sunday i took the kids to the country to visit my parents for the day. marty stayed back to run errands and have some time to herself. i returned in the evening spent. while shuffling the kids towards bed, marty leaned into my ear and whispered that she had a surprise for me.

the kids were finally down and i was checking some stuff on my computer. out of my peripheral vision i saw marty dash by. i turned to see her in the next room wearing something smooth and lacey. she was spun around reaching for something behind her. i squinted to make out what she was doing. it turns out she was trying to cut the tags off my surprise, a new lingerie-catsuit looking deal. seeing that i saw her, she sultrily strode my way.

you weren't supposed to see me yet.

i wasn't supposed to see you in this or i wasn't supposed to see you cutting the tags off?

yes.

oh sorry.

it's ok. you like?

i do like. but i don't think i have anything comparable i can wear.

that's ok. you're not supposed to.

as it turns out i did have an accoutrement to bring to the tryst. the day before, alex and i got dinosaur tattoos and mine hadn't yet entirely washed off yet. unfortunately, alex got to pick first and took the last tyrannosaurus leaving me with the less exotic brontosaurus. in showing it to marty i explained that what it lacked for in ferociousness it made up for in grandeur, being as long as six school buses, weighing more than ten elephants, and as tall as a two story building. or at least that's what alex told me in consoling me about getting the suckier of the two tats. by my estimation, marty was still impressed. impressed enough at least.

people do different things when they're stressed. i bite my nails and yell at small children. marty scrubs the kitchen floor with a metal spatula, hand sponge and bucket of water, in nothing but her underwear.

on paper, i would not have thought such a thing would stir me. turns out we can't always rely on paper theories.

alex had a playdate to the house yesterday. when the boy's mother came to pick him up she asked alex if he would like to come and play at their house. alex said that he wouldn't need to come to their house because he wasn't going to let the boy go home. the woman smiled at alex's cuteness and continued her departure. minutes later as she ushered her son to the car, alex stood on the front porch and screamed, "if he leaves, i'm going to take my penis out!"

i gotta say, i never had great luck with that threat either. i think a smarter approach would be to take it out and threaten to only put it away if your demands are met.

at a work christmas party tonight, a co-worker told me about a call she received from her ten year-old's school saying she needed to come in to discuss an in-school suspension for her son. it turns out he and a neighbor boy, using the internet and the family's color printer made baseball-cards of naked women and got caught showing them to other boys in the school. she described how mortified she was and the subsequent speech she delivered about the degradation and objectification of women. she also said when she asked her older brother about it, the first thing he wondered was what an 83 topps card of pam anderson was going for these days. sadly, women will never comprehend how depraved the male mind really is.

it was a little bit after nine and all the kids were asleep. heading downstairs for a drink, i found marty at her desk lazily browsing the web. i stepped behind her, leaned down and softly kissed her neck. her body softened at the touch, her shoulders falling in relaxation. i kept on. after a few minutes she spoke in a slow and soft way, "i have to put the beef stew away." my mind twisted wondering what this bizarre quip meant. it sounded new. it sounded kinky. then i remembered we had beef stew for dinner. i stopped and stood up. she immediately turned to me, apologizing but said she really needed to put the stew away or it would go bad. she told me to go to the bedroom and she'd be just a minute.

i laid in the dark room remembering the scene in american beauty where lester got scolded for almost spilling beer on the couch. with me still grinning from the similarities, marty appeared in the doorway, backlit by light from down the hall. she began a sultry striptease and lester burnham quickly left my mind. she slid her hand down her leg to remove her shoe. i heard the loud rip of velcro tear through the otherwise silent house. i listened for a child to stir. none did. other shoe, more velcro. still lucky with the kids. her shirt came off next and while i waited for her to cast it to the side the hand holding it reached to her left behind the wall. i thought she was getting some hidden surprise but then realized she was just looking for and then fumbling with the small door of the laundry chute.

lester burnham was back.

but not for long.

excerpt from american experience's documentary on sex researcher, alfred kinsey. here, alice ginott cohn talks about her memory of being interviewed by kinsey.

marty took the kids on a play date a while back. when she came home she was morose. i asked what was wrong. she said she felt like she just walked off the set of 90210 and that all of her clothes were ugly, and out of style, and didn't fit her right and all these other moms not only managed to keep up with the latest trends but their clothes were also ironed and free of kool-aid and/or vomit stains. i studied marty momentarily, gauging if she was working towards a punch-line, because this is pretty unlike the girl i'm married to. there was no punch-line.

her observations about the moms at our kids' preschool are right though. they are stylish, not quite high-fashion but certainly trendily-appointed. think camouflage capris. they also somehow seem to always be freshly showered too. these are not the sorts of things the dearmitt-walter home can claim with any sort of daily regularity.

