That’s All I Have to Say About That

I keep a Moleskine journal in my back pocket to write things down that I want to remember.  I was reviewing it this week and I found an entry I didn’t recognize.  I don’t remember writing it, thinking it, reading it or hearing it; but sure enough it’s in my handwriting.  And it doesn’t look like I was drunk when I wrote it.

So I can’t really comment on it or attribute it if somebody else who might have said it first.  It does sound like something that might have come from the dark recesses of my slightly disturbed mind, but I can’t even remember any context that might have triggered it.  I wouldn’t even blog about it if it wasn’t something that I think would tickle Aunt B.

So without further adue, verbatim:

“Did you ever use cheap toilet paper to clean off a penis (yours or his) after sex and end up making it look more like a papier mache piñata?  Just curious.”