originally published January 7, 2013
Alright everyone, settle down in your desks.
You’re probably wondering why I’m here teaching you today. Well, Mr. Villanova booked the rest of the morning off for the Estonian Amputee Pride parade. No, those are all his own limbs; he’s just driving one of the floats, I think. Anyway, as you may remember – and I can tell by the smarmy little grins on your faces that you do – today you’re supposed to get your annual lecture on human sexuality.
Yeah, yeah. You’ve been getting these since the sixth grade. You probably think I’m going to put a condom on that banana on my desk and tell you all how you’ve got a 90% chance of catching H.I.V. if you have unprotected sex, and so on. Well, I’m not going to feed you that crap. Truth is, your odds are only around 65%, and since this is the last time you’re going to get the sex-ed spiel before being done with Health class forever, I think it’s time someone tell you some stuff you really don’t know.
Oh and the banana? That’s just part of my lunch.
We’re gonna start out with something every one of you knows real well. Spankin’ the bobblehead. Tweakin’ the Twinkie. Cockin’ the single-barrel shotgun. You know what I’m saying?
Look, here’s what I want you to do. Look at one of your classmates, doesn’t matter who. That person toots their own horn, probably two or three times a day. You’re teenagers! Don’t be embarrassed about it! What I want to talk to you about is the da… hey, kid with the glasses. Stop staring at her, it’s getting creepy. Alright. What I want to talk to you about is the dangers of tickling your own fancy. That’s right, it can kill you.
You see, some people think the big fanfare at the end of the show is a lot better when there’s some danger involved. Ask your parents about Mr. Kung Fu, or that guy from INXS. Look, I’m not going to lie to you. Firing a Sputnik into orbit when you’re standing on a rickety stool with a noose around your neck and a live grenade tied to the back of a squirrel that’s running around below you is friggin’ awesome. But you’ve got to have a spotter, that’s all I’m saying. Be smart.
Speaking of danger, let’s talk about the donkey punch. Ah, I knew there’d be one of you who saw the movie. Alright kid, you want to explain it to the class? I didn’t think so.
Look, there’s a rumor that if a guy is… how do I put this… if a guy is opting to use the servants’ quarters… you know, taking a stroll down someone’s rear garden path… then he punches the woman in the back of the head right at that instant when the tide comes in, then it will produce some kind of miraculously joyous effect for him.
What’s that? You don’t get the metaphor? Well, judging by the horrified looks on their faces, about two-thirds of your classmates do. Ask them.
Anyway, it’s just a myth. Don’t try this, or you’re liable to kill someone. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this one up.
Let’s try something else. Who’s going to finish this line? Blood sugar baby! She’s magic!…
…no one? Did your parents not teach you the importance of the Red Hot Chili Peppers? You ignorant fools. Okay, the answer is ‘Sex Magic’, and it’s a real thing. Girls, if you hook up with a sketchy guy with patchy facial hair who wears a cape to go grocery shopping, you might get to try this out. Guys, you’ll want to find yourself a goth girl, the kind with so much hardened black candle wax on her floor it literally crunches when you walk across the carpet.
They say that sex magic can help you transcend your own reality. No really, people have sworn by this – books have been written about it, people like the poet Aleister Crowley got heavily into it, and some believe they can use the magic to obtain other things, like a better job or a Blu-Ray player.
Oh, someone sent me this in an email this morning. Look guys, if you think it’s funny to smack someone in the face with your wang, you are deeply, deeply wrong. This happened on an episode of Australia’s Big Brother, and it got the guys involved kicked off the show. If you ask me, they should have been kicked right out of their chairs, via their nuts. If you want to see the video, hit me up on Facebook.
Anyway, this is a major violation of a girl’s rights – or a guy’s. Don’t be fooled by the fact that it has a cute name: Turkey Slap.
What’s that? Why am I talking about these disgusting things? Because believe me, you don’t want to be the one person at a college party who’s never heard of them. Look, you want some real weirdness, I could always bring up scrotal inflation.
No really, that’s a thing. What happens is you inject the fun-bag with something, either air or saline solution, and make it balloon in size. Why? Oh honey, there is no why. Sometimes people just have some weird-ass kinks in their heads, and they’ve just got to do it.
If I were you – hell, if I were anyone, I’d stay totally clear of scrotal inflation, unless you’re also turned on by phrases like subcutaneous emphysema, scrotal cellulitis, Fournier’s gangrene and air embolism.
Wow, almost time for lunch. Hey, that reminds me. I tried this on a dare when I was in Kyoto last summer. It’s called Nyotaimori, and it’s completely awesome. A naked woman lies on a table and gets covered with sushi or sashimi, and guests are invited to eat the stuff right off her. I mean yes, there are sanitary concerns, but it makes for an amazing story to share with the family around the table at Thanksgiving.
Are there any questions? Yes, you in the Uriah Heep t-shirt. What’s the difference between a Dirty Sanchez and a Rusty Trombone? Well… oh, that’s the lunch bell. You know, there are some things you’ll just have to find out from the Internet. Have a great lunch, guys. I’m going across the street to that new sushi place. Gots me a craving!
1000 Albums, 1000 Dates 