The Great Celery Incident of 1988

Posted: November 5, 2009 in friends, sex, tmi thursday, wtf


Gross blog post ahead.

(grosser than, you know, usual)

You’ve been warned.


Well…looks like it’s another of Lilu’s TMI days here on “Mental Poo.”

Saying there’s “Too Much Information” here on Mental Poo is like saying there’s too much cat in my Sweet and Sour Chicken at the Chinese restaurant.

Redundant redundancy.

A while back, I wrote a post about taking my daughter on her first ever loop coaster ride.

In that post, was this picture:

If you’re wondering what a picture of Diana Ross getting nailed from behind has to do with an article about my daughter going on a roller coaster, then you don’t know me very well.

This is how my mind works.

Scientists from around the world have yet to figure out why.

I’ve digressed.

Regardless, the above picture was actually an inside joke and ‘tip of the hat’ to my buddy, Jim – a guy I used to work with YEARS ago.

Knowing that he’d know what this was, I sent him this email prior to posting that article:


Hey Jim…today’s post has a tip of the hat to you in it.

See if you can pick it up.


Shortly afterward, I get his email reply:




You’re killing me. How did you even remember this?

Only you could tie the “great celery incident of 1988” into your blog.


The Great Celery Incident of 1988.

Here…in Jim’s very own words…

Is his recap of the story.

It’s long…you might want to take breaks.

Especially when you start to feel nauseous.

And you will.



I don’t remember it that well myself…..

Here is what a do remember:

My girlfriend Donna lived at home with her parents. Occasionally I would stay over at her parent’s house (if there was room- she had 5 other siblings also living at home).

This was back in the 80’s and her parents did not allow us to sleep in the same room.

On this particular night one of her brothers was away from home so I was able to sleep in the bedroom right next to hers.

Since I didn’t have to drive home, that meant I could drink massive quantities of alcohol. So we walked downtown, hit a few bars and got hammered.

On the way home we decided to play “hide the salami” at her house.

We both said “good night” really loud (in case her parents were listening), then Donna snuck into my room.

We tried to be discreet, we were very quiet and we kept the lights off.

Here comes the TMI part:

For some strange reason, I prefer the “doggie-style” position when I am plastered.

So Donna got on all fours and I plowed ahead into the darkness (remember, it was very dark and I was very hammered).

However, instead of the expected “loosey goosey”

…I got the unexpected “righty tighty”.

Then Donna gasped:

“That’s the wrong one!”

I had never done buttsex before.

Yay me.

Since it actually felt pretty good, I said “Why don’t we try it?”

All I heard was a drunken “Oh, OK”.

* blink

Green light, GO!

That is all I needed to hear and the reaming commenced.

She started making some pretty funny noises at this point, so I (quickly) finished up and she waddled back to her room to sleep.

I had to pee so I quietly went into the bathroom.

After “little elvis” took the stage I looked down.

Something didn’t seem right.

There was something…

ATTACHED to him.

I turned on the second (much brighter) light.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

There was something green stuck to my dick.

I pried it off with a piece of toilet paper and looked closely at it.

(Editor’s note: Um…Jim…you looked CLOSELY at it?

It was a piece of…




A piece of celery was stuck to my dick.


It was in pretty good shape too…kinda like the “magic bullet” from the Kennedy assassination.

Not quite pristine, but still re-edible.

(Editor’s note: Never let Jim write for you ever again. Ever.)

I flushed the evidence down the toilet and went to bed.

The next morning Donna said something about “me taking advantage of her last night” and she never wanted “to do that again.”

Blah blah blah. Whatever.


I had seen anal sex in porno movies before this event, but I had never seen any shit (or food) hanging around.

Apparently, they must do some prep work before filming.


* cricket

You still there?

Shit. I’m surprised I still am.


Maybe now you know how I’ve never been able to forget this story.

And now you won’t, either.

You’re welcome.

Little Elvis has left the building.

..and he took his celery with him.

Moog out.


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