Two weeks ago in this column, as part of a celebration of all the simple pleasures and interesting events that food occasions, one of the most satisfying and popular anecdotes told was about a prep cook injured by an overheated cantaloupe/lover. In an attempt to satisfy readers’ prurient interests, we will attempt to cull from the archives more related subject matter.
We can always extol on the pleasures food brings – how many times have we heard good victuals equated to sex? We can also consider the seemingly silly, gratuitously flavored condoms that somehow remain on the market, and the ever-popular Motion Lotion, artificially flavored to taste like our favorite fruits.
This week, though, we would rather focus on less pedestrian, if not plus vulgar and trashy events of which we have heard or to which we have borne witness.
To begin, let us relate an event to which we were something of a witness, having been in the employ of the establishment in question. This establishment’s unisex employee restroom was home to a copy of the men’s magazine noted for its Viagra-popping wretch of an editor.
Males and females were employed at this bar/eatery, so we found ourselves frequently in relation to said placement, but as Mr. Brown so rightly – albeit incorrectly – stated, “This is a maaan’s world (but it would be nothin’ without a woman or girl).”
The catch is that the cover featured none other than the daughter of the old Gipper himself. That’s correct reader, an unclothed Ms. Maureen Reagan was featured on those well-fingered pages. We cannot help but postulate here if this might have coincided with the official disclosure of old Dutch’s Alzheimer’s disease.
Not to belittle the plight of Alzheimer’s sufferers and their beleaguered loved ones, but those of us who remember the ’80s will always remember Ronnie’s most telling and most repeated testimony at the Iran Contra hearings: “I don’t remember.”
Yes, we have strayed from the topic of masturbation, but it is something one easily forgets. Male readers are encouraged at this point to remember all the times they have fallen asleep. We venture to guess that for female readers the same might apply.Falling asleep was not likely for the folks (male or female) on the pot of the employee restroom – they were on the clock. Although it is likely that whoever found pleasure in the photos of Ms. Reagan, if they were not taking some twisted form of liberal vengeance, did eventually doze off.
The astute reader will note that we here at the “Do You Like It?” desk have, even while attempting to remain on point, managed to run far afield of what we intended to accomplish herein.
Consider, reader, that we had wanted to speak of a television show, “Busted on the Job,” which aired a few years ago on the less-than-esteemed Fox television network. Consider that we intended to mention one “Busted” donut-shop worker’s extra glaze applied for a “special” customer.
Consider this week’s column, “thankfully,” over.