Balls and Walnuts
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Category Archives: Sex
Another Thirteen
I could have done Thirteen Fruit Desserts. Baked apple! Rhubarb crumble! Port-poached pears!
I could have done Thirteen Hospitals. My son and I were born in the same hospital — how exciting is that?
And I could have done Thirteen Coins. Thrill to the story of the controversial 1878 Trade Dollar — Liberty on a Commode!
I could have done any one of those Thirteens. But would it have been fun?
Naaaah. Instead, I chose . . .
Cosmo Thirteen: the Va-jay-jay Edition
There was a time when guys treated women with respect. We might sneak a peak at their bazongas, but we didn’t stare at ’em for more than a few minutes, and we would never call ’em hooters or milk wagons or love jugs. And we didn’t call women slags or skanks or sluts, and we didn’t refer to their Holy of Holies as a kebab or a quim or a bearded clam.
Or, God forbid, a va-jay-jay.
No, we called it by its proper name, pussy.
Pussy shows proper respect to a beautiful, wondrous organ. Think about it. A pussy is cute! furry! friendly! Men like to pet, stroke, and cuddle with pussies. (Many women do, too.) You wouldn’t hesitate to bring a pussy home to Mom.
I’m not sure what a va-jay-jay is, but I suspect it stays out too late clubbing, smokes and drinks to excess, has no interest whatsoever in short, bald hobbits, and probably associates with an overabundance of wa-wieners.
In this issue: Rihanna shows off her yellow Versace . . . women in danger . . . five things never to tell your guy . . . and guys masturbate (no, really?)
GallimauFriday IV: spam spam spam spam Edition
Remember the Big Suit?
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My quarantine box gets email:
Licenced online pharmacy! Best prices
Ooh, look how they spell “licensed.” They must be Canadian.
Canadian Pharmacy
See? And I bet they sell a lot of
Penis Growth OilPenis Growth Oil is an all natural safe and effective male enhancement and penis enlargement madication.
Rub vigorously on your penis . . . guaranteed to make it larger.
The Idiot’s Guide to Getting Girls, Chapter Four
Who wanted Karen to get in on the act? Well, here you go. YouTube effed up our first take, so I had to go shopping and Karen had to drink some Kahlua and then we were ready for Take 2. We hope you like it. Once again, the video feed gagged midway through (at about 2:00). Bear with it — by 2:30, the feed kicks in again.
At the moment, we’re watching the returns from South Carolina’s primary, but I should be ready for live blogging by 7 PM PST. Hopefully. Tonight, I’m making a pork marsala. Almost bought some veal, but veal is baby cow! And I’m having trouble with beef lately, anyway.
For vlog newcomers: here’s Chapter 1, here’s Chapter 2, and here’s Chapter 3.
See ya at the live blog.
D.
The Idiot’s Guide to Getting Girls, Chapter 3
Here’s my commentary on Chapter 3. I think it came out well, although the video feed glitched at around 3 minutes. Bear with it — the kinks* work themselves out.
If you’re coming into this conversation late, here’s Chapter 1, and here’s Chapter 2.
Enjoy.
D.
*Bwaahahahahahaaaa!
The dangers of embellishment
How about a preview of an upcoming Cosmo Thirteen? From the January issue, here’s a bit from Sex Snafus that Ended Up in the ER:
“A young couple came in with this story: During sex, the woman had grabbed a medium-sized rubber ball and inserted it into her man’s back door. The ball became lodged so high in his rectum, they couldn’t get it out . . . and neither could we! The attending MD paged a surgeon, but while we were waiting for him to arrive, the man began coughing. The ball came flying out of his butt with enough velocity to ping around the room and hit the just-arriving surgeon in the head.”
I have a few observations.
(1) I would really, really like to see Mythbusters tackle this one, because
(2) The story has been embellished past all semblance of reality. But if the writer wanted to create a fanciful story,
(3) The ball should ping around the room a few times and then lodge itself in the arriving surgeon’s gaping mouth. Sadly,
(4) They would call me (or some other ENT) to remove it.
