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15 entries this month
Alright…Fine…Let’s Talk About My Hernia05:34 May 31 2013
Times Read: 538
It was two years ago, to the day, that I was standing naked in my bathroom…which by the way, is one of the two most preferred rooms for nudity, according to polls. I’m not at all sure the reason for my nudity…perhaps a shower…perhaps I had just woke…perhaps I was merely feeling wild and free…but in any event…there stood I…unsuspecting…ignorant to the possibilities of such a vulnerable state.
I coughed. I wasn’t lifting a fallen car off a family member…I wasn’t dead lifting 10,000 lbs…and the cough wasn’t of the dedicated smoker variety…I wasn’t red faced and hacking up a lung. This was a simple every day small clearing of the throat cough…it wasn’t even deserving of a covering fist over my mouth and the cough wasn’t a multiple…it was a single…again small…~kawph~.
Do you understand? On the “Universal Cough Scale”…that being 1 to 10 with 1 being the least and 10 being the worst…I would estimate this cough would be rated at a…-1. It’s almost embarrassing to even call this single cough…a cough. If what ensued after hadn’t happened, I might not have noticed I coughed at all…it was miniscule…absolutely forgettable…~kawph~.
That’s when the Alien tried to escape from my abdomen…that’s exactly what it looked like. We all remember the scenes from the “Alien” movies when the creatures burst from the hosts’ bodies…that first push that stretches out the flesh…the creatures head poking upward.
~kawph~…~BLOOP~.
A number of thoughts and feelings went through my mind as I gazed down at the, easily golf ball sized, protuberance. First was disbelief of what I was seeing…I mean…it’s not every day an interior organ tries to escape from my body. Then came the “Alien” connection and I chortled. Then my mind snapped back to the seriousness of the situation. Then I scanned my extensive mental folk remedies and came up with nothing…no files on extruded intestines. Then I realized I had no pants that would accommodate extruded intestines. Then apprehension and revulsion engulfed me, knowing what I was about to do. All that went through my mind in a time span of, roughly, 1 second long.
What did I do?!
I pushed the goddamn thing back in! I held my palm hard against my abdomen waiting to see if pain of some sort was forthcoming. I stood still…nothing was pushing back against my palm, but knowing how little was required to start this incident, I was fearful to take my palm away.
See…this is one of the moments that suck to be alone because there was no one I could call out to…”HONEYBUNNY! MY INTESTINE IS POKING OUT!”…anyway…
Eventually…slowly…like unbuttoning a woman’s blouse…I took my hand away. There was no pain and no protuberance business going on. My abdomen was flat…flat abdomens are good. I rocked and shook my hips first slowly and then with growing confidence vigorously…I jumped up and down…nothing.
I’M GOOD!
Dirty Talk17:00 May 24 2013
Times Read: 561
I know I know I know…again…this may come as a bit of a shock…this may seem unlikely, or even impossible in this day and age…but…I have never in my life…no…not even in fantasies…I have never “Talked Dirty” to a woman…ever. And not only as unlikely as that may seem, nor have I ever experienced a woman “Talk Dirty” to me…ever.
Please…give me a moment…*AHHhhhHhhhAAaaaaaa ha haaa hahahaha haaaa hahaaaa!*…alright…*AAAhhhhhHHhhhaaaaa HA HA HAaaaaHahahahaaaaaa*…alright…alright…*holds up hands*…I can do this.
When a lion brings down a zebra, does it say…”OOoooOOo…Ohhhhh…I’m gonna really…OOooooo…eat you hard, zebra!”…of course not…a lion just does it! When a Spider scampers down its web to a tasty fly, does it say…”OOOoooOOOoo….Ohhhhhhh…I’m gonna spin you every…OOooooo…which way, fly!”…again, of course not…the spider simply silently spins away…the zebra and the fly both know what’s happening, they don’t need to be told.
Yours truly is much like the noble lion and crafty spider.
During break time at work, at the smokers outside picnic table, the topic of “Dirty Talk” came up. One of the females was texting her new boyfriend and I jokingly asked if they were “Dirty Texting”…she smiled…they were…I was intrigued.
I freely admitted my deficiency and asked…
Me…” How does one do such a thing…what is said…give me an example?”
Females…“We don’t know!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”Oh come on! You were just typing something dirty, what was it?”
Female…”…(Covers cell phone)…I don’t know!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”Well…what kind of words do you use?”
Females…”We don’t know!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”Do you use the word ‘c*ck’?”
