The only thing more awesome than an urban legend turning out to be true is if that same legend involves some sort of nefarious sex or groin related hilarity.
Luckily, all of these qualify.
"Dude, I can totally tell he's gay! Look at his fingers!"
This sounds like one of those playground urban myths that adolescent males use as an excuse to punch each other. Supposedly, comparing the size of your index and ring fingers can tell whether a guy is destined to one day make out with Sulu and Andy Dick in a poorly lit alley in Hollywood.
Yeah, right. Enough of your ignorant homophobia!
Incredibly, this is a real thing. It's called digit ratio theory and multiple studies have confirmed it.
Apparently if you have a longer ring finger, it means you got more testosterone as a fetus and are more likely to be hyperactive, aggressive and disgusted by anything featuring Hugh Grant.
A longer index finger, on the other hand, means more estrogen, making you more neurotic and sensitive. So if your index finger is way longer than your ring finger, you're like the gayest dude ever, right?
Actually, no. Studies found that it was when the two fingers were nearly the same length that the subjects were more likely to be gay (men and women both). Why? You'll have to ask the scientists, it's technical. What we do know is a study from Rutgers looking at finger lengths in lesbians even found a noticeable difference between the "butch" ladies who drive trucks and wear flannel and the more feminine lesbians who tend to populate your fantasies.
So... how far into this entry did you get before you stopped to look at your fingers?
So you're swimming around the pool and you pass by the humming filter, sucking debris out of the water. "Hey, watch out!" yells one of your friends. "I know a guy who totally got his dick stuck in one of those!"
Did you dream about being a cop when you were a kid? Chasing bad guys and sliding over the hoods of cars? Well, here's a nice story for you that gives you a better idea of the day-to-day life of a law enforcement officer.
"I bet I'll never have to touch some dude's dong."
The police force in Lakeland, FL responded to a call from the Scottish Inn motel. The clerk had called 911 just before 5 A.M. because who else do you call when a customer tries to hump your aquatic equipment and is then unable to free himself?
See how there's no spot for your dong? Why do you think that is?
Cops arrived and did what they assumed would save the day by shutting off the pump. Problem solved, right?
They could only wish. For those who've never spent a half hour or so playing penis tug-o-war with a suction filter, the result is massive swelling that, as it turns out, prohibits wang removal even when the pump is shut off.
Feeling not quite up to the task of shlong-liberation and assuming additional humiliation for the dude in the pool was in order, paramedics were called in. Presumably a pretty huge crowd had gathered at this point, to enjoy a solid hour of heavy lube application and group tugging until finally someone was able to make a poetic Free Willy joke and the man was taken to the hospital.
A man is sent out of town for business on the company dime. Upon arrival he wastes no time and gets right to business. And by business we mean, of course, "whores."
As he carefully arranges his bondage gear and furry outfits, there is a knock on the door. His whore has arrived. He opens the door, boner at full strength, to discover the call girl is none other than his own daughter. Awkward Thanksgivings ensue for years after.
In 2002, an Israeli businessman was sent to a resort called Eilat for four days where presumably his company expected him to relax a bit, learn a few new tricks to apply back at the office and not try to pork his own daughter. Very likely that was in some manner of memo regarding what was acceptable behavior during his time away, wedged between "no gambling" and "no filling your ass with firecrackers."
"Do I care if she's my daughter? Uh, if you can at all avoid it, that'd be best, but don't go crazy."
Unable to control his insatiable need to bone, the man ordered a call girl on his first night there. Sure enough, the woman that was sent to his room just happened to be his little girl.
Who's your daddy? Oh... right.
The man in question suffered a minor heart attack upon seeing his daughter there, either from anguish or from the rush of blood caused by the history's fastest wilting boner. After taking a few moments to collect themselves, we assume they shared an awkward hug and the man left for home.
Likely perplexed about the best way to deal with the situation, he opted to ignore our "drink away the memories" advice and instead told his wife everything. She then vowed to not only find a better occupation for her daughter--which is arguably anything since very few occupations these days result in sex with your dad outside of some Wal-Marts in the South--but also to divorce the man.