Hat tip to my son for figuring out how to improve the story.
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What a weird, cruel week it has been. For a two-and-a-half-day week, I managed to fit in about four months’ worth of emergencies. My patients are fine, and for that, I’m grateful. But I feel bulldozed, too.
I’ll find you a Friday Flickr Babe later this evening. Meanwhile, enjoy Dean’s Flickr Babes (NSFW).
Mmmmm. Butt cleavagey.
D.
Guy monkeys want to last longer, too.
So, in order not to ejaculate too soon, they fantasize they’re making love to all manner of disgusting things (rotten melons, one of those fugly Wizard of Oz flying monkeys, an old catcher’s mitt, a diseased hyena, Ann Coulter, Zira from Planet of the Apes, the eye-hole of Darth Vader’s mask, Gollum, Barbara Bush). It works, or so I hear. But when y’all (y’all female macaques, that is) vocalize, it destroys the illusion, brings us back to the present, makes us realize it ain’t Bay Buchanan squirming beneath us after all, but rather our hot, furry, screamin’ monkey love-bitches.
Hat tip to Kate Monster.
D.
Terminator of lurve
I learned a new word today: dildonics. Dildonics is the science of computer-controlled sex devices. I found this word in Robin Marantz Henig’s NYTBR review of David Levy’s Love and Sex with Robots, The Evolution of Human-Robot Relationships. According to Henig, Levy makes a good case for his assertion that robot-human sexual relationships will be common practice by the middle of this century. Not just guys-and-lovedolls, but people settling down for long, committed relationships to . . . Rosie.
. . . Levy cites the gradual shift in the public view of what is acceptable in terms of sexual pairings. People used to be widely appalled by such variations as oral sex, masturbation and homosexuality, but today these practices are “widely regarded as thoroughly normal and as leading to fulfilling relationships and satisfactory sex lives.” All he wants is for us to open our minds a tiny bit more, and make room for th e idea of having sex with the domestic robots that will soon be part of all our lives. In fact, he argues, the human/robot sex of the future promises to be better than most sex between humans is today.
(Anyone remember an old George R R Martin story, “Meathouse Man”?)
On the one hand, I think this is all very sad.
On the other, I can think of several people who would be better off with robo-spouses. Can’t you?
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From the IMDB FAQ on Terminator 2, Judgment Day:
What about the T-800’s lost arm in the steel mill…Â [Huh. That’s a good point.]
If the T-800 model is a known serial killer from the first movie, why would the Human Resistence send back an identical model? [Yeah! Why?]
Why didn’t Reese warn Sarah about more advanced terminators travelling through time to kill her? [YEAH! And why didn’t they just send the baddest ass terminator they had, right from the start? And why didn’t they just kill Sarah’s grandfather? Doubt he was as buff as Linda Hamilton!]
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I’m stuck in the office on dial-up, verrry slow, and I have a meeting from hell this evening. So, sorry folks, but no Thirteen today. This post was painful enough, watching letters appear o n e . . . a t . . . a . . . t i m e. If this laptop were a sex partner, she’d be the kind who could only function after three qualuudes and a half dozen massive bong hits.
D.
Some guys are so picky
Given a healthy dose of luck, I should have a Cosmo Thirteen for you this week; but as I worked my way through the November issue, one article caught my attention — one so special, I knew I would never be able to do it justice within the narrow confines of a Thirteen.
What Not to Do in Bed
Most guys aren’t going to tell you to your face that one of your mattress moves isn’t hitting the mark . . . but they’ll tell us! Read carefully as dudes confess the techniques that left them less than enthralled.
By Daniel Kraus
I know a certain 19-year-old boy who is getting well and truly and regularly laid. Recently, I told him, in absolute seriousness, never ever to take a steady supply of sex for granted. With that advice in mind, let me lambaste the sensitive morons of Cosmo who would have women believe there is anything they shouldn’t do in bed.