A response to the five things I supposedly do not know about my penis:

1. My dick does not make chicks fat. While I make no argument that nature gave women the raw deal with the subsequent carrying and birthing of children (and "fucking with their metabolism") I am certain that my dick was not the catalyst for your weight gain. Perhaps its the fact that your children (the ones you probably nagged your husband for because your biological clock was in overdrive) keep you too busy to work out for five hours in a week. Or maybe its because you have not adjusted your diet and are eating like you are still pregnant. Or maybe its because when women get older their metabolism naturally slows down. Or maybe you are just lazy and in need of an excuse for looking like a whale.
   
2. It does smells bad when it is not clean. Going down on a guy after he played in a pick-up basketball game and his cash and prizes were a tad gamey, eh? I am really sorry about that. I am guessing it is akin to going down on a woman two days after she is off her period. I mean, you could have stopped sucking it, right? Maybe asked him to take a shower? But no, you just kept going at it. Thanks for confirming that you are, indeed, a dirty cocksucker.
3. It does want to go in your butt without permission. First and foremost, my penis is not a gentleman. He is a scandalous, immoral, evil piece of shit that is usually the root of my problems. While I do not always agree with those decisions (read: my ex-girlfriend), we tend to compromise and present a unified front. I am with him on this one. We are not going to ask for sodomy approval because the answer is invariably going to be no (unless you drank enough wine). Most women outside of pornography do not ask for anal sex, so it is always better for me (and my penis) to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.
4. It does not mind a helping hand. Within reason. As an owner of a penis for over thirty years, I can assure you I have learned how to handle my junk. I also learned to steer clear of greedy bitches like you who cannot go one minute in or out of the bedroom without wanting to be pleased. While rubbing your moose knuckle is a good move (and one which I am glad to perform), it is also only doable from a few positions (none of which I am guessing you are into). So instead of complaining about it, maybe you should acknowledge the fact that you are clitoral rather than vaginal with your orgasms and ask for stimulation before or (gasp!) after I release the hounds.
5. It does stay hard with a condom on, but it sucks. I will wear a viking hat and a wet suit if it means I am getting in there, but condoms kill all sensation (try making out with someone while wearing a trash bag over your head to get an idea). Still, I have common sense. I would definitely not de-rubber with a self-proclaimed dick professional such as yourself.

P.S. Peen? Really? Are you writing in your girlfriend's junior high yearbook or something?

Labels: rage, sex

• The New York Jet's D Concourse becomes Mardi Gras at halftime. I am actually surprised this does not happen during the entire game being as New Jersey tunnel trash lifting up their shirts seems far more interesting than watching Kellen Clemens play quarterback. It is sad when the best thing that happened to your professional sports franchise in the past decade was this.
• Vintage photography of a 60s era sex party (NSFW).
• Obesity trends in the USA from 1985-2006. Good to see Colorado representing the low end of the scale along with Massachusetts and Connecticut. Do us all a favor West Virginia and Mississippi; put down the cupcakes and go for a bike ride or something.

Labels: link goodness, sex, sports, tomfoolery

Articles like this almost make me miss my free collegiate education at the local Jesuit University dating repressed Catholic girls. Tackling the taboo topic of sex! On a college campus! Totally edgy. The article and accompanying sketches of women in "slut" panties and taking it from behind offended clergy and staff alike. I can guarantee this incident made Jesus cry. Not walking the hillside with his disciples, turning water into wine, happy go lucky Jesus, either. I am talking about tortured, crucified, crown of thorns, sword in his side Jesus. Way to go you fat, insensitive, under-sexed bitches. You made Jesus cry because you cannot stop shoveling cake into your face and think it is still a sin to use a vibrator.

Labels: religion, sex

Adult film star Savanna Samson has some critically acclaimed hooch. Her wine making business is the result of wanting to do something that her parents could be proud of because filmed double penetration and homo-erotic baby oil massages was not enough.