Females…”YES! We use the word ‘c*ck…~giggle giggle giggle~”!”
Me…”So…you don’t use p*nis, d*ck or p*cker?”
Females…”NO! We like the word ‘c*ck’!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”I see…fascinating…do you say things like…‘throbbing c*ck’?”
Females…”C*cks can throb?!...~giggle giggle giggle!”
Me…”Oh yes, ladies…c*cks can throb.”
Females…”We’ve never heard that a c*ck could throb!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”Well…it can. Do you ever say anything like “Juicy c*ck’?”
Females…”…~GIGGLE GIGGLE GIGGLE~…NO!”
Me…”What do your men say to you? “
Females…”We don’t know!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”Do they use words like ‘p*ssy’?”
Females…”YES!...~giggle giggle giggle~”
Me…”I thought you ladies didn’t like that word?”
Females…”’P*ssy’ is okay…we just don’t like the ‘C’ word!”
Me…”Fascinating.”
Then we had to go back to work and that is all I could glean (good word) from them on the topic of “Dirty Talk”.
Dear Markus,12:23 May 22 2013
Times Read: 596
You can take your dating website…Plenty of Fish…and blow it straight out your ass. YOU…don’t have the right (your site or not) to dictate to…ME…the age bracket…YOU…think applies for…ME…that’s…MY…decision…not…YOURS!
Don’t concern yourself with terminating my Profile…I…will delete such and I hope there will be enough others doing the same to hurt your advertizing attractiveness. I don’t know who you think you are…but…trust me…you’re not.
Sincerely, Fuck you.
Mr. Tu
That’s the note I’m sending to Markus before I delete my Plenty of Fish Profile.
Here is what Markus sent the Plenty of Fish community that has prompted this action…
1. Any first contact between users that contains sexual references will not be sent. Anyone who tries to get around this rule will be deleted without warning. This rule has actually been in effect since last month and it's made the site so much better.
2. You can only contact people +/- 14 years of your age. There is no reason for a 50 year old man to contact a 18 year old women. The majority of messages sent outside those age ranges are all about hookups. Anyone who tries to get around this rule will get deleted.
3. Intimate Encounters will go away in the next few months. There are 3.3 Million people who use the site every day, of those there are only 6,041 single women looking for Intimate Encounters. Of those 6,041 women, the ones with hot pictures are mostly men pretending to be women. Intimate Encounters on POF can be summed up as a bunch of horny men talking to a bunch of horny men pretending to be women.
Spanking Women16:39 May 21 2013
Times Read: 602
I understand that this may come as a shock…especially for Ruby…so…for God’s sake…sit down! Ruby has the firm belief, for some unknown reason, that yours truly has competed in the Woman Spanking Arena. In the spirit of full disclosure, I feel the record should be set straight…I should come clean…I should no longer lurk in the attractive shadows of assumption.
In my 57 years of dashing about this world…that’s 57 Christmases…57 Halloweens…57 Easters…57 Labor Days…57 New Years Eves and 57 Presidents Days…I must now…unequivocally …unashamedly…free of coercion…proclaim and finally admit…that I…The Heterosexual Professor…Mr. Tu and his inner child Michael, have never…spanked a woman.
Now don’t misunderstand, the allure of such an action is acknowledged…butt…I wouldn’t even know how to broach this subject with a romantic interest. Is spanking a discussable posterior event? Is such spoken about in hushed whispers? Is such asked or proclaimed? Does the male, at some point during pitching woo, say…”Honeybunny, when we’re doing it doggy style, I’m going to give your pooper a good what fer!”…and then wait for a positive, or negative, response? I’m finding that hard to believe.
Or do women give subtle hints? I can remember taking someone’s wrist and then whacking them in the head with their hand while saying…”Stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself stop hitting yourself!”…do women use this approach? Do you take his hand off your breast and start hitting yourself on the buttocks with it…~slap slap slap…slap slap slap~?
And what about velocity?
Do women use some form of “Goldilocks” scale? Do you make the male first slap a pillow and evaluate? ~slap slap slap~...“Oh…that’s too soft.”…~SLAP SLAP SLAP~…”Oh that’s too hard!”…~SlAp slaP SlaP!...”OOOooOOo that’s just right!”. Or perhaps velocity is in direct proportion to the passion flow and ebbing?
As I’ve stated, I have no idea, I’ve never practiced this activity.
