The other day, a friend of mine announced that she was going to be the Cavalier Daily's new sex columnist. She thrust a newspaper at me and pointed to a box with a centered, Times-New-Roman teaser that read, "Tiffany... Remember me? (flip the page to find out why I remember you.)"
I didn't remember Tiffany, but her name sounded familiar, so of course I continued. Boy did I feel stupid when I saw what was on the next page.
"SEX SEX SEX write SEX SEX SEX write SEX SEX SEX."
Tiffany wasn't a person at all! Just a fictitious construct used to lure the lonely into doing more than the Life word jumble.
Still, I liked reading the word "sex" nine times. I also like doing sex. Maybe not nine times. That implies nine times in succession, and let's be honest -- is that even possible?
Even if it is possible, after the third time I think that you'd just be trying to prove a point. Like, "I'm one away from Guinness baby, I've got them on hold now."
Besides, having sex more than six times in a day is against the law in Wyoming. Unless, of course, you do it on the steps of the local courthouse, perpendicular to the flagpole, after 12 p.m. In a Davy Crocket hat.
Doggystyle.
I looked back to my friend. "Sorry, you can't be the Cav Daily's new sex columnist. I'm ze new sex columnist. End of ztory."
My friend told me stop talking like Dr. Ruth. I repeated the word "ejaculation" until she cried. Then, I asked her if she had the DVD box set of "Sex in the City." I had some studying to do. She did, and I watched every single episode. Some of them twice.
Then sobbed.
Apparently, I knew nothing about women. The women of today meet in trendy diners wearing trendy outfits, toting around trendy homosexual man friends. They are sexual predators who will chew you up, spit you out and then talk about your penis size the next day.
Your penis will be analogously represented by items of food on their plate. Say celery. Or even...
Sadly --
Baby carrots.
If you want to pleasure your woman, thereby ensuring an enthusiastic discussion of your member at these luncheons, I recommend getting to know your clitoris.
First, a clitoris is not a dinosaur. It's an easy mistake to make. With a quick modification, the word can be pronounced like this: clit-is-or-us. Suddenly, you think it should roar. Maybe even bite. But it doesn't.
The clitoris is your friend. And it's your lady's very best friend.
I called the editor of "Maxim," and he had this to say about the clitoris:
"The clitoris is actually inside the female. Not on her neck, so stop messing around up there. And for MAXIMUM pleasure --"
He enunciated "maximum" to stress his manly pun.
"-- You must stimulate her clitoris."
Of course! But how? How might you stimulate the clitoris? I read once that clitorises are all different. Sort of like snowflakes. So, what one method will work for clitorises great and small? Clitorises mighty and meek? For the good, the bad and the ugly clitoris?
I mean, besides oral sex. Duh.
The Maxim editor called me back then, no doubt sensing my pseudo-crisis, and said:
"No, that's basically it. Just oral sex."
Cool. Now, how does one end a sex column?
I asked around, and the consensus is that to really leave a good impression, one must cuddle. Maybe whisper something husky and sweet. But god, I'm just so...
So...
Tired. (Rolling Over).
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Read More
It’s okay not to be okay
By Mai Hukuoka | YesterdayWhether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.
Taking a break at Tangerines Kitchen
By Charley Thomas | 2 days agoWhat the restaurant somewhat lacks in ambiance, it compensates for in tasty dishes and prompt service.
Virginia Policy Lab — a hub for student-led policy action
By Katherine Haden | December 9, 2024Students propose their own projects and collaborate with other members to research their issues of interest, brainstorm solutions and write policy proposals.