seeing my partner injured so, i jumped in as it seems men are wont to do. i said to her, 'marty, you're a parent. you know this. you accept this. they don't. they dress like teenage girls in a sophomoric attempt to transport themselves back to when they were the popular kid in school and lived at the mall because for them it is a way to escape the reality of their faltering adulthood."

my words did not hit the mark. later that day, marty called one of her three sisters. the sister said ... "marty, while you're looking at them wishing you looked nicer, they are probably looking at you wishing they had the self-esteem to not try so hard." yeah, i guess that's sorta ok advice. ok enough to mend marty's mood more than my own words at least. what do you say we call it a girl thing and leave it at that.

admittedly, after hearing the sisters take on things, i thought more about it. while we'll gladly take the self-esteem card, i don't know that it would work for everyone. for instance some of these grown, near-forty women wear thongs and frilly bras (i know this because so many of these items conspicuously peek out of their other teenager wear). the hottest piece of lingerie in our home is a 1987, threadbare, psychedelic furs concert tee marty sometimes wears to bed. unfortunately when she puts this wisp of a garment on she's not always attempting to ignite our relationship. i know this because when she looks at me looking at her in it, she sometimes sighs and says:

MARTY
don't even think it. i'm tired and i'm going to bed.

TROY
but you got THE shirt on.

MARTY
the only reason i got THE shirt on is because you forgot to wash whites again.

TROY
it could be fate talking to us.

MARTY
well, you or fate need to do a load of laundry before i'm taking any messages.

conversely, if she did ever come to bed in a bedazzled or satiny thong, we'd spend twenty minutes studying it, talking about how comfortable it was (or wasn't) and examining the physics of how it worked. marty would probably convince me to try it on and then we'd laugh hysterically at the outcome and i'd eventually do zany dances on the bed. after tiring of the sport i'd ask her to put the furs shirt on and she would and we'd return to our life in our home, which is quite a ways away from the 90210 zip code. and for us, gladly so.

my family recently visited with some friends of ours. at the outing, the parents of one of our friends were in attendance. when we left and were saying our goodbyes marty leaned in to hug the father of her girlfriend. when she tried to offer the man her cheek he just shot in and kissed her full on the mouth.

i've added this to my currently short list of good things about getting old; kissing younger women i don't really know on the mouth.

a new TROYSCRIPT was posted today. flavored and scented

a kind soul sent me a very thoughtful piece of correspondence yesterday. it read: while i'm touched by this individual's concern for my intimate well-being, they must realize that by being my partner's only lover, i'm already the most powerful man-cake in her stable. i'm also her most passionate, caring, skilled, hunky, ravenous and capable. granted this math also makes me her most fetid, vile, obese, abject, fumbling and inept paramour as well.

either way you cut it, i wasn't really in need of their aids but in the end proved unable to resist the persuasive claim that all of their BRAND NAME products were 100% GENERIC and ended up buying two of everything. except that one thing which i had to get three of. i mean i do want to be her most prepared lover as well.

about ten years ago i worked with a guy who had a urinary-tract infection. for the sake of this telling, let's call him matthew. we were collaborating on a project during his ordeal and in addition to witnessing a lot of fidgeting and quiet curses, i received many vivid descriptions of his ailment.

during one of his many doctor visits he complained that the prescribed medicine wasn't work...

i have a friend who hides his porn on video tapes labeled MATH COUNTS. his theory: nobody likes math enough to pop in a video dedicated to the subject and if they do, they could use a good dose of porn so either way, it's all good.

i have another friend who hides his porn related materials in a box labeled SHITTY HE-MAN TOYS. his theory, in his words, "who the hell wants to look at a bunch of shitty he-man stuff?"

i am so rich in friends.

guy A recently told guy B about how his wife was having twins. guy B excitedly asked when they were expected and guy A said two weeks from friday. guy B, shocked, said he just saw guy A's wife and she didn't look pregnant. this is when guy A said, not those kinds of twins, did a head-nodding wink and with his hands made the universal sign for heaving, cleaving bosoms. guy B said 'ooooohhhhh!, THOSE kinds of twins.'

i've decided the next time i see guy A i'm going to say i heard about their procedure and congratulate him on pulling off this spousal boon to fix what they must have collectively felt was a shortcoming in their relationship. as he beams with pride and before he can reply, i'm then going to ask if it hurt when he got the penis enlargement and however did his wife convince him to go to such drastic measures for something entirely out of his control.

guy A never liked me much to begin with.

bella fires more people than trump. this started a few months back. not sure what seeded it or even where she heard or understood the meaning. just one day people, meaning marty, started getting dismissed whenever bella became annoyed. earlier this week marty and alex were a few minutes late picking bella up from school. as marty approached, the door opened and bella's teachers walked her out.

