WORLD RECORD HOLDER FOR MASTURBATION AND OTHER NURSING HOME SEX STORIES

As promised, I'm presenting my top ten most popular posts as part of my one thousandth post celebration. This post was first published on November 11, 2011. Nine hundred thirty-two people viewed "WORLD RECORD HOLDER FOR MASTURBATION AND OTHER NURSING HOME SEX STORIES". If you're sensitive or offended by a discussion of masturbation, then you might want to skip this one. Keep in mind that Lola wrote this. She can be pretty nasty.

Here's #8 on my top ten hits list:

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Some nasty sexual activity occurs in nursing homes.

At the nursing home where I worked, I truly loved almost all the residents. But the few I didn't love? They were rather gross.

For example, there was the guy whose adult children would bring him porn. He'd watch it on his TV while masturbating. I did not like that man. He always spat on the floor. Finally I said to him, Mr. Masturbating Porn Watching Spitter, please do not spit on the floor. I have to kneel on the floor while I help you wash your nasty cum-covered ding-dong (gosh, I hope my use of ding-dong doesn't offend anyone). At least he stopped spitting when I was there.

We didn't close the doors in the nursing home because we had to keep an eye on everyone and make sure they hadn't fallen on the floor. Even at night the doors were closed only partway. We did not have cameras to help us watch for accidents, or to make our own porn films of the obvious masturbators.

There was this guy who obviously loved it that his door was open. His job before infirmity caught up with him must have been Flasher at a local elementary school. The kids have to learn sometime what a limp ding-dong on a moron looks like.

Mr. Moron should have been in the Guinness Book of World Records because he never, ever freaking stopped masturbating. Sitting on his bed. Next to the open door.

O.K. I'm exaggerating. He probably slept about two hours at night and he wasn't masturbating then. At least I don't think he was.

Every single person who walked down that hall got to see Mr. Moron yanking his wanky. And not just staff members. Every visitor who came to see a dying or sick loved one was treated to the sight of Mr. Moron dating five-fingered Sally.  Gentlemen, please tell me: If you masturbated 20 hours/day or so, then wouldn't your hand get tired?

Mr. Moron's hand was on the move all the time. Moron couldn't walk, couldn't get himself into his wheelchair alone so he could go to the bathroom, but he had the strongest right hand on Earth. God, he was amazing.

But let's finish up this post with something nicer. Before I worked in a nursing home, I volunteered in one. There was a man and a woman, probably in their 30s, and they had some physical disabilities. They might have been a bit mentally challenged too.

But they found each other and were so happy together. They sat in their wheelchairs in his room or her room, talking and holding hands and once, I saw them kissing. It was really pretty sweet. Living in a nursing home is not exactly fun, and I'm glad they could comfort one another.
I hope that, in their own way, they lived happily ever after.

Infinities of love,
Lola 

LET'S PUT ON THE FEED BAG TOGETHER

Gentle Readers,

I've been trying to think of the best way to let William and Harry know that Someone I Love and Favorite Young Man are their new-found relatives and I been thinkin' of writing a note, somethin' like this:

Dear Will and Harry,

Good news! You are related to the handsome and talented Favorite Young Man and the beautiful and talented Someone I Love. They are Spencer ginger-heads just like you, Harry.

We'd sure like to get to know you.

So the next time you visit America, or Canada, it don't really matter, why don'tcha take a little side trip and visit the Dakotas? We'll put on a dinner for you after the service at the Lutheran church, complete with tuna hot dish and jello salad in the appropriate color to go with the church year. If you don't get here till Advent, then you'll get blueberries in your jello, but we'll have to use frozen because fresh would cost a fortune if they were even available.

Will, please bring the little woman. We hope she'll be preggers so we can have Aunt Gertie at church rub her belly and tell you if it's a girl or a boy. Aunt Gertie has been wrong only once in 20 years of belly rubbing. Harry, why don't you bring that good looking Pippa? We think it would be great if you two brothers who are such close buddies married sisters and Favorite Young Woman is off the market for you, Harry, now that we know we're related.

We seen the cousins gettin' married thing before and it don't lead to nothin' good, but we won't say a word about how it used to be a common thing with your royal granny's family.

Love,

Someone I Love and Favorite Young Man's Mama

P.S. You all can call me Auntie Lola.

CALL ME SISTER STEVIE

Gentle Readers,

The very nice homeless gentleman who said I look exactly like Stevie Nicks and that I'm gorgeous and all that

(see  CALL ME STEVIE)

would no longer recognize me.

Previously, Stevie and I probably had two things in common: our golden tresses and mid-life weight gain.

We are down to one thing now because I got my hair cut. It (my hair) is in a plastic bag on my dining room table so I can donate it to Locks of Love. If you have at least eight inches of hair you can live without, and I'm not talkin' pubes, please consider getting it whacked like Tony Soprano getting rid of an enema enemy and donate the hair to Locks of Love. Click on the link above to learn how to donate.

But don't be concerned. I am not bald. I had plenty to give away and I have plenty left. Just not Stevie tresses anymore.

So now since I'm entering a convent,

see  CANCELLATION TRIALS & TRIBULATIONS

I prefer to be known as Sister Stevie, or perhaps Sister Sledge.

Sing with me Sister Bloggers: We are family! I've got all my sisters and me!

Infinities of love,

Lola

OLYMPIAN DUMPER

Gentle Readers,

For a couple of days I have been promising to write about the Olympics, so let's get started tonight and get the bad guy out of the way.

Tomorrow I'll try to move on to all the great things I love about the Olympics.

O.K. He won the gold medal in the decathalon at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal.

NAME THAT DUMPER!
















If you said Bruce Jenner, you got it baby.

Brucie's first wife supported him while he was in college, kept him focused, and allowed him to win that gold medal. He paid her back by dumping her.

When Bruce got back from Montreal, he looked like Mr. Clean Cut All American Boy and he was on the Wheaties box. He was also on quite a few TV talk shows and I remember him saying that he left his wife - I believe while she was pregnant with their second child, or at best, it was quite soon after the child was born.

Although I was extremely young when this occurred, barely past the fetus stage, I remember thinking, What a jerk.

He remarried, very quickly, snatching a former Elvis girlfriend and having a couple more kids with her.

They divorced.

Now he's the dad of two more with Wife #3 and stepdad to the Kardashians on the reality show Keeping Up With the Kardashians, something I have never bothered to watch. Surprise Surprise

He's been on lots of schlocky TV shows and had a ton of plastic surgery. Then he had to have plastic surgery to try to repair the plastic surgery.

He just looks like a stupid old man dumper to me.

Love to you but not to Bruce Jenner,

Dumped First Wife

When I took Chem 101 in college, our instructor mentioned that Bruce Jenner was the student teacher in his high school gym class. Obviously it was while B.J. was in college and training for the Olympics, and while he was being supported by Wife #1. The instructor said that Bruce Jenner was the biggest bastard he'd ever met - and this was before he won gold. He was already preparing to enter major jerkdom, or maybe he'd been there his entire life.