Clob baby names: Diapers are on the menu.
- Thread starter 2300 Nueces
- Start date
I thought he would leave this up to his mentor Mackovic
Ohhhhhh there's about to be some ass whippins handed out now........
For every joke made, you must make a deposit toward the baby list.
That'll quiet the crowd down.
That'll quiet the crowd down.
Clob is having a baby? For reals?
We’ll, congratulations you son of a gun!!
Who’s the lucky papa?
We’ll, congratulations you son of a gun!!
Who’s the lucky papa?
Easy killer. Not to brag but my modal count was 77 million. I didn't even know what a modal count was.
oOOOOOOOOOOOOO story time.....
Gather round kids.
So check it out--
We decide, "fvck it- let's give this kid thing a go". Of course there's tests that need to be run because though Clob looks 28, he no longer is.
So I call around asking folks where to go to get all this done. I get a call from a Dr buddy in Dallas, former O6 in the Navy- went to Harvard then Bethesda, then Johns Hopkins- top shelf dude. He says "hey dummy-- the University of Texas has the best baby making doctors this side of Switzerland. (For those that don't know, Switz/Germ/Aus have the best collection of doctors if you want to be able to pick hair color, eye color, all that sh!t)
Yes, I'm aware that's an urban legend and they don't advertise it, but when you sit in the room with them in Switzerland, as I did over the holidays, they flat the fvck out tell you they can engineer your baby.
So I call the University of Texas and get put through to a Dr with the last name of a popular German libation.
So I go in for all this blood work. Literally, they took 15 vials of blood from me. I counted. 15 little test tubes were filled. Then I had to go see a head shrink to make sure I wasn't a nut job. Somehow I passed the Rorschach test and they let me move on to the urine test.
Got a B+ there. My pee was VERY yellow and Tom Herman arrived to inform me that I was a bad team mate........ (joke)
Now, usually they send you home because they've drained half the blood out of your body and lesser athletes tend to collapse into an unconscious heap. But not Clob.
The blood tests were for several reasons, but the main test was to see if I had any genetic deficiencies. Of course I scoffed at the notion of something so ludicrous.
Me? Having a genetic defect? Couldn't this room full of medical professionals tell just by looking at me that my genetics were impeccably flawless? (I actually said that sh!t out loud to about 12 doctors and nurses standing there)
Their corporate sensitivity training immediately kicked in and they spent the next 2 minutes assuring me of my genetic superiority--- but that this genetics test was merely protocol.
"What else you got for me today?" I ask, secretly dreading a prostate exam.
"Well, when you come back for all your blood test results, we can gather a semen sample." Dr Asian lady from London said (She went to Oxford)
"Uh..... why can't I just do that now?"
"Well--- we have taken large blood samples today and we don't want you accidentally getting light headed and maybe fainting."
"PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT---" I retorted-- "Doc, you could amputate my leg with a soup spoon and I'd still be able to fill the cup."
Half the nurses laugh, the other half cover their mouth like I just dragged my nuts through the gravy bowl at the Thanksgiving table.
"Well, Mr. Clob if you say that you're OK, we can take you back to the room."
Now, this is the point where I should have thought this through. My big fvcking mouth still hasn't learned its lesson, and here I am, finding myself in yet another stupid ass situation where I have no idea what the exit strategy is. Back to the room we go.
The door opens and there's a Burka lounge that looks like it's been in a Boston basement since the 86 World Series. The Dr goes over and pulls out this crepe paper cover for the seat. Like a toilet seat cover you see in the public bathroom.
I'm thinking to myself, "how fvcking nasty is that chair that she has to put a fvcking cover on it? How many dudes have splashed that cushion that I'm about to sit down on?"
She hands me a cup that has the sharpest edges known to man kind on it-- (oh ya-- learned that part a little later) and an opening that by my quick calculations, is going to take an expert marksman to thread that keyhole.
She hands me a black pen to write my name and time on the little label- and then tells me this-- with a straight fvcking face--
"We have a collection of magazines in this drawer and a DVD collection in this one. Here is the remote (it's incased in a fvcking zip lock bag) *gag* and obviously there is the monitor. When you FINISH, write your info on the cup and leave it right here on the shelf and tell the nurse to COME collect."
Not "come get it". Come collect. She's Asian.
The door closes and I now realize there's 15 medical professionals that I've just shot my mouth off to that are simultaneously checking their watches to time me. I just KNOW they are! <--- paranoia from blood loss
Deep breath clob.... let's check out the stroke mags.
Oh-- on second thought.... those look like they been hiding under the bed of a 20 year old virgin for the better part of a decade. On to the DVD drawer....
I open the drawer and I'm literally back in college. Suffice it to say, I think when I left Texas, the Jester dorm janitors came in and gathered up my personal porn collection and donated it to the University of Texas medical system. Not one single DVD was from this millennium. Not. One.
Whomever bought this stuff was a HUGE Jenna Jameson fan. And Jenna hasn't sucked a cock on camera since before 9/11....... (trust me) but there she was, plastered on every retro DVD in the University of Texas Medical Center wankspank porn drawer.
So--- I do the obvious--- I go for the cell phone. With both hands I thumb up www then dot then pornhub dot com....
Aaaaaaaaand we are waiting. Aaaaaaaand no response. Aaaaaaaand I'm in the center of a huge hospital so it's a dead area. No problem. I grab my other cell phone which is not on AT&T it's on T-Mobile.
Ya.... nothing. Nada.
