Pubs

I don’t see the fascination in regularly updating a blog. This thing is nothing more than a scripted diary, filtered for a public being assimilated at an ever increasing rate. But I got a call from the Tacolord, suggesting I do it more. What once started as a hobby, a mere aid to my writing skills in developing a better voice from a single character’s perspective now feels like work. Just like he who I seek to doppel, I dislike forced labor.

Since the herd seems to demand it. What could be more public than my pubic hairs? Both words share a similar geometric structure after all. With summer coming around and a new batch of classes offering the possibilities of a few cute girls sitting in what is otherwise a bacon and sausage cooking marathon that is a state college, pubic hairs are very important. Why? Simply because when having sex, it’s best to not occupy a free hand with holding back that river of curls that is the wang’s wig. Free hands are better suited for grabbing things that aren’t attached to your own person.

But what’s the deal with cut pubs? They look like dead bugs, all curled up and motionless, aside from a twitch or two from the wind of an open window or ceiling fan. I don’t know if other people have this happen to them or if my carpet is naturally a little curlier than most. But it’s kind of disturbing, seeing those little fibers decaying and distorted in some sort of mass hair grave. Another go below the torso may be necessary; the sides don’t appear completely even. Some may suggest getting a wax, but something about asking some Asian lady to yank all the hairs away to unveil what I want her to ride seems a little counterproductive. Maybe I should find one of those new age salons that charge way more, but I think the result would be the same with any reasonably attractive woman. I don’t think I could stand the alternative, another guy, either. I’m pretty secure with my sexuality, but I feel a little too exposed. Weakness shown will give him power. Girth created may give him undesired signals. Bleeding may create an awkward moment with a touching of tourniquet to my junk. I could do it myself but, I don’t know. I think I’d rather trust something like that to a professional. I already punish my genitals enough the way it is.

Pubic hairs, what a strangely complicated little world they create over a much larger one. And by large, I mean huge. Nah, I’ll stay with large. It seems more accurate and I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to overcompensate.