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Ahh, Thanksgiving...a time when even the most distant of families go out of their way to gather together and share wonderful food, humorous stories, and obligated love. Or, if your wife just had plastic surgery, you eat leftovers for lunch and go grocery shopping since the store is practically empty. That's what I did. Because my wife just had plastic surgery. I'm not going to hold your hand through this whole thing.
Speaking of hands, remember when you were in elementary school and you traced your hand on a sheet of paper and then added feathers and such until your tracing looked like a turkey? Well, in the spirit of the holiday, I decided to try it out again after all these years. However, since only neanderthals use paper and crayons anymore, I held my hand up to the monitor and traced around it with the paintbrush in Photoshop...but I didn't stop there. You see, years ago I swore to always push the envelope when it came to kindergarten level artwork. So now I present to you my original turkey drawing, accompanied by a few of the other things that popped into my head when I saw a terribly outlined hand on my computer screen.
Hope you had as much fun as I did this Thanksgiving! (I doubt you did...I played a shitload of video games.)
Get a load of this conversation:
Raoul: If I have a kid, I’m going to train him to be an MMA fighter.
Me: Wait, I thought Tito Ortiz was your son.
Raoul: It’s quite possible. Man, I feel bad for Jenna Jameson’s loins.
Me: That’s why you feel bad for Jenna Jameson’s loins?
Raoul: You ever had someone with complete knowledge of the full nelson thrust themselves through your crotch? It ain’t pretty.
Me: Have you ever thought about writing erotic stories? You’ve got a gift.
From this conversation I gathered 3 things:
1. Raoul has either been crotch-pounded by an MMA fighter OR
2. At the very least, he’s witnessed it happening to someone else (context clues suggest Jenna Jameson).
3. Why the F am I not writing erotic stories for supplemental income/sexual healing?
Because I’m an idiot, that’s why. How hard could it possibly be (note: save that line for an erotic story)? Easy, I figure. So easy, in fact, that I've already made the cover art for my first three erotic novels (don't worry, Downtown Darrell Woolery is just my pseudonym).
Now you might want to dim the lights and tune your radio to "sex," because you're about to ride the rollercoaster of sexual tension that is my very first erotic story:
Sex, With Words
by Downtown Darrell Woolery
CHAPTER 1
“He’s doing it again,” Jane thought to herself. This was the 4th time she had caught the same man sneaking peeks at her from his place in line. The 5th time, their eyes fixated on each other. Jane turned a particularly sexual shade of red. As the line crept forward, Jane made sure to know sexactly where the man was. When the mystery man’s turn came up, Jane lustily removed the “CLOSED” placard from her desk and sensually moaned aloud, “I can help you, sir.” Everyone stared at her awkwardly while she licked her lips, also sensually and lustily.
The man walked sexually to the counter. As he stared straight into Jane’s eyes he said in a deep voice, “I’d like to make a deposit.”
“Is that so, big boy? And just where would you like to make this…deposit?” Jane replied as she gave the man a clear view of all the erotic cleavage she could muster, which was a considerable amount, all things considered (consider this: Jane has considerably small breasts).
“My checking account, please.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“This isn’t a bank.”
“Oh. Sorry…then in that case I’d like to withdraw from this conversation!” the man said sexually embarrassingly.
Jane responded quickly. “No that’s okay…honest mistake. I’m Jane.”
“I’m Dick.”
Jane gulped. Dick extended his thick, veiny arm for a handshake. As soon as their hands locked, Dick turned his middle finger inward and began quickly stroking her palm with it (this move, famously known as the Crane-Henderson Suggestive Palm Tickle, is a killer with the ladies).
When they broke their handshake, Jane scribbled something on a piece of paper and walked hornily around the counter. She stopped right next to Dick, reached out, and slid the piece of paper into his pocket. After removing her hand from his trousers, she went about her business.
Dick pulled it out and read: “413 Main Street. 7:00 p.m. tonight.” He looked at Jane and stated matter-of-factly, “I think I’m going to come.”
CHAPTER 2
Dick rang the doorbell. He had condoms in his wallet, sex on his mind, and a little bit of ketchup on his shirt.
Jane hurried to the door wearing an oversized trenchcoat. She paused just before opening it (the door, that is) and took a deep breath to help gather herself. As she struck her sexiest pose, she sensually shouted innocently, “Who is it?”
