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The Orgasm Flower, Big floppy man hooters, and stupid jewelry. 


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HogWild in Hawaii!

Part 3: Jewelry, Mooters, and the Orgasm Flower

I pray that this large woman is not seated next to me on the flight back.

Hawaiiís oceans are spectacular. Crystal clear water. But for me, I always have the same problem when I first enter the water. I have to get adjusted to the coldness. I see people jump right in, splashing, and immerse themselves without so much as even a shudder. Not me. Iím a big pizzolli. I tip-toe in and squeal like a baby pig who sat on a rusty thumbtack. Then Iím like, ďOkay, this isnít so bad. Feels kinda nice on my feet. Iíll venture further." Then it gets really cold again at my knees. Then itís another 20 minutes before I make the Final Leap. The real problem doesnít come until the cool water reaches sack-level. Yeah nubs, you know what I mean. My grapes are very sensitive.

A Kauai beach. Sooo relaxing. Tooo relaxing. I almost had a bowel movement while tanning.

I wonder what my testicles are thinking as I slowly try to submerge them in this ice water. My grapes must be like, ďOh my God! Heís trying to drown us!Ē Either that or they think Iím freezing my spermies so they can be genetically mutated by future generations. But itís really a pathetic show: me standing there on my toes trying not to let my grapes get splashed by the waves. But Iíve got a new approach. I tea-bag Ďem in. I bob up and down. I drop the tea bag in. Yowww! Lift the tea-bag out. Then back in. I know Iím queer. But thatís me. And forget about the ordeal when I get to my mipples. (Thatís man-nipples for you ignant foolz.) Which reminds me, there was this big Hawaiian dude in the water with huge mooters! Yeah you know, Man-Hooters. I wonder if gay guys like men with mooters. Do they act as juvenile as I do when I see women with big Ďuns? Do they chant: ďMOOTERS! MOOTERS! MOOTERS!Ē I know I did. 

And to think, if I didnít resist my instincts to be a pizzolli and get out of the chilly water I would have missed an awesome experience. Snorkeling. It was incredible. I saw fish that Iíve only seen before in Aquariums. And they swam right up to you! We actually brought popcorn to attract the fish. They loved it! They swam up and ate the popcorn. But then they started to bitch that it didnít have enough butter. Damn fish. And yes, as I was admiring these incredible creations of God, I did try to catch one and squeeze its head off for dinner. I canít help it! Iím a man! I was in such awe of these beautiful tropical fish. Neon colors. Happy pink fish. Smiling blue fish. But some hormone in my brain keep pushing me, ďKILL! KILL! KILL!Ē

Hog needed a specially-made snorkel mask to cover his entire snout.

Isnít that sad? This was one of the most awesome experiences of my life and Iím flailing around slapping at fish. But to be honest I had been snorkeling one time previously. It was at Orchard Beach in the Bronx. All I saw was a Jelly Fish. But it didn't bite me because it was a used condom.

I wish I had decent pictures of what I saw in those Hawaiian waters. I got this underwater camera but it doesnít come close to showing the depths of ocean floor, the intricate exquisiteness of the coral reef, or the magnificent cleavage of this random bim I saw swimming by. Damn it! I hate getting slapped for nothing!


But I could have missed out on this if I had been a big baby about it. Too scared to try it. Thatís a Life Lesson I learned. If you want to experience new and awesome things you have to take risks. You have to leave your comfort-zone. If you have a dream, go out and get it. Do what it takes. Donít be a pizzolli. Take a chance. Strap on your grapes and get out there.

Damn, I should be a motivational speaker. Nah, too lazy.


My wonderful woman, Mrs. Potato-Head, was trying to get me to buy a Hawaiian shirt for myself. I donít know. Theyíre kinda gay. Itís like they have this big open chest thing going on. And I donít have a chest. My chest looks like it belongs on a disabled chicken. But she really wanted my to get one. She was like, ďOoh get this one. Itís such a pretty color!Ē But I was like, ďYouíre not helping woman!Ē Bims, never tell your man his shirt is a pretty color. Unless of course you hate his shirt. Because after that heíll never wear it again.

