You’re the Best – That’s Not What She Said

Jenny left a few months back to go pursue a life of adventure and the opportunity to cuddle and be all ghey, relationship-y with her boyfriend up in Austin. Which left myself in Houston, the lone representative of our That’s What She Said gang. My duty is to continue the dirty jokes, the crude humor, the giggles when someone farts and the crude penis drawings in the most inappropriate places.

This is my duty which I have sworn to uphold, in the lowest of times and in the highest. As I had long suspected for years when encountering other simple childlike drawings of a man’s cucumber – we are not alone. I would go so far as to say we are more prominent than Anonymous and more controversial to parents than any religion. Our numbers are not certain but there are many, across all continents who understood the brief and joyous taboo of imprinting the junk on any surface.

We are That’s What She Said
We are Legend… wait for it… DARRRYY!!
We often Forget the places we’ve tagged
Expect Our Crude Interpretations of Dicks

It is also my pleasure to introduce to all the unfortunate readers who have never been graced with an Incognito Window to comfortably search for “funny penis pictures”, the site that has given many a user a good dirty giggle.

The Accidental Penis

A few shining moments that I take great amusement in (that’s what she said):

You know, in proportion to his body, this dog is the holy grail of dicks.

The dog who will forever be laughed at and treasured. And also the best dog ever to take to a park for little children to pet and cuddle with. Oh, the horrified mothers. Oh the tremendous joy one would have in owning this dog (that’s what she said).

I’m pretty sure that’s about the length of a third leg and a half. And I’m damn sure I’d shit my pants if it were real.

This photo is just a contradiction. No hipster has a big dick. I stand by my beliefs that hipsters in tight pants arose to account for their too-small dicks and suffocated jewels, incapable of reproducing (thank god). I mean, they’re clearly too cool for the rest of us which would imply, they’re too cool to own decent, average or amazing bananas. Obviously, they’re covering up the lack of blessings given at birth with a ruse of hipsters are too cool for sex or appreciation by a female. Ever.

That’s right kids. Never again will you be able to watch Spongebob without wondering about your own junk.

Of course, no post about dicks would be complete without a childhood memory tarnished. Thus, I give you Lego Patrick Star, about to be ticketed for indecent exposure to small children and in turn, made a registered sex offender. Who lives under a rock… I mean really, his life’s just not as grand as I remember.

So make me proud, wherever you are. Tag your childlike penis drawings on the church bathroom stalls, in the envelopes for donations (THAT always promises a good show from the preacher), in the toy aisles of Target and the tables of restaurants. We are more powerful than you realize. You are not alone. I am not alone. Jenny is not alone.

Someone anonymously drew dicks on the symbol of anonymity and my brain hurts from the lack of blame. It’s glorious.

We are That’s What She Said
We are Legend… wait for it… DARRRYY!!
We often Forget the places we’ve tagged
Expect Our Crude Interpretations of Dicks

Jenny, we love you and miss you! Hope Austin is as receptive to incessant dicks as cannibals are to bath salts. ❤

An Ode to My Dear Friend’s Poopwind

I bet your Saturday hasn’t started off nearly as adventurous as ours has. Below you will find a brief introduction to our poopwind conversation, leading to an ode of friendship from the toilet, cities apart.

Brace yourself, yo. It’s about to get dirty. And color-coded so pay attention.

Jojo: Dude, my poo stinks
I’m in the living room now… I febrezed and everything. WTF?

Jenny: Lol Yayyyyyy! Dude I just pooed!
My smell transcends space and time lol

Jojo: It’s rough. I’m kind of impressed. Yay for pootepathy!!!

Jenny: It has to keep you company!

Jojo: Bahaha, but of course, the poopwind will assuage my loneliness in the now stinky, dismal abyss

Jenny: Pure poetry my dear Watson! I can see it now, “An Ode to My Dear Friend’s Poopwind”

Jojo: It is elementary as you might say.

—–

An Ode to My Dear Friend’s Poopwind – from the toilets of Houston and Austin

For the poopwind doth glide on a sunlit morning’s dew
Casting the nasal passages of my soul into nostalgia
Though lonely and dreary, my abyss is not scary
With the scent of her poo wafting to me

One night
As the weight of loneliness did come upon me
I was comforted by the knowledge that in distant lands she too sits
Upon a porcelain throne

Though the output was foul, the fog did abate
I shared my joy of our behavior together with haste
No distance shall stop us when the time knocks loud
Cold white holes embrace bottoms simultaneously
And the poopwind once more is our shroud

A bond unable to be broken by land nor time
Our pootepathy is eternal, preserved in heart and mind
When light turns to dark and the evidence extinguished
The poopwind goes on, carrying our bond into the night

So do not fear your dreams when they turn rather stinky
The farts carry past, only sometimes quite quickly
It will dissipate soon, racing with fervor
To reach her nostrils before the flush rings ominous

And thus when a smile doth breach at that heinous smell
It is only because I know my heart is once more well

—

Yes, we did text a poopwind (fart, for those who have yet to pick up on it – dipshits) poem, with the attempted eloquence of Shakespeare. Well, Shakespeare as he sits on the old toilet, unable to concentrate from grunting stall neighbors and wishing he had a quiet pooping partner. One whose sounds draft an image of Jabba the Hut dressed in tight linens of the early 1600’s.

P.S. If you’re curious about pootepathy, be sure to check out this old post: Pootepathy and Poompathey

Heaven in God’s Belly Button Lint

So Jenny moved to Austin at the end of June, leaving me alone and miserable in Houston. Except not really. I kind of partied. Hardy. Don’t tell her.

