My Turn with the Weiner

I'm feeling a bit left out between MB and Glib, so I decided to have my very own weiner posting. Aren't I proud?

Last Sunday a couple friends and I went to the Renaissance Faire in Golden Gate Park. It was a nice, cool, crisp day as we walked over to the Faire. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, it wasn't Africa-hot like it had been in Novato...all in all a good day. We arrive at the entrance gaits in the best of moods, never guessing a travesty awaited us. We boldly step up to the booth to buy our tickets and are confronted with the most dastardly sign one can read:

"The Puritans are at it again. There will be no ale stands, wine gardens, or any alcohol of any sort served on the premises. You may bring in your own. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Any inconvenience?!?!?! See, if you have told me that before I got there I could have stopped at a store and stocked up. Don't tell me when I'm in the middle of Golden Gate Park w/o a liquor store anywhere near. Argh! Luckily I had my flask of Bushmills. Even more luckily we ran into the right crowd and ended up drinking all day anyway.

What does this have to do with weiners you ask? Why nothing. Nothing at all. But the hope of a good weiner story has kept you reading. Ok, ok, I'll play nice and get to that part.

Met this guy named Sean. Or maybe it's Shawn. I dunno. Anyway, cute guy with great eyes and wearing a kilt. What more could a girl ask? We hung out at the end of Faire together. Eventually he got my number, but of course hasn't called and I'm really not arsed by it at all. Anyway, somehow the conversation came around to weiners. Don't ask me how, there was lots of ale and whisky and whiskey and a bunch of other alcohol involved. Did I mention there was whiskey? He mentioned that he wears a ~20lb sporen for a reason. Apparently said person is not able to control his erections and they tend to occur at the most inopportune times. I somehow thought that stopped when you were like 16, besides the given morning wood, but apparently I was wrong. Learn something new every day. Anyway, he wears it to keep the boy down. Fair enough. It had turned into a rather cold afternoon with the fog rolling in and I was freezing my bits off so I made some comment that due to shrinkage it probably wouldn't be needed today. With bravado he corrected me saying that it was still an issue. Being friends with too many hashers and having seen too many small weiners (probably not as many as C, but she doesn't read this blog anyway), I had my doubts.

After he got my number he gave me a long hug and kiss goodbye. Now, remember that it's pretty darn cold at this point. Then he moved the sporen to the side and showed me (through the kilt, not the actual thing) why he wears such a heavy one. Oh good Christ! That thing must be ginormous! It was only a little above half mast and the only word running through my head was "DAMNNNNNNNNNNNNN." Ok, granted, it was followed closely by, "Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" as I figured that something that size must hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when inside a girl. I mean, if that's the size of it on a cold day, what must it be like normally? I have to give the guy credit, it was not false bravado he had displayed earlier. It really was a fact. Fair play to him.

Ok, so there's my weiner story. Not as good as some, but hey, it's all mine.

This random weiner moment has been brought to you by the letter S and the number 28.