Thursday, October 13, 2011

It's Whoreticulture Friday!
Issue 72.5

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws. Or people I work with. Or anyone who lives within 10 miles of me.

Today's topic: The Pussy Wagon is Full

Confession - I'm a total tease.  Today isn't whorish, full of or showing any vaginas.  I'm on Day One of my "time" and no one around me is getting sex.  NO ONE.  I'm sorry men expecting porn, you may now go back to searching for the nude Scarlett Johansson photos.  For everyone else...


I think I've mentioned before that my neighborhood is crawling with pussy

Well those days have come to an end.  Last weekend when I was at my hooker convention in Nebraska, the animal control wagon pulled up and got loaded up to the gills in pussy.  Someone finally called the po-po and reported that our street had literally 30+ cats running around, and when there is that much pussy on the street there is bound to be infection.  Hide your husbands, hide the kids.  The street was lined with cat traps.

Most of our family was happy with this news, not so much because we are cat haters (but some of us are) but because it is hard for one neighborhood to feed, sustain, medicate and deliver 30 cats to music and dance lessons.  However, it upset Youngest Daughter.  She started freaking out, and Current Husband, who was running the asylum in my absence, couldn't figure out why.  Finally, he talked her off the ledge, and she got a coherent sentence out: 

Does this look like a feral cat to you?

Youngest Daughter perhaps had a point.  To calm her down, and to be sure we didn't lose The Best Standard Poodle Ever, CH called George the Superpet into the house, where he watched the feral cats get loaded up and carted off with a look that could only be described as satisfaction.
Thank you, Animal Control!  Our tax dollars at work, freeing our neighborhood from this:

Happy Whoreticulture Friday, have a great weekend!


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