I just watched a commercial showing women seductively inhaling different forms of aluminum (tin foil, fences, a baseball bat, etc ). I guess the makers of AXE deodorant are implying that since their product is housed in an aluminum can that it produces a potent sexual elixir that simulates the pheromones that attract females.

At first, I dismissed this as advertising rubbish, but then I remembered a valuable tid bit of information I learned from my 10^th grade chemistry teacher, Mr. Wedig. He asked the class if anyone sniffed paint. Everyone said, “No”. He seemed disappointed. He then proceeded to tell the class that if they ever wanted to start sniffing paint and get really high, they should exclusively inhale aluminum-based paint. The reason being that the body mistakes aluminum ions (Al3+) for iron ions (Fe3+). The chemical reaction is euphoric. A hallucinogenic wonderland provided by a paper bag , a can of Krylon, and your red blood cells. Of course, eventually you would get jaundice, impotency, and color-blindness, but these trivial side effects would be negated by the unparalleled, iron-deficient, aluminum ecstasy. So perhaps the AXE commercials aren’t so misleading after all.

I realized that I’ve actually never engaged in the actual pursuit of a woman. My last girlfriend was pre-arranged. My best friend was dating her best friend. They eliminated all the normal guesswork that is usually involved with the initial “let’s get to know each other before we have sex” ritual. We were briefed with the same information about each other: recently single, intelligent, funny, disease and drug free, and looking to break our six-month bout of celibacy. Essentially, we were handed to each other on platters. There was no “hunt”. My friends knew what our particular tastes were and took the liberty to order the food and deliver it to our door. Take-outs are convenient, but there is something to be said about catching and preparing your own food.

Before her, I was pressed to go on a blind date by a stranger who had seen me perform and thought her roommate would be perfect for me. She described her as tall, beautiful, artistic, and athletic. Fortunately, she was very attractive and we seemed compatible on certain levels but that was purely coincidental. It felt analogous to a random person coming up to you and assessing your epicurean needs by their intuition alone. How would you feel if someone was talking to you and felt they had enough information about you to invite you to dinner but neglected to tell you what was going to be served. They only described it as delicious. Which is fine, but certain things have to be taken into consideration. Prior to dinner, you should know about food allergies, vegetarianism, lactose intolerance, kosher… etc. All this could have been discovered in the normal “hunting” process. In a blind date, the food is served in a sealed platter like a secret prize on Let’s Make a Deal from Monty Hall. You don’t know what you are going to eat until you uncover the lid.

I’m afraid if I keep getting use to people bringing food to me, I won’t know how to catch my own food. I’ll keep getting older and my taste will diminish. Now I will only eat carefully prepared meal, soon it will be meals-ready-to-eat, then canned foods, and when I reach forty I’ll settle for beef jerky.

The “hunt” is important. I just have to decide want I want to “hunt”. Some people like to go deep-sea fishing. Others enjoy big game. Personally, I like unicorns. They’re not easy to catch but if you do the pay-off is delightful. You haven’t lived until you have eaten unicorn tenderloin. Bon Apetit!

I asked my buddy to borrow his laptop. At first, he was somewhat hesitant to lend it to me. I was slightly offended, then I realized he hadn’t cleared his “history trail” and was afraid that I was going to judge him. What kind of friend did he think that I was? I would never judge him. Then I started to look at all the sites he visited, and I started to judge him. Yikes!

I was deeply and morally appalled at the filth. Five hours later (after downloading RealPlayer, Flash, Quicktime, and Windows Media Player), I found myself watching a girl having sex with six other guys. I don’t know why this turns me on, but in some sick, perverted way it does.

I have to ask myself, “Am I a closeted misogynist?”

Personally, I’d never want to be in that situation because I wouldn’t know what position I would take. I’m too passive-aggressive.

“Okay…you got top…alright…bottom goes to Joe…great…Gary has the left hand…good choice…”

I’d end up being the guy kissing her, who always looks so sad and pathetic.

Then some guy would muscle in to get blown.

“Oh…you want her to do that…okay…I guess I’ll massage her feet. Oh…you want to have sex with her feet…by all means, please go ahead…I’m going to step out for a bit. It’s her Mom’s birthday and I want to buy her a card. If you guys want, I can come back and we can all sign it. That would be swell!”