I once had a woman tell me that one of her lovers liked to spank her breasts! NOW THAT’S INSANE! One…doesn’t…spank…breasts! Why in the hell would a man spank a woman’s breasts? What kind of warped underlying psychosis is at work there?! I can’t even imagine doing something like that! Why?
It’s a crazy world.
Almost 18 / The Moment Of Truth04:22 May 19 2013
Times Read: 661
Now…when I was a wee lad (Scott Eaker…notice the double “e”.) I never went to “Camp”. My elder brothers went every summer to what I believe was “Church Camp”…you know…two weeks out frolicking in a forest with contemporaries. I’m sure they learned many things…how to read a compass…how to read bear scat (that’s shit)…how to start a fire with two sticks…the nuances of proper panty raiding…how to construct a “Sock Ball” mace to mercilessly beat one’s younger brother with, and I’m sure they learned how to swim. I remember their “High Board” antics at Roger Young Park…while…and I admit this unashamedly…I splashed about in the “Kiddie Pool”.
As I’ve said, I never went to “Church Camp”…I don’t know why I didn’t…perhaps it went out of style before I was of age…perhaps it was a monetary issue…again I don’t know. So consequently I never learned to swim as a child and as a teen I avoided water activities like the plague. So many times I’d have to come up with excuses to exclude myself from water frivolities…”Ummmm…I have to go home and help my mother take her pills!”…something…anything to extract myself from a liquid situation.
Ahhhh ha ha haaaaa…I hear some of you like bees in my brain…”Mr. Tu I remember seeing you in swimming pools!”…perhaps…but…did you see me in deep water? Did you see me in water over my head? *raises an eyebrow*
Let’s flash forward…August…Senior year…I’m almost 18…”Two A Day” football practices…the morning practice completed and almost the whole goddamn football team is going out to Whirlpool Park to swim in it’s now suspect waters! I was a Senior…I was a role model (Ahhh ha ha haaaa…yeah.) to the younger players…I had to go…peer pressure left me no way out…son…of…a…bitch!
We arrive at Whirlpool Park and I think to myself…*Alright…just go hangout at the concession stand…nosh an ice cream sandwich and bikini watch.*…BUT NO…everyone is going to get in line for the diving board…everyone! WONDERFUL! JESUS CHRIST!
See…I had…and still do…the uncanny ability to ignore disaster up until the moment of truth…until the moment when reality rears its most ugly head…ignore ignore ignore until it’s sink or swim…literally.
There I am standing in that diving board line with my comrades…~Boing…Splash~…I have never swam a stroke in my life…~Boing…Splash~…my mind is screaming…*RUN!* …~Boing…Splash~…I have never been in water over my head…~Boing…Splash~…I can’t get out of line…~Boing…Splash~…I can’t…~Boing…Splash~…if I don’t do this I’ll never live it down…~Boing…Splash~…never…~Boing…Splash~…my mind asks…*What if we drown?* …~Boing…Splash~…I answer…*That’s better than humiliation.* …~Boing…Splash~…*Shit.* …~Boing…Splash~…*OH SHIT.* …~Boing…Splash~…*OH NO NO NO NO NO!* …~Boing…Splash~…it’s now my turn.
If I had been Catholic, I would have made the Sign of The Cross…to this day I remember looking down that board and the deep water beyond…I remember having the revelation that machismo could possibly get one killed, but mostly I remember that deep blue now suspect water. Finally I simply thought to myself…*Fuck it*…
…~Boing…Splash~…
I swam.
Ya Know02:33 May 19 2013
Times Read: 665
...I bet Jennifer Aniston stands in front of her mirror naked...cups her breasts and just laughs her ass off.
Frankie & Johnny (1991)18:43 May 17 2013
Times Read: 669
This has been bothering me for a very long time.
Al Pacino & Michelle Pfeiffer…Johnny has just been released from prison, and gets a job in a cafe beside waitress Frankie. Frankie is a bit of a loner, but Johnny is determined their romance will blossom and yes of course in true Walt F. Disney style…it does.
Now…even as a waitress Michelle Pfeiffer is HOT and hardly needs a romance with a dish washer X con…although I’m sure this happens in the real world all the time. Let’s forget the unlikelihood of this union…that’s not what bothers me about this movie even though we all know damn well such would never ever happen…BUT…for the sake of argument…let’s pretend.
It’s the last scene…the ending. We have Frankie & Johnny sitting on a windowsill in Frankie’s apartment…I believe in the early morning…brushing…their…teeth.
