at me in Vietnamese, and I looked down and there was shit all over the back of her legs and the sheets."

@ Jidai: Interestingly enough, I did get thrown out of a Meijer store in Lafayette because I was riding a purple dinosaur ride and singing "Hump the Dino, Hump Hump the Dino" to the tune of "Help me Rhonda" by the Beach Boys.

@ LiLu: No way! Did I actually manage to disgust you?

I think I might retire my TMI-ing if I managed to do that!

@ Kris: We rented a movie from the local video store in Rensselaer. The box had been spooged in. I know your sister's pain all too well.

@ Eric: I dunno. You could give her a call. I hear her number is 867-530--wait, did someone else already make this joke? Curse him!

@ Frank: Squeeeeee! My day has been made.

@ Soda & Candy: Am I taking requests now for next week's stories?

@ Moooooog35: Other guys cum all over your office chair? Do you charge them a dollar, at least?

@ Pearl: I think my real brush with fame was meeting Regis while at ND. I should probably tell that story some day...

@ Beckeye: Ah, see, I was wondering when someone would bring that up! There were a couple of said shops in Lafayette, but we kept going to this one because of its location behind the Toys R Us! Sick, twisted and wrong, yes, but funny nonetheless. They even shared a parking lot!

@ Stephanie: Did you not read last week's post? That pretty much taught me the whole "keep it out of the eyes" lesson.

@ Lostinspace: A valuable lesson: one man's cum-stained pants is another man's treasure.

@ Words^3: Excellent! Was she someone you saw everyday? I always wondered if I would ever see any of my students while I was still in grad school if I had been brave enough to try going to the clubs in "downtown" South Bend.

@ Lisa: Well, no, sadly, that was 14 years and 6 pants sizes ago...

@ Jeanne: Thursdays do get a touch dicey over here. The other days of the week, we're blowing crap up, talking about stupid words, or learning dead languages.

@ Chemgeek: Oh, yes, someone DID make that joke.

@ Cora: So...the cashier decided he'd rather be surrounded by perverts?

@ Pfangirl: Yeah...the amount of semen-centric stories has been on the rise recently...

@ Mala: Hey, thanks! I hope you enjoyed your stay. Come back any day!

@ Anna: Well, thank you, ma'am.

@ Fancy: I don't like to think that I've got a lot of splooge stories...I like to think I've got a very healthy prostate is all.

Nej said...

The sex shop was behind Toys R Us. Nice. :-)