MARTY
sorry i'm late.

MISS JUDY
oh, what's the bother? someone has to be first and someone has to be last.

BELLA (pushing her way through everyone towards the stroller)
mom, you're fired!

but, similar to the adoption trend, marty is the first to feel the brunt, but whatever hell she is catching is sure to be ultimately spread throughout the family. last night when i announced i had to walk the babysitter home, i was immediately "fired 50 times". don't get me started on this escalation-bullshit. upgrading my penalty by such magnitude is a complete abuse of one's power, and i for one take exception.

and forget the minor detail that we have children who don't wail and scream when we leave them with a sitter but instead when we return and send the sitter home. i always thought kids cried when parents left and rejoiced upon their return. we have to literally peel our children off the help just so they can get out the door. like my two year old son bear hugging the leg of our 20-something babysitter. which puts me in the awkward position of kneeling behind her prying his fingers off the back of her lithe thigh, pleading with him and apologizing to her simultaneously.

TROY
he really doesn't hate us. nor is he afraid of us. he just doesn't see outsiders too much because his mother is a bit of a shut-in and i'm a bit of germ-phobe. so, again, they don't get to see new people a whole lot. now dammit alex! let go of the maria's leg so she can go home! i'm really sorry about this.

in my distracted state alex leans forward and bites my hand which causes me to lurch forward head-butting the girl's ass (also lithe) which makes her fall in my lap and inadvertently pulls alex into her groin. this would of course be the moment marty chooses to enter the foyer finding the two men in her life rolling around on the floor with the one coed in the neighborhood who has not yet been warned to not babysit at THAT house.

i sense more firings on the horizon.

for the last eighteen days of 2005, i carried, in my wallet, a membership card to a local retailer's bra and panty club. i was nine punches in so not your basic tourist. three more clover-shaped holes and i'd be the proud and complimentary owner of a full-figure, soft-cup, microfiber, seamless, under-wire and smart-looking brasserie.

one may wonder how a short, stout, pasty fella like mys...

anyone who tells me they've had a vasectomy can be assured of my undivided attention for as long as they will answer my questions. i'm entirely unable to explain my quenchless need to know more about this topic, i just know to call it anything short of insatiable would be a mistaken way to describe my mood. last night i received my best account yet from a man who i will call, for the sake of this telling, the beef-eater.

first, and this i did not know, there is a pre-screening. the extent of this pre-flight check seems mostly concerned with making sure you don't have three testicles and that the two you do have are sitting in the appropriate left-right configuration. although, i imagine they would be truly interested in any number above two. and as for non-left/right options you have the very rare front/back or even more rare top/bottom alignments, either of which would certainly earn a note in the metal binder. and, there is little doubt that any of these unique scenarios would generate extra fees (esp bonus gonads) so this reality check works to prepare the subject for any special handling fees that may arise. the day the beef-eater had his pre-screening was coincidentally bring your kid to work day which means he got to answer these questions with a backpack-wearing eight year old staring up at him.

the big day has you laid out on an exam table naked from the waist down. they drape a towel over your groin area only there is a big whole cut out framing the part of you the towel is usually there to conceal (nobody better look at the naked side of my hip while my johnson is laying there lifeless, bloodless and frankly scared quite shitless). the nurse then partially knocks you out so you're awake but mostly unable to put up much of a fight or think too straight. it was at this point in the procedure that the super-attractive lady who lived two doors down from the beef-eater and was a nurse in this office, unbeknownst to him, entered the room. the best he could muster was to raise a hand and mumble the single word 'foul'. the doctor came in moments later and began. after the incisions were made he took a tool that resembled a crochet needle and pulled one of the vas deferens out of the hole, exposing it to be severed. i'm told that having your gamete superhighway lifted from its tracks in this manner produces an extremely unnatural sensation. i theorize this is the anti-erection part of the procedure, just in case all the random fumblings elicited any sort of positive feedback. it is now that they snip, burn and return the helpless tube back to its home. my mind envisions the ends whipping around like a dropped firehose or more appropriately, a writhing and injured worm.

they then sent him home telling him to lay on the couch with frozen corn on his affected part(s) for the next 24 hours. these were the last words of our conversation:

TROY
wow. is it hard to clean up all of that corn when you get up.

THE BEEF-EATER
you leave it in the bag, idiot!

TROY
oh. but, when you were done do you put the bag back in the freezer or throw it away?

THE BEEF-EATER
i don't know what other people do, but i threw mine away.

