The group for the pin-up calendar photo shoot consisted of 12 friends and acquaintances. It was an 8-hour event we organized for fun and foolishness. Two days later I received an e-mail from the photographer that said, “hey take a look at these.”
Amazing turn-around time. I was impressed.
Double click…triple dick.
Yep, close and personal pics of his junk.
The southern old lady in me thought: what in the world? That was rude.
The Dirty Myrt trouble maker in me thought: motherfucker I’ma beat your ass.
Those two met in the middle and replied, “Hey don’t do that, thanks.”
He wrote back, “So sorry – I misread you.”
That’s surprising, because generally the impression I give people is as follows: if you have something interesting or useful to contribute, great. If your mouth is a fountain of dumb or unnecessary, please deposit a $5 bill in my outstretched palm for every idiot word that falls out of your face.
Somehow in his tiny mind, that translates into, “Hey! Please send me a picture of your junk!”
Oh and? His girlfriend of four years, who is also the mother of his offspring, was 18 feet away doing hair and make-up for the duration of the shoot.
That’s tacky and all, but here’s what really fascinated me: that shit actually works! If it didn’t, Sir Dicksalot wouldn’t be throwing peen-spaghetti at the wall hoping something sticks.
It’s clearly a numbers game. Thus the question for me became: what ARE the numbers? And WHO are the people that get their freaky shit on as a result of an unsolicited rooster shot? Every person I passed on the street became part of my question. Her? Him? Them together?
I want to know, except I don’t. But I kind of do, you know?
My assumption is that peen-pic-boy sent his business to each girl in the calendar. Therefore, by my completely unofficial calculations, the chances for success in this game are one in 10.
The following are potential responses based solely on my imagination:
1. Horrified: nearly drops phone trying to delete.
2. Angry: “Dude your dick is in my hand right now, and while that might be cool to you, it’s not cool to me you fucktard.” Delete.
3. Nonplussed: Delete.
4. Lipstick Lesbian: “I don’t like dick, but thanks so much for thinking of me.” Delete.
5. Unavailable: “I’m in a monogamous relationship. Beat it. Pun intended.” Delete.
6. Distracted by background: “What in the crippling fuck made you buy that horrible bedspread?” Delete.
7. Embarrassed: I hope no one saw me open that. Delete.
8. Interested: “More please.” Save.
9. Self-absorbed: sends self-portrait of junk along with, “Hey check this out.” Saves for later.
10. Excited: “I’m so psyched you subconsciously knew I’m into strange! When and where can we meet?!” Save, and winner.
Conclusion: out of the 12 girls that were photographed, he probably got laid by one of them within 48 hours of wrapping that shoot.
I wonder which girl it was.