Ever since the Roe vs. Wade case, the topic of abortion has been a heated debate between two factions:

Pro-Life
opponents of the legalization of abortion

and

Pro Choice
advocates of the legalization of abortion.

Two new groups have developed recently:

Pro-Create
a group of Catholic missionaries living in Tahiti who are advocates of promiscuious breeding habits.

Pro-Pane
a small cult of petroleum workers outside of Houston, Texas who are advocates of illegal abortions.

Some people claim that animals do not have feelings or emotions. With that said, I was surprised to see a group of pigeons mourning the death of an avian comrade. I’m normally apathetic to the plight of the bird nicknamed, “Rat With Wings”. Although, this very somber scene tugged on my heart strings and I got a little emotional. It was obvious that one pigeon (probably his wife or God forbid his mother) at this impromptu “funeral” was deeply affected. She seemed to be grieving and giving the eulogy. I didn’t want to intrude and disturb their holy moment. However, I wanted to get closer and pay my respects. Unfortunately, I realized that they weren’t “mourning”. They were eating him. A unexpected Thanksgiving celebration. Those dirty, little, heartless bastards. If you ever encounter anyone who lacks emotion, labeling them cold-hearted would not be sufficient. Be more specific.
“You sir, have the ruthless heart of a pigeon!”

When I was in Virginia, I drove by a Friendly’s® restaurant and noticed that the marquee claimed, “Free Happy Ending Sundae with Every Entree”.

My Uncle Ed was in the Marines and had told me as a teenager that happy endings was code word for oral pleasure at a massage parlor.

The temptation was too great to pass up. I went in and looked for the hottest waitress in the place. Not an easy thing to do in Leesburg, Virginia on a Sunday. I found one that looked like Flo from Mel’s Diner except a little plumper and not as sexy. Her name was Rose.

I ordered a Buffalo Chicken Sandwich and an iced tea. While smacking her gum, she scribbled, B-C-H-I-X and a happy face on her writing pad, winked at me, and said, “Comin’ right up, sugar.”

My face turned red with embarrassment. I felt like I was an eighteen year old GI from WWII in front of an aging prostitute.

Rose brought out the sandwich and the ice tea. She smiled and said, “Pumpkin, lemme know when yer done, so I can bring you yer dessert.” I felt awkward looking at her fifty year old, apple ass swish back and forth like a cat’s tail.

I ate my meal, made eye contact with her, and beckoned her over.

I coyly said, “I guess, I’ll have my happy ending now.”

Rose disappeared into the kitchen, and came out with a serving tray with a sundae on it. She cleared my plate and placed my complimentary dessert in front of me. Confused, I ate it.

When I was done, she asked me, “Do you want anything else, sugarplum?”

She pointed at my empty bowl and my chest region in a circular motion and said, “Do you want me to clean this up?”

That’s when I got it.

The secret password wasn’t happy ending it was clean this up. So I put my hands behind head and said, “Yes, I would love for you to clean this up.”

Rose said, “Sure thing, sweetie”, and she clapped her hands together and yelled out, “Enrique, can you clean this up?”

Morale of the story:
If you want a great chicken sandwich and love being blown by a Mexican, go to Friendly’s®.

If you’re going to see a movie, choose wisely.

I was on a first date once and we rented The Accused with Jodie Foster?”

Watching The Accused on the first date will make you more uncomfortable than watching Richard Simmons have sex with Janet Reno while they watch David Koresh have sex with an underage Branch Davidian while he fantasizes about Jodie Foster.

It seemed harmless. She asked, “Do you like Jodie Foster?”

I said, “Yeah. Who doesn’t? Who else is in it?”

“Kelly McGillis.”

“Well, I thought she was pretty hot in Top Gun. What’s it about?”

“I don’t know”, she said. “It says, ‘The first scream was for help. The second was for justice.’ I guess it’s a legal thriller.”

“Sounds great!” I said.

I probably don’t need to say this but NEVER EVER watch The Accused on the first date.

There will be NO coy, thigh-on-thigh “action.” And you can completely forget about the highly arousing ear-whispering that normally takes place, along with the out-dated, “fake yawn that turns into an embrace” will probably end with a face full of mace.

Once the camera zooms onto Jodie Foster being gang-raped on a pinball machine, know that your date
will slowly start to rock her self into a fetal position and start to cry.

How romantic.

