because none of us is fucking up like we think we are, is what i'm trying to say

Friday, 15 January 2010

It's Porn 'O Clock!


This is a story about a friend of mine.

Theoretically speaking, say you own a MacBook. Say that you are in an airport hotel the night before an overly-delayed flight to say, I don't know, Detroit by way of some-guy-jumped-security-and-we-couldn't-find-him-again-so-we-closed-down-two-terminals-for-hours-thus-irritating-and-delaying-lots-of-international-passengers airport. Say that automatically, your MacBook finds every other Mac sharing the same network so you can see other people's files and documents if they haven't seen sense enough to set the privacy levels right. Would you look?

Because damn it  I  my friend would.


Ladies and gentlemen, introducing GAVIN. Gavin likes Abba's Dancing Queen and Grease's Summer Nights. Gavin's Christmas newsletter began with the words, 'Now that Henry has had the charges against him dropped...'. Gavin has a MacBook Pro with the privacy settings on low. Gavin likes porn.

I swear, it was totally accidental that I found this guys stuff. (OKAY FINE. It wasn't my friend. IT WAS ME.) I was merely idly pressing buttons as I chatted on the phone with my brother. The kind of idle button-pressing where one purposefully and decidedly stalks total strangers out of a pathological desire to then humiliate them on the internet. And then BAM. I couldn't think clearly there was that much tit and arse.

The file said Articles. Oh- maybe he is a writer, I thought to myself. It would be rude not to look since he's obviously left off his privacy settings on purpose. But no. This was no part-time freelancer for Derbyshire Life. The files within in the file? Porn. Organised, systematically-arranged PORN. He could have been a picture editor for Old-School Porn Lovers, MILF's Today AND that well known magazine Saggy Arse, Saggy Titties.

Folder names included India and Escort. Within these were stiff nips and native. And boy- were those girls native. I didn't even know they bred bushes that big. How does anybody ever find anything? Do household items frequently go missing?

"Hey Jude- have you seen my car keys?"

"Errrr...."

"I could have sworn I left them on the couch."

"You mean where I am sitting right now? Hold on." (Rummages through own bush).

"DUDE! AGAIN? Can't you put on some knickers or something?"

"I'm wearing knickers."

My favourite file was called Own Oldies, within which were text files called Cousin and Landlady. (By-the-by, fact fans, did you know that there are more states in the US that have legalised marriage between first cousins than have legalised same-sex marriage. How about THAT. Seems Gavin is right on the mark.)(Sadly).

I avoided the video file, even though in the sub-folder marked celeb was a file named Michelle Obama. I don't want to see the first lady's hee-haw. The first gentleman's, maybe, but not Michelle's. I have SOME scruples. And I'd scruple Barack anyday.

The people I really feel sorry for, though, are Bernadette and Carole. They were in the file marked Ex-Girlfriends. And when I say they were there, I mean ALL there.

HI BERANADETTE! HI CAROLE! HERE IS THE NUMBER TO MY BEAUTICIAN. If she starts on you now she might be done by the next election so we can all go and give Obama some love together. But in the meantime, 1972 called. It wants it's pubic hair back.
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