Those I’ve witnessed brush their teeth and my very own personal experience with this orally hygienic endeavor, gives me one undeniable truth…BRUSHING ONE’S TEETH MAKES ONE HELL OF A MESS!
HEY! There has to be a sink…or a bathtub…or a toilet…RIGHT THERE! I have toothpaste froth flying all over the place! I cannot even wear a shirt when I brush my teeth! I have to have a wet cloth in my immediate vicinity to continually wipe toothpaste droppings off my chest! I have bubbles and toothpaste driblets running down my chin in rivers! I couldn’t sit on a windowsill in the early morning and brush my teeth! And if I…being one…couldn’t do this…how in the hell could TWO people do this?!
Yet…there they are…TWO…people…Frankie & Johnny…both quietly brushing away. They couldn’t have had toothpaste on their brushes! Did you see toothpaste? I sure as hell didn’t see a single toothpaste bubble or dropping! Who the hell brushes their teeth with no toothpaste?! And even more disturbing…they expect me to believe TWO people would brush their teeth without using toothpaste?! TWO people in the same room?! No toothpaste?!?! At the same time?! Neither would say to the other…”Hey! Why don’t you use toothpaste when you brush your teeth?!”…and even more unbelievable neither would say…”Hey! Can’t we brush our teeth near a sink?”! They weren’t even near a goddamn sink!
And now that I’m really thinking about it…neither of them spit even once! Of course…I suppose if one is going to brush their teeth with NO toothpaste there’s really no need for a sink to spit into! So…let me understand this…Frankie & Johnny weren’t really brushing their teeth, because of no toothpaste, at the end of the movie…they were simply dislodging food scraps from that greasy dinner they worked at and since they didn’t spit…then…that could only mean they were swallowing said greasy food scraps. Yeah…that’s really romantic.
This is what I think about every time I brush my teeth.
The Hibbidy Bibbidy Rodeo16:43 May 16 2013
Times Read: 681
At the end of my last post a very naughty woman hinted that it wasn’t the size of a man’s penis, but the way he used such that made the difference between a good…or…a bad…lover. Please, give me one second here…(Ahhhh ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaahaaaahahahahaha haaaaa). What?! How he uses it?
Now…*straightens tie*…I am going to assume this very naughty woman (who will not be named) was referring to “normal” copulation…that being tapped on the forehead with it wasn’t what she meant…nor having it inserted into foreign orifices. I am taking her meaning as the regular age old tried and true “Hibbidy Bibbidy Rodeo” (which will be known from here on out in this post as “HBR”).
So let’s examine exactly what a man can do with his…as she called it…”Flesh Injector” ( which will be known from here on out in this post as “FI”) during the HBR.
Well…a man can go in and out with his FI…*ponders and re-straightens tie*…ummmmm….oh….different tempos…*ponders*….ummmmm….*ponders more*…yeah…that’s about it. That’s the show ladies and gentlemen!
Alright…ALRIGHT! On further contemplation, I concede…I suppose a side to side rocking motion…which at this time I will christen “The Pirate Ship”…could be achieved…but…such would prohibit a continual thrusting action…so that’s an either or proposition. Well…now that I’m stretching the boundaries of the noble FI…I suppose…a circular motion could as well be produced…which at this time I will name “The Whirly Bird”…but again…continuous thrusting would be prohibited…unless.
Unless the man firmly plants his hands on the mattress while rising on his tip toes…then and only then…could “The Pirate Ship” and “The Whirly Bird” manifest during thrusting. Men, at this point I would suggest no ceiling mirrors because you’re going to look pretty fucking silly.
Did you know if you had “The Chicken Pox”, you have the “Shingles Virus” inside you?! I just found that out from the television…Jesus!
Anyway…yeah…that’s the whole enchilada! I have no idea what else a man could do with his FI…I mean…it’s not a goddamn magic wand!
(Now that I…”The Heterosexual Professor”…have had my fun…*straightens tie yet again*…allow me to inform you what really makes…or breaks…a HBR. Satisfaction has little, or practically nothing to do with physical acrobatics. One must satisfy their partners psychological desires…period.)
Karma For Sale13:42 May 15 2013
Times Read: 688
I cannot believe all my life I have been simply giving it away! I might as well been throwing money right out the window! Time after time after time after time! What have I been thinking?!
Karma never misses an opportunity to prove me wrong…NEVER! If I say…”The Cleveland Browns are going to the Super Bowl this year.”… THEY DON’T! If I say…”There’s no way Obama will get elected a second time!”…HE DOES! IT…NEVER…FAILS!