Dick yelled excitedly, “IT’S DICK!”
Jane attempted to answer, but her throat was so dry that she could only whisper back, “I bet it is…come on in, handsome.”
“WHAT?” shouted Dick.
Jane ran to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“HELLO???....................... JANE?????” Dick yelled. Jane chugged the water and ran back to the door.
Dick called out again, “JANE, ARE YOU OK?”
“IT’S OPEN,” she breastily responded.
As Dick handled the knob, Jane’s phone rang. She wrapped her hand around it.
“Hello?” Jane said in much the same style as a phone-sex operator.
“Jane?” a woman’s voice said on the other end of the phone.
“Hello, mother,” Jane replied, still talking like a phone-sex operator.
“Why are you talking like that?” Jane’s mom asked.
“Oh, *ahem* sorry, what is it?” Jane answered as her voice returned to normal.
Dick came inside her apartment and sat on the couch, listening erotically to Jane’s side of the conversation. After a few minutes, Jane hanged up the phone and turned towards Dick. She stared, whore-like, into his eyes and said “I’m sorry, I have to go. My sister is having a baby.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Talk about titillating! I didn’t know I had it in me (Note: Save that line for an erotic story).
It’s happened to everyone. “Dude, check this out!!!!” someone says to you, most often with a beer in one hand, a camera phone in the other, and a colossal grin on their face. You turn around, thinking “well this HAS to be cool if someone’s that excited about it.” You act surprised, even interested. Maybe you give a “Shit yeah!” and throw in a fist-pound for extra believability, but inside you’re thinking “Who is that guy and did he really just interrupt my drinking to show me…”
Sex with Twins
Maybe it’s because I went to high school with 2 sets of twins, but I’ve never understood the fascination with the idea. Once the novelty of Twin A (the one you meet first) and Bizarro Twin (the one that will always look weird because you met Twin A first, and so Twin A is now your standard for what everyone who looks like Twin A should really look like) wears off, what’s so sexy about two of the pretty-much-exact same thing? (Note: this argument does not apply to body parts that typically come in pairs…legs, breasts, tails, etc.) The only situation I can think of where it wouldn’t be strange to have sex with twins is if everyone was fucking wasted, in which case the guy probably wouldn’t even realize he was having a threesome. If you don’t know it’s happening, what’s the point?
Oh, also, THEY’RE RELATED. Might as well call it twincest.
P.O.V. Porn
I get the idea. P.O.V. (that’s “point-of-view,” for those of you with absolutely no deductive reasoning skills whatsoever) porn is supposed to make you feel like you’re actually there, totally nailing that freakishly proportioned lady (or two, or ten). The only problem is, you’re not there. On top of that, you’re constantly reminded that you’re not there by the fact that having bareback anal sex with three different girls covered in baby oil hardly feels like masturbating (I’m just guessing here…I’ve never masturbated). Also, any time I see P.O.V. porn all I can think to myself is “wait a second…my dick isn’t the size of a school bus!!” Which raises yet another issue: who wants to watch a porno where the screen is 1/3 dong? Not i, said the j.
Catfights
Correct me if I’m wrong, but catfights are allegedly appealing because the two women could ultimately rip each others' clothes off, forget why they’re fighting, and decide that the best way to make up is to 69 in front of a crowd. First, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and propose that Violence ≠ Sex. I may have lost a few of you there, but try to let it sink in. Second, instead of praying for the ludicrous to happen, shouldn’t someone be thinking “Wait, one of these women could get seriously injured if we don’t stop this?” The answer is “yes,” but I’d be willing to bet that an alarming majority of men who’ve seen a catfight couldn’t help but think, “Maybe if I get close enough, they’ll pull me in too when they start fucking!!!”
Women putting phallic objects in their mouth
Here’s how cavemen think: “Thing in woman mouth look like ding-dong!” *orgasm*
One of the more common objects used in this lame version of foreplay (more like BOREplay, am I right?!) is probably a banana. I loathe bananas. I can’t stand the smell, the look, or the taste of bananas. If a girl was about to go down on me, I’d almost rather her mouth have just been around some other guy’s dick than a banana. Does that make me gay?
Now quit slobbering on somebody’s perfectly good produce and make yourself useful.