Anywho, when she left, apparently Houston got a little ticked off and started pouring down buckets of water daily. We’re talking sunny in the morning and somewhere between 10am and 12pm the storm clouds begin rolling in over the highway.

 Then suddenly, the ocean is being deposited from the clouds over Houston. It looks like this:

Normally, I can see motherfucking downtown from here. NOT TODAY!

That is the picture of the Houston thunderstorm occurring just before this chat started. So now you’ve got context, please join us as we venture into God’s bellybutton, beyond the palace of bellybutton lint and watch as God jumps rope with his umbilical cord.

——–

Jojo:
The sky has broken. I can hardly see the traffic light. I got [coworker] to take a photo with her phone and I’m waiting for it to get to my email to show you.

Jenny:
it broke?
like it’s just a broket faucet?

Jojo:
like it’s a broken faucet that’s a planet wide
and it goes PSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH
that’s water pouring violently from a very wide faucet
not pee

Jenny:
it’s overcast here but not rain clouds
haha god’s peeing on houston
cause it hates you

Jojo:
If that were the case, I’m convinced God’s female

Even they know it’s legit

Cuz no man can spray that wide
unless he’s broken
or pierced

Jenny:
bahaha god’s a punk rocker with a ton of prince alberts

Jojo:
So is that the literal stairway to heaven?

Jenny:
it is; like a waterfall stairway

Jojo:
dude, crawlin up god’s penis
to get to heaven
now i’m just picturing a really hairy palace

Jenny:
majestically shiny and punk

Jojo:
and it’s uncomfortable

Jenny:
bahaha

Jojo:
lots of shiny rings though

Jenny:
dude, what if heaven is nestled in god’s bellybutton
happy trail?

Jojo:
You wouldn’t get lost at least. But what about the lint? I mean, God doesn’t have to clean out his belly button. He’s motherfuckin God.
That’d be like sitting in a smelly sheep coat for eternity

Jenny:
Exactly!

Jojo:
That sounds worse than purgatory!

Jenny:
Wait…..
The lint is the clouds…

Jojo:
….
So would the rapture have taken the good souls through the belly button lint and further into the belly button? Essentially into the intestines of God, if we’re suggesting God had an umbilical cord.
But why the fuck would God have an umbilical cord?
Unless he just wanted to see what it was like?
Do you think he tested out all the human contraptions first?

Jenny:
because its attached to the universe
he created it right?

Jojo:
Like, ooh! this looks like fun! and then like jump roped that shit.

Jenny:
maybe it burst out of his belly

Jojo:
But why would he create it… if he’s the creator.

Jenny:
because….aliens man

Jojo:
Why not just be like, meh. I don’t need one. But I’m gonna create it for the peeps so they can leech off the mothers like the soul-sucking demons they are!
Alright stoner meme guy

Jenny:
hahah i couldn’t think of anything else!
and i like the jump rope idea better
who wouldn’t want an instant jump rope?

—–

So, rather than draw out a very large god penis featuring the Jacob’s ladder all the way up to heaven, I have instead drawn the Linty Palace of Heaven, seen while watching god jump rope with his umbilical cord. Oh, did I mention that Morgan Freeman is God?

Morgan Freeman, man…. Better than aliens.

That’s right. You can’t top this.

Drunken Jousting in Tire Swings

So it all started with a craft space saving idea. Hang folding chairs on the wall and unfold them for shelves and hanging space. Pretty neat, right? I mean, see the picture:

Bloody genius, if you ask me

 

But to get to the real point, Jenny started this whole conversation stating that while yes, the chairs are awesome,  she’d also be inclined to climb up and sit in them when highly intoxicated.

To which I agreed wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, our chat was lost due to someone clicking “Off the Record” all the time *AHEM*.

A few key pointers were:

• Musical drunken wall chairs – Yes, people get hammered and try to crawl up into chairs hung on the wall.
  • Some chairs (only we will know which ones) will be hung up using the beams behind the wall. All the others will be hung on drywall only. Yes, drunk people falling from walls. Awesome
• Chairs swinging from the ceiling
• Chairs morphed into tire swings on the ceiling
• Drunken tire swing jousting
• Drunken tire swing jousting with people driving children’s motorized Tonka trucks around so whoever fell would get hit a bunch of times
• Also syrup filled balloons on the ground so if you fell on ’em, you’d be stickified
• Possibly chicken feathers but only if everyone understood that it’s not racist, it’s funny

Here’s what I would consider to be an awesome event (in an abandoned house or house under construction. not my house.):

Jousting with brooms, motherfucker.

 

You’re invited. Bring booze. Lots of booze.

The Ballad Of Lord KnubWubbin Jr.

So awhile ago, Jordan left me all alone on Gchat…

This of course left me terribly lonely, and I was forced to amuse myself. I decided to entertain myself by writing a small poem. The subject was based upon a teacher I had that was missing part of one of her fingers. Because Jordan and I are so sweet, we named it Lord KnubWubbin Jr. We couldn’t have it feeling all left out just because it wasn’t as complete as all the other fingers!

So while she was gone, I penned this little gem…

The Ballad of Lord KnubWubbin Jr.

Jennifer:  The Ballad of Lord KnubWubbin Jr.
Lost in battle against the beast in the box
After the fight all that left was his socks
No one liked him so they tossed him to the rocks
But thats okay because we’re pretty sure he liked cocks

Jordan loved the poem and praised my awesome nature so much, she insisted I add a visual aid. (Not exaggerated at all…)

Thus, the painting (MS Paint still counts) was born!

All class...that's why everything we make has top hats.

 

A classy, knub filled day to you all! And beware the knubs that favor derrieres…they only bring trouble.