Ricky Pony Sex Chat-(inspired by ridiculous Craigslist sex posts)

Ricky Pony is a fictional character living amongst the sex starved and perverse who inhabit the seedy world of Craigslist online sex encounters. He really knows how to get a guys attention...

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Ticklish: I get in your car..unzip...oops!? Do this between 7:30-8:30 am...Cave Creek rd.

RickyPony: Its not that I dont want to meet you, I DO! I just have a thing for sweatpants, is that okay? I like them pretty tight, unless you dont. Either way. I live right by a cave and im pretty big now that i take these AWESOME duck pills. i can show them to you on cave creek road between 7:30-8:30 am. i always wear the RED SWEATPANTS so you will be able to spot me. (my hair will be brushed). what do you think?

Ticklish: Nice. Stats?

RickyPony: just turned 21. blonde hair (i tuck it behind my ears). my nose fits my face nice (they say). i dont like walking and mostly run or jog everywhere I go so ive got those legs of mine, and not too much chest hair (i make sure of that!)im 5'9" and i just got out of my hot tub. i was SO drunk earlier, but then i ate some clams. that cooled me right off…

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Mandump: Like to show off my ham edge, get flarbed on. 18-40 if you like talking back thats cool too. I want to hang out by the pool ...drink beer and piss around hehe…

RickyPony: When you said that thing about the ham edge, I thought wow. Thats what im looking for! Im shy but i work out 5 times a day and weigh 195. it works for me. I like the word flarb...it makes me feel all kinds of, "lets get into the pool and drink some beer". ive never let someone piss on me before, but ive done things with 4 different kinds of jams so we can probably try it. i don’t mind a little spitting. I like pale guys or guys with long backs.

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Morningwalk: Taking my morning walk up Camelback Road. Love to take a respite while stooped to clean up after a young rooster.

RickyPony: I love sprite in the morning too (your typo was funny and caught my eye!) but that’s invaluable. I am 20 and love campbells soup. I usually have some in my RED SWEATPANTS. i have blonde hair (i tuck it behind my ears) my nose fits my face (confirmed many times over) and sleep in a twin bed. you seem nice and like you might even buy me breakfast. so buy me some breakfast. i can afford it but its nice to know someone wants to buy some for you. im not sure about all of this, but im not NOT sure of it either! I was with one other older guy once (avian librarian) and it was really nice. We motor-mouthed each other’s scab spots.

Quick post, slow pants.

A quick post today to make you aware of the "Slowest Pants in Town". These were spotted on the hips, thighs, and ankles of one of Phoenix's' finest. She was spotted on the number 29 bus shortly after 1pm. I challenge you, citizens of greater Phoenix to top my candid bus photos, if you dare. I dub today's glamour shot, Turtle Pants.

Are you there God? Its me...and I'm bloated.

Truth be told, I’ve never did understand those "I've been talkin’ to the Lord!" types. I mean, yammer away all you want to His Holiness, but if a dump truck feels like backing into your aunt Harriet after her cardio funk class at the YMCA next Tuesday, it has nothing to do with any hot apple cider chat sessions you’ve had with Him leading up to your aunt’s unfortunate human pancake encounter. Also, graveside ramblings on Harriet’s behalf probably won't do much to rouse any life into her stinking corpse. Sorry folks, but a miracle worker He isn't. That being said...I do like talking. So if I ever did get around to gabbin’ with God...you know, just blubberin’ away to the Big Guy, or Big Gal if you're sassy...it would probably go something like this:


God: So what was the highlight of your day so far, Brad?

Brad: Well, I went to my follow up appointment with Sentinel Home Detention Services today.

God: What is Sentinel Home Detention Services?

Brad: (Wait, how does he not know about this?) Sentinel is one of those jerky companies that prey on the victims of the Phoenix court system. I have regretfully contracted their services in order to avoid an extended stay in Sheriff Joe Arpiao’s notoriously rank, Tent City. I called it leaving the bar, the officer called it super-extreme DUI. Pish-posh.

God: I like your pretty mouth swears, keep talking about words…

Brad: (OMG, does God think jerky is a swear!?) Here is the story with Sentinel. They will outfit you with one used breathalyzer machine (manufactured in Israel) and one tracking device (worthy of being strapped to the shank of an insubordinate barnyard creature). This is to better monitor your compliance to the a pact you formally made not to consume alcohol or leave your home for a month. No alcohol for 30 days? Cake. Maintaining sanity in a 450 sq ft casita for an entire month? Irksome.

