Trust The Gorton’s Fisherman

I hope Gorton’s doesn’t have a Google search like Comcast does, because if they read this blog, it’s going to go in a very different direction than they’re expecting. So, Gorton’s representatives, if you’re reading this now, it has nothing to do with fish sticks.

Okay gals, this may be about to get weird, but just go with me. So I’m in bed cuddling after great sex with FWB, yes I’m still calling him that because Climber Gal is the only one who has thrown a new name in the hat…. and speaking of hats, I was looking down at his poo-ge (pronounced poo- j-ay.. if it were French it would be spelled poujer. Well we get vajooge, the guy’s need a sexy name and penis just isn’t it… yes, yes, I’ll add poo-ge to the glossary) and he has a very nice poo-ge. What’s especially nice about his poo-ge, is that whenever I’m near him, it’s always at some stage of attention, even after we’ve just finished.

Back to the hat… as I was looking at his poo-ge from the side, I noticed that it looked like a man in a rain cap, in fact, I went a step further and said (out loud), “Your poo-ge looks like the Gorton’s Fisherman.”

Now, most guys would get freaked out by this, possibly even offended. I mean, who wants their manhood compared to a old guy in a beard and a yellow raincoat? But not my guy. My guy just looked down at his perfect specimen and replied, “Yeah, he does.”

My first thought was, “he’s so cool” my second thought was, “did he just say ‘he’?” I never refer to my vajooge as a ‘she’ my vajooge is an ‘it.’ But guys seem to refer to their man part as ‘he’ or ‘him’. Probably because it resembles a man in a rain hat.

That was all the conversation we had about the Gorton’s Fisherman until my morning text. FWB texts me every day to say good morning, and it’s never just “good morning,” it’s always something creative. So I woke up to read, “The Gorton’s fisherman was up earlier and rallied up all the seamen.” To which I replied, “Unfortunately, my hands were not on deck.” The next morning I awoke to “Ahoy there from the Gorton’s fisherman.” To which I replied, “I’d like to be sailing your boat right now.” You gotta love a guy with a sense of humor about his poo-ge.

If we ever go to Disneyland, we’re going to have do something in the Pirates of the Caribbean worth blogging about.

Anyway, I know that guys do like to name their poo-ge. And sometimes we gals like to rename it for them. I have a friend from high-school whose poo-ge name became his nickname. I guess when you have a poo-ge called “The Hammer” you want the world to know. And it’s also a good “heads-up” to women with small jawbones and tight vajooges… and before you judge me for saying that, those were his words, not mine.

I had a friend in highschool who named her boobs Ernie and Bert. I gotta say, I don’t get it. What’s sexy about comparing your breasts to a couple of closeted muppets? I don’t name my boobs, I have never had a man name them for me, I have had them referred to by other women as ‘the Girls’ as in, “dang, RCG, The Girls are out and ready for action tonight.” Which is usually when I have PMS and they are looking gynormous. The only reference FWB has made about them has been the quote from Teri Hatcher on Seinfeld (a show he loves)… “They’re real and they’re spectacular.”  I think I’ll end on that…


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