Everywhere we travel there always seems to be a jewelry store. I think theyíre following me. Whatís with women and jewelry? How many different ways can you decorate your ear lobes? Do your fingers really need to draped in diamonds? I guess I shouldnít talk. As soon as I get rich Iím getting my gold teeth. Not just one. I mean the entire mouth-guard like East Coast gangsta rappers. Mine will cover all of my top teeth and diamonds will spell out HOGWILD.NET. Gotta promote!


Why does the jewelry store lady always wear all her merchandise at once? Itís so tacky! Itís all mismatch too. This jewelry lady had 2 bracelets on each arm, 7 necklaces. What if the make-up lady did that? Wore 3 different shades of lipstick at the same time? What if the clothing store bim did that? Sheíd have like 3 shirts with 5 purses slung over her shoulders. ďThatís a nice purse sweetie! I thought about getting it for myself!Ē

Mrs. P had her eyes on these gold flower earrings. Sixty units! HELL NO! I was like, ďHow about I buy you an ice cream cone and we call it even?Ē This was one battle I actually won. She didnít get the earrings. But even when I win I lose. I had to hear about it the whole trip. ďYou know what would go perfectly with this dress? Those gold flower earrings!Ē Shut up woman! Sometimes I wish we lived in Iran so if she complains I could just slice off her earlobes. Yeah, now what?! No ear lobes, no earrings! But knowing my woman sheíd be like, ďI need jewelry for my bloody ear stubs!Ē

Bims love the shiny things. Except when it's your complexion.The thing is she never wears the jewelry I've already bought for her. And she wonít let me sell it either. So she has this drawer full of jewelry that she never wears. What the hell is that? I have a gold chain my parents got me when I graduated from 8th grade. I still wear it. In fact I donít think Iíve ever taken it off. EVER. Now thatís a good return on investment. Iíll be 112 years old and still wearing it. It pays for itself. Then I think about the stuff Iíve bought for my woman. Itís not a good investment when she only wears it for 6 months. Hell I should start renting jewelry. Every day I do a jewelry check on my bim. I check her from head to toe and give her a grade. I start at the ears, then the neck, then the wrists, then the fingers. Iím lucky if she wears her wedding ring.

But Iím trying my bootleg psychology on her. Iíll go up to her and be like, ďDamn, your ears look fat today.Ē Then the next day when sheís wearing a pair of earring that I bought for her, ďWow, your tiny little ears look so cute! Have you lost weight? And your eyes look even prettier than usual.Ē Eventually I hope this will modify her behavior.


HogWild accidentally kills this flower with his fertilizer breath.

The flower earrings she wanted were actually cute, just not 60 bacon bits cute. They were Gardenias. Hawaiian Gardenias are the best-smelling flower ever. Normally I donít give a ratís dirty ass how a flower smells. But not the Gardenia. Oh itís so good. I could have an orgasm smelling this flower. Imagine the sexiest, prettiest bim youíve ever been around. She might be tall and thin. Smooth, silky skin. Long luxurious hair. Everything about her is feminine. Distinct and delicate facial features. Soft pouting lips. Perfectly straight white teeth. Aching eyes calling out to you. Now imagine how sheHog cuddles with Gardenia after enjoying a short but blissful moment of passion. smells. Her airy scent with overtones of sweet seduction. Thatís how Gardenia smells to me. I could bathe in it. I love it so much I went on a shopping spree for my bim. I got her Gardenia perfume. Gardenia body wash. Gardenia shampoo. Gardenia deodorant and Gardenia douche. Not to say she needs it. Just that Gardenia is incredible. I got it for myself too. Gardenia scented toilet paper. Gardenia scented tissues for those lonely nights. I love it! Itís the greatest flower ever. If I was a bee, Iíd pollinate that bitch.

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