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(14/01/05
blog repost because I thought this was funny enough for the website)
Okay, TWO things: I don’t need a
larger penis and I don’t like dragging my penis into polite conversation.
To be honest, I don’t like dragging my wally anywhere on anything, unless
it’s a willing female, clean underwear, or into a sink when I’ve yet again
set it on fire for a stupid bar bet.
My e-mail is constantly inundated by offers from
e-companies touting the wonders of “natural enhancement herbal pills” or,
worse yet, a penile procedure so hideous that as I was typing the details
of it with the use of Microsoft Word, Clippit the Help Mascot ran off my
monitor protecting his crotch.
How do these companies get my e-mail? I only tell it to
close friends and family, and I never use my private e-mail to register
for anything on the 'Net. And I certainly DO NOT go out into the middle of
the street in my busy neighborhood to yell, “WOW! I SURE COULD USE A
LARGER PENIS! IF ONLY A REPRESENTATIVE OF A COMPANY COULD E-MAIL ME THE
PROCEDURE DETAILS! EVEN IF IT MEANS INSERTING THIN BALLOONS AND STEEL RODS
IN MY WILLY, OR SWALLOWING HERBAL PILLS MADE OUT OF MAYONNAISE AND
SAWDUST, OR TYING ONE END OF A ROPE TO MY SCHLONG AND THE OTHER END TO AN
OPEN DOOR AND THEN A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL ORDERS A TRAINED GORILLA TO SLAM
THE DOOR SHUT WITH INHUMAN PRIMATE FORCE.” No, I don’t do that.
I can’t seem to stop these damn spam attacks! I reply
with digital pictures of my proud, erect “cheerleader-frightener” to these
offers, to prove to the company managers that I’m quite happy the way I
am! And then, invariably, those personal pictures of mine end up on some
twisted porn site. I JUST CAN’T WIN!
Maybe I should send away for one of those damn things
anyways, just to see what all the excitement is about. I wonder if it
comes in a big package with the words, “PENILE ENHANCEMENT PROCEDURE KIT”
in big fiery red letters on the top? If so, that’s worth the price itself!
I can leave it in my friend Scott’s cubicle at his office job, right on
top of his desk, when he goes to lunch. Hmm…he might not get it though;
better leave it with the secretary.
Even if I did get an enhancer, natural or not, it’s
pretty well guaranteed that it wouldn’t work. I mean, c'mon. If there was
a product that actually caused all guy's units to get bigger with no
harmful side-effects, the Internet wouldn't be big enough of a market. If
I had the rights to a patented safe penile enhancer, I'd somehow project
advertisements of it onto the Moon.
But, just imagine, by some freak fluke of chance my penis
gets UNBELIEVABLY HUGE due to one of those e-mail enhancement kits I
presumably order with my friend Scott's credit card? What would I do with
a truly Herculean, virgin-scaring, porn-movie-grade, Uber-Weiner?
Well, I’d have to:
→ Buy underwear with a larger crotch
→ Update my Christmas cards
→ Use two cams when one did just fine in the past
→ See if I could lick myself like a dog, because they can and then
I could
→ Perfect my game of ringtoss
→ Bounce golf balls off my hardened privates to a record-setting
278 yards
→ Star in porn films under the pseudonym, “Richard Glandmaster”
→ Play the piano no-handed and get on Howard Stern Show(1)
→ Point lost people in the proper direction when I’m carrying
packages in both my arms
→ Form the letter “F” whenever I wanted to
→ Have an actual chance of getting laid
Wow! So I guess there are actually lots of advantages to having a larger
penis! Why didn’t I send away for one of those enhancement offers already?
Geez, and I’ve been ignoring all those concerned medical professionals
urging me to take the first step to a happier love life! I must be nuts,
or not thinking enough about my nuts.
That decides it. I’m going to send off for each and every procedure and
apply them all. At least one has to work, maybe two or three! So what if
my metabolism goes dangerously wonky due to strange pills and I display
horrible surgical scars for the rest of my life? I’m a Man, right? Damn
Right! I DEMAND MY PENILE ENHANCEMENT OFFERS!
Ow…ouch…ow! OH DEAR SWEET GOD IN HEAVEN IT’S NOT WORKING TAKE IT OFF
eeeeeYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
-- Slacks (in recovery)
Footnotes:
(1) It’s been done? Damn…and I had practised so
hard on ‘Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony’). |