My Friend Jack.

Last night I met a few friends up at a local watering hole for some libations. It was G's birthday, and we were having a low-key celebration.

One of G's friends - I'll call him Jack (for reasons you will find out sooner rather than later, and then want to wash your eyes out with bleach, or laugh heartily, depending on whether or not you are one of MY friends) - wound up joining us. G's a cute little thing, but sometimes the stuff that just flies out of her mouth, especially when fueled by fire water, is insane.

I need to give you a little background first. The first time I met Jack, the first thing G told me about him was that he liked to walk the otter. Twice a day. Like clockwork. Oh - you aren't familiar with that phrase? Well, how about milk the snake? Lap-based web-browsing? Getting some air nookie? Shaking your fist at the ex-girlfriend? Tickling your Elmo? Are you getting it now?

So this is the first thing I learn about Jack. And trust me, there was no shame in his game. He didn't care. It was his, he could play with it if he wanted to! That aside, and I'm not even sure it needed to be an aside, he seems like a nice enough guy. Healthy. Cleaned out. **wink**

Last night Jack joined us for G's birthday. And she took it upon her self to remind me about his daily habit. I gotta hand it to him (no pun intended), he's pretty ok with it. I told him his urologist was certainly going to appreciate the cleanliness when it was time for that exam.

But see, G had been drinking wine, and then joined us all for cocktails, and she started polling the boys: Sock or shower? Which do you use? I was pleasantly surprised to learn that there were a clean bunch of boys, who all used the shower.

Except J - who called home to get his girl to draw him a bath.