It should be snowing just about now.  That’s what the Internets (tubes and all) told me, and damnit, I believe it.  That, and let’s face it, while actually getting up from chair and going outside to look at Mother Nature in all her speckled white glory seems like a good excercise plan, I’d much rather remain at my desk and dink around the world and the wide and the web.  Inertia is its own super power, isn’t it?

Last week, however, the sun briefly burped a hotspot of mercy and showered us with enough rays to raise the temperature to a balmy sixty degrees.  In a fit of insanity, I figured I’d walk to lunch that day–braving the fresh air, the chirping birds, the hot moms walking their kids, the general pleasantness of the day.  I survived (in case you were worried).  On the way to the sandwich shop, though, my eye caught a glimpse of tiny plastic package from a certain Greek prophylatic producer carelessly cast aside; it was the usual shape and had the usual tear to indicate that the booty inside had been used to get booty on the outside, but what grabbed my attention was the rubber title.

Extra Sensitive

Awesome, I thought.  Now even John Thomas covers are getting into the feelings game.  You have to wonder how that works out in the heat of the moment.

“Oh, Henry Steel! I’m so glad we can connect like this!”

“Me, too, babe.  You’re hot.  I’m hot.  This is hot.  Hot.”

“That’s so true!  In fact, I… I’m sorry, is your penis crying?”

“It is indeed!  I’m glad you noticed.  Just before our act of naughty fun I dipped my bald butler in Trojan’s Extra Sensitive sheathe.  He’s shedding a tear right now because this moment is so special. He’ll even listen to your problems and share a pint of ice cream if you so desire.”

“Oh, Henry, I’m touched. “

“And if you go out of town, he’ll come over to feed your pets.”

I tell ya, technology these days.  I certainly didn’t have that when I was in college.