Poontang: It’s What’s For Dinner

When I was in high school, I was a bit of a tomboy. When my guy friends got a job at the local egg ranch, I got one there too.

Time at the ranch could become monotonous, especially in the egg packing room.  And if you know anything about boys, they’re seldom bored. They will find something to do, even if it’s trouble. My friends had a penchant for trouble. They were also really good at just doing stupid things, like making up words or songs or sounds. Half the time I didn’t know what they were saying, I just went along with it. I didn’t dare ask what something meant because that would have been just plain uncool.

One time I had my friend Johnne over for dinner. My dad was a very stern man and I rarely brought people over because of this. This boy was an exception. I had such a crush on him.

Dinner was served, but it was dead quiet at the table. Not one for handling silence well, I decided to loudly say the silly made up word I’d learned from my friends that day to break the ice.

“POONTANG!”

The silence that was there before continued, but it was a different silence now.  A very bad silence. I knew I’d done something wrong, but I didn’t know what.  I noticed movement and looked over at my friend Johnne.  I thought he was having a seizure he was shaking so much. Then I looked at his face and realized he was laughing. 

OMG! What…Did…I…Say?

Dad, however, wasn’t laughing. I was told to never, ever talk like that at the table. But what did I say? “Never mind what you said. If you do not know what something means, don’t say it.”

I guess it’s a good thing I found out that “fisting” wasn’t a made up word earlier that day, huh?

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58 Comments

  1. the local egg ranch

    Don’t you mean chicken ranch?

  2. This has got to be the dumbest story ever written. -! gajillion points.

  3. This reminds me of a story of when I was a very young innocent teenager. My parents owned a restaurant and on week-ends and summers I was conscripted to work there.
    We employed a very nice young man as dishwasher, one of his benefits was that he could eat one free meal a day entirely of his choosing. On this particular day my parents were not in and my duty was to prepare his meal. He chose steak. I promptly got out the meat tenderizer and mercilessly began to pound away. Just then my brother-in-law walked in and said “hey sis, what are you doing?” I very proudly I piped “I am beating James’ meat for him. James turned purple and my brother-in–law could barely stifle his glee but uttered not a peep. I learned that day about a pregnant pause and the other much later.

  4. woo, tough crowd.

  5. This has got to be the dumbest story ever written. -! gajillion points.

    I hate you paul. I really, truly hate you. Have I told you that lately? Cuz if you need a reminder of how much I hate you, here it is

  6. Paul McCartney owes me money!!!

  7. Did you know that I Am The Walrus was inspired by PJMomma?

    True story.

  8. Bite me, Heather, you coke-addled slut. Now sod off, or I’ll introduce you to Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.

    Whore.

  9. And here I was all set for a very interesting story. I haven’t had poontang for dinner in ages, but for some reason, I don’t think the idea would be well-received at home…

  10. And here I was all set for a very interesting story.

    So you’re saying it wasn’t an interesting story?;)

  11. It would have been more interesting if someone had actually gotten some goddam poontang.

  12. Old Cloots, I have no idea what my parents did for dessert.

  13. I have no idea what my parents did for dessert

    ew. {shudder}

  14. Well, maybe they were vewy vewy quiet. Like Elmer Fudd.

  15. I called my mom a dildo once when I was like 6.
    once

  16. I asked my mother what the F word meant when I was about six. She said later she nearly swallowed her toothbrush.

    “It’s complicated,” she said.
    And I said, “like the stock market?” and she said, “yeah.”
    And I said, “oh. Never mind.”

    There’s a follow up. Years later, she came to my class in Junior High to give a talk about the stock market. She lead with, “the stock market is very simple.” So I say, “like sex?”

    Gotta love a joke that makes you wait six years for the punchline.

  17. Ha! That was great!!

  18. I called my mom a dildo once when I was like 6.

    HAHAHAHA! Once!

    Gotta love a joke that makes you wait six years for the punchline.

    Oh that was hysterical. I can just imagine your classmates thinking WTF?

  19. This is one of the best titles for a blog entry I’ve seen in a long time. Awesome.

  20. LOL PJ..This title made the front page of the wordpress.com. Cracked me up!

    When I was in 3rd grade, a boy asked me if I was a virgin. I had no idea what virgin meant, so of course I said no. That night at dinner I asked my parents what a virgin was, my mom almost choked on her food and politely said, “it’s a women who’s never known a man” I responded, oh good, so I’m not a virgin! LOL My dad just about fell out of his chair laughing and told my mom to really explain it after dinner in my room. My mom didn’t think it was very funny.

  21. My mom called her uncle a homo when she was, like, 10. “Ah Bill, you’re such a homo!” In the 60’s. Oh man, if I had only been there!

  22. Haha at The Count.

    This post reminds me of chicken ass. Which is pretty fowl.

  23. You think this post was fowl you should have seen the dead chicken barrel.

  24. I remember when I was 9 and first mastered “flipping the bird”, without knowing what it meant. I was so proud that I showed my parents!

    Big mistake, never happened again.

  25. Everybody sing on the count of 1..2…3..
    Shauna-hanna-hanna…hanna hanna napkin!

    go ahead …ask her to explain.

  26. That is a great Title.

    It should be for dinner more often.

  27. Shauna-hanna-hanna…hanna hanna napkin!

    I”m proud of you kare-kare. You put the correct number of hanna’s in there.

