Posts Tagged ‘Sex’

There are few things that suck more than going to the dentist.  In fact, it’s hard to imagine something worse than a root canal.  Oh, wait.  I just thought of something worse.  How about getting an STD while you’re there?  Yup.  That sucks more.

In my opinion, if you’re going to contract a sexually transmitted disease, you should at least get to have sex.  There’s something karmically unfair about “getting clap” without “getting off”.

This brings me to a delightful dental procedure called “transplanting”.  It’s a WTF moment if ever there were one.

front teeth

The above image is a wanted ad looking for front teeth.  Let me say that again.  The dentist is looking to buy front teeth. I doubt you find that even on Craigslist.

Pretend you’re living in the 1700’s.  Your teeth are like everyone else’s.  That is to say:  Your teeth are rotten, stinking and generally resemble a badger’s ass.  What’s a person to do?  Here’s a thought.  Get some new ones!  For the right price, you can get some spankin’ new teeth.  Well…  Not “new”, really.  They’re “slightly used’.

During “transplanting”, the dentist pulls your bad tooth.  So far, so good.  Painful but not freaky.  Not yet.  The doc goes into another room that’s filled with desperate bastards willing to sell healthy teeth.  Yup.  Sell teeth.  So, Dr. de Sade extracts a perfectly healthy tooth from one of the blighters.

Helpful Tip: Have a few “donors” on hand in case the first extracted tooth doesn’t fit.

The newly liberated tooth is then jammed into the empty, aching socket of the recipient.  The practice fell out of favor when patients began to acquire whatever diseases the original tooth’s owner had.  The most commonly contracted  disease? Syphilis.

Moral?  When you pull out and shove in, you may get an STD.  Everyone knows that’s backwards.  You need to shove in and then pull out.

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After my last musings, someone mentioned that the penis isn’t the subject of any works of art.  I totally agree.  What artist in his/her right mind would want to glorify something that most of us only want to see right before entry?  And, maybe, not even then.  I mean, even the Greek and Roman artists seemed to avoid the area. Did you ever see their statues?  It’s like they confused “penis” with “thumb.”  If that’s an example of male prowess in antiquity, remind me to never build a time-machine.

Anyway, I began thinking about the “johnson as art”.  That’s an oxymoron.  I suppose the only thing that comes close is the decorative dildo.  And, may I say, who the hell thought that would be a good idea?  Since the real-life subject is so utterly ridiculous looking, why not memorialize it?

This brings me to Ramon Novarro.  He was a delectable silent film star who is now best remembered for his death.  What made his death memorable? I’m so glad you asked.


He was beaten to a bloody pulp by two inbred morons.  However, it was their choice of murder weapon that elevates this into the WTF stratosphere.  They used a lead dildo.  Who doesn’t have one of those around the house?  But wait!  The bizarro train hasn’t reached the station yet.  It was a lead replica of Rudolph Valentino’s dick.  Not only was the man killed by his own possession, he was killed by one of the world’s most embarrassing possessions.

Here’s a little bit of advice.  Never own something that will mark you as a “freak” after your demise.  Don’t own adult diapers unless there’s an old person in your home.  Don’t own rubber sheets.  Don’t own a leash unless you have a dog.  Don’t own anything labeled “commemorative”.  Don’t own anything manufactured by the Franklin Mint.

Most importantly, under no circumcisions…  I mean… circumstances should you ever own a metal replica of someone’s johnson.  They’re much more enjoyable when they’re still attached to the original owner.

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I’ve noticed that men have an almost devotional relationship with their penises. They talk about “junior” like it’s a separate entity.  Sometimes, they give it a name of its very own.  I have yet to meet a woman who does that with her genitalia. Speaking for myself, I don’t call my breasts “Thelma and Louise” or “Tom and Jerry”. Truthfully, I don’t think they would even respond to those names.

Considering how much men like their organ, it’s a shame they can’t actually date themselves.  I mean, wouldn’t it be convenient if men could take their penises out to dinner, go see a movie and, ultimately, make the moves on themselves?

