Working in an Orifice

Last night I dreamed I was in an office-themed porno movie...and I dreamed I was the star of that office-themed porno movie...and this really blew my mind...that me, a derelict, limp-dicked, quick-spittin imp, should be the star of my own office themed porno movie...

God (or maybe War's "Spill the Wine") has compelled me through a dream to create my own office-themed porno. In true God-like fashion, though, He has but planted the seed within me and left me on my own to do all of the dirty work , such as coming up with a creative theme, making a catchy title to fit that theme, buying camera equipment, and ass-boning sluts in business suits. Since I am still hoping God might help me out with the purchasing of equipment and the boning of sluts, this rambling will limit itself to possible theme/title combinations. My ideas thus far are as follows:

Idea #1: "The Orifice"

An X-Rated take on on network television's comedic sensation "The Office," this porno, like the program of its inspiration, will wield a farcical sense of humor. How might farce and wanton sex acts co-exist in the same film, you ask? Elementary. The exclusivity of the word "The" in "The Orifice" indicates an ultimate orifice, an orifice that people obsess over to the exclusion of all other orifices. Usually this orifice might belong to an attractive woman in a short skirt, a gynecological curiosity at a medical convention, or the small guy with the fat butt in the county prison. Not so in "The Orifice," which is where farce rears its ridiculous head. The officemates in "The Orifice" are infatuated with a much more unconventional crevice. The nature of this orifice, however, is what I am struggling with. Should the orifice of their obsession be the ear of the elderly receptionist? The lubed-up change slot in a vending machine? A hole drilled in a cubicle wall? A bite taken out of a microwaved Hot Pocket? The gaping sore in the mailroom boy's hunchback? Any and all suggestions are welcome.

Idea #2: "Orifice Space"

Another comedic office-porno, "Orifice Space" derives its name from the classic cult movie "Office Space" (1999), starring Ron Livingston as Peter Gibbons, Jennifer Aniston as Joanna, and a host of other colorful characters. I know what you're thinking...both the title and inspiration sound strangely similar so far to "The Orifice," but wait...there's a twist. Instead of focusing on an unusual hole in the office to be penetrated, "Orifice Space" concerns itself with the wide array of office objects that manage to work their way into the vagina of Receptia Nixxxt, the office slut. Incidentally, Receptia has a hole lot of orifice space. Intriguing penetrator ideas that I've come up with so far include a stalpler, a computer monitor, a midget maintenance man, and a gigantic ball of hair created by everyone in the office shaving their heads over the garbage can. Again, I crave all additional input.

Now that I've croaked all over you, which of these office-themed pornos, dear Reader, has the greatest chance for success? This is yet another small detail that God neglected to mention in my dream, so you be the Judge.

How the Croak Awoke

I originally entitled this Blog "Resonations of a Baritone Soul." Deep...I know. Only upon seeing this title posted on the screen, though, did I realize how incredibly self-important and pretentious it sounds. Of course, being incredibly self-important and pretentious, I knew some changes had to be made lest people should think poorly of me.

The first thing that needed to go was "Baritone." I was in love with the assonant sound of "Baritone Soul," but I was uneasy about the deep, rich implications of the word "Baritone." Sure, I want people to think I'm deep and rich, but I prefer to stick to more subtle methods of accomplishing this like using the word "assonant," carrying designer handbags, and eating money. My soul's great, but I don't want to brag about it...Baritone my soul is not.

But how, you ask, did I decide on "Croaking" as an acceptable substitute? Easy. The words that I forsee myself spitting into this Blog will not be the polished notes of a well trained baritone...quite the contrary in fact. My posts will be gooey, unplanned gobs of soul-phlegm that I croak out as I type...I plan to go through many a keyboard. Of course, when you consider "Croaking" as death, it will give my Blog a sense of desperation...like this is my soul's last ditch creative outreach before the square world of "The Man" swallows it...an elegaic swancroak if you will. When you think about it that way, it totally makes me seem totally Deep (much deeper than a baritone) and, of course, "Croaking Soul" preserves my beloved assonance just as well as "Baritone Soul."

Having ousted "Baritone," my next challenge was to find a replacement for "Resonations." Unless the acoustics are impeccable, most croaks don't resonate...and given the small and drafty nature of my bedroom I doubt mine will either. Resonation implies that others who read this blog, if such others exist, will agree with, understand, or be on the same wavelength as its content. If this does happen, I will be overjoyed that people are brave enough to approach my stinking soul-phlegm and touch it, or even let me spew it all over them. If not, who cares? This blog is not meant to be an online group-hug, but a rowdy protest of my own complacency, an outcry against inaction, and thus a "Vociferation" instead of a "Resonation." I hope my vociferations prove highly audible yet arousingly unintelligible.

And thus, the Croak Awoke