Is there anything funnier than tiny cat pants?
It seems unlikely, but my goal in life is to find out.
posted by Aunt B at 10/11/2005 07:59:00 AM
Like Donnell Alexander says, "It's about completing the task of living with enough spontaneity to splurge some of it on bystanders, to share with others working through their own travails a little of your bonus life." But, it's mostly the kind of place that folks looking for "girls and cars" stumble across by accident.
Kat Coble
Aunt B
Kat Coble
Aunt B
Kat Coble
Aunt B
Aunt B
Kat Coble
Titusina Andronica
Titusina Andronica
bridgett
Yankee, Transferred
Peggasus
Kat Coble
Karan Simpson
Aunt B
***n
Peggasus
Kat Coble
Aunt B
The Butcher--My youngest brother, who lives with me and works as, you guessed it, a butcher. He knows everyone in town.
The Recalcitrant Brother--Our middle brother, who lives in rural Georgia and has a kind of movie star life, if that movie star is Burt Reynolds in Deliverance.
The Reverend--Our Dad, a Methodist minister, perpetually three years from retirement.
Mom--Our Mom. She doesn't get a funny nickname because our mom will not stand for funny nicknames.
Mrs. Wigglebottom--My dog. She's got terrible manners.
The Corporate Shill--Or The Shill, as we call her. My friend from college who was constantly getting me into trouble and going to parties she neglected to tell me about where cute boys would ask her "Where's Aunt B.?"
The Legal Eagle--The Shill's husband.
The Super Genius--She lived next door to me my freshman year of college and we've been friends ever since my first day on the floor.
Miss J.--My first adult friend, meaning the first lasting friendship I made after college. She was my roommate in grad school.
Her Lover--Her Husband.
The Divine Ms. B.--Miss J.'s sister and one of my heroes, because she's brave and funny and mystic and fearless.
JR--My oldest friend. I've known her since I was in the second grade.
Elias--JR's husband and the person who's musical tastes have most strongly affected my own. Oh, how I long to be cooler than him!
The Professor--My closest friend here in Nashville. She's a genius, but she'll never tell you that.
The Man from GM--I've known him since I was 16 and he still hasn't forgiven me for telling him I was a vegetarian when I wasn't.
The Redheaded Kid--No one knows where he comes from or where he goes when he leaves here. I assume he's the Butcher's friend. The Butcher assumes he's mine.
23 Comments:
Wow. I don't really know which is creepier.
1. The fact that the guy calls himself "Davecat". It may be a cultural name with which I'm not familiar but it sounds eerilie like his IM nick.
2. The fact that Oddguy6259 has no one else (apparently) to play video games with.
3. The fact that he calls his giant creepy rubber doll a "teddy bear with benefits."
I imagine a scenario where an overly curious 11-year-old tried to get oral sex from a Teddy Ruxpin doll that unexpectedly ran out of batteries and scarred the tip of his member.
Excuse me while I try to wash out my brain.
I'm still hung up on the use of the term "organic women" as if plastic women are really a viable alternative. That's going to creep me out all day.
I had a girlfriend with silicone parts, does that count?
Of course you did.
My god, you crack me up.
She came over to gather some more of her stuff last night. At this rate, all of her clothes will be out of my house by 2012. About the same time her tits explode.
What the fuck?! She's still not completely gone? My god. That woman is amazing. Did you pay for the tits?
Because, if you did, I'm totally going to go out and stand on the corner and spout poetry in her honor.
I know all we're getting about her is through you, but it's like hearing second-hand about a great high-wire artist. Now, obviously, I'm never getting out on the wire--no balance, fear of heights, etc.--but I can appreciate the artistry involved.
It's the same thing with her. It's not something I would do, but my god, you have to give the woman props for artistic merit.
See you on the corner, today.
What artistry? I'm a sucker for a pretty face.
Yowsa. Well, I'm not sure there is much to say. I knew about RealDolls for awhile, but I haven't ever read a story like this.
Yes, your doll IS manic depressive.
I can't complain too much, these are the type of people who will be putting food on our table once my husband is done specializing.
Sar, since you paid for them, ask her to leave them next time she comes over for a batch of Beanie Babies, My Little Ponies and whatever else she left at your house.
What cracks me up most about the RealDolls (TM) website is how they've posed them all in classic porn stances. My favorite is the Male Doll bent over in the hot tub.