After the movie ended, there was no eye contact between us, which was difficult because I still had to drive her home. There’s just something about a movie centered around a girl getting gang-raped on a pinball machine that ends your internal debate about whether to go in for the first kiss when you drop her off.

The only way I was able to pull off the rest of the “date” was to imagine that I was from 1885 and I was escorting a young lady from a funeral.

When we finally got to her house, I tipped my imaginary top hat, waxed the tips of my handlebar mustache, bowed and said,
“Good day, my lady. What a delightful evening?”

Then I rode off into the sunset on my old-time-y, high wheel!

My girlfriend is a sex columnist and occasionally recieves free sex products.

A while back she got a shipment of LIBERATOR® sex furniture. I highly recommend the ‘The Ramp/Wedge Combo’.

However, we’ve been arguing for the past week and our sex life has waned. Now I prop it against the wall and use it as a backrest while I use my laptop.

I’m officially changing its name to: MASTURBATOR®

Whenever a homosexual individual introduces me to their partner, I immediately try to determine who’s the “husband” and who’s the “wife” in the relationship.

It’s always difficult because they both call each other “partner”. It would be extremely helpful if they designated different words. When I hear “partner”, it reminds me of a law office. So perhaps they could refer to the “wife” as an “associate”†.

†As I read this back, I realize how misogynistic this must sound by implying that woman are inferior to men. Obviously, I’m referring to a gay couple in the 1950s before the bra-burning feminist movement.

Occasionally, I let her borrow my Old Spice deodorant which is pH balanced for a man.

When she comes back from the gym after a long run, somehow her ancestral, Middle-Eastern/European perspiration overpowers it.

I believe she has the pH balance of an ogre.

They say, “Dancing is a very vertical expression of a horizontal desire.”

That’s unfortunate because I don’t dance.

I think I’m a eunich.

Mormons and bees both practice polygamy.

However, Mormons live in male-centric, polygynous communities and bees live in female-centric, polyandric colonies.

Joseph Smith, The Mormon Prophet, wanted to hide this biological fact from their women-folk: Animals could successfully survive with this gender arrangement.

So he took the liberty and carefully amended the Book of Revelations in the Book of Mormons.

He ‘found and replaced’ the word, locusts with the word bees and refered to Satan as the Queen Bee. The word honey was replaced by Satan’s slime or Lucifer’s blood.

I guess he was a genius, because his prophecy of killer bees has come true.

FUN FACT:
Winnie the Pooh is not a Mormon. He’s a Pooh.

I think A.A. Milne was an anti-Semite.
“Poohs love honey,” sounds a lot like “Jews love money.”

I’ve developed a fetish for Jewish girls (aka Matzah Ball Fever). To be more specific, Sephardic Jews (“Jews of the Spanish rite”) over Ashkenazi Jews (“Jews of the German rite”). I’m guessing that my preferential attraction for Sephardic women derives from my upbringing in south Texas and I’ve always had an affinity for Hispanic women.

I was fantasizing the other night that I was in a ménage à trois with two Orthodox Jewish girls in a hotel room. It was pretty kinky because I had to cut two holes in the sheets but I felt bad for the maid the next day because she probably thought that I had a threesome with a ghost and a Klansman.

When one is formulating an expression to blurt out in ecstasy, keep it simple.

Two or three word combinations should suffice. Imperative action verb/subject sentences are ideal.

Occasionally, you can expand it to a four word exclamational possessive statement.
ie “You are my $#?*%!”

Never use complicated lines such as…

Woman to Man:
“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name!”

Albeit very kinky, this type of verbal stimuli is far too complex for a male in sexual motion.

Realistically, would you really want this to happen?
What if you had a job interview the next day?
Perhaps pulled over by the police?
PTA meeting?

It would be very embarrassing if you couldn’t remember your name.

You know that, I know that, people of China know that and the citizens of Korea know that but for some reason Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe doesn’t think it’s that bad. Perhaps he’s a distant relative of Clayton Williams the ex-gubernatorial candidate for Texas who made a “joke” to a reporter, likening bad weather to rape, “as long as it’s inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it.” Let’s also not forget one of his infamous responses to his defeat by Ann Richards, a recovering alcoholic, “Well, I hope she doesn’t go back to drinkin’!”.

In 1937, Japan was one of the worst offenders. The Chinese refer to this as the Rape of Nanking. Tens of thousands of women were brutally raped over a period of six weeks.

