Tag Archives: sex

June 10, 2012 · 7:50 pm

Sunday Search Term Limericks

Here’s five fun limericks based on some of this weeks most intriguing search terms. Warning: may contain R-rated material and potty jokes and/or references to Men from Nantucket.

The links are where these folks likely ended up.

1.
“Peanut butter and jelly fine dining”
You searched this as your wife was pining
For a meal with her beau
But you had little dough
And your chances of sex were declining

2.
You didn’t know quite what to do
You had clogged up your girlfriends loo
So while staring at turds
You typed in the words
“flushing an unflushable poo”

3.
You had run over someone’s cat
The sound it made, something like SPLAT!
Now your tire looked low
But you didn’t quite know
So you searched the words “is my tire flat”

4.
You pulled out your favorite tubes
From your basket of sexual lubes
But something was creeping
A rodent was peeping
So you searched “squirrel looking at boobs”

5.
You were selected to be on a panel
For a show on the Hillbilly channel
But your knowledge was short
Of your part to report
So you searched “stoned goat wearing flannel”

Perhaps I’ll have to turn this into a weekly feature! Your challenge? Write me a limerick from one of your recent funny search terms. It’s harder than you might think!

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February 22, 2012 · 9:07 pm

Split Personality Disorder

You know what I’ve often wondered?

You see, I’ve often wondered if my readers might think I have a split personality disorder. Why you ask?  Well, because of the way I can go from one day writing such astonishingly touching posts and the most beautiful, passionate and spiritual love poems and songs worthy of hallmark cards… or beautiful and profound posts about my family and my amazingly blessed and fulfilling life… or charming stories written to enlighten the young people of our world, the future adults and leaders of our society… to the next day writing satirical, profanity laced rants and tirades, about booze and sex and debauchery, and egotistical diatribes about how fucking awesome and handsome I am… posts that are true, but also so incredibly funny that they really should be noticed by the producers of Saturday Night Live or at the very least Mad Magazine. It makes me wonder if perhaps people think there is some kind of a split personality disorder going on here, you know, the way I can just switch it on and off… from one to the other, almost like its two different writers.

We’ll I’m here to set the record straight.  Listen up because this is very important and I want to be sure that I make this very clear to all my loyal and valued readers.

FIRST OF ALL, let me state emphatically that, except for the occasional guest post, good or bad, I am responsible for all of the writing at the Brown Road Chronicles.

And SECONDLY, let me state even more emphatically… I mean, like really fucking emphatically… that I have never been formally diagnosed with a split personality disorder.

In fact… and let’s be absolutely clear here… I am a very level-headed person, very calm, cool and collected and I am entirely passionate about life and love and being a helpful, caring and respected member of my community, and about humanity in general. That’s right, humanity… sometimes that’s all that is important to me, the state of humanity… and compassion too… sometimes I just live and breathe compassion.  You see, that side of me that you sometimes see in my blog, the one who drinks and swears and is obnoxious and who thinks he’s so incredibly handsome and who thinks he’s God’s gift to earth… I mean, sure I admit I’m not a church go-er… but that other guy, well, that’s just a fictional character that I portray… for the ratings… or in this case the stats.

So, I just want to be sure that’s clear that I’m not really like that.  I mean, just because I have a mirror or two in every single room of the house, doesn’t mean I walk around the house looking at myself all the time to make sure my hair is perfect, and I’ve never looked in any of those mirrors and said “dude, you are so fucking good-looking I can’t stand it” or anything even remotely close to that. And no I don’t imbibe all the time like a drunken sailor and there’s no way I would ever have gotten so drunk this past New Year’s Eve and thrown up in my wife’s van. That’s just not me. I especially don’t spend hours upon hours re-reading my funny posts over and over and over… and over again thinking my blog is the greatest blog in the world and should have ten times the numbers of readers that I already have. That’s all just fiction, a ruse, a gimmick, a ploy to move my blog forward as one of the leading WordPress blogs out there. That’s all it is… just business… because if I can get my blog to a level of national prominence, then I can use its stature combined with my incredible handsomeness and charm, to make a profound difference in the world. That’s all I really want… to be able to make a difference in the world and be recognized for the caring, loving, compassionate person that I really am.