God: Sounds rough, how did the appointment go?

Brad: It started out well enough. I've been on the program for 15 days, and I've got 15 more, so no sweat. I got to the Sentinel office with paperwork in hand and my caseworker, Louie, a Latin-Papi type with a disfigured appendage (typical) tells me he is going to review my compliance over the past 15 days. If he has any questions about my whereabouts, he will ask. He spends the next few minutes underlining, circling, and initialing my schedule. Ultimately everything lines up nicely, except for one little thing…

God: What did you do this time, kid?

Brad: (Shit, he doesn’t know this either?) When you face the breathalyzer machine, and are ready to blow into it, the machine takes a picture of you to further verify your compliance, thus inciting the 'no double backsies' clause. The panel of glass that houses the camera in the breathalyzer is about the size of one of Satan's business cards which is standard size (hard to believe). Anyhow this area lights up after a series of obligatory bells and whistles to capture your image. Looking at my reflection in this pane, my forehead and chin are cut off and so naturally I assumed the resulting photograph would be a facsimile of this segment of my face.

God: Now that sounds like one handsome image.

Brad: I know, right? Well the problem wasn’t that I was so handsome I jammed up the machine or anything. According to Gimpy Lou, the high tech camera inside of the breathalyzer is programmed to photograph an area that extends far beyond the reflection displayed by the little glass panel.

God: Like how much further?

Brad: Put it this way, I’ve been asked to stop taking my breathalyzer tests naked.

God: (blushing) Oh my heavens!

Brad: Oh come on, God. Stop acting like a kindergartner.

Focus on Green Living:

Everyday living tips for Scamp City wig dusters and other types of people dedicated to promoting a Green Lifestyle.


Here are 7 trophy-winning tips on realistic things you can do starting TODAY to up your greenability, as sent to us by Thurmond Ridgequiver, octogenarian and founder of the "Rusty Weasel Tabernacle and Smog Advisory Board" in Scamp City, Oregon.

1. Sleep upside down or on your head tonight. This will not encourage any funny ideas in the minds of bats or bees.
2. Draw a sad cat. Sad cats encourage happier dreams effortlessly! Sad cats on bridges have been winning the affections of harmonica salesmen, and rum enthusiasts for years.
3. Put six dollars in a glass jar and see if anyone notices.
4. Get something dedicated to you like a book or a statue. Eventually.
5. Organize a scissor-kick dance competition. Shiny shoes get noticed.
6. Stay dressy and well hydrated. Sugary popsicles trick kids and the elderly into consuming extra fluids.
7. Make it a, “Milkbush-Wong Pleasure Cruise” in 2012!

The shirt off your back...

If I had to quantify my own personal fashion influences, it might be safe to say that the following could possibly be true:

I am...

• 31% Thrift Store-Goodwill, Savers, DIA...you name it, I can fabricate some type of noteworthy outfit from its bowels.
• 22% Elderly Chic-orthopedic shoes/old sweaters/vintage shorts/large sunglasses.
• 14% Plain tees and accessories-gets the job done while leaving the focus on my charming face.
• 9% Mismatching-outfits make more sense when they don’t make sense. (You follow?)
• 8% Vintage tees-Says "I'm cool" in a time-worn way.
• 7% Belt-belts have kept waists and hips separated for centuries, I’m sure there is good reason for this.
• 6% Duck Butt Hair Flips-the back of my hair is actually a part of my outfit, it's that important.
• 2% Emphatically anti-sandal-flip flops are only acceptable in the comfort of your own home. The only exceptions to this rule are 1. beachwear and 2. poolwear. Beyond that, I'm not budging.
• 1% Socks and Lotion-I wear them so they count.

From this fairly reasonable facsimile of my tastes one might be able to cipher my great esteem for used clothes; consignment, vintage, hand me downs, recycled outfits, et. al...in fact I am probably redressing myself in your likeness as we speak...and this my friends, is where it begins to get a bit interesting.

If you are anything like me, you find yourself marveling at the fashions others pour themselves into daily. I often find myself thought-quoting myself by thinking things like; "Wow, her bodysuit looks dope!", or "Holy heck, his overalls would make me look fly!" And that is why, after seeing this particular man on the bus today (let's call him Jesus because it just feels right) I ended up "kicking myself in the hoo-hole" as I ultimately neglected to barter for his finery:

Oh, whats that? Pretty drab you say? Well then obviously you don't know how to read, or haven't read his shirt very closely. Oh you can't seem to make it out? Then let me help you. It says, "Out of my way! I'm late for BINGO!" (A sentiment I think we can all relate too).