So I search for WiFi networks. I am lucky and find 50 or so..... that ....
all require passwords.
Briefly I thought, "maybe if I go outside and ask for the wifi password, they won't think I'm a huge fvcking perv porn addict who likes jerking off to German scat porn instead of the regular 90s wholesome porn they've provided me with..... Jesus, look at that sad chair. Are those stains? I'm glad I didn't bring my UV light with me...."
No, I definitely can't go ask for the wifi password, so I guess Jenna Jameson is on the menu.
Now--- understand that this office has music piped into the speakers in the ceiling. The workers there are mostly Gen X ppl like me so it's 80s and 90s pop tunes that I've heard playing for the last 4 hours. I'm cool with it-- I even caught myself singing along a few times during my bloodlettings.....
But at this exact moment, I've blocked it out in my head because I'm...... well.... concentrating......... on Jenna's boobs-- and her pouty lips..... and how she looks over her shoulder into your eyes while you're behind her as she's getting plowed like a Nebraska corn field in mid April.
You know--- romantic 90s porn..(It was a POV video in case you were wondering)
I'm down in it now. Got the rhythm down. Got the cadence down. I'm going blow for blow with Mr. Anonymous Stunt Cock who's railing Miss Jameson 25 years ago in some back alley studio in Van Nuys. Plastic receptacle in one hand, manhood in the other-- I start mentally calculating trajectory, flight path and intercept course for the coming event. Like a 10 year old playing Pokémon with his mom's cell phone, I gotta catch'em all.
And then, just as I'd worked out the 3 dimensional geometry of this equation...... for some odd reason my ears drifted away from the not so subtle award winning moans of the sultry Miss Jameson-- and to the music that was being piped in through the speaker system in the ceiling above me. The speaker system that, until this moment, had gone completely unnoticed once my pants were around my ankles and Jenna had decided she wanted to play "stinky trombone".
I'm literally 3 seconds away from walking outside with a gallon jug of baby gravy to proudly parade around to the staff when....... HE showed up.
It was instantaneous. It was like seeing a perfectly balanced tight rope walker take a header off the string and land directly on the chainsaw juggling clown below.
Immediately I recognize the irony, the shame and the jokes we used to tell as elementary school kids about the song on a DAILY basis. And here I stand in all my glory, pants around my ankles, abused schlong in one hand, plastic cup in the other, Jenna telling me she wants it "deeper" and Michael Fvcking Jackson singing "Beat it".
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I’m dead!!!
That one killed me. I’m still spitting up my damn soda and have a nice mess to clean up thanks to you.
I can sort of relate. About 10 years ago, I was getting a physical when my doctor uncovered something that needed my attention and, without telling me, he asked my wife to come into the room so he could explain to both of us (she was waiting in the lobby). Normally, I don’t mind being naked in front of my doctor, a trained and highly skilled professional. And of course, I don’t mind being naked in front of my wife. However, I DO mind very much being naked in front of both my doctor AND my wife!!!! Easily the most embarrassing moment of my life but my wife and doctor were just carrying on with the medical discussion of what he found during my physical. I had no idea that he was going to bring her in and never told me. I got so pissed at both of them - especially the doc because he gave me no chance to at least put on a gown. Asshole!
I have always wondered if they let the significant other in the room to “lend a hand”.
They do not. At least the University of Texas does not.
Nope. It's you, your cup, your old stroke mags, your shame, and Michael Jackson.
No you knucklehead--- I eventually recovered from the Michael Jackson "Beat it" moment of embarrassed discomfort and shame.
Yes, I managed to get enough of it in the cup despite the incredible sharp edges of said cup and the fact that the diameter and depth of said cup was not conducive to any mammalian penis larger than that of your standard poodle. Multiple paper towels were needed- I never mounted the dreaded "sloppy seconds Burka lounger".... and yet I still was able to clock in at 77 million modal swimmers.
I have Clob Jr on the way. The name is already in place. I simply can't tell that story at cocktail parties here in my neighborhood full of retired posh twats.
Once again, congratulations. In all seriousness, make sure your kid gets a good education so he or she doesn’t have to go to OU or A&M
Hook em!!!!
Hook em!!!!
I just sat here, reading paragraphs about Clob beating it to JJ videos before her guts turned into an Arby's roast beef sandwich.
Yes, those jizz cup openings need to be finish sanded. Perhaps a future patent idea...
Annnnnnnnd now I will force my wife to read about clob checking the oil before baby making too.
Yes, those jizz cup openings need to be finish sanded. Perhaps a future patent idea...
Annnnnnnnd now I will force my wife to read about clob checking the oil before baby making too.
well i guess Beat It is better than, "You are not alone" or "Billy jean" or hell even The Free Willy soundtrack"
Your wife will never let you hang with me now.
She said the song was more likely Blink182's "All the Small Things." 😄
It could have been worse....it could have been Kenny Loggins' "Playing with the Boys"....
In all seriousness though @clob94 ....Congratulations, your life is going get even more interesting......in all the best ways....
Joking aside, congrats bud. The little one will unquestionably change your life, many previously held social opinions, & an unconditional love that you never knew existed.
To answer the question...
Cole (pittman) the book is also good bio from his paps
Cole (uss) bombed US ship -sailors died
Cole (nat king) you bet put on some good jams!
Cole (pittman) the book is also good bio from his paps
Cole (uss) bombed US ship -sailors died
Cole (nat king) you bet put on some good jams!