So no, don’t be concerned… you can rest assured… I have never been formally diagnosed with a split personality disorder. I mean seriously, why the fuck would you think that anyway, that I have some kind of a split personality disorder? Really, who the fuck gave you the right to offer up a pig-headed, asinine opinion like that? Do you think that’s funny? Do you sit around your house singing “ha ha ha, Steve’s got a split personality disorder, Steve’s got a split personality disorder.” Well I don’t think that’s funny. In fact, I think you’re an asshole for thinking up something like that. I mean, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you… and what the fuck is wrong with wanting to capitalize on my stunning good looks and charming personality for power and financial gain? You don’t like it? Well, that’s not my goddamn problem. And so what if it’s all about… me, me, me… and me feeling good about myself by having lots of readers and a stats page that is cranking out hits like the fucking New York Yankees.  What, you don’t like the fucking New York Yankees… well, what the fuck do you know anyway.

Anyhow, I just wanted to be sure you all understood that I really am a sweet, caring, likeable guy who is so totally indebted to and appreciative of all of you wonderful loyal readers.  Thanks for being the most wonderful blogging friends a guy could have.

And let me reiterate one more time here… I have never been formally diagnosed with a split personality disorder.

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May 6, 2011 · 4:26 pm

Washing Dishes

“They” say one of the sexiest things a man can do is wash dishes.

I’m not sure who “they” is, and I’m not really sure what is sexy about washing dishes, but “they” must know what “they” are talking about. Maybe it’s all the bubbles and the slipperiness and the steamy hot water. I don’t know…

I will tell you I have been doing a lot of dishes lately because our dishwasher broke a few months back and we haven’t replaced it yet. There’s no particular reason that we haven’t replaced it, we just haven’t done it. It’s like a lot of the stuff on the “to do list” around our house, it’s part of old house living… stuff breaks and eventually it gets fixed but sometimes it takes a few years. In any case, for a family of four we use roughly the same volume of dishes and cups and glasses and silverware each day as a cafeteria on a college campus. The dirty dishes pile up high on the kitchen counter… glasses and silverware stacked precariously on top of bowls and plates, waiting for a cat to walk by and with a brush of a tail make it all come tumbling down. When the counter fills up, then the sink starts to fill up. It often culminates with a kid yelling out some inane comment like “there’s no forks!”

So, I wash dishes.  I usually turn the radio on to a nice classical station to get myself… you know… in the mood. We have one of those old cast iron sinks with two basins, so I fill one side with hot, soapy water and then transfer the clean and rinsed items over to the other side which has a dish drainer in it. Pulling each dish from the dirty pile is kind of like playing that kids game where each player has to remove a piece from a tower made of blocks… you pull out a block ever so gently and hope the whole structure doesn’t come crashing down.  Yeah, it’s kind of like that…

I won’t take all the sexiness credit here… my wife does her share of the dishes also. We split that chore mostly equally. The kids? They never do the dishes, because frankly they’re lazy and more importantly, they’re much too young to be developing sex appeal by washing dishes. I can tell you straight out though, that I’m not feeling any sexier than I did when we had a working dishwasher. Maybe I’m not doing it right.  Maybe I need to be washing dishes in a Hugh Heffner style silk smoking jacket or something. Then when my wife walks by I’ll say something like, “hey baby, welcome to my palace of sex and dirty dishes. Watch me chisel the dry crusted SpaghettiO’s out of this bowl.”

Okay, so maybe washing dishes isn’t really that sexy. Maybe “they” don’t really know what “they” are talking about. Maybe “they” are folks that don’t have kids and don’t have piles of dirty dishes lying all over the house, covered in cement-crusted food that requires power tools to remove. Maybe “they” are folks who are washing up a few pieces of fine china and crystal after consuming a four-star meal and a couple of bottles of wine and who end up having sex on the dining room table. Yeah, okay, admittedly that could be sexy… sex on the dining room table. Unfortunately ours is covered in… more dirty dishes… and mail… and kids toys… and folded laundry.

Hey, you know what “they” say about folding laundry… that’s one of the sexiest things a man can do!

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April 1, 2011 · 1:18 pm

Sayonara Brown Road Chronicles!

