Thursday, June 16, 2011

Smart Ass Cripple Gets Intimate

I, Smart Ass Cripple, have engaged in thousands of acts of deep intimacy with dozens and dozens of men. It began way back when I was in college and it continues to this day. I have paid most of these men to be intimate with me. There have been so many of them that I can’t even remember all their names and faces. I am not ashamed of these intimate encounters. Some people would be, but I am not. Just because I’m crippled doesn’t mean I don’t have needs.

Many of these acts of intimacy have taken place in bathrooms, sometimes even in the stalls of public bathrooms. Here’s how they go: (Warning: Smart Ass Cripple is about to give a graphic description of an act of intimacy that many might find disturbing. If you are one of those people, go drink some warm buttermilk or something.) First, the man removes my pants so that I am naked from the waist down. Sometimes he removes all my clothes and I am completely naked. He puts his arms around me. I put my arms around him. The man then lifts me out of my wheelchair and onto the toilet. The man leaves. I sit. I read a magazine.

When I’m finished I call and the man returns. And then our intimacy reaches its unspeakable climax. The man grabs a wad of toilet paper, leans me over and wipes me up. Then sometimes we continue to get intimate in the shower as well. The man shampoos my hair, scrubs down all of my body. Our intimacy continues in the bedroom. He knows all my favorite positions in bed. Sometimes I sleep positioned on my right side, sometimes on my left. He puts me in a position where I am comfortable and then he leaves.

I will continue to pay men to perform these acts of intimacy with me until the day I die because, like I said, I have needs, just like you. I need to shit and shower and sleep. I need to eat. I need to do my laundry.

A man applied to work for me some years ago. He said he was from Cambodia. During the interview, he told me his harrowing childhood tale of escaping the Khmer Rouge. He fled through the jungle with his family. The jungle was full of wild animals, deadly snakes, Khmer Rouge. But they made it to America. I was inspired by his fortitude so I hired him. And he quit after about three days on the job with me. The lions and tigers and bears and Khmer Rouge weren’t nearly as scary to him as my bathroom wipey time.

My advice is, if you’re creeped out by too much intimacy, don’t ever get too attached to a cripple. And for the love of God, be sure you never become a cripple.


  1. Hahahaha! Honestly, what did the dude think he'd have to do for you, sing you a bedtime story? Gees. People are dumb.

  2. Some experiences have an emotive aspect, individually interpreted, which cannot be adequately expressed in words or estimated.

  3. The story wasn't really meant to be funny, Carin. Jeez...

  4. I have those same duties as your hired help, for my Alzheimers'-affected husband. I don't get paid for it, either. In fact, I hire my nephew to help out because 24/7 is pretty exhausting. He gets paid in $$$, room & board.

  5. @Roger it was hilarious. Yes in a warped, black way, but hilarious none the less.

    Every post is, and I am so glad I get such an intimate look into (in this case) secret men's business.

    This is the only blog I read - no others come close.

  6. Thank you Sdavis for explaining it to him. When I saw his comment, it was too late at night and I couldn't form a coherent thought. No I'm not stupid. I
    know he's being serious. But he's also being funny. I wish I was that good at it. This is the smart ass cripple blog after all. I've read everything on
    this thing, I think I know the tone now.

  7. And blogger can suck it. It would not allow me to submit the captcha for solving if I used the link that comes in an email. I don't know why, but that took me 6 tries to submit. Raaaar. I hate Google's captcha. Hate it with a passion. The audio never works when there are letters in it, and now I see that if you get the link to respond by email, I can't use that either. Blarf.

  8. Wiping ones Butt, seems to be the demarcation point between those who are interested in being a Personal Assistant (PA), and those who simply can't do this job. One of my PA's joined the ranks of PAdom by undergoing a "trial by fire". It was 30 + years ago and my PA was living in a college dormitory. Although his roommate was disabled, he had not had to do much for him as the semester had just begun.

    There was a furious knock on the door and the RA said that there was another disabled student upstairs who desperately needed his help. The other disabled student was a person with a very spastic version of CP that didn't get to the toilet in time and took a fairly sizable dump in his pants. Naturally, this person was trying to be as independent as possible and started to try to clean himself up. Unfortunately, this didn't work out so well. The more he tried to clean, the more it became further smeared. When my PA arrived, POO was everywhere! Initially, my PA thought to himself "I can't do this!" and walked away from the situation. My PA stood outside the bathroom for more than 15 min. as he thought to himself about what the disabled student was experiencing. Finally, he resolved "If I were in that situation, I would want someone to help. I have to do this!". Reportedly it took him more than three hours to get the person cleaned up. It is good to know that I can eat anything and not have to worry about the consequences whenever this uniquely talented PA is around.

    Metro Gimp

  9. Fantastic! Maybe I should put a link to your posts in my ads for PAs!

  10. I'm intimate with men and women, sometimes at the same time.

  11. So few blogs make me laugh this hard. Thanks!