Oh many a time I have said, when talking to friends, just how cuntabulous the Puntabulous blog is. I mean, from your first read of Puntabulous, it should be obvious just how cuntabulous it is.
My only question is, Craiggers, why were you Googling cuntabulous in the first place? Is there something you want to tell us?
So there I was, spending a quiet afternoon blinking out some clever LOLShaggoth captions with Mathilde when it occurred to me that while I had spent the past evening alone, watching Michael Phelps and moistening myself like any other American, I knew not the whereabouts of my faithful undersecretary – how had my little minx whiled away the dark hours?
So twitched a bit to get her attention and blinked out my inquiry. She giggled her crystalline giggle in response, then divulged that she had begun a little side business a few weeks ago creating erotica from nursery rhymes and children’s stories; “It’s all quite tasteful,” she explained, “especially if you like the taste of ass.” I assured her that I did, and probed for more information.
“Well, our first one was ‘Mary Mary Quite Cuntrary’”
“Sounds like hard work.”
“That’s the goal.”
“What’s the title?”
“‘Journey to the Center of the Smurf.’”
“Sounds dirty.”
“It does get a little blue.”
“I don’t recall asking about their balls.”
“Oh, look who’s saucy now! So you’ll be the one making the puns from here on?”
“I cunt help it. It’s cuntagious.”
“You are much too elderly for this game.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no cunt for old men.”
“Au cuntraire! Sarkozy has a nice little penis cozy and he’s only a little younger than me.”
“But all you do is gaze at pictures of that Craig all day! Where’s the beef curtains?”
“Haven’t you heard? He’s cuntabulous!”
Slapping me lightly on the head, Mathilde turned back to her typing, and I to my twitching, both of us content in our daydreams of swimmers and Smurfs and talented cuntortionists.
The fourth line of our little dialogue should read, “What’s the next title,” obviously. Don’t blame Mathilde; my twtiching can be difficult to decipher, and this week she’s obviously been working herself to the bone.
Should we look forward to this in the Puntabulous store?
Oh my! That’s a good idea!
That is awesome! Craig, fame is coming for you…
Oh no. A curse word!
Frickin’ awesome!
Woohoo!!! That’s absolutely incredible. Congrats, Craig!!
Oh many a time I have said, when talking to friends, just how cuntabulous the Puntabulous blog is. I mean, from your first read of Puntabulous, it should be obvious just how cuntabulous it is.
My only question is, Craiggers, why were you Googling cuntabulous in the first place? Is there something you want to tell us?
HUGS…
Oh and HEY, I FINALLY got by avatar! Had to fashionably late, dontcha know?
HUGS…
Wow, learn something new everyday.
This also reminds me of how every time someone sees the Puntabulous tab in my bookmark toolbar, they think it says the p, u, t, a word!
This message is telling you something from a higher power. I don’t know what, but it’s telling you SOMETHING.
So there I was, spending a quiet afternoon blinking out some clever LOLShaggoth captions with Mathilde when it occurred to me that while I had spent the past evening alone, watching Michael Phelps and moistening myself like any other American, I knew not the whereabouts of my faithful undersecretary – how had my little minx whiled away the dark hours?
So twitched a bit to get her attention and blinked out my inquiry. She giggled her crystalline giggle in response, then divulged that she had begun a little side business a few weeks ago creating erotica from nursery rhymes and children’s stories; “It’s all quite tasteful,” she explained, “especially if you like the taste of ass.” I assured her that I did, and probed for more information.
“Well, our first one was ‘Mary Mary Quite Cuntrary’”
“Sounds like hard work.”
“That’s the goal.”
“What’s the title?”
“‘Journey to the Center of the Smurf.’”
“Sounds dirty.”
“It does get a little blue.”
“I don’t recall asking about their balls.”
“Oh, look who’s saucy now! So you’ll be the one making the puns from here on?”
“I cunt help it. It’s cuntagious.”
“You are much too elderly for this game.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no cunt for old men.”
“Au cuntraire! Sarkozy has a nice little penis cozy and he’s only a little younger than me.”
“But all you do is gaze at pictures of that Craig all day! Where’s the beef curtains?”
“Haven’t you heard? He’s cuntabulous!”
Slapping me lightly on the head, Mathilde turned back to her typing, and I to my twitching, both of us content in our daydreams of swimmers and Smurfs and talented cuntortionists.
”
“
The fourth line of our little dialogue should read, “What’s the next title,” obviously. Don’t blame Mathilde; my twtiching can be difficult to decipher, and this week she’s obviously been working herself to the bone.
oh. em. gee. i love it!!
Damn that urban dictionary! Don’t they know that Lesbians do not share dildoes!
Oh, did I miss the point, oh well!
BeRightBack: You and Mathilde spend much too much time together…
(that was awesome, by the way)
Pretty impressive that you show up as an alternative. You have arrived.
Since p and c are on different sides of the keyboard, I’m *bi* curious to know what they where looking for.
My fantasy is that Craig uttered to himself, “I’m ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille”, while tilting his head upward and towards the right.