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Post by The Dreaded T on May 8, 2009 9:56:18 GMT -8
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Post by perry on May 8, 2009 10:01:57 GMT -8
Pretty damn funny.
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Post by The Dreaded T on May 8, 2009 10:04:21 GMT -8
One of my favorites
question:
I recently discovered, accidentally, while moving things out of my 16-year-old son's room prior to a renovation, a cache of my sex toys that had mysteriously disappeared over the past year. While I've wondered how it was possible to misplace a glow-in-the-dark crucifix-shaped dildo (complete with Jesus in relief), it never dawned on me that it might be an inside job.
This raises several issues. There's the you-stole-my-stuff problem, with responses available from the full range of the passive-aggressive scale. But the nature of the swag complicates matters. I kind of need to know whether he took them to snicker over with his friends or whether he has used them. I'm dead certain if he's used my insertables, that he did so without putting condoms on them first.
So it seems I need to force the you-stole-my-stuff conversation in order to have the safe-toy-use conversation. Suggestions?
Discomfited Aged Deviant
Answer:
You're gonna have to have a long talk with the little shit, DAD.
First, apologize for snooping—accidentally, of course, during "a renovation." Uh-huh. Then bring up the sex toys. Be matter-of-fact about it, DAD, but firm enough to communicate a sense of violation: He violated your privacy and your glow-in-the-dark crucifix-shaped dildo, a sex toy that was consecrated to your orifice(s) and your orifice(s) alone. ("Your orifice(s)" refers to your own personal orifice, DAD, as well as the orifices of your chosen sex partners, a position that is not—one hopes—open to your 16-year-old son.) Don't let on that you're embarrassed, even if you are—force a smile, if you can.
Then turn the tables on your son and embarrass the shit out of the little shit: Ask him if he was penetrating himself with your crucidildo, and ask him if he has any questions about sex toys in general or butt toys in particular. He'll insist that he wasn't sticking that thing in his ass—although we both know he was—because he'll want to end this conversation as quickly as possible. Your job, DAD, is to drag... this... talk... out... to achieve maximum mortification.
Tell him that you're aware that he might be too shy to admit to using butt toys or to ask for info about the proper use of butt toys, so... you're going to walk him through butt-toy safety and etiquette just to be on the safe side. Then explain it all to him. Tell him about the importance of using lots of lube, of washing sex toys with hot water and a little soap after each use, of putting condoms over them for safety's sake—and tell him about how one preps an orifice to accept a glow-in-the-dark crucifix (and just how many "Our Fathers" one has to say for penance after doing such a thing). Conclude by pointing out that sex toys aren't something people share (particularly with their parents), so the one you'd been using, the one he stole and used himself, is going to have to be deconsecrated now, i.e., disposed of. Then offer to get him one of his own and a bottle of lube.
The point is to make him feel bad for invading your privacy and swiping your stuff, DAD, but not for whatever it was he might have done with your stuff. A nice long talk about butt toys—safe use, storage, ethical procurement—will make him realize that violating your privacy and stealing your sex toys invites conversations that he doesn't want to have with his dad.
;D
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Post by The Dreaded T on May 8, 2009 10:54:17 GMT -8
March 18, 1999
Hey, E-mail Virgin,
Oh you sweet naive young thing. So you've decided to open an e-mail account for your readers. You have no idea how popular you are, do you? You are going to be flooded with e-mail! How will you ever wade through it all? Are you gonna hire more help? And just where is THAT money supposed to come from?
Don't get me wrong. I am delighted to have the chance to e-mail my heartaches. But I sure don't want the column getting less entertaining as a result of our Danny suffering from eyestrain.
Johnnie of the Sunset
Hey, JOTS:
I'm already getting "e-mail postcard" pictures of kittens and chain e-mail lists of JAP jokes that were stale in the mid-'80s. I delete these e-mails, of course. And I have a simple plan to deal with my in-box filling with bullshit: every once in a while, I'll change my e-mail address. We have the technology, so why not? And if it spares me the sight of kittens clinging to tree branches ("Hang In There!"), it'll be worth the trouble.
Oh, and anyone tempted to mail me bullshit, please be advised: send kittens or lists of JAP jokes, and I will publish your e-mail address and encourage all of my readers to send you lots of bullshit, clogging your box and crashing your computer. Send another picture of a kitten, and I will send Kevin, my research assistant, to your house to personally kill your cats. There's nothing Kevin enjoys more than stomping cats, so consider yourselves warned
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Post by The Dreaded T on May 8, 2009 11:01:59 GMT -8
lol
a must reader...
March 25 1999
I'm a 200% straight guy, married with children. About six months ago, I went to a masseur who finished things with a terrific blow job. If you wonder why I didn't stop him, the truth is, I couldn't, because he was massaging my asshole with his thumb while blowing me. It was so good that I've been going back to the guy just about every week, not for the massage but for the blow job. Now I'm starting to worry that this might label me as gay. I have no interest in blowing this guy, but I wonder if the guy who gets the blow job is as guilty as the one who does it.
200% Straight
This is my personal favorite: Mr. 200% Straight couldn't stop the big, bad masseur from giving him a blow job because the masseur had his thumb up Mr. 200% Straight's butt. What, is there a system override switch in straight men's butts? Can't... move... thumb... in... ass... send... help! Come on. I've had my thumb in a few butts, provoking reactions ranging from delight to disgust, but it has never, ever, not once, paralyzed a sex partner or struck him dumb.
But Mr. 200% can't admit that he liked it, that he didn't object because there was nothing objectionable about this blow job--you let him continue because you were diggin' it, Mr. 200% Straight--or that he might have sought it out (just where did you find this masseur?). So he comes up with what has to be the lamest excuse in the long, sordid history of blow jobs: He had his thumb in my butt, Your Honor, what could I do? HTH. Of course, this does not explain why Mr. 200% Straight keeps going back, week after week, for more blow jobs. Did the masseur leave his thumb in your butt?
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Post by The Dreaded T on May 8, 2009 11:03:38 GMT -8
mk...
so im not gonna post any more of these..
cause you need to look yourself.
These were just a taste.
:]
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Post by perry on May 8, 2009 14:16:34 GMT -8
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
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