Last night before work, at the smoker’s picnic table, a female co-worker was about to scratch off $20 worth of Scratch Off Tickets and that’s when it hit me. I exclaimed…”WAIT!”…and then made this proposition…if she gave me half of any winnings…I would say to her something along the lines of…and I explained I was not really saying it…that it was merely an example…I would say something like…”AH HA HA HAAAA! $20 WORTH OF SCRATCH OFFS?! YOU WON’T WIN ANYTHING! AH HA HA HA!”…and this would assure her winning BIG CASH!
Well…she chortled and declined my generous offer and then scratched off the $20 worth of Scratch Off Tickets. Can you guess how much she won? That’s right! NOTHING!! I said to her…”SEE! SEE! I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU!”. A wealth making moment shot to hell.
So…I am making the offer to any and all! I will sell you my Karma for half of any Lottery winnings! I’ll even pull out the big guns and say to you…”IT’LL BE A COLD DAY IN HELL BEFORE YOU WIN ANYTHING AH HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA YOU FOOLISH FOOLISH PERSON!”. Your comment here in this post will be a legal and binding contract.
OMG…I’m going to be so rich! Oh…crap…maybe I shouldn’t have said that.
Bunning14:49 May 10 2013
Times Read: 700
I located my T-bone…the broccoli and cheese…loaded my weekend case of Pepsi into the cart…I even had my Friday morning horror/slasher flick chosen…BUT…soft dinner rolls had eluded me.
It seems they’re only sold during holidays…you know…they’re in the vicinity of two inches square…soft…come in a pack of a dozen or so. No…I am not speaking of the variety one bakes…those compliment turkey, or say chicken. For the aforementioned breakfast of steak with broccoli and cheese, the non bake two inch square soft dinner role is demanded. Why these are not sold all year long dumbfounds me.
As you can guess, I was once again in crisis. This was not the first time the required dinner role was nowhere to be found. Up and down the bread isle I marched…pulling out packaging that teased they had been found, only to find I had been commercially tricked and then with a grunt/scowl, roughly pushed back in. After four or five passes, I resigned myself to the fact that I was, once again, going to take matters into my own two hands.
So…being the crafty little fucker I am…I resorted to a tried and true method of my very own making.
I buy a package of hoagie buns…you know…long…almost like a hot dog bun…but…not quite. These come in packages of four…which is plenty…probably adequate for, at the very least, three steak dinners. I take two hoagie buns and with a very sharp kitchen knife, I slice each into three equal lengths and butter accordingly. Crisis averted!
I call this practice…”Bunning”.
I’ve found when I eat them, if I don’t stare at the neatly sliced edges…say…keep my eyes on the broccoli, or steak…I cannot tell the difference.
Don’t Kid Yourself12:26 May 09 2013
Times Read: 718
See…I was right behind you in line at McDonalds this morning and I read your vanity plate…GRDMA5. Yes…real nice white SUV…kudos. Now I know you think I was supposed to see…”Grandma5”…and I am going to assume you have 5 Grandchildren and that 5 wasn’t an arbitrary add on to get GRDMA approved…you are actually a Grandma to 5 Grandchildren and obviously want every stranger that encounters you to know this.
Here’s the problem.
What I saw…what immediately formed in my mind…was that you are a “Gerdma5” and I don’t know what the hell that is? See…if your vanity plate had read…”GRNDMA5”…then I would have made that connection to “Grandma5”…but…your plate doesn’t have that “N”…it’s…”GRDMA5” and that makes you a “Gerdma5” and not a “Grandma5”…don’t kid yourself.
Top Ten Reasons You Should Want To Be Me12:44 May 08 2013
Times Read: 729
1. You eat anything you want for breakfast.
2. You have no anxiety about eating anything you want for breakfast.
3. You know you are only in trouble if you think you are.
4. You never have to shave during the weekend.
5. You can take a nap any damn time you want.
6. Christmas fills you with a childlike giddiness.
7. You never worry about wearing a seat belt.
8. Laundry, dusting, sweeping, mopping and doing the dishes are optional.
9. Societal pressures mean nothing to you.
10. You yell at your boss.
Banquet Turkey Pot Pie12:40 May 06 2013
Times Read: 736
Now...there is a right way and a wrong way to eat a "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie". The wrong way would be to simply pick at it with a spoon or fork...puncture the top and scoop away...this is an unacceptable technique...I have never used this maneuver and I never will.