Detail: If you can't make that out for yourself try putting on your glasses upside down, or just take my word for it, the shirt was a gem. But alas, Jesus was not the most fastidious of individuals when it came to personal hygiene, and thus I had to bow out on this shirt-swap.

P.S. Yes, Jesus was carrying a box of honeydews.

P.P.S. It's a fact that the honeydew is called 'The Money Melon' because honeydew what honey-wants-to-do.

You know Gabe. Gabe's "that guy"...

Gabe, the details:

1. Gabe runs meetings.
2. Gabe walks fast.
3. Gabe wears a suit.
4. Gabe should rethink his tie.
5. Gabe looks stressed.
6. Gabe gets warm.
7. Gabe sweats.
8. Gabe has no audio visual hook up in his conference room.
9. Gabe's boss scares Gabe.
10. Gabe would like to scare me.
11. Gabe doesn't.

Gabe, the lingering questions:

1. Does Gabe know infant CPR?
2. Does Gabe have nut allergies?
3. Did Gabe notice my dimples?
4. Is Gabe aware that deers have threesomes?
5. Is there something Gabe knows that he isn't telling me?
   
   
   

On my way to the bakery...

An uncanny girl sat down next to me on the bus today. I didn't notice her entrance initially; rather she announced her presence with a wayward coiffure that gave off a distinct scent of cigarettes, coffee and tanning oil. While none of these things in their own right were uniquely rousing, their marriage was altogether arresting. Something told me that if the aroma of her hair were capable of keeping a secret, it would be that her pussy tastes like a glazed doughnut. Did I mention that I'm thirty-seven and I've never been with a woman? Also, I flunked out of pastry school.

This is a submission for, http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/, an online journal.

I feel certain of quite a few things:

1. High fructose corn syrup is causing your brain to swell. (pop, soda-cola-coma)

2. (Most) libraries have not yet banned roller-skating through them (for short-cutting purposes).

3. Chubby Badger Frozen Dinners are 40% whale shank. (per pocket)

4. Lawnmower fights get more publicity in the summer months. (Think beach house accidents)

5. Refrigerator magnets tell you everything you need to know about a person. If you can get into their kitchen, you can preform a fool proof compatibility test on any man or beast fortunate enough to keep a Frigidaire.

Do you like me?

Bus Stop Humor

Okay, I'll give it to you. To all of you whimsical Phoenix commuters with your fancy cars, racing too and fro as you please, I'll admit it. Riding the bus can be irritating. But for every twenty-nine clamorous, malodorous and mind numbingly mundane bus rides a person must endure in any given month, there is without fail one refreshingly original experience to be had, and today was my day.

Sitting in the sliver of (94 degree) shade that Phoenix city bus stops provide, I allowed my focus to settle on the discussion taking place between two (hopelessly intoxicated) Navajo gentlemen well into their 60's. The older of the two gentleman has taken his half guzzled 40 oz. out of its brown paper bag, torn away a strip of paper about the size of his fist and is folding and making small rips in it. Noticing that I am watching, the man waves me over and shows me his creation. Far from any complex origami structure, he presents the approximation of a small man wearing a hat, with dangling legs. Pretty one dimensional, one might falsely presume...

"Pull the legs down gently", he tells me.

He had folded this flotsom scrap in such a way that when you tug on the mans feet a bit, a little paper boner pops out.

Goldmine.

(funny enough to get a bus stop full of sweaty people laughing)

Newly reassured of his comic prowess and possessing our devoted attention, he decides to press his luck by rambling through with a sloppy joke about Elizabeth Taylor.

(Remember the last time you heard a sad joke?)

Ultimately I think he forgot he was telling a joke at all and maybe thought he really had met Elizabeth Taylor once when he was a boy. Although I'm pretty sure he just got drunk and watched a movie with her in it the night before. He never did find his way back to the punchline on that one, which is sad because there is a real shortage of Elizabeth Taylor jokes these days. After that, I noticed his breath smelled like urine. Or maybe he did. So he burped and then the bus came.

Sea Cow vs. Thunder Horse

Sea Cow: "Your theighs need powdering".

Thunder Horse: "Your udders have barnicles".

Sea Cow: "You mistake dog turds for dinner rolls".

Thunder Horse: "Your scrotum smells like a rusty bucket".

Tape Face

On the bus today I sat next to a man with little pieces of scotch tape all over his face. He kept turning to me and asking, without moving his mouth..."is my face falling off?" It wasn't, but some of the tape was.