Enrique introduced me to a new term at dinner last night. Dork Knob. I was so tickled that I wrote it down for future use, this time on paper and not my arm. And here we are. The future!
Urban Dictionary defines a Dork Knob it as:
The puny beginnings of a man’s pigtail. Any pigtail on a man measuring less than three inches in length from the elastic pigtail fastener or scrunchie to the tip of the pigtail.
Did you see that stupid aging hippy and his greying dork knob? Do you think he ever gets laid?
Unfortunately we can’t see Steven Seagal’s dork knob in this picture, but he embodies everything Dork Knobs stand for. Ultimate douchebaggery.
It came up because we were guffawing over the highly anticipated arrival of Braco, and his “silent, loving, gaze” to Boulder for a special two-day engagement at the Harvest House.
This guy totally needs a Dork Knob. I’m sure he rocks one when working out.
On Wednesday and Thursday he will be holding 30 minute (group) sessions all day so people can bask in his loving, silent glaze at the bargain price of $8. Or you can attend all nine sessions for $72. What a deal! Wait, what’s eight multiplied by nine? 72. That’s no deal, that’s simple math. I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s a rip-off.
Back in 1986 I did a seven-day personal growth retreat in the mountains that cost $1000. If you multiply $8 by 48 (there are 48 half-hours in a day) and multiply that by seven, then adjust for inflation, Braco would still be overcharging you because his pro-rated fee adds up to $1844 a week.
He doesn’t offer food (meals were included in our deal, but they fed us very little in order to exert greater mind control) and a place to sleep (though we didn’t sleep much either, for the same reasons, see Stockholm Syndrome) but they DID talk to us. A lot. Talk, talk, talk. And crying in front of lots of people. There was lots of that.
“The Final session each day will include a bonus addition of ‘The Voice’ played after the live gazing. ‘The Voice’ is an eight-minute recording of Braco speaking, and offers another way for us to receive this gift into our lives.”
What? He talks? For no extra money? That might be more than I can handle. It might be too … too … what’s the word? Intense? Maybe that’s why it’s a recording, it’s less intense that way. It would be way too much intensity to have him gaze and talk at the same time.
And talk about intense …“Must be 18 years of age or over to attend and pregnant women are not allowed to attend after their third month of pregnancy due to the intensity of the experience for some.”
It is too intense! Fortunately I am not pregnant. But what would happen if I was? Would I miscarry? Would the baby claw his way out of my vagina to bask in the loving, silent gaze? Or would he be like Rosemary’s Baby and his eyes would be all yellow like the Devil’s?
Or maybe he would come out looking like Braco. Maybe he would have Braco’s gifts and grow up with the singular goal of besting his rival. A stare-off To The Death. This is serious shit.
“People with illnesses are advised to follow the recommendation of their doctor before and after attending a gazing session.”
I’m totally going to bring this up with my doctor before I go. Because I want her to prescribe me much stronger meds. This is fucking awesome, ya’ll. Almost as awesome as these pictures I took of Emily’s son after he stuffed a whole burger in his mouth.
Who will accept my meme challenge? Caption this!
God, everyone’s a critic!
Harmy thought we were making fun of her by bringing up the whole Braco thing. I don’t know why she would think that … UNLESS SHE IS HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH HIM!!!!
Come on, Harmy, it’s just me here. You can tell me. Are you carrying Braco’s baby? Are you afraid your baby will claw his way out of your vagina, grow up in an orphanage and return to kill his father and marry you? I’d be worried, too.
This post is getting dumber and dumber the more I write. It’s time to cut the crap.
See that thing Testiclese is picking off the ceiling? I threw it away.
A loud, fake telephone. The kids saw me stuff it in the trash and fished it out. I stuffed it back in when they weren’t looking. I should count that bad boy twice.
My dad pointed out that I have lots of bags of bags here. He’s right (shame).
You might not believe this, but I’m donating them. The church uses them at their weekly clothing give away. I’m counting them as one item.
A chicken apron I don’t want and a stupid, plastic poop bag dispenser. I reuse newspaper bags for the poop. DONATE.