  28. You put the correct number of hanna’s in there.

    Don’t be, Lance had to help me. (i’m serious)

  29. omg! hysterical!!!!!!!

  30. Everybody sing on the count of 1..2…3..
    Shauna-hanna-hanna…hanna hanna napkin!

    go ahead …ask her to explain.

    Well??? You gonna splain yourself??

  31. Sounds like one of WP’s stories but I swear — true story. My brother and I came back on leave from our first assignment which was overseas at the ass end of the world, or you could see the ass end of the world from there. We caught a hop back to the states and this just illustrates how long ago this was but the flight originated in Tehran and me and my brother were the third and fourth passengers on board this C-141. The first two passengers had boarded in Tehran.

    So we left the Mediterranean behind and flew to Germany and then Spain. Long day. The next night the flight aborted coming out of Torrejon in Spain when we lost an engine over the Atlantic and we flew around for a few hours burning up and dumping fuel before landing at Torrejon again. So we got to spend another night in Spain in a really crummy billeting room with dirty sheets. But at least it was a bed and not the floor in some terminal using our duffle bag for a pillow. We made it back to the states the following night but landed at McGuire AFB in New Jersey instead of Dover AFB in Delaware because of bad weather at Dover.

    Made it home. So we’re having dinner one night and my brother says to my mother, “pass the motherfucking mashed potatoes and gravy.”

    Silence ensued. I guess our language was a little raw.

  32. Napkin = Batman

    Your language, I speak it.

  33. Oh for crying out loud, the shauna napkin song was my guy buddies referring to me being um, well, uh, it was that time of the month. :)

    I had no idea that’s what they were doing however.

    My name is shauna. They would sing that song and I would sing that catchy little ditty right along with them not knowing what they were referring to. It wasn’t till we were adults that they told me what it meant.

  34. So we’re having dinner one night and my brother says to my mother, “pass the motherfucking mashed potatoes and gravy.”

    Well of course it was your brother, my dear sweet old cranky would never, ever talk like that.

  35. Dinner at the Y
    Box Lunch

    Come on, everyone play along!

  36. it was that time of the month. :)

    I had no idea that’s what they were doing however.

    Was your sister responsible for that stupid jingle??

  37. Oh, PM:

    Fish taco.

  38. Is Old Cloots redoing his page????

  39. Was your sister responsible for that stupid jingle??

    No dammit! Did you even read what I wrote? I said it was my guy buddies for crying out loud. Sheesh, some people.

    Is Old Cloots redoing his page????

    yes, he’s tired of people not being able to comment on his blog do to high levels of spam, so he’s moving to wordpress.

  40. Box Lunch

    I will never be able to look at a box lunch the same now.

  41. You look at box lunches too?

  42. Who’s Old Cloots?

  43. You look at box lunches too? Should I rephrase that?

    Who’s Old Cloots?

    Oh, no one you know.

  44. Good!!!!! I will be able to leave crazy comments at old cloots’ place. PJM I need to email you. I cant remember my log in for the Instant messenger!

  45. Good!!!!! I will be able to leave crazy comments at old cloots’ place.

    Abbadon’s place. And soon. I am temporarily closed pending some adjustments.

    Please spread the word.

  46. “You look at box lunches too? Should I rephrase that?”

    Why? Don’t you think doing so might make you considerably LESS interesting? ;-)

  47. Fucking A! I would never fucking say something so fucking stupid in fucking front of my mother. I gots some fucking manners you know.

    OTOH, I once made Gunnery Sergeant Hartman blush and wince with my colorful language. What a twinkle-toed cocksucking fucking pussy. At least he ain’t a fucking commie. Far as I fucking know.

    Bubblegum.

  48. Cranky are you drinking?

    Don’t you think doing so might make you considerably LESS interesting? ;-)

    Hhhmmmmmmm, I might be ok with that. Maybe, possible. I’m pretty sure. huh, maybe not. I dunno

  49. Stone cold sober, PJM. I would never let my precious bodily fluids be corrupted by the demon rum. That’s something the Russkies would do in their drive for world domination — corrupt our fluids.

  50. Oh then you won’t mind if I just take your drink?

    Thanks.

  51. Where’s my box lunch???

  52. Now how about a story that is really about poontang for dinner?

  53. You two were on fire last night weren’t you? ;)

  54. Which two?

  55. Oh I don’t know.

  56. I’m late adding to this thread, but what the hey.

    My family did some vacation time on a beach at Lake Michigan when I was about 14, near Great Lakes Navy base. While sunning at the beach, a guy in the Navy on leave took an interest in me and we struck up a conversation. I found a ring of rubbery stuff in the sand and not knowing what it was picked it up and started playing with it. The guy seemed a bit distracted and finally said something like, “You really don’t know what that is — do you?”

    Naively, I answered, No. Later that night after a round of miniature golf, soda shop eats, and a little bit of necking on the beach, Sailor-man was ready to educate me about the function of that rubber ring in the sand. I stayed a good girl that night, but your story, PJM, reminded me of my own Poontang-moment.

  57. hahaha Cathy I had to tell my husband your story. It was so funny. Funny after I got over the revulsion thinking of what you’d been playing with.

  58. […] Attention Span Approved. She doesn’t dawdle. She’s to the point and she CRACKS ME UP. Poontang: It’s What’s For Dinner. Need I say […]


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