C@#* Explosion!

So, there I was, walking down a peaceful tree-lined street in Toronto, just minding my own business, when I shoved my hand deep into my pocket and pulled out my iPod Touch.  Ah, I love this fine piece of equipment.  It's smooth, shiny, and wonderful to hold.  I inserted the earbuds into my ears to fire up the tunes.

Remembering that wifi was still enabled, I decided to turn it off, so as to save some battery power.  As I was doing this, I noted the names of the wireless networks in this fine neighbourhood.  There were several nondescript Bell networks with boring names like BELL127; there were a few people who had applied names to their networks, like Lisa this or John that, and many such derivatives with a few pet names thrown into the mix, and possibly a superhero or two.

But then I saw a most curious wireless network called - get ready for this - Cock Explosion!  I am not lying.  Lots of thoughts passed through my head, like, what if his mother comes to visit and wants to hop on his wireless network with her little pink netbook?

Dude's Mom: "What's your network name?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "What?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "You're network is called cock explosion?"

Dude: "Yeah, cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "Why would you call your network cock explosion?"

Dude: "Why not?  Cock explosion is a great name. It's very visual."

Dude's Mom:  "I'm afraid to ask what your network key is..."

I am sure that his dad would understand all of this, but not his mom.  A colleague told me a similar story about a network in NYC he encountered that was called something like Porn-Loving Bi-Girl.  A father would understand that too, but not a mom.

But, back to the story.  You see that I made the assumption that this is a network operated by a male.  I mean, what women would called her network Cock Explosion?  I can think of a few good names for a racy female network, and this doesn't make the list.  CG later suggested that perhaps it belonged to an escort who was very good at her job.  I am not convinced, but I give him marks for coming (if you'll excuse the gratuitous use of that word) up with alternative suggestions.

My immediate reaction is that this guy must be a porn hound.  I imagined him (but not in any great detail) ending up like Quagmire, once he had discovered the wonders of broadband.  Now, there was no way to figure out which house this Cock Explosion was emanating from, and even if I knew, I would have steered well clear of it.  There were no obvious signs anywhere as to which of these properties was home to Cock Explosion.  I couldn't see any Farrah Fawcett posters in the windows, at any rate.  I detected no one furiously closing curtain or blinds.  It was all peaceful, but I wondered, if I stood there long enough, if I would be able to hear any cock explosions.  I decided that this was not a good idea, and resumed my journey, up to a pub to meet two friends and have a beverage.