The right way to consume a "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie" is as follows. One places a slice of white bread on a plate and then overturns the "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie" on top of said slice of white bread and in doing so allowing the "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie" to collapse and thoroughly drench, with "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie" deliciousness, the above mentioned slice of white bread and then wolf down with a fork. That is the only way to consume a "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie"...it's indisputable...not debatable...set in stone. Any other technique will be rebuffed.
I consumed 3 "Banquet Turkey Pot Pies" for breakfast this morning and knowing what we now know, what does that mean? YES! That's exactly correct! I also consumed 3 slices of white bread in accordance with the proper "Banquet Turkey Pot Pie" noshing technique!
And yes...of course...an ice cold Pepsi.
Writing06:25 May 05 2013
Times Read: 742
I have no idea what I should write about…but…it feels as though I should be…writing that is. I suppose I could write about the graphic public display of racism by large groups here in America…of course…I would be deemed racist doing so and such comments expounding that would only serve to further entrench my opinion that many are complete imbeciles…I truly don’t need that increased.
I could write about our freedom being slowly…maybe not so slowly…taken away and how so many applaud this and the comments to that as well would only serve to lower my opinion of the masses…if such is even possible.
I could write about respect, tolerance and the bastardazation of such concepts and by that I mean the respect and tolerance the scum of the earth receive by the misguided in the quest for fairness. Nothing is fair nor will it ever be…dumbass…and to sell out your country for this lofty false “Ideal” goes way beyond stupidity. Don’t make the critical mistake in thinking that being learned is intelligence...it’s not.
See…I don’t like writing in this manner…I like humor…I like funny, but I’d be remiss not to acknowledge the disastrous paths being walked by America today. I watch with a sick and twisted sense of humor as so many gleefully embrace their doom and what disturbs me…slightly…is part of me wants to see it…part of me wants to watch…one day…so very many eat fucking crow and when it happens, don’t look to me for compassion…you’ve been told…for years…you’ll deserve every last horror…unfortunately, you’ll be dragging me right along with you and I will hate you for it…the whole time I’m smiling.
I suppose I could write how my very first vampire Christmas…THAT’S RIGHT…I SAID CHRISTMAS…NOT HOLIDAY…CHRISTMAS…song is coming along. I’m making headway…so much to juggle and consider. I will say I have broken new ground in engineering and such will serve me well in other musical endeavors. Not that any truly care…I mean I understand…I’m just trying to satisfy this nagging urge to write…then I can fire up my little studio and spend my few fleeting hours of freedom in a worthwhile manner. And don’t take that to mean I’m not going to eat a sumptuous steak with broccoli and cheese...I most definitely will. Now that I’m thinking about it…that’s happening…right now.
Oh yes…yes…there will be Fudge Stripes as well.
I Was Thinking This Morning17:33 May 01 2013
Times Read: 763
“I ate a peach.”…”I ate an apple.”…as one can see there’s the difference in using the words “a” and “an”…”a” if followed by a consonant…and…”an” if followed by a vowel…Easy-Peasy-Japaneasy!
But…both “a’ and “an” could be replaced by the word “one”…”I ate one apple”…”I ate one peach.”. Now I think we’d all agree that “one” and “an” are words…but what about “a”? “One” and “an” have multiple letters constituting a “word”…but…”a” is only one letter…*ponders*…can one letter be one word? Or have we just attributed to the letter “a” one mystical, singular connotation when it‘s not really one word? Wouldn’t that mean we could take any letter…let’s say “q”…and attribute one mystical, multiple connotation to it? “I ate q peach”…”I ate qn apple.”…would we have to throw in that “n”…and more importantly…would “peach” and the word “apple” have to be made plural when one multiple is already implied?!
We have the same thing with the letter “I” meaning “Me”…”I ate q peach.”…”Me ate qn apple.”…sure…sure…using “Me” sounds very Tazanesque…but…if one word needs to have multiple letters to qualify as one word …then…how could the single letter “I” be one word? Does the letter “I” also have one mystical connotation attributed to it? And then doesn’t that mean I could attribute that same mystical connotation to one different letter…say…”S”?...“S ate q peach.”…”S ate qn apple.”?
“I” and “a” are just letters baby! They’re not words! Is there some kind of rule here I’ve never heard of? Just letters…just letters…JUST LETTERS! Come on…the whole idea and form of written language has…in essence…merely been made up by the whims of others before us! Right?! Am I right here?!
Wow…this is really going to fuck up my whole day.
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