Harriet Carter Wednesday: Getting Lucky Tonight? Harriet Will Be the Decider of That.

Happy Harriet Carter Wednesday.  I really love when Harriet smuts it up just before the main holiday season.  It makes me feel all warm down by my ding-dong.  Anyway, this week Harriet is signaling sex in the bedroom (or bathroom floor), reminds your kids that Santa and his team of reindeer are always watching you…always, and brings back the “poot poot.”  Let’s go! 



Product # 1 – 1…2…3….sex light!  1…..2……3…..use your own hand light!  Married to a mute?  Having a hard time figuring out if your wife wants to double down or if you’ll be playing “Shuffle Deez Nuts” all by yourself?  Well if you’re a complete a-hole and answered “yee-haw” to any of these questions, does Whoriet Cocker have the ultimate sex signal outfit for you!  You better pray that your unemployment benefits are being extended an extra month because this is the gift-to-give this whoriday season.  Here’s how it works.  Your husband comes home with Miss Piggy kisses all over his face and he gives you a thumbs up.  This is a signal.  Now you need to decide, “Green Light or Red Light.”  It’s really like Sophie’s Choice at this point.  In this scenario, the wife gives him a green light which lets him know, “Sure, come on in.  Have a look around.  Give it a dusting.  Just clean up when you’re done.”  The other scenario is that you place rollers in your hair and become double cock-eyed the moment your husband walks in the door.  He looks sad, desperate, and pathetic.  All the reasons why you married him (with the exception that your doctor wouldn’t allow you to have that 15th abortion…and you really needed new kitchen stuff).  In this case you give him the red light which lets him know, “Work harder, make more money, and put your own hand down your skid marked underwear for the 24.8 seconds it will take you to shoot your confetti.”   But don’t think you’re better than us, ladies, because some men are color blind and can’t tell the difference between red and green which clearly (and legally) explains why you’re being dry-humped in your sleep.  Either wake on up and join the party or don’t join the party.  Doesn’t make much of a difference to us.  Just try to not move for 24.8 seconds.  Ole!



Product # 2  – That’s right little Suzy and little Johnny it’s the night before Christmas!  Now you two better be good boys and girls or Santa won’t bring you any Christmas presents this holiday season.  You see, Suzy and Johnny, we’re in a recession so the likelihood that you’ll be getting a stocking-full of bird-seed is looking pretty good.  Anyway, now you do want to get on Santa’s good side, don’t you?  Don’t you?  Well, now go into the bathroom and take a steaming sh*t on Santa’s reindeer before you go to bed.  Oh that’s right, steaming.  And little Johnny, now’s not the time to “practice your aim” so be sure to sprinkle some of that holiday piss of yours all over Dasher’s face.  Oh it’s fine, he likes it.  And Santa likes it too.  And remember Santa is always watching you.  Always.  It’s kind of a problem, but he’s watching you while you do tinkle-winkle and that one time you used the soap inappropriately in the bathtub.  It’s ok.  You were experimenting and Santa knows it.  I’m sure none of these actions will lead to you receiving that bird-seed, but…if it does….you know why you got it.  Anyway, little Suzy, when you take that steaming dump that you’re famous around the house for, make sure to wipe really good.  Feel free to use Blitzen’s antlers.  Sure, sure, just smear it.  You know, like you did on the dining-room wall that time?  Yeah, same thing.  So, don’t be afraid kids.  It’s totally normal and acceptable for Santa and his reindeer to be watching you while you relieve yourself.  Sure when Michael Jackson did it, it was a legal issue.  But when Santa and Rudolph do it, it’s just plain ole magical.  Oh, and I just got a text message from Santa.  Bird seed.  Good night.



Product # 3 – Ugh.  The “poot poot” is back at Harriet Carter.  This time they’ve installed some “poot” into an elephant.  They’ve decided to name this pooting elephant the “Phart Elephant,” you know, because they’re classy like that.  Eh, who gives a phuck.  I don’t give a phuck.  Do you?  I don’t give a phuck if this “phartephant” queephs out if its ginormous phussy.  Your kids will be the hit of the trailer park with the phartephant.  It claims it makes 8 different “phart” sounds, but they only are advertsing the good old standby “poot poot.”  I once knew a girl whose nickname was “poot poot” but that was for a totally different reason and totally different end of the animal…if ya know what I mean.  I’m specifically talking about her vagina.  Vagina.  Was that not clear?  Ok, I’m all done.

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