I never understood the term, “brutally raped”. It seems redundant.

bru‧tal‧ly, adverb
1. savage; cruel;

Rape is brutal.

Rape is the one word in the English language that does not need an adverb to modify it. Its like describing an orange as an orange orange.

Unless there are different methods of rape I’m not aware of:

A flower deliveryman delicately raped a young woman this evening in her apartment today.

or

Father Aguilar was arrested today because of allegations that stated he had passive–aggressively raped an altar boy.

or

Israeli president Moshe Katsav secretly raped his secretary.

or

Since Mark Foley was molested my a priest and brainwashed by his alcoholism, he reluctantly raped a 16-year-old page.

Rapist beware someone just invented an anit-rape condom called Rapex

(I’m not lying. Click on the link).

â„– 1 Can not play a dulcimer in the subway for money

â„– 2 Lotto tickets should not be overflowing from wallet

â„– 3 Should not be an expert dart or pool player

â„– 4 Should not be fluent in Klingon or Elvish

â„– 5 Must dislike Vin Diesel movies

â„– 6 Can not be Vin Diesel

№ 7 Must not refer to reading as readin’

â„– 8 Should not own a collection of bukkake DVDs

â„– 9 Should not know how to obtain Roofies

â„– 10 Must not be in a fraternity (see #9)

IF YOU CLICKED ON ME, YOUR MIGHT BE PRETTY LUCKY LOL ” DON’T LUST FOR WHAT YOU SEE, DESIRE WHAT YOU KNOW” PRETTY DEEP HUH??? WELL IM 30 YEARS OLD FROM BROOKLYN , New York. I WORK OUT/ TRAIN 5 DAYS A WEEK.IM VERY INTO HEALTH & FITNESS. I AM AS REAL AS THEY COME!!IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT ABOUT ME THEN WRITE ME AND LEARN ABOUT ME. I HAVE A HEART OF GOLD,ILL GIVE U THE SHIRT OFF MY BACK FOR ALL THOSE I LOVE AND CARE ABOUT. PLEASE ” DON’T MISTAKE MY KINDNESS, AS A WEAKNESS” TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THIS. IM VERY VERY LOYAL,FRIENDLY,CARIN G ,REAL, SENSITIVE AND LOVING . YES IM A CANCER. I’m very intelligent and I’m very confident in myself. I’m very family oriented. I love spending time with my family and friends. I have the greatest friends, they are always there for me. I HAVE TAUGHT FROM GRADES PRE K- HS. I love the medical field as well.I love reading about medical information.Im very interested in the financial world.Im very affectionate.I LOVE WHEN A GUY HOLDS ME & KISSES ME. U MUST BE ABLE TO CARRY A GOOD CONVO WITH ME AND PERSONALITY MATTERS BIG TIME.I CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING BASICALLY,IM ALWAYS UP FOR A CHALLENGING CONVERSATION. I LOVE INTELLIGENT GUYS,NOTHING LIKE A INTELLIGENT GUY. I LIKE WHEN A GUY TAKES GOOD CARE OF HIMSELF -MEANING IN GREAT SHAPE ( ATHLETIC BODY ,RIPPED OR MUSCLAR ) MMM CARES ABOUT HIS BODY AND WORKS OUT:) I CARE HOW ABOUT HOW I LOOK, SO I BELIEVE A GUY SHOULD DEFINENTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIMSELF. I very knowledgeable about the banking field.I am a very sincere, & honest person.Im such a nurturer to those I love and care about.I LOVE A GUY THAT IS A GREAT KISSER. I LOVE A GOOD MOVIE LIKE ACTION,DRAMA, COMEDY AND ROMANTIC:) I LOVE ALL TYPES OF MUSIC .” I LOVE ROMANTIC GUYS,THAT MEANS ROMANTIC DINNERS, ROSES & AFFECTIONATE GUYS APPLY. I love to write, Well maybe since I Actually taught writing! I love reading a good piece of writing. Im very deep & love to read quotes by Machiavelli,Plato,Ar istotle,Jung,Socrates &Descartes.

The Aztecs considered it a sex stimulant.

Vegans love it for its Omega-3 fatty acids.

Now everytime I’m with a girl that orders an extra order of guacamole, I think, ‘Either she’s a healthy nymphomaniac or hates men and likes the idea of mashed testicles.’