Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Planet Manola: Back Fat Mountain

Random news, commentary and photographs. Updated at least once every menstrual cycle, if not more frequently.

In the inaugural issue of Planet Manola, we paid homage to various acts of public indecency, such as tucking your junk and taking a poop.

This week's edition offers a variation on the theme, as we come to the conclusion that half-naked men, provided they are working for the benefit of society, can do no harm.


Imagine a fine September Miami morn. The parrots are squawkin', fish are jumpin' and the thunderstorm still several hours away when suddenly BOOM!

My heart leaps out of my body as I run from my bed to see if I had died and gone to war, but instead I pull the curtains aside and I see THIS and realize that THIS is looking at me and my boobs and that THIS knows that my boobs and me know that THIS is looking at me and my boobs!

construction worker outside Manola's apartment


Matters were a little clearer after coffee. Sure, the reinforcement of a crumbling sea wall was underway a mere hog's spit from my terrace, but I wondered: why waste that amazing multi-purpose erector-set on concrete?

Such a tool, let me tell you! It puts wee Mr. Crabby to shame. Not only does it possess longitude, latitude, fortitude and attitude, it also swivels on an axis and slides up and down at variable speeds! It stays stiff even when folded! For the love of God, it takes an entire 200 pound buttcrack model to operate! Oy Dios mio, I could use it to pound 20 mammoth tostones by the minute, not to mention buckets of hummus, even!


Now THIS, I thought, was a sign from God. Could this be, finally, the Hurricane Season Boyfriend my tender loins longed for? My heart raced as I imagined myself Lady Chatterly and he my sweaty, laboring lover. Me, with all my pent-up passion, chest heaving in anticipation, my languid eyes just beaming in adoration over that buttcrack, handing him a cold cerveza while he bangs the sh ... but wait, Manola!

Hurricane season is over in a couple of months, which means he'd be about as practical and useful as buying plywood in January. And being a true local, you would NEVER buy plywood in January, would you? Besides, who needs plywood, when you have to -- out of moral obligation -- put all those spare batteries to good use? Sorry, Mr. Crabby. No time off for you, my little friend!


And so once again, another Miami Beach meaningless sexual encounter between one horny woman and a sweaty, shirtless stranger is averted, even though it took place in the capitol of porn and sweatcrotch himself, Brandon Davis, was spotted far away in the other La La Land.

But I still appreciate -- from the safe distance of my window -- the men who break their backs to make our beautiful island city a safer place. Praise be to the real men of Miami Beach, who show their buttcracks for all the right reasons, every season, rain or shine!

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Crashtest Comic said...

Do you really think anyone would waste a good bomb on freaking Miami?

Yvette said...

CC: Why would anyone bomb Miami knowing that Manola's heaving bosom was pressed up against the window every morning? That would just be rude!

Capt Bonez said...

you know you ached for him the entire day. Stop playing hard to get.

Mighty Dyckerson said...

I've got your erector set right here, baby...