All posts in Sex

Sex with a venom gland

I went to the dentist today to have my teeth cleaned and in looking at my teeth, Dr. Fung found that I have two canine teeth on my left side.

Apparently I'm unique. It's some rarity to have an extra canine or something.

This is weird because when I was younger and growing, I thought the extra tooth was a venom gland or something and I can remember being really excited over the prospect of a venom gland in my mouth.

So Dr. Fung noted that I'd need massive glands in my neck to have the, you know… err… venom on it.

At which point I realised that having a girl would prove a bit difficult if I did have a venom gland. You know, it'd be like "oh hi, we can do shit but don't mind me if I go nibbling on your neck. You might die or paralysis… but yeah, I'm so worth it…"

So Dr. Fung suggested that some girls might be inclined to do it.

Particularly the suicidal ones.

It then dawned on me that girls who have a death wish and want to sleep with a  venom loaded guy?

Shit, that's like a one night stand with manslaughter charges. 

Will Smith’s love advice

The following highlighted bit is a link to the Sydney Morning Herald bit where Will Smith says that comedy is a good way to get girls.

Nah… it couldn't possibly that Will Smith is tall, dark, handsome or loaded with money, fame and success. Couldn't possibly be any of that.

Seriously, if laughter was a great way to get women then I surely would've had some success by now. Surely.

As it is, I have to wrestle with a hand… and often I have to get it drunk.

Geeze, I have to drug my own hand. That's just sad. 

Damn you RHP. Damn you to hell.

While I sit here and download ridiculously large amounts of porn as if my hands were the vaginal lips and the web was a massive studded vibrator, I realise that I'm probably going to shell out another random 50 bucks for another even more random subscription to RedHotPie.

Not that it did anything last time. I met a girl once and nothing resulted. 

Hell, we rarely speak at all and we didn't even have sex. Geeze.

I can talk to girls in real life but I can't seem to get any of them remotely interested in me for anything other than the words I have to say.

Or my Santa hat.


Pink Ribbon Meets Trilby

I was wondering when this day would occur. I knew it was coming but didn't realise it was actually upon us.

Aside for it being a Monday, I'm talking about Pink Ribbon Day!

While part of the reason I cheer is it gives me an excuse to pin something unexpected on my hat, I also proudly support it because it's something that not a lot of men seem to care about and… that's not just a shame, it's downright wrong.

I'm not saying that it's wrong for someone not to support the fight against breast cancer. You can believe in whatever you want and support whatever battles you like.

I'm saying that it's wrong for men not to support the pink ribbon if they really dig breasts themselves.

I mean hell, we've stared at them since we were maybe 8, confused because– wait, weren't these those useful things we used to suckle on when we were younger? –and now we find that all girls have them?!

What wonders!

So we stare, we pass a glance, we admire from a distance. We download pictures, drool in secret, as well as touch, grab, fondle, kiss and hope for slightly more interesting activities with a member of the family that we'd be arrested for if we so chose to show it in public. 

And we do it all for the love of the breast.

And if you're one of those people who loves the breast and all that it stands for, then you need to be supporting Pink Ribbon Day.

Without the breast, you'd just be another pile of dribbling slop.
The breast cements you.
The breast gives you reason to live.
It provides you with milk and enjoyment; it's like a cow that sings and dances.

Plain and simple, the breast is brilliant… and you need to support it.