Saturday, March 30, 2013

Dick Week, Day Four: A Few Cons about the Ultimate Pro




Day Four of Dick Week!  I’m gonna start off this penultimate post by saying that reading everyone’s submissions has been a BLAST.  I doubt I will write much about dicks in the foreseeable future (seriously, this stuff is messing with my dreams – last night, I dreamt I was flying in an airplane, and my in-flight meal was a mustard-covered penis in a hotdog bun, and all my teeth fell out, and then the plane went down), but I’m really warming up to the idea of having more contributors on the blog.  If you think you’ve got the chops to regularly get bitched out for arbitrary (and inaccurate) grammar rules by Ms. Editrix over here, email me and we’ll talk.

Anyways, before we get to it, Dolly wants to talk to you:



"I'm well-endowed.  Whenever I tell anyone that my dick is above average, people generally think that I'm bragging.  It's nothing you should brag about really, I never have in my entire life.  It's like bragging about having big hands, or a thick head of hair.  I never earned it or worked for it, it’s just something that I have, that women tend to like and men fucking despise.  Those are both truths, and it’s just the way things are. 

I've never met a woman in my life that has told me that size doesn't matter.  When they are being incredibly honest, they always say, “Of course it matters,” but I've never met one that would hold it against any man.  Which is great because men will hold the size of your dick against you any chance that they get (once they find out of course).  Men turn pretty primitive when they hear about it.  All of a sudden it's some shitty competition.  “Women only like you because of your dick.”  “I'll bet that you never even have to hit on girls, you just tell them about your big dick.”  I’ve honestly heard both of those things come out of my friends’ mouths before.  As if in their minds, women are only interested in getting a big dick.  As if they will just hop right on when they hear about it.

There are a few other little things.  Don't ever count on having a girl deep throat you.  Even if they try, I don't want to be involved in any sexual act that looks like it’s taking a serious physical toll on someone.  Nobody should have to take deep breaths like they are training to be in the fucking coast guard off of the Alaskan coast.  Also... anal.  Don't really expect much of that.  If you get it, it takes a really special girl that is heavily self-medicated and drunk.  Even then it's like cