Tuesday
Aug032004
Tuesday, August 3, 2004 at 12:01AM
Just Drop It In Water And Presto!
In this day and age all you need is water and you can have instant rice, potatoes, grits, and yes, even instant boyfriends. One of my coworkers returned from Florida and brought a "Grow a boyfriend" to one of the social workers (currently without a boyfriend). The "grow a boyfriend" is touted to grow to six times its original size. Then when you take him out of the water he shrinks back down. Not unlike a real man, this growing six times his size and then shrinking back down can happen again and again. "If you can't get a date, then grow the perfect mate." Well, we all had fun with the comments, double entendres, and insinuations.
It is funny how one thing will remind me of something else. Suddenly I was transported back in time to the summer of 1970 or there abouts - I was 13 and traveling with my boy scout troop to a canoe trip destination of Ely, Minnesota. Long trips can be boring, thank goodness for gas stations. The gas station attendants must have felt invaded when our orange school bus pulled up to their pumps. Boy scouts would pour out both ends of the bus and scatter like a tube of BB's poured onto a concrete floor. Some headed for the restroom, some for the coke machine, some went to browse the tiny sales office, and some to licit change from the cashier. Once the bus was fueled and the scouts were herded back onto the bus, we all compared notes about what we bought. The usual haul was soft drinks, snacks, free maps, and an odd pair of sunglasses. After one gas station stop, there was some whispering and giggling that spread throughout the bus like the ebola virus. One of the scouts purchased something for twenty-five cents from the vending machine in the men's room. This was a brave scout. We always looked at the foreboding machine, some would twist the knobs and pretend to purchase a "rubber," but we never figured anyone had the guts to actually buy one. Such an offense would bring certain punishment of unfathomable proportions. The actual purchase was not a condom, instead, it was a small envelope with two little red capsules in it. On the envelope were the words, "Instant Pussy."
Now, keep in mind, Al Gore had not created the internet yet, so boy scouts did not know about surfing porn on the net. Occasionally, a few torn out photos from a Playboy magazine would circulate from scout to scout like the smuggling of national secrets. Even more rare occasions involved someone having an entire Playboy. I appreciated the entire magazine over the single photo pages, because I enjoyed reading the articles. Hehehe. I am trying to paint a picture here of how horny we all were or thought we were. In some ways it was a competition to produce the best photo of a naked woman or even better, produce an actual female body part. I cannot speak for what everyone else was expecting. I knew it would be erotic, so I was right there when the capsules were dropped into the water. The little cup of water was surrounded by a bus load of warm blooded, heart thumping, heavy breathing, budding hard legs. We just knew it was going to be awesome. Finally, it happened - the capsule opened up and produced a small foam kitty cat.
The disappointment and sexual tension was replaced with laughter and insults for the former hero who purchased the red capsules in the first place. His fortune turned as quick as Jack's in that beanstalk story. Boy scouts want results, not just heroic effort. I did learn something that day. If it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is.
As an adult, our family was out eating at a restaurant. John was about seven years old. He always checked out the restroom in restaurants without fail. Barbara and I were still eating when John returned from the restroom with a request. "Dad, can I have fifty cents for the machine in the bathroom, " he said. He was a sucker for vending machines. I launched into my father mode. "Son, you don't need anything from that machine. That is for when you are a big boy, even bigger, a man." He dropped it and I thought little more of it other than the humor of it all. I had to visit the WC myself, so I headed in there. Exiting, I noticed the machine he must have referenced earlier - it was a cologne machine. What a laugh. All of the cologne brands required leisure suits unbuttoned to the navel and thick gold chains with hub cap sized medallions. Haven't you been in the restroom at a restaurant and seeing one of those machines you think something like, thank God, a cologne machine, my musk oil needs refreshing.
That's it, and it all started with a little $2 gag gift given from one friend of mine to another. So just add water and you can have an instant meal and even an instant boyfriend, just don't expect too much.
Links:
Bathroom Graffiti
More bathroom graffiti
Even more bathroom graffiti
Until the next time
John Strain