To The Wasted 20Something Woman On The Subway Last Night,

It was only 11PM, and it was very clear that you were on your way home from a corporate Christmas party. It was obvious to me that you never read my first corporate party experience, so you innocently drank yourself silly. You were so drunk that the empty gold tin that once carried chocolates was crushed from when someone apparently sat on it before you got on my train. You also had a helpful couple behind you picking up all of the things that you had dropped on the platform and inside of the train who thankfully for you were kind enough to return to return those items to you.

You sat in a position that I myself have sat in numerous times on a drunken ride home on the subway. Knees spread at shoulder width, head and torso hunched over your knees, only you kept your head in one hand. I keep mine in both. As you noticed last night, your one elbow kept slipping off of your leg. This is in part due to the alcohol in your system, and in part due to your lacking in knowledge of the better technique.

When you barreled off the subway at 59th Street in Brooklyn I saw just how just you were, walking in a zigzag fashion along the platform with your eyes closed, and intermittently taking that one big step forward that made your whole body catch itself.

I just wanted to let you know that I said a little prayer of wishes that you got home safe last night, and when I got home I hoped that you got home in time to catch That’s So Raven on Nick.

Regards,
Sober Beehive

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To Boris,

Thanks to you I got to see my first naked woman magazines when we were 11 years old. While you and I were never all that close, you have always remained ingrained in my memory as being an overall good guy, despite the fact of the last time I saw you in passing was roughly ten years ago and you were spread out across to hood of an expensive sports car being cuffed and arrested by the cops. I’m not 100% sure if you recognize me nowadays, but I certainly do recognize you. I see that you pump gas at the BP, and your shift must start at 8AM since you have lately been walking there while I walk to the subway.

I hope that you are happy, and I know things could be much worse; you could be the son of the owner of that gas station. The certain one whom we both went to school with whose growing and distributing of marijuana from his mothers home ended up costing her the house and a huge portion of her sanity. You could be him, a giant loser who when not spending time in Riker’s Island for criminal acts is walking along the streets looking a pale greenish yellow and completely out of his mind from the drugs he is on.

I’m glad that that isn’t you.

Best Wishes,
Your Old Pal Beehive

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To The Coworker That Grew Up In Missouri & Creeped Me Out Dressed Like An Angel On Halloween,

Based on your giggling the enter morning with your fellow coworker, I will assume that you and her had a fantastic lesbian experience last night. I am assuming that this was a first for both the two of you getting together, and your first girl on girl action since college.

I applaud you two on your lustful corporate Christmas partying festivities that must have happened last night. No harm seen on my end from this. Just keep the chatting and giggling with each other up, and I will quietly sit here smiling with the thought that you two did each other, and plan on doing each other many more times.

Yours Truly,
One Happy Beehive

This morning I found out that my coworker Susan’s husband died last night. It’s a real tragedy; he was only 32 years old. The good news is that Susan is no longer a battered wife.

Ayooooooooo!!!!

Thank you. Thank you.

Welcome to this weeks Pig session.

This week is a first; my original choice for Babe of the Week has been ousted, replaced! Originally the lovely and talented Ms. Denise Austin who has kept me firm and in shape for decades had been planned as the cover model. Oh what the heck, I can’t do that to Denise Austin. Here she is, your cover model.

Other than that she is done this week.

However, this weeks Babe of the Week is none other than Hachiya Persimmons!

Sweet and delicious Hachiya Persimmons! I had never seen such a beautiful and sexy sight as I did on Saturday at the supermarket when I saw all so many of you laying it all out in the display cases like that. My first thought at your sight was B Cup, and I must get it in my mouth. You looked so smooth and orange; it was as if you were the fairy princess here to sweep me off my feet after my awful Clementine experiences. Hachiya Persimmons, you are my transition woman fruit.

I was careful to read your small sticker that read “ripe when soft”. Your clear and concise directions on when the best time to eat you out of your hard skin made me quite grateful. You didn’t make me do any work when I tried to open you up. You were just right.

You allowed me to touch you the way no other fruit has ever wanted me to touch it before. I gladly obliged for coming onto me like that.

Had I known that there was a fruit out there that had such a similar look and feel of a woman vaginy-gine-gina a.k.a. bits and pieces, I would have become a big fan out eating you out of you hard skin long ago. You were so lifelike to some real bits and pieces that I was left with a wet and clamy chin, just like the bedroom. The entire experience of me eating you left me breathless.

If you ever want anything more from me other than my eating you, just let me know. As you can read in this here link, I am capable of filling you up more than enough, my fruit.

Let us go to the HUSS Scale!

How hot are Hachiya Persimmons on the HUSS Scale?

HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS HUSS

There a perfect seven out of seven.

P.S. Seriously, this fruit is the closest fruit to wet vagina ever.

Can we get someone over at Crif Dogs, which is the best hotdog place in New York City to look into this news story about Reindeer Dogs? These things look delicious in the links video footage. My palate wants to try it, ASAP!

While we’re on the subject of Crif Dogs, what ever happened to Kerry (pictured below), the shaved headed muscular owner (is he still) of Crif Dogs? He was always a great guy.

Now I’m in the mood for a Crif / New York Dog combo, with a chilidog, an RC cola, and a vanilla shake – my usual order.

So I got an IPOD Shuffle this past weekend from the Cheese.

I have never owned an IPOD type thing of any type before. There have been two basic reasons for this. 1) Whenever I’ve picked up the IPOD of someone else I have been very confused by it. 2) I have a super old computer at home that does not have the capability for high speed internet and downloading songs on dialup is useless.

The Cheese on the other hand already has a fancy computer with high speed internet, plus a ton of songs in her database. I went through her songs and popped 188 songs still leaving lots of room left on the tiniest piece of technology I own – the IPOD Shuffle is 1.62 inches long and less than half a centimeter in thickness.

Last night on the way home from the Cheese’s I decided that I would pop the cherry of my IPOD Shuffle. I connected the earphones to the Shuffle, put the earpieces into my ears, turned it on, and it magically worked! The sound, volume, and DJ pleased me like quality to its randomness.

I’ve decided that I will become one of those “I listen to music people on the subway” kind of person. No longer will I have to listen to other people’s conversation. From here on out I shall submit myself to the world of idiocy, lack of caring, and lack of understanding world that has become the subway IPOD listener. I will be able to do whatever I want thanks to this IPOD Shuffle.

Things look brighter over here now. Yes, they do.

***The IPOD Shuffle is so small that after going through 20 pages of Google images, I have yet to find the newer / smaller version of this thing that isn’t the size of a small button.