CockChucks

Last night, even though I was running a fever and feeling less than optimal, I went out with some of my girlfriends to a local bar for a bit.  Now, I didn't anticipate knowing anyone there except for the handful of people I was going with and those that work at the establishment, but sometimes the best things aren't anticipated (pregnancies probably aren't on that list of "best unanticipated things").
I went into the bar last night with the preconceived notion I would be leaving in thirty minutes or less, that it would be a moderately boring night, and I would be asleep by midnight.  I walked into the bar wearing the dress pants and sweater I had worn to work, and to my surprise there was a gentleman at the bar whom I love to talk to.  The gentleman, Ryan, and I exchanged hugs, greetings, and "it's been forever"'s, and sat down to catch up on life.  Now, Ryan is one of those guys that is just absolutely amazing to talk to.  He's edgy, funny, witty, and has a great laugh and great smile.  He's got an unabashed kindness to him, and has a deep and passionate appreciation for life and it's gifts and subtle nuances.  He's got some piercings, tattoos, and is pretty much the most unique person I've ever met.  I would say the one thing he and I most have in common is our sense of humor.
As conversation progressed with Ryan last night, I learned that he has a thing for ninjas and ninja paraphernalia.  I dismissed it at first, and began to give him a hard time about the music the DJ was playing.  Both Ryan and one of the bartenders were singing every line to some old-school rap song that was playing.  When I exclaimed that I didn't know the words to the song, nor had I ever heard it before, I was gazed upon by both boys with a look of shock mixed with a pinch of disgust.  Ryan exclaimed "it's Warren G!"
Imagine the shock on the faces of the individuals around me when I asked the obvious question: "is he of any relation to Kenny...?"
Thus began the night of harassing me for my taste in music.  Now, to set the record straight, I'll listen to just about anything.  I love country, rap, R&B, rock, blues, bluegrass, electronica, pop, screamo, death metal.. I think you get the picture.  In a nutshell:  I'll listen to anything except polka.  Now, Ryan has a taste in music that is eclectic but far less main-stream and of much more obvious talent than what one could ever find on MTV.  So every time I would sing the words to some new pop song and say "I love this song!" Ryan would say "you would" and simply put his head in his hands and laugh.
This went on all night, but in some turn of events we began discussing beating people up and martial arts.  This is where we come full circle to the ninja discussion.  Somehow or another we were discussing the different types of nunchucks he owned.  He was going through the list of swords and nunchucks until he said something that triggered my smart-ass sense of humor.  He said, "I've got those clear acrylic nunchucks."
My reply: "They make dildos out of that, too."
Immediately Ryan and I started laughing, but something was slightly amiss in the laughter.  Suddenly Ryan and I had that moment that everyone shares with someone else in the course of their life; that moment where everything makes sense and you're both thinking the exact same thing at the exact same time.  We both stopped laughing and we had smiles on our faces but the wheels were clearly turning.  Our eyes were on each other, but neither was aware of what we were looking at; we were lost in thought and enraptured by the visuals racing through our minds.  Ryan finally broke the silence and said to me, with the funniest tone of voice I've ever heard, "I have never, ever thought about that until this very moment."  I knew what he was thinking, for I'd never thought of it before, either.  He said, "in my head I see these nunchucks with these huge dildos on them!"
It was precisely what I was thinking to.  Of course my head wouldn't stop there, no no, I went on to explore the mental image and set a scene in the moment where one could see, with clarity, the vision we were having.  I said to him, "imagine being that guy that got beaten to death or to near death with nunchucks with acrylic dildos on the end of them.  I mean, how could you even file a police report and explain to the officer you were beaten to a pulp with sex toys on a rope. It's like adding insult to injury.  I can see some short, Asian man wielding nunchucks and preparing to fight.  From his belt he draws them, swinging them with fury and rage in his eyes, then he stops and with one in each hand extends his arms and lets out a loud yell!  All you can see is two gigantic, dangerous dildos attached with a rope.  That would make for an epic movie..."
That's how the night went for me.  Nothing more, nothing less; just a mere discussion of hybrid martial arts weapons.  If the pornography industry is looking for a bailout, consider a merger with the weapons and oriental weapons industries; something is bound to pop off.