TROY
hmmm. i don't think marty would let me throw it out, groin-ridden or not.

and i can now check another fixation from my list. i found the account of this man's journey to be quite satisfying. thanks beef-eater for doing successfully what many before you could not.

this item has been removed
at the request of one of the participants/subjects.

a surprising first for this site.
and, not surprising that it occurred,
but surprising that it took this long to occur.

the number of ways marty can put a bra on while fully clothed is only surpassed by the number of ways she can take one off (also fully clothed). she can be standing next to me wearing a collared shirt one minute and i look again and she's got a warm bra balled up in her hand. another time she may pass me in the hall with one arm inside her shirt and the other pulling a shirt sleeve down to an elbow saying she's running to the store. i stop and watch her jet by as one arm will erupt out of the sleeve only to have the other hand dive into the collar. in these moments she reminds me of those shiny gold, female statuettes with the twenty arms. i've never looked at them closely to see if any of their appendages are messing with undergarments or not, but will going forward.

sadly these days i see marty putting bras on much more often than i see her taking them off. while this sucks for all the obvious reasons, i can say watching a shirted woman putting a bra on is far more mesmerizing in far more academic ways than seeing her remove one. (fact is, i've studied the removal process enough to think that i may have a shot at getting one off myself ... as long as someone first undid the horrible clippy/claspy thing in the back.)

and i feel i should caveat the above by reminding you that the guy so fascinated by all this is the same guy who takes his boxers off in the dining room just so he has a chair to lean on as he lowers the leg-holes down and around his short stubby legs. not sure if that lessens marty's apparel-based feats or not, but would understand if it did. i'm also not sure if that lessens anyone's desire to dine in my home or not. i promise not to disrobe while you're eating.

promise might be strong. how about we instead settle on giving it an old college try.

somehow, google listed my site as a resource to someone searching for information about masturbating children. i've never really considered myself an authority on masturbation but after four seconds of consideration i realized that, for reasons i'd rather not iterate through, i'm quite qualified to speak on the topic. and for an even greater number of reasons i'd especially rather not iterate through, i very well may be one of the foremost available authorities on the subject.

with this new mandate on my plate, i thought i'd spin around the web a bit and see what the competition was up to. it took less than eight mouse clicks to stumble upon this little morsel issued by our friends at the mormon church, steps in overcoming masturbation.

do i need to bother saying more is coming in regard to this document or is it as obvious as an erection in math class.

for the slow-witted or those using all their brain's resources trying not to touch their naughty parts, there WILL BE MORE COMING in regard to this document.

a detail i forgot to include in this month's gallery essay is that the day after getting the software, marty mocked me because i had stayed up all night working on my computer and was exhausted the next day. i told her to be nice to me and my new software because Apple's Tiger saved her marriage. she, like the gas-station clerk, indifferently shrugged her shoulders before turning away.

perhaps it's just that everyone but me knows that my seductress was really a prostitute trying to salvage a slow night.

it was almost eleven o'clock on a friday evening and i was driving to the apple store to pick up my copy of their new operating system, tiger. as for the late hour, they were open until midnight in honor of the software's release. i stopped on the way for gas and as i headed inside to pay, a youngish woman jumped out of a parked car and dashed in just before me, beating me to the counter. she purc...

what you are looking for is over here.

last month my momz was in the newspaper. you see, there's recently been a syphilis outbreak in saint louis and when stuff like that goes down, people give my mom a shout because she's all over knowing the score about broken and malfunctioning genitals.

in the articles my mom referred to some 'sex-oriented social events' that took place late last year which were thought to be the source of the city's current dilemma. one thing that people will never be able to say about me is that the phrase 'sex-oriented social event' didn't grab my attention. so when mom was over for bella's birthday party i asked about her comments.

let's just say i got 20 bucks that says my mom has uttered the phrase 'spanksgiving' and your mom has not.

if you've walked by me in the last 36 hours and heard me tittering privately, it just means i'm looking at this picture again.

i'm not sure if marty finds it endearing or embarrassing that i laugh uncontrollably at things like this.

and let us not forget these other great moments in sports.
every expression in this picture is priceless
and will we ever forget this poor, poor girl

these were the first words said to me after waking up yesterday morning ...

my high school was doing a production of the little mermaid. i was the mermaid but was replaced when i became too difficult to work with.

and, here is the second thing said to me after waking up yesterday morning ...

ivana from the apprentice was there but i couldn't remember her name so i kept calling her maggie.

and, this was my first thought yesterday morning ...

i would pay some serious jack to have marty and ivana in the same room getting haughty with one another.

you just don't know how a day that begins with such beautiful randomness is going to turn out. life excites me.