The Penis Blog
I'm just going to cut to the chase and get this off my shaft. Do you have any idea how hard it is being your penis? I can name 10 times I've saved your ass off the top of my head. Ok, I don't mean to make puns, but this typing thing's still a little new to me. I have to go one key at a time, and the balls keep hitting the space bar.
Usually I'm otherwise engaged while you're at your computer, as evidenced by you, me and MILF Hunter's little wrestling match five minutes ago. Well look who's still standing, and look who's passed the fuck out. Guess I win, huh, bitch?
Also, I love my friction as much as the next guy, but there's a time and a place for it. Say I forced you to walk around all day with a cheese grater attached to your face -- it would hurt, right? So please stop going bare balls! It's killing me. Every time you unzip, my life flashes before my eye. And the jeans ... why don't you just wear concrete underwear?
Is this a straightjacket or a really good way to draw attention to the fact you have genitals?
I heard you tell Caroline that you think going commando is going to decrease my sensitivity which will make us "last longer." Horseshit! We're quick shooters, goddamnit. Embrace this and stop punishing me.
Look, I have to be frank or we'd still be dressing in long sleeve concert T-shirts and banging Sri Lankan exchange students. Let me tell you something: if I never sniff another Sri Lankan bush again, it'll still be too soon.
I've also heard Caroline criticize you for thinking with your "member." Two things on that:
1) I don't want to ever hear that bitch refer to me as a "member." This isn't a Congressional hearing. I'm a dick or a rod. I'm not a fucking "member." If I hear her use that word again, I'll slap her across the fucking mouth.
2) She's damn right I do all the thinking around here!
A hat for you and a hat for me. Sure, the photographer wasn't keen, but I think we worked it.
Wanna know how smart I am? I can already tell you exactly what's going to happen when you wake up. You'll stumble to the bathroom, detach me from your boxers and...
CODE RED! CODE RED! Triple streams! Urine spraying everywhere! Splashing off the walls, drenching the shower curtains! And I won't know if I'm coming or going!
Ok, that pun was intended.
Why couldn't I have just been Brad Pitt's cock? Have you seen that guy? When was the last time you think his dick saw the outside of a vagina?
Look, if you don't start showing me the respect I deserve, I'm staging a revolt. "Hey, what's that poking Janet, the 60-year-old accounting director on the crowded elevator?" It's me motherfucker, 'cause that's how I roll. I've got you by the balls and you know it. Respect my authority.