March Comes In Like a Lion, Blows Out Like a Lamb

Hi kids!  It's me again.  Here for what is turning out to be my monthly blog post.  It seems like my monthly posts are going to be about blowjobs.  There are worse subjects, I suppose.  I'm a horrible person for not blogging more and probably should be punished. 

You know who else should be punished?  Pastor John Naylor.  A fine upstanding man of god.  But, he'd probably like his punishment...especially if he could pay you for it.  

Pastor John Naylor was arrested for paying for an 8-minute, 20 dollar blowjob. It seems John went out cruising for a little sucky after visiting someone in the hospital.  That's just like Jesus used to do.  Heal the sick, get a blow job.  Make the blind man see, demand a hummer as payment.  And if Jesus H. Christ raised someone from the dead, the newly minted zombie had to give Jesus a blowjob and hand wash all of his delicates.  

But back to 8-minute John.  Hey...he's a john named John! Anyway...

John didn't realize that the police were watching him as he picked up the prostitute and drove to a house. Eight minutes later he and the prostitute exited the house. John had a huge smile on his face, and the prostitute was shoving massive amounts of Wrigley's Spearmint gum into her mouth.  Rumor also has it that he paid the prostitute an extra 20 bucks to stay in the house 6 minutes longer than necessary just so he didn't look like a freak.  The funniest part is that the police had no proof that he'd paid her for a blow job. John admitted that not only had he received a blow job that night, but that he'd paid hookers several times before.  

Ah...confession is so goddamn good for the soul.  


Big hugs,
Babs

I would have charged WAY more than 20 beans.

Jerkin' Off for Jesus!

Do you know what's happening this coming Sunday?  I'm so excited!  It's PORN SUNDAY! 

I'm sure you're wondering what Porn Sunday is, aren't you?  Well, it's the brain child of Craig Gross who is the dude in charge over at the XXX Church in Dallas.  From what I can tell, Craig loves porn almost as much as he loves Jesus, so he had to start a church about porn addictions.   

I think the following explains how Craig came to start a porn church, and it's really a good how-to guide if you're wanting to start a porn chuch of your own. 

So, on Porn Sunday, there will be over 300 churches across the US that are going to play a simulcast video of some NFL players and Craig talking about porn.  You know what I think?  I think that Craig's fantasy might be to be the middle meat in a big 'ol football team manwich. 

There are even going to be pre-game parties for Porn Sunday.  I'd go to one, but I'm not sure what kind of dip is appropriate to take to a Porn Sunday pre-game party. 

If you can't make it to a pre-game party or church on Porn Sunday, then I think the least you can do is rub one out for Jesus.

Happy Wanking!

Babs

I've Got a Handle on the Situation

Yesterday in a fit of domesticity, I was sweeping the hallway and backed into the closet door. During the simultaneous backing and sweeping, I somehow managed to get the door handle stuck through the center, back belt loop of my jeans.  The handle looks as such: 



Not the actual handle, but close to what it looks like.  It would take effort to take a picture of the actual lever, and I don't think any of you are surprised that absolutely no effort is put into this blog. 



I tried scooching my butt to the side so I could free myself, but my belt loop kept hanging up on the curled part of the handle.  Plus, I couldn't see what was going on and I was having to work behind my back which made things even more difficult.   

After a couple of minutes of trying to extricate myself, I started to panic. It was 3 hours before Eric would be home. There was no way I could take off my jeans. My phone wasn't in reach for me to call someone to come set my ass free (literally), and I seriously doubted that our two cats would be able to extricate me or go for help. In fact, they're so fat and lazy, they'd probably pass out from sheer exhaustion before they got halfway down the driveway (plus, they're horrible with directions).

I was beginning to worry about how I could possibly entertain myself for three hours while being attached to a door, but more importantly, what if I had to pee???  And then I thought that some chick being freed from the closet door by the UPS man who heard her screams for help, would make for a really, really bad porno scenario.  So, if you're in the market to make a really, really bad porno, feel free to totally steal this idea. 

Anyway, back to my predicament. 

I suppose that all that panic created a little bit of an adrenalin rush, because I somehow managed to rip the door off the hinges.  WITH MY ASS. 

Okay, that was a big, fat lie.  The reality is that with a few more panic-induced tries and a string of words that would make a longshoreman blush, I was finally able to loosen myself from the door handle. 

I don't really think there's a moral to this story except to maybe watch where you're sticking your ass. 

You probably want to watch what you're sticking up your ass, too. 

Big Ol' Butt Slaps,
Babs

Scandal #1 for 2011

Yes, it's been awhile.  I've been a busy girl.  Last month I moved in with Eric the Bastard.  I think the popular kids are calling living together "domestic partnership" now.  I prefer either "living in sin" or "shacking up".  "Shacking up" sounds especially white trashy doesn't it?  After getting everything moved, I was forced to celebrate Christmas and New Year's.  Throw in a hurt shoulder from moving a 986 pound desk down a flight of stairs, and then a week and a half of puking and I haven't really felt like blogging. 

To kick things off for 2011, I'm bringing you a story of depravity, debauchery and maybe a little dickerydoo.  The director of the Missouri Baptist Convention, Dr. David Tolliver, has resigned from his position due to "immoral behavior with a woman".  Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find any information on what the "immoral behavior" was.  What the hell kind of reporting is that, news people?  I want to know exactly what Dave did with this woman.  I want details.  I want graphs and charts.  I want photos.  Did they do it?  Did he just feel her up a little after Sunday School?  Did he just waggle his dick at her?  Was she even really a woman?  Maybe he just popped a boner while feasting on the Chicken Surprise Casserole she brought to the after church fellowship. 

