Love Danny: Part II

Last year I received a bunch of emails from Danny of Danny Don't Go. Because they were all about how much he wanted me, I immediately compiled them into a post for my blog - cause I'm shallow like that. In case you're thinking that it's indiscreet of me to post emails from men, please know that Danny was thrilled to be exposed in this manner - cause...well... he's shallow like that. So thrilled, in fact, that he has graced me with yet another perverse adoring email. And here it is, for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.

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brooke:

you know that you love me
even if i freak you out
you know that you need me
and you know what i'm all about

so take of your shirt
and take of your bra
remove, please, your skirt
against this, there is no law

now i shall digitally penetrate
and you shall digitally moan
in real life, you can masturbate
even if I can't...**groan**

i swear i've never had cyber
I have yet to virtually cum
I'm getting plenty of fiber--------------(it ryhmed, leave me alone)
and now you must want some----------(just typing this is giving me a bone)

So saddle up to your keyboard
And remove your playtex please
I promise you won't get bored
You dirty cyber tease

...

...

Ok, I'm done, how was I?
Was it as good for you as it was for me?
I'm sorry for cumming on your virtual thigh
I can't control it with one hand on the keys.

Well, that sure was fun
Even if it lasted just a minute
Remember me when you want some
And we'll digitally "do it!"

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Danny, it was indeed good for me. Oh, and happy birthday! Here's your present.

Drunken Email: Part Two

A guest post from Brandon, of the now defunct - and defunked - One Child Left Behind.

Once a year (OKAY, JUST ONCE) I send Brooke a drunken email professing my undying love for her (OKAY, HER RACK) and because generic Viagra is now down to $2/pill (IN THAILAND) I figured it was time to crack open her woman parts with a pry bar (FIGURATIVELY) by writing her a letter.

Unfortunately, I was given nothing but top shelf liquor for Jesus’ birthday, so I’m in one of those intellectual drunk phases. So my ‘Love Letter’ this year is a tad different:

Dearest Brooke:

On the way to work today I saw a whole mob of religious zealots marching up and down my neighborhood with picket signs reading, ‘THE END OF THE YEAR IS COMING! REPENT!’ and a quick survey of federal statistics will back up their warnings: the average cost to maintain a federal inmate is apparently greater than the average starting salary of a teacher (IN NORTH DAKOTA). And if you take into consideration the fact that the average teacher begins her first day on the job with $17,000 in loan debt, you realize one very amusing tragedy about this country: it is a far wiser economic decision to become a convict than an educator. After all, prison (in most cases) requires no higher education, nor does it reinforce unhealthy eating/binge drinking habits so prevalent among college campuses.

Both colleges and prisons have libraries, workout facilities and free hazing sex, so the advantages for either there are negated. Colleges are generally quieter on the weekend. However, prisons have much better parking. And as many college students know, parking tickets are pretty much the gateway drug to more serious crimes, such as assault with intent to do bodily harm. Which, ironically, has led to what some social scientists have referred to as the ‘over-qualification of the prison body.’ In fact, there is now a greater glut of PhDs hoping to find a tenured position as an associate or assistant prisoner than at any time in our nation’s history. And why wouldn’t they be? After all, because of a loophole in the federal code, it is virtually impossible to collect student loan repayment from a felon serving a life term.

Finishing graduate school in any field other than business, law or medicine is emblematic of having once great hopes utterly destroyed and then debased. In fact, it’s sort of like dreaming of going down on a famous celebrity only to look up after 20 minutes and see that it's Rosie O’Donnell, then spend the next 4 days trying to get the taste of corn dog out of your mouth.

Oh, by the way, if you’re in the neighborhood next Halloween I have a great idea for a couple’s costume: you dress up as a teacher and I’ll dress up as a 14 year old boy willing to feed your ego while you feed on my tender loins in my brother’s van. Well, it’s not so much a ‘costume’ as a ‘scenario.’ Think about it.

Sincerely,

Brandon

PS – I’m drunk and I love you.

PSS – No, wait, I mean ‘I’m IN love with you.’

PSSS – Still waiting for the pictures.

You Can Take It With You

Telephone conversation with a friend while watching The Mummy on television for the 112th time.

Friend: Damn, Brendan Fraser has never looked so good.

Me: I know, he's usually so pasty.

Friend: I think The Mummy is hot, too. I'd do him.

Me: I think mummification should come back in style.

Friend: Did you hear how they removed your brains? No thank you.

Me: Yes, but you're already dead anyway, and with mummification you can take your stuff with you.

