Public Service Announcement: Your Balls

The answer to every question is: "Your balls." Allow me to demonstrate.

Me: Are you coming to the party on Thursday?

Drunken Mouse: I might. Lady Mouse's birthday is the day before.

Me: Oh! That's right.

Drunken Mouse: Yeah. I am taking her to [redacted.] It's a schmancy place that will require me shaving.

Me: YOUR BALLS.

Drunken Mouse: HA! That was really good.

And I know. I know that.

Regarding Jealousy

Drunken Mouse: well. it's kinda like one time when [redacted] was all super chatty with Lady Mouse at last new years

Drunken Mouse: i was like time for my famous cockblock

Me: did you ask him how he was healing up?

Drunken Mouse: hahahaha

Me: "the sores almost gone? [redacted]?"

Drunken Mouse: well i was not worried but i know he just gravitates to pretty gals

Drunken Mouse: just, it can't be mines

Me: "did the doctor say it was OFFICIALLY micropenis?"

Me: "or is that just like, an expression?"

Drunken Mouse: HAHAHAHA!

Me: "so ... that means you're a lady, right?"

Me: "you're a lady?"

Drunken Mouse: that would totally fly over Lady Mouse's head

Drunken Mouse: that would be the funny part

Me: "you know, ruelala has this sale on thongs..."

My Ugly Love, You Are a Messy Chesnut

Jennie Smash: hey, park sloper
Jennie Smash: is it safe for me to walk from my apt to stonehome in ft greene tonight?
Jennie Smash: or do i need to get a car?
Drunken Mouse: it is pretty safe
Jennie Smash: that's what i thought
Jennie Smash: and it's a nice walk
Jennie Smash: i have a match.com date
Drunken Mouse: walk straight down flatbush to bam
Jennie Smash: and i just realized that he's not smiling with teeth in this picture
Jennie Smash: do we think he's toothless?
Jennie Smash: i bet you five dollars he's toothless
Drunken Mouse: HA!
Drunken Mouse: no
Drunken Mouse: i hate smiling full teeth
Drunken Mouse: so i avoid it
Jennie Smash: ok, then
Jennie Smash: (i am calling you if he has no teeth)

Fair Warning

So, here's a thing about me: If you're my friend, at some point, you will receive a text from me that says, "You like big balls." This is regardless of gender or sexual preference. It's to keep me entertained, and I think we can all agree that that's safer.

Anyway: This weekend, my pal Cedric got his MBA, and the Mouse and I journeyed north to Lincoln Center for the ceremony. We stayed sober throughout and were rather quiet, but it was a long ceremony, and well, one gets bored.

About an hour in, I started texting the Mouse.

Me: You like big balls.

Mouse: Your mama likes big balls.

Pause.

Me: Your balls like big mamas.

Mouse: You are a bad person.

Return of the Mouse

The Mouse has a lady, so he's much better behaved these days. Still, you can't treat a drunken mouse sober tricks, or something, so it wasn't really a total surprise when we found ourselves out late on a school night, lurching toward a diner and singing while the Mouse kicked over trashcans.

"Hey," I said, after the fifth can or so. "Hey." I was having trouble focusing on the Mouse, who was cloning himself into many mice before my eyes, so I looked at the end of my finger instead. "You can' do that, y'know."

"Can too. Lookit." CRASH!

"Nuh, nuh, nuh, cuz listen. SHHHH. There are babies on this street."

"Oh!" He looked momentarily concerned.

"Yup."

"Babies! Shhh. Kay."

When we got to the next trashcan? He laid it gently on its side.