This brings me to the thrust… I mean… point of my argument.  Men are so enamored with their johnsons, they think everyone else is equally enthralled. What else explains their constant invitations to display the family jewels?  Of all the delights that the computer-age has delivered, the web cam is the least appealing.


See Dick1

“hello baby, you want to see my dick on web cam?”

The only way I want to see your dick is if it’s removed from your body and submerged in a bottle of formaldehyde.  If I see your “man meat”, I fear I’ll never want to date another man in my life. 


See DIck2

“hi trish i can show you my cock i swear respond me please”

I’m sure you can show me but it’s not necessary.  Really.  I’m not sure why you need to “swear”.  Do you think that I doubt your earnestness?  I honestly don’t.  I admire the fact that you request an R.S.V.P.  Evidently, you’re a stickler for etiquette.



“wanna see my hard cock?  cybercock_@******”

Sweet baby jeebus.  Let me count the ways in which I don’t want to see that. Thank you for promising me that you would be hard because that really sweetens the deal. However, I don’t want to see your “love spear” hard, flaccid or any condition in-between. While your email address certainly is truth in advertising, I think a more appropriate choice would have been:



(Nota Bene ~ Some of you have asked if I actually know the men who send such erudite messages.  Ummm…  Have you seen the men on my “Friend List”?  It’s populated with the interesting and the attractive.  I’ve seen road kill that’s better looking and wittier than these ads for abstinence.)

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Clothes Make the Man

Clothes make the man.  Unless, of course, his clothes are made of other men.  Or, in this case, replicas of other men.

Penis Man

Yes.  This man is wearing a penis covered costume.  Please take a moment to revel in the sheer repulsiveness of this sight.

However, the titillating question is…  why did he chose this cockamamy ensemble?  What is the thrust of his argument?  What point is he trying to drill home?  Is he mounting some sort of campaign?

(I’ll stop with the puns before this humor reaches its peak.)

Is he attempting to alert others that he is, in fact, so well-endowed that only a sea of penises can compete with his prowess?

Perhaps, he’s one of Marvel Comics lesser known superheroes.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present “Penis Man“.  His powers include the ability to harden at a moment’s notice, to penetrate anything in front of him and to produce ruffies out of thin air.   His only known weakness is immediate flaccidity when the word “commitment” is mentioned.  Wait a minute.  This sounds suspiciously like most guys.  Anyway….  When he isn’t fighting the never-ending battle against blue balls, he reverts to his alter-ego, Mr. Willy Johnson, a mild-mannered prophylactic salesman.

I couldn’t cum come to a conclusion.

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Facebook 101

Wikipedia defines Facebook as “a free-access social networking website”.

Yeah.  Sure.  That’s one way to look at it.  I have my own definition.

Facebook:  The internet’s equivalent to a woman walking past a construction site filled with horny day-laborers.  

Wait.  That’s not a complete definition.  

Facebook:  A site that mimics a dingy bar that serves 190 proof Everclear to those horny day-laborers… making them even hornier.

Wait.  That isn’t the full story, either.

Facebook:  A virtual dive where horny men (cloaked in anonymity) feel free enough to send obscene messages to complete strangers.

Let’s be clear…  I enjoy flirtations.  I enjoy the exchange of lustful thoughts between two consenting people.  I enjoy the carnal delights that two interlocking bodies can provide.  However, I’m just old-fashioned enough to believe that this line doesn’t work:

hey bby… u r gr8… will u suck my b@lls“.

What does he think I’m going to say?

Gee.  Since you asked so nicely, sure thing.  Drop your pants and whip out those bad boys while I pucker up.”   

For some reason, these “invitations” are always delivered by the world’s most disgusting men.  At least, I think they’re men.  Many are so hairy they should see a groomer.  Honestly, if this guy weren’t in the safety of his basement, would he ever proposition a woman?


Oh yeah…  Stay away, girls.  I saw him first.  Someone better hold me back.  My lust is overwhelming.  I’ve never been so turned on.  The mere thought of becoming lost in Sasquatch’s fur makes me tingle.


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