Cock ring of fire
Happy Good Friday! God, how I love saying that.
I've mentioned this before, but as a kid on Good Friday, I wasn't allowed to go play with friends or anything like that. It was a day on which I had to be quiet and somber and supposedly reflect on the crucifixion, mainly between noon and 3 p.m. My mom once told me I had it pretty good compared with when she was a kid -- she said she had to sit in a chair all day on Good Friday.
I guess I started out this year's Good Friday on an appropriately dismal note by waking up at 9 a.m. totally hungover after drinking with my cousin Will at Freddy's last night and going to bed at 5 a.m.
It wasn't until this afternoon that I remembered telling Will the story of how someone I knew in college got tricked into having the phrase "cockring" as his university e-mail address, which he couldn't change. Then we started wondering how cock rings work and neither of us knew, and I consequently made several phone calls deeply after midnight in the interest of finding someone who could explain it. Sorry, Josh, for calling you; sorry Sterling; sorry Jim.
FInally I hit upon the idea that a peep show would have the answer, so I called directory assistance for Seattle and got the number for the Lusty Lady. A young guy answered the phone and didn't really seem taken aback when I said, "My cousin and I are trying to figure out how a cock ring works," (which in retrospect is not the best way to phrase it if you're not into incest). He calmly explained it, and that was that. Thank you, Lusty Lady, for being the victim of that last night.