Labels: sex, wine

• When hitting skins in the garage be sure to turn the car off.
• A criminal considered too psychotic for execution. Are you kidding me? Jackballs goes on a rampage, kills a baker's dozen and we are respecting his inability to rationally comprehend the death sentence? Throw a peach cobbler in the gas chamber, tell him it is a magic room that is protected by Jesus, slam the door and have him rationally comprehend his lungs ingesting noxious fumes until they fail.
• Jessica Alba should be getting sued for harboring the delusion that she has anything more to offer this world than her funbags.
  
• I do not know if I can wait a decade for this.

Labels: crime, link goodness, sex

13% of an Ohio high school's student body is heavy with child. The other 87% are waiting for their turn.

Labels: education, sex

• Carrot Top is shredded. Regardless if he is cut out of wood or not, he is still a closeted homosexual. He is wearing scary man mascara, for the love of baby Jesus.
• An Australian model could face a maximum of 15 years in an Indonesian prison for being caught with ecstasy. Based on her picture, I would pay to see her in an Indonesian prison reality show. The program may only air for two hourlong episodes but it would be the best thing to happen to television since the moon landing.
• After overhearing a conversation in the company breakroom, I thought a filmmaker had finally captured my dream on celluloid: a menage-a-trois sex scene involving bacon. I was disappointed upon learning that it was a menage-a-trois sex scene involving Kevin Bacon and another man. One dick in the room is one dick too many.

Labels: bacon, drugs, link goodness, pop culture, sex

Insane? No. Mentally ill and making a fourteen year-old boy the undisputed king of his middle school? Yes.

Labels: education, perversion, sex

• An image bank of celebrities playing table tennis. My personal favorite is Mr. Ed wielding the paddle.
• It is raining men. Hallelujah.
  
• If you gave someone crabs and need to let them know send an eCard. There is nothing like getting notified via email that you have gonorrhea. My favorite feature is the ability to send one card to multiple addresses (a.k.a. the "slut blast"). I am tempted to send an email to my entire contact list informing them that I gave them herpes and signing it Ron Mexico.

Labels: death, link goodness, pop culture, sex

• The bungee fuck swing.
• McSweeneys: Christmas Day with my new girlfriend's family as a circa-1982 text-based computer adventure game.
• Car loving taken to another level.

Labels: link goodness, sex, tomfoolery

Sexual repression is alive and well in our nations schools. Rather than implement a zero tolerance policy against dry humping, I say to implement one against stupidity.

Labels: education, sex

• Architectural projects for the Soviet Union (circa 1930-1950) that were never realized. My personal favorites: The Palace of Soviets and The Aeroflot Building.
• Carmen Electra's Advanced Aerobic Striptease.
  
• The ten biggest threats to Earth and life as we know it. I am hoping humanity does not get wiped out by a viral pandemic (too boring) or terrorists (too cliche). If anything, I am pulling for a super volcano to rain down ash and fire on us or for hyper-intelligent robots to turn our planet into a goddamn apocalyptic nuclear wasteland like in The Terminator.
• The Philadelphia Flyers Have a Time Machine: Installment Four.

Labels: death, hockey, link goodness, pop culture, science, sex, sports

I like the way Michael Vick plays NFL football with the running and the throwing and the eluding of pass rushers the size of Mack trucks. I also like the way Michael Vick, er, Ron Mexico, gives the ladies herpes.

Labels: pop culture, sex, sports

Assault, battery and an uncomfortable sexual situation that arose from a wife swapping proposal. It is just like an episode of Taxicab Confessions.

Labels: fighting, sex, tomfoolery

If Americans do not have the right to insert three headed, fourteen inch dildos covered with sixty grit sandpaper into their rectums in the privacy of their own homes anymore, then what in the hell are we fighting in Iraq for? Oh, right. Oil.

Labels: politics, sex, war

With the 2004 Olympic Summer Games forthcoming in Athens, athletes from all over the world are training their bodies, preparing mentally for competition and waiting in anticipation for the drunken fuck fest that is the Olympic village.