Friend: That is a bonus. Ok, works for me.

Me: So what would you take?

Friend: My jewelry for sure. And probably my breadmaker. I love my breadmaker. And I'm sure they like bread in heaven.

Me: You're so sure you're going to heaven?

Friend: Fuck you. What would you take?

Me: George Clooney.

Friend: You are such a freak.

Me: Fuck you, you're the one who wants to do a mummy. You're just pissed you didn't think of him first.

Friend: Do you always think of sex?

Me: Do you always think of food?

Friend: Like you don't.

Me: You can make us toast in the mornings after all the sex.

Friend: You're so sure you're going to heaven?

Me: Oh I'm going to hell. Actually no, I teach in the ghetto! I have a free pass to heaven. And I'll be banging George Clooney for eternity while you serve us fresh toast every morning.

Friend: Fuck you.

Me: Don't forget the butter.

**edited slightly after morning phone call from Friend stating that I didn't get all the dialogue correct. Well excuse the hell out of me. Artistic license or failing memory, you decide.

Love Danny

The following is a series of emails I received from fellow blogger Danny of Danny Don't Go. Young, handsome, and greatly desired by men and women alike, Danny is a white hot talent in the world of poetry.
Danny enjoys long walks on the beach, playing with his children, and spending quality time with Dora the Explorer. Be sure to check out his poetry blog.

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I'm super freaky
It's so fucking true
And in time you'll love me
And I'll love you

I have a dick
And hair in strange places
I'm not a prick
If I want to cover all the bases

One day soon
I'll write a book
And you will swoon
When you see the title is "I love Brooke"

I'm gay.

**Danny is not gay. No doubt disappointing to many.

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It's not all that long
But it's not short either
I'll show you my shlong
If you show me your beaver

I'm hard to resist
With my poems and whatnot
Don't ask if I really exist
You know that, and I'm hot

So teach me oh dear one
Show me the ways
We'll have so much fun
Throwing things at the gays

** Danny and I both have gay siblings and are friends to all people - be they gay, bi, or hetero. Do not send hate mail. If you do, we will post it on our blogs and encourage others to laugh and point.

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If you post this
Please beware
That I'll get pissed
And steal your underwear

Then you'll go comando
And shit will get breezy
I'll be Marlon Brando
If you'll join The Family

**I don't get this part, but I didn't want to seem like a square so I didn't ask him what it meant. I mean, I've seen The Godfather a hundred times, so I get the reference. But I'm not sure what it has to do with loving me while I have no panties on. It should also be noted that Danny spelled Marlon with an "i", but I couldn't handle having a typo like that on my blog.

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Thank you Danny! I will treasure your poems forever! Or at least until the next guy sends me some quality blogworthy stuff.

Subject: Drunk Email

brandon wrote:

well, i'm technically not 'drunk'. i'm probably .19 at the most. although legally, i suppose that IS drunk. but emotionally, i'm as sober as i've been in ages. and i love you. i know that you expect a drunk guy to say something like that to an internet acquaintance whom he's never seen or can verify is actually a woman. but i love you. no, not like THAT, silly! no, i mean i love you in a filthy, emotionally, likable way. and i'm kind of dizzy. i thought you should know that, too, since we're being honest with each other (honesty rules!).

oh, and i'm happy about ANWR. but i'm a total wuss when it comes to entering comment food fights. and i've gotten beaten up a lot this past week in other peoples' comment boxes so i'm afraid of being hurt again. i just want you to hold me.

this drunken email was brought to you by Miller.

brandon

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Brandon,

I am both thrilled and honored to be getting a drunken email spouting your love for me. Being loved in a filthy way is very hot. Despite the fact that I have no doubt you have written this sort of email to at least half the women on your blogroll - I will still hold you close and press you against my boobies. Believe it or not, you aren't the first drunken married internet blogger to profess his undying love for me.

I only wish you had put this on my blog. It's so good! Dammit. But I'll respect your right to privacy and simply torment you endlessly on both of our blogs from here on in.

Happy hangover. Brooke

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brandon wrote:

privacy? pfft. by all means, post it on your blog. it's the best thing i've written all week.

for the record, only 2 other women received drunken emails from me. if i don't have my chivalry, i don't have anything.

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Thanks Brando! You are so very chivalrous. As long as you don't love those other two women in the filthy way that you love me we are all good. Not only do I feel like a pretty pretty (blog ho) princess, but you supplied me with a fabulous post as well. You rock baby. Come here and let Brookie hold you close.