Utter Wonder: The Idle Thoughts Of C. Monks

This Mug Will Love You.

Posted 08/01/2005 12:13 AM by Gene in > sexy golf talk.

A sensitive and caring mug. This week, as guest-blogger, I've decided to do something for my friends here at Utter Wonder. I've decided to be selfless without any regard for my artistic constitution or core beliefs. I've decided to pimp myself for a special cause; something, I believe, we all need for growth.

I've decided to sell you an Utter Wonder Large Mug.

Listen, I know you're saying "Why would I want to spend $13.99 on a mug?" I know you're saying it because sure, you likely want to spend all your hard earned money on a super-sweet Playstation Portable. And I can see the allure.

I friggin' love PSP, too. No doubt. Hell, I'd even ask Playstation Portable to be my wife, if thought for a second she'd make me happy. I love her that much. Seriously.

And as my wife, I'd love and nurture my Playstation Portable. I'd be crazy-faithful to her; I'd dream in Playstation Portable rainbows for as long as I lived. I mean, who doesn't want to make it sexy with cool video games and sweet portability every night, 'til death do you part?

Problem is, little Suzy, Playstation Portable doesn't love you back.

Playstation Portable craps on a man. She sleeps with your best friends and has funny-looking babies that don't have any of your prominent features. She eats lots of cherry cordials and watches her damn shows all damn day, doin' God knows what with her time. PSP hits on your boss at the office Christmas party, she makes steamy calls late at night when she thinks you're asleep, and every once-in-a-while you can hear the kitchen knife slide in and out of the kitchen knife holder, pulsing with her ravenous blood-thirsty heart beat.

Playstation Portable hates who you are and wants to destroy you, at any cost. She'd sell your ass out for a cubic zirconia and a bag of wasabi-flavored Funyuns. Trust me on this one. I know.

My advice on what to do with your money: think about investing in a Utter Wonder Large Mug. The Utter Wonder Large Mug doesn't hate you like that whore Playstation Portable. He's something pure and good and very un-whore.

I can tell you from personal experience that he cares about you. He shows you the path to an existence that goes beyond secular commercial cuckoldry– an honest way to live filled with handsome self control and crazy amounts of sexual confidence and curly chest hair. Also, he has the ability to hold an a-load of your favorite soup and/or hot beverage, and that's sexy.

Your mate awaits, little Suzy, so take him by the handle, and do so here. God bless.

Comments.

Sweet mommy! I'll take a baker's dozen of those bad boys!

Posted by: AnonAttack at 08/01/2005 08:29 AM

Speaking of coffee, yesterday morning I helped paint the back room at 826 Seattle, the McSweeney's-affiliated creative writing center opening this fall in Seattle. There's a banner in the window now. It says, "Coming Soon: Seattle's only space travel supply store!" Below that it says, "Space travel is all we do." The banner promises the store will offer space flight suits, robot parts, and time travel accessories, among other goods for sale. Painting is hard work. At noon I went next door and asked if I could have a coke while I sat at the bar and ate my deli sandwich. The bartender was an older guy. He moved slowly, like he was in the hot sun instead of an air-conditioned bar. His voice was a low grumble. "What's going in next door?" he asked. When I told him he said, "Oh." Then he said, "You're sign's a little weird," and he shook his head. After a minute he said, "I used to teach creative writing." Really? "For 38 years," he said, and gave the name of a local high school. The guy at the end of the bar chimed in. "You gonna teach all styles?" he asked. "Fiction? Poetry? Then some street stuff, to mix it up? Some creative non-fiction, maybe?" It seemed like a calculated comment; I was supposed to ask how he knew so much about writing. But I was tired from painting, so I just finished my sandwich in silence. As I was leaving the bartender told me the writing center would have to start a small magazine. I said I thought it would. "I used to do that," he added. "Yeah?" "But then I'd have to type it in myself," he said. He looked out at the bar and then back at me. "And if I fucked it up . . ." he said, and then he stopped, and shuddered, and fell into a silent, middle-distance stare. It made me wonder. There had to be more to the story. "What's your name?" I asked, and he told me it was Tom. "I'll see you again, Tom," I said. "Yeah," he said. His voice was suddenly bright. He was himself again. "I'll be here," he said.

Posted by: Sean Carman at 08/01/2005 10:14 AM

Call that guy Ishmael.

Posted by: Ian at 08/01/2005 02:08 PM

i thought my pompadoured-printed toilet paper would love me, but instead it just made me raw from too much intimate contact

Posted by: rio at 08/01/2005 02:56 PM

I will only welcome the large mug into my well-furnished home if it's done Amazon 10th Anniversary style. I want C Monks at my door! My $13.99 demands it!

Posted by: hsw at 08/01/2005 03:39 PM

I'll buy one of yours if you buy one of mine.

Posted by: Darby at 08/01/2005 06:16 PM

I'll do that, if you throw in a stein.

Posted by: Gene at 08/01/2005 06:57 PM

Congratulations on your first post. Excellent work, very fabliau. There an almost a tangible sexual electricity arcing between you and your UW mug. May you enjoy many a-loads of soup together.

Posted by: anangke at 08/01/2005 07:37 PM

Looks like that mug's getting ready to jump. Suicidal stoneware isn't my cup of tea.

Posted by: krissy at 08/02/2005 06:33 PM