Dude. Can you imagine fighting your RealDoll (TM) for the remote control?!?!
"Yes, Pinocchio, you can be a real man!!!"
I broke my salon boycott* for just long enough to see this. It was all disturbing and shocking and horribly wrong until I got to this:
"For the most part, it's just like sex with an organic woman ... who doesn't say anything and is brimful of Quaaludes"
and then it all went more horribly wrong than horribly wrong should ever be. It would be worse than shooting fish in a stock pot to point out all the ways it is horribly wrong. I could not bring myself to finish the article. But I am still laughing about Teddy Ruxpin.
-SuperGenius
*No reason for it, other than reading it makes me feel like I'm spending too much time with a bunch of too cool for school 2005 model yuppies or whatever the word is now. Or more specifically, I hate the snotty tone that's in every damn article. I'm done being old and cranky now.
SG has convinced me to read the full article, which I'm halfway thru
Most suprising line so far:
"Aside from Sidore, Davecat has never officially dated anyone. "
Oh my god. That woman is totally my hero.
I just have to figure out how to render "She's totally not through with you and knows you're not quite through with her and thus continues to make reasons to continue to see you because she already knows she can usually get you to do what she wants" in iambic pentameter and then I'll be out on the Broadway Park.
I am in awe of her genius.
Beanie Babies? Woo-hoo, nothing says HOT like a woman with a house full of kid's toys.
Okay, I'm done teasing now. Not done laughing, but done teasing.
Now, Kat, come on. That has to be the least surprising line in that whole story.
Don't hurt yourself laughing. I had to pick between bringing you tequila and meeting her at the house. Guess who won?
I was being ironic...yet...
The actual least suprising line in the story is:
"Another prospective customer sent nude pictures of his 60-year-old mother, wanting a custom-built replica."
As Jim Morrison once screamed....
Oh, please. Of course she did. Like I said, obviously, you're not quite done with her.
Don't worry. My ample real tits and I got along just fine without your company.
It would have been nice to have you there, but I can see how an afternoon of sorting My Pretty Ponies might seem like more fun.
Hey, Mom passed away and I miss her.
Don't ask how I got the pictures. Well, okay, here goes: We own this motel out by the old highway. Anyway, I can see into the bathroom of Room #1 through a peephole...
With time, distance, and lunch it becomes funny...I've already identified myself or been identified as white, scandinavian-american, female, midwestern, crazy or any number of other things. Does this mean I have to start identifying as an organic woman too? Do I have to join a support group? Will this impact my voting? Will I be able to resist pointing out that this oxymoron is so stupid it isn't even worth pointing out that it is?
Uh, no on the last one. :)
I will admit that I did start skimming a little bit and the guy talking "mah dogs" and "the sex" made me laugh. Not at the expense of people of the south if that's how you read mah, but at the expense of people who want silicone dogs for the sex.
-SGenius
Well, Super Genius, thank you for bringing up the one part of that article I didn't even want to contemplate.
As a side note, what ever happened to that guy in Peoria whose dad shot him for being married to his dog? Or I guess, more importantly, what ever happened to his dad?
Now, if you're going to put up the article we are going to contemplate the entire thing....salon in all of salon's prurient glory.
Dude, I did not even know some guy married his dog. Apparently the locals are censoring the news they let out. Sounds more like Pekin to me. I was too busy worrying about the hubcap house (google image search hubcap house peoria to see the wonder) closing and that kitchen cooked potato chips are not sold in my area. Ordering them online seems a bit extreme...especially when I get them as a hostess gift every time the locals come to visit.
Also, I know the salon photos are supposed to show the realness but they only seem to show the waxiness.
-The SuperGenius
This was a while ago. I'm going to have to ask my dad, but as I recall, it was very involved. The dog-fucker was called for jury duty, which is how he came to the attention of the media at first, because of how he answered some question about being married.
His dad was so distraught the story in the paper that he went over to the son's house, only to find him with his "wife" and the upset dad shot him.
He didn't die.
But then the dad went on trial. Then my parents moved.
I don't know what ever happened with it.
As for the photos, I recommend avoiding Kat's link, which will take you to the website, which is really disturbing, especially the picture of the guy groping the fake fake boobs*.
*Fake fake being fake ones encased in fake skin as opposed to fake ones in real skin.
Has anybody noticed that Davecat has an oddly Hitleresque haircut? Not that his non-organic girlfriend would really care...
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