Whatever it was, I'm sure it was all Satan's fault.  And, after seeing a pic of Dave, I've changed my mind about needing photos.  

Big Hugs,
Babs  

Thou Shalt Not Use Facebook

After reading an article about Pastor Cedric Miller's view on Facebook, I'm demanding that Facebook change it's name to "Fornicationbook".  Yes, it's a tad wordier, but hella more appropriate.  You see, kids, Cedric believes that seemingly innocent re-connecting with old friends and flames on Facebook leads to adultery and and all manner of debauchery.  I have to agree with him.  Facebook is a den of iniquity that is teeming with the allure of high school exes and hookups that never happened.  And it makes my naughty parts tingle every single fucking time I sign on. 

I guess I just have a lot of fortitude, because god in heaven knows how tempting it is to want to hook up with the ex-boyfriend who gave me slobbery kisses in the backseat of a '73 Plymouth Duster while clumsily trying to cop a feel of my boobs.  And the fact that we haven't seen each other in over 20 years and probably don't have a goddamn thing in common makes an affair even MORE alluring.  Sweet merciful lord save me!

But enough about me. 

Let's get back to Pastor Cedric.  Not only did Cedric claim that Facebook was a "portal to infidelity", he even demanded that his church leaders delete their Facebook accounts or resign from their positions. 

Speaking of positions, I wonder which one Cedric was in when he and his wife had a three-way affair with a church member a few years ago. 

A male church member.

Yes Sirree Bob!  After delivering his Facebook sermon, it was revealed that ol' Ced was getting his kink on in a little holy trinity of his own. 

Well, A-fucking-men and pass the anal lube!

You can read about Cedric here  and here. 

Big wet sloppy kisses and boob grabs,

Babs

Hug Me

Have you recently had a pet that crossed Rainbow Bridge and is now in that big pet park in the sky?  Do you wish you could still wrap your arms around your pet and give him or her a great big hug?  Well, wish no more.  In just five easy steps, you can have your arms wrapped around Fifi Fluffydoodle lickityfuckinsplit!   

1.  Have your pet cremated.  This may require some digging and a really big bonfire if you already went with a conventional burial. 


2.  Go over to softhearted.com and order one of their pet pillows with the special ash pouch. 


3.  Tuck the plastic bag of pet ashes into the pouch. 


4.  Put the special ash pouch inside your pillow. 


5.  Hug the life out of your pet!  Well, I guess that's not possible, but you can hug really, super duper hard. 


One of the many, many totally groovy things about the pet pillow is that it will accommodate a wide variety of pets: rats, birds, ferrets, rabbits, reptiles, dogs, cats, weasels, skunks, armadillos, lemurs - anything up to 150 pounds.  That's 150 lbs before cremation, so your pet Sasquatch's ashes won't fit.  Your pet pillow also comes in three neutral colors that are sure to match your decor, as long as you decor is creepy enough to include a pillow with your pet's ashes stuffed inside it. 

But the best part about the pet pillow? You can get one for as low as $110.  That's right!  Only 110 measely stinkin' American dollars. I know at first that may seem like a lot of money for a throw pillow, but it has a special ash pouch!  A pouch that holds pet ashes!  Of course, you could just buy the pouch for 10 bucks and shove it in a throw pillow you already have, but I don't think it would be as magical or huggable. 

What are you waiting for?  Go order your pet pillow now!

Great big non-ashy hugs,
Babs

Disclaimer:  Neither Flumaiddle, Inc., its affiliates, associates or asshats have an affiliation with Soft-Hearted Products, nor does Flumadiddle, Inc., its affiliates, associates or asshats even have a soft heart.

HOLY FUCK!

I haven't posted anything here since October 13th. What the hell is wrong with me? I mean besides all that. I hereby solemnly vow that I will try my damnedest to be a little more frequent with my blogging.

For today's post I thought we were due another installment of Desperately Seeking. We haven't had one in a long time, so I'll explain. The stat counter I use for my blog keeps track of all the searches people have conducted that have landed them here at Flumadiddle. Then I share the better ones with you, and by "better", I mean "more demented". So...here we go! The queries are in bold, my answers are not so bold.

•Who made fruitie balls? – The same company that makes Savorie Sacs.
•Penis inside vagina, she said huck me - oh huck me! Huck me harder!
•Bipolar express is that a joke? Yes. As well as bipolar cap and bipolar bear.
•How to wear pink pumps – Grasp a pump firmly in one hand. Slide it onto a foot. Preferably yours. Repeat on other foot. Tada!
• Virginity sho – Is this a fill in the blank? I’ll play along. Virginity sho’ was a long time ago.
• Flaming seal – C’mon. Clubbing them is bad enough, but setting them on fire is just too much. Unless you mean, flaming, as in gay flaming. Well, in that case, flame on you fabulous seal!
•Liver cleanse nibiruan council oil coke- I don't even have an answer for this one. Seriously. What the fuck were you on when you Googled this shit?
•Flumadiddle recipe – It’s 3 parts flum to 7 parts diddle. Whisk until frothy. Enjoy!
•Nun fuck blogspot - This one actually makes a lot of sense.

I sincerely hope everyone is doing well and that your life is going exactly the way you want it to.

So much love it will choke you,
Babs