So since everyone needs a good dick joke now and again, lets here those stories. You know the ones. The embarrassing/funny ones starring our sneaky little (or big) friends. Those blasted packers seem to get into more trouble. Be they out in the public eye, at home all alone, or destroyed at the paws of some wicked little huntress, tell me about all about it.
Just to be fair, I'll start with two of my favorites.
1.)
Feeling down lately. Down about all things trans. Laughter is what I needed. I wouldn't have known it before this happened, but it cheered me up afterward. It made me look at my situation and laugh. Find a little humor when it was needed.
I was in the shower, doing normal shower things, I assure you. As per usual my clothes were in a pile on the floor. Not as per usual my packer remained in my tighty whities on top of a pile of otherwise black cloth.
Now... I have this cat. She's a rescue. She's nearly completely blind in one eye and 100% blind in the other. She can't see much, but what she most definitely can is contrast between light and dark. She's also mischievous as all get out. Fearless lets just say.
I turn to rinse my hair, shampoo now dripping into my eyes, only to watch her rocket down the hall, through the open bathroom door, pounce into my pile of clothing, attack my underwear as if it's a fluffy bunny that simply NEEDS a good killing, then run off again with my packer in tow.
So what's a boy to do besides leap from the shower, now that he's covered in soap, and chase down the speedy little thief? I thought I had her when she was under the bed, but nooo, she had to drag poor mister packer through the dust bunnies before shooting out the other side leaving me stranded half under the bed and now covered in floor... crud as well as soap.
Repeated the process with both living room chairs. The BIG La-z-boy type that takes up half the room. Finally caught her in the kitchen and was able to retrieve my now mangled packer by luring her out of hiding with the distinctive pop of a wet food can.
My poor manhood. Attacked by wild animals while I bathed. Promptly I returned to the shower, now laughing hysterically at not only the destroyed packer (thankfully a cheapo one) but at my floor crud/soap slurry encrusted body as well. Now the evil kitty lies, encroaching on my mouse pad as I type this post. I'm sure she's using the excuse of "basking" in the minuscule patch of sunlight present on my desk. Right.
2.)
Far shorter than the first. It all boils down to the man and I getting ready at the last second to go to a movie. Now, I usually rotate packers so I can have one on while the other has an off/cleaning day. Somehow I got my days all screwed up and ended up with two that needed cleaning and none to wear, so as I'm digging through the laundry pile, the man decides to be "helpful" and go clean one up for me to then pop into my drawers after drying/powdering.
Helpful not so much. I don't usually use soap on my cheapo packers. It breaks them down really fast and makes them even more sticky and annoying. He... apparently either didn't listen the thousand times I told him not to use soap, or was out of ear shot. A few minutes later he stood proudly holding my now squeaky clean packer in his hand. What a lovely man. And what was that heavenly aroma wafting from my now disembodied genitals? Oh, lime and coconut hand soap from bath and body works.
Yes, thank you. The entire movie was a hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable experience. Think mid July with broken air conditioning. I just could NOT escape that smell. That fruity sweet smell that said my balls were now steeped in some sort of potpourri doom. So sadly, yes, another packer down. I couldn't get the smell out for anything.
For the rest of the day I had that lime in the coconut song stuck in my head.