Greetings my fellow blogging friends, today I have some disappointing news I need to share with you.  After a few days of deliberation I have decided to shut down the Brown Road Chronicles.  This has been a terribly difficult decision as I am extremely proud of the stature this blog has grown to and the number of loyal, dedicated readers I have found.  The upkeep of the blog, however, the obsession with posting and with statistics and hits and comments… well, frankly it has begun to take over my life and I have decided that something has to give.  Until recently I thought I was managing this other part of my life, this newfound hobby, with balance and parity, but alas, two evenings ago it all came to a head when my daughter said to me, “Dad you haven’t spoken to me in over three weeks”.  I knew at that moment that something in my life was amiss.  My wife followed up with “Steve, we haven’t had sex since December when you started writing this blog.”  Seriously, she said that right in front of the children.  At that moment I became horribly concerned.  Not that we weren’t having sex… the blog had replaced my need for sex… but that my children suddenly knew that their parents… well… had sex.  I could only imagine the trauma and damage that had been done to their frail, innocent minds… and it was all because I had started this blog.  “Honey”, I said, “uh, maybe this isn’t the right time.”  She just glared at me with piercing eyes that hadn’t had sex since December.

The problem was capped off yesterday morning when I received a voice mail from my dentist at 7:45 in the morning.  I was driving to work and I had chosen not to answer the call as I was busily reading one of my favorite blogs on my blackberry, glancing up and down every few moments, from blackberry screen to the highway, and from highway to blackberry screen.  At work, when I finally had a moment to listen to my voice mails I heard this message… “Hi Steve, we’re just calling because we had you scheduled for a 7:30 a.m. appointment this morning, and its 7:45 now.  We just wanted to be sure that everything was okay.”  Damn… after close to seventeen years of seeing the same dentist, I had missed my first appointment.  I could only blame it on my all-consuming obsession with my blog.  After listening to the voicemail I slammed my phone down on the desk and my teeth suddenly felt dirty.  Had I not been blogging so much I would have made it to the appointment, they would have scraped all that tartar sauce stuff off of my teeth and shined them up like the chrome bumpers on a classic Ford Mustang.  Now they were just dirty and coffee stained… like dirty, coffee stained prostitute teeth.  I was ashamed.

After putting in a full day of work, I sat down last evening with a glass of wine to evaluate this situation.  No, admittedly it wasn’t just a glass, it was a bottle… alright, it wasn’t just a bottle… it was a box, yeah that’s right, a fucking box of cheap, shitty wine… and I was prepared to pound it all down… that’s right, the whole box… four bottles worth.  All that, even with the knowledge that I had been drinking too much lately, the stress of writing and trying to brainstorm interesting and funny post ideas and tweeting all-day for blog hits and the constant marketing of the Chronicles had become overwhelming to me and I was calming my nerves… self-medicating as they say… with the booze… and too much of it.  I realized I had become burned-out with the responsibility… the delusional dream… of becoming a successful blogger… and I’ll be frank here… I was tired of pretending to give a rat’s ass that this person’s kid took a shit on the floor the other day or that person broke up with their psycho boyfriend or girlfriend or what the fuck everyone ate for dinner last night.  I now understood that I was leaving extraneous comments on stranger’s blogs with the irrational hope that it might generate some hits for me, like a crack-whore giving herself up so that she may get a hit of drug to get her through the next few hours!

There I sat, getting drunk and wondering how I was going to deal with this situation.  It had reached crisis levels and I knew something had to give. It couldn’t be my family, it couldn’t be my stable, well-paying job and it definitely couldn’t be my dentist.  So, when I had finally drained the enema-style bag of wine that was inside my wine box, I decided that unfortunately the Chronicles is what I had to give up. I cried with the realization that it was over… then I puked… then I cried some more.  But it was an epiphany and today I have a new lease on life.  I hope you understand the dilemma I was facing and forgive me for no longer providing you with such profound, stimulating, thought-provoking works of writing.  I know you will miss me, but rest assured that I have made this decision with only the best interests of my family and myself and my sex-life and my dentist in mind.  I want to close by saying thank you to all of my readers for your awesome support the last several months… for reading my posts and for leaving your comments, even if those comments were only your lame attempts at getting me to return to your blog and read your posts… you dirty crack-whores!

Sayonara, my friends!

Steve

Alright, yeah you probably figured out early on… I just made all that stuff up… well, except the dentist part… I actually did miss my dentist appointment.  And of course I love reading all your blogs… seriously… I’m not just ass-kissing… and give up the Chronicles? NO WAY… I’m much too obsessed to do that! 

Happy April Fools Day!!!

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