My penchant for Verbal Diarrhea has reached a new high. Or is that an all-time low? You decide.

The Scene: Where a lot of my early morning pre-caffeinated colorful commentary is created – my morning commute on the subway:

The cast: Two women conversing a little louder than they realized. One nosy Raivenne.


Even through I am heavy metal head bopping to Anthrax on my iPod, my smut monitor suddenly pings loudly –  to quickly eavesdrops when the word phallophilia is heard.

Wait… Whaaaat?

I mean it is 6:45 in the blessed morning – who says that? – I must have heard wrong, right? I reach in my pocket, press pause on my music and listen.

Oh hush! Most of you would have listened also for a moment also – don’t judge me!

Sure enough, the two women were indeed speaking on the attributes of a specific person they both knew. I was about to turn my music back up when one asked “Is there a technical word for getting your rocks off looking at dick imprints in grey sweatpants?”.

And I’ll be damned if my not-so-inner Luci-fer and her minions (Sarcasm Siren, Dirty-minded Diva, Verbal Virago et al), did not simultaneously enter my throat and vocalize.

Medectophalia.” Spews out before I can think to stop myself. Worse, I say it loud enough, that even though I am not looking at them, the two women know it’s addressed to them.

“Sorry didn’t mean to listen in.” I quickly say as they both turn and look at me. Damn my mouth!

“What’s the word?” the one sitting closest to me asks.

Naturally, once those chicks open my mouth and drop the bomb, they immediately depart en masse leaving me holding the detonator. Bitches!

Oh, well – in for a pence, in for a pound. –  is one of my many mottos for a reason as I go into pseudo professor mode.

“Medectophalia is a fetish: It is the excessive and uncontrollable sexual desire for viewing the underlying shape of the penis/labium in the crotch region of another person’s clothing. Otherwise known as getting one’s rocks off on moose knuckle and/or camel toe in Urban Dictionary lingo. Whereas the opposite, medectophobia, is the fear of such.”

Now, when I tell you I have NO idea where that bullshit came from, I mean it. While I know for fact medectoPHOBIA is a word, I had no idea whether medectoPHALIA existed.

Naturally, I hear those conniving inner bitches reappear as internal Greek Chorus applauding my aplomb. As always, I am both awed and appalled with how my mind works.

The two women and I then have a lively discussion of technical versus street slang terms we know until they disembark.  I immediately Google Medectophalia only to discover the term does not exist.

* My not-so-inner demons and their minions chuckle darkly. *

It does now.

Today is Day 29 of the March Slice Of Life Story Challenge.
Come see how others are slicing it up this Saturday.
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Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Premature Libation

While (im)patiently waiting for my Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte to be made, a barista calls out for Jack. When Jack retrieves his purchase, he grins with pride as he hoists the drink in salute to the female friend/colleague/whatever standing beside him.

“I came faster.”

No, I sincerely did not know the man at all.

No, I sincerely could not resist.

No, I sincerely did not care.

“You know most guys do not admit that out loud or with pride.” I grinned.

Thankfully yes, he and his female friend/colleague/whatever had a sense of humor and laughed.

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries: Halo? Hell No!

Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (a.k.a. the shit that comes out of my mouth):

Lyn:  Well, I already knew you’re beautiful inside and out, but this makes you positively angelic. Now stop sticking out your tongue and continue to straighten out your halo.

Me:  Straighten out my halo? Are you kidding? That thing needs a forge, an anvil and one hell of a beat down to get in any kind of usable shape.

And No Jim Carrey!

I have this thing I occasionally post as a Facebook status called Verbal Diarrhea Diaries (aka. the crazy shit that comes out my mouth).  This wasn’t so much verbal as an email response, but it applied.

A few girlfriends and I were given a choice of venues to decide out next hanging out adventure. The following is how I phrased my vote because I cannot resist — bad puns or sexual innuendo, especially when combined and simply because I’m an idiot:

I vote for Medieval Times. I love watching when strong, virile men mount up, then getting a solid grip, pull it straight out  front for all to see and then thrust it at each other until one falls for them. And the jousting is fun too! 

Yeah, I know — I need help.


Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012