Labels: sex, sports

This morning I am awash in the inappropriate sexual habits of a slut teacher. I never had a hot teacher educate me nor did I ever want to have sex with or envision any sexual situations with the old hosebags that taught me. The closest I ever came to a having a hot teacher was my high school Sociology instructor. She (who will remain nameless lest some vagabond I graduated with feels the need to post it under my comments section) had a tremendous rack but a disturbing case of thinning hair. We all theorized that she was smoking when she was younger and attempted to envision her that way instead of the wrinkled, dried up husk of menopause that she really was.

Labels: a-town, pop culture, sex, slut teacher

CH just emailed me this link with the message "My wife thought this was funny." I will tell you what is funny, CH; girls who wear Colorado State thong panties.

Labels: ch, colorado, sex

What is it going to take for you to go away? Do you not realize that you have no talents other than being an STD dumpster? I know you are the heiress to the Hilton hotel fortune and all, but there are plenty of other wealthy American industrialist trust fund children out there that we know nothing about and care to know nothing about. Lets think this through, shall we? If you continue through life with your current popularity rating (taking into account you will not overdose on coke or die from starvation by age forty) you will become addicted to plastic surgery after your youthful glow disappears and your skin starts looking like an old catcher's mitt from years spent in tanning beds, you will suck down vodka and pills for breakfast and give weekly interviews to Diane Sawyer and People magazine discussing your heroic struggles with an eating disorder and substance abuse. Do we really need that from you, Paris Hilton? Blubbering confessions in tabloid media from an aging barfly with the propensity to shoot a night vision sex video when stoned to the gills? Talk about a fucking nightmare.

Labels: drugs, pop culture, sex

Me: "Damn though mans I'm just tryin' do me. If the record's two mill' I'm just tryin' move three. Get a couple of chicks, get 'em to try to do E. Hopefully they'll menage before I reach my garage."
Monica: God bless the Jay-Z. I love him. I would be all sick ass groupie for him. Would you be a male whore/groupie for any band or singer?
Me: Gwen Stefani. The Go-Gos circa 1982. The Bangles circa 1986.
Monica: Susanna Hoffs was a sweet piece of ass.
Me: You (besides Jay-Z)?
Monica: Lenny Kravitz. Robert Plant circa 1978. Henry Rollins circa 1986.
Me: I had a thing for that one Heart sister back in the day. Not the cow but the one that played the Axe.
Monica: Nancy.
Me: That blond curly hair, running around in lingerie and busting out some riffs on "What About Love."
Monica: Marvin Gaye. That would have been interesting.
Me: Even more interesting: Barry White.
Monica: Not Barry White. He is a whale.
Me: Speaking of interesting, how about Janice Joplin? Ugly as sin and chasing the dragon. I would have just yelled at her until she serenaded me with some "Bobby McGee."
Monica: Ha! Jimi Hendrix. You know he would have clogged a girl up something fierce...
Me: Er...?
Monica: ...with drugs, not sperm.
Me: Whew. Thanks for clarifying. I would have tagged all of Bananarama.
Monica: I do not even remember them.
Me: Sure you do: "Leaving me here on my own, its a cruel. Cruel summ-aaaah." Not summer, mind you, but summ-aaaah.
Monica: You complete me.
Me: Right back atcha, fruitcake.

Labels: im convos, mons, music, sex

"I don't know nothing about God; but I'll take your word for it."

Labels: drugs, quote of the day, religion, sex

A tongue piercing becomes a lightning conductor. Still, I guess it is cool to jam a metal rod in your mouth that makes you drool when you talk and is otherwise only noticeable when said tongue piercing is licking on my balls.

Labels: science, sex, stupidity

At my high school we did not need slut teacher aides that molested male students. We had plenty of easy girls that would have sex with you if you gave them a bottle of Boones Farm Wine and a joint. That was the deal closer. Take my junior year Pom-Pom squad for example. Three girls got knocked up in a span of six months. Two were sisters, ages 18 and 16, and they got pregnant within two months of each other. I think their mother committed suicide. Even though my high school was chocked full of depraved chemically dependent sex fiends (myself included), I do not think any of us were caught doing this.

Labels: drinking, drugs, nostalgia, sex