I know what you’re thinking, “Jrodius, what does a man, with roguish Han-Solo-like good looks and a package Milton Berle would be proud of, such as yourself need with aphrodisiacs?” Well, young padawan, even I at times feel not so fresh. But fear not! For I have found the Worlds Greatest Aphrodisiac!
I call it… The Mamba.
That’s right. It’s my son. Mrs. Rodius and I took him out for his first adventure a week or so ago to the mall. Now, mind you, I did have the world’s worst female repellents also working for me, in the forms of a wife and wedding ring, but The Mamba showed real potential.
First off for those of you men out there without children, let me tell you. A cute baby in a stroller is like Spanish Fly and Horny Goat Weed blended together and drank out of a martini glass while Al Green sings your plaudits as a lover. Every woman we passed by was locked into The Mamba like the Millenium Falcon to a tractor beam.
If I ever became a single dad I would spend all day going up and down in the elevator of my local Nordstroms. Mainly because Nordstrom=classy, but also because in an elevator you seem to have every woman in there’s undivided attention. But don’t be a rookie and face the kid towards the door, you gotta face him towards the ladies.
Shortly there after, his powder-fresh scent will inoculate the olfactory senses of all nearby females. But beware, The Mamba also comes with side effects. His powers know no age limits. You will get a healthy slice of old white ladies saying how he reminds them of their grandchildren. These witches are game killers to be sure. To combat this I suggest traveling with a friend of minority descent willing to stand uncomfortably close to them. It’s a fact, old white women will err on the side of protecting their pocketbooks.
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
whenever i threaten my husband with divorce, he tells me to just leave the kids with him so he can snag a new woman.
btw, i’m so glad that someone else appreciates the blogworthyness of hookworm. i think i managed to gross everyone else out enough to keep them from returning. oh well.
I will pick him up at 8.
jrod–
I remember those day’s–good times–good times. Now when I break into a chorus of “Tuna…Tuna Lisa…Tuna Lisa Where Are You”…The kid just about has a heart attack, right in the middle of Albertson’s. I tell ya it’s gotta be tough, on the youth these day’s when you have a DirtyOlMan—As a Old Man!
Da Best, I tell ya’ Da Best, jrod
Peace, Love, and Understanding–Elvis Costello