Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2013-12-20 11:49 pm
azurelunatic) wrote2013-12-20 11:49 pm
60 inches of fun
The Renaissance Man has been setting up his new tv and associated media empire. "60 inches of fun!" he said, or words to that effect, stretching out his arms on the diagonal.
I snerked. "Sorry," I said, with the inflection that means "Sorry; I have a dirty mind and something that you just said set off the innuendo machine."
He eyebrowed for clarification, so I went on.
"Remember that incident with my Analysis & Design final, and the 36 inches?"
He did.
Thus began a righteous bundle of dick jokes. The ones in his office that five minutes were quiet out of respect for the possibility that some people might still be around in the increasingly deserted offices, and mostly involved a story about some asshat on IRC at some point who used to intimidate the channel by complaining about how ridiculously oversized his dick was. Eventually the Renaissance Man got fed up enough to offer exaggerated sympathy for the serious logistical problems that this guy must be facing with a dick that comedically large. This flustered the guy, and everybody else in the channel circled like the little sharks that clean up after the big ones. The guy didn't cause problems after that.
I finished up with my data-entry-and-whamming just around the time that downstairs was starting to put away all the thematic fun, but there were still leftovers. That was also about the time that the Renaissance Man got off an epic conference call. We snagged some of the angry tomato marinara and associated tasty bits and went to go enjoy the fire pit.
We debated Twilight for a while (I've only read the books, he's only seen the movies) and had a lively discussion. Eventually everybody else wandered off, because it was getting dark and somewhat chillier. We were in no hurry though. I can't remember what brought it up, but something came up where I indicated that the usual response to that situation is a gesture that doesn't really belong in the workplace. He exaggerated a glance around for co-workers, of whom none were visible owing to the evening hour and outside-ness. Cheerfully, I demonstrated the two-finger cheek-poke blowjob gesture. Which started a discussion of the gestural etymology for the follow-up, which started in a particular fast-food place as an unzipping "blow me" gesture, but eventually became a much quicker apron-flip. (There was also discussion of Clan of the Cave Bear, Valley of the Horses, Stranger in a Strange Land, and I Will Fear No Evil. Ahh, the literature of our youth. He hadn't read I Will Fear No Evil.) And then of course the penis game, which I had to explain after mentioning it by name. He was familiar with the game, but since there are many activities which could fall under that title, it wasn't the first concept he'd retrieved.
Rule 34 was in there somewhere, also.
I snerked. "Sorry," I said, with the inflection that means "Sorry; I have a dirty mind and something that you just said set off the innuendo machine."
He eyebrowed for clarification, so I went on.
"Remember that incident with my Analysis & Design final, and the 36 inches?"
He did.
Thus began a righteous bundle of dick jokes. The ones in his office that five minutes were quiet out of respect for the possibility that some people might still be around in the increasingly deserted offices, and mostly involved a story about some asshat on IRC at some point who used to intimidate the channel by complaining about how ridiculously oversized his dick was. Eventually the Renaissance Man got fed up enough to offer exaggerated sympathy for the serious logistical problems that this guy must be facing with a dick that comedically large. This flustered the guy, and everybody else in the channel circled like the little sharks that clean up after the big ones. The guy didn't cause problems after that.
I finished up with my data-entry-and-whamming just around the time that downstairs was starting to put away all the thematic fun, but there were still leftovers. That was also about the time that the Renaissance Man got off an epic conference call. We snagged some of the angry tomato marinara and associated tasty bits and went to go enjoy the fire pit.
We debated Twilight for a while (I've only read the books, he's only seen the movies) and had a lively discussion. Eventually everybody else wandered off, because it was getting dark and somewhat chillier. We were in no hurry though. I can't remember what brought it up, but something came up where I indicated that the usual response to that situation is a gesture that doesn't really belong in the workplace. He exaggerated a glance around for co-workers, of whom none were visible owing to the evening hour and outside-ness. Cheerfully, I demonstrated the two-finger cheek-poke blowjob gesture. Which started a discussion of the gestural etymology for the follow-up, which started in a particular fast-food place as an unzipping "blow me" gesture, but eventually became a much quicker apron-flip. (There was also discussion of Clan of the Cave Bear, Valley of the Horses, Stranger in a Strange Land, and I Will Fear No Evil. Ahh, the literature of our youth. He hadn't read I Will Fear No Evil.) And then of course the penis game, which I had to explain after mentioning it by name. He was familiar with the game, but since there are many activities which could fall under that title, it wasn't the first concept he'd retrieved.
Rule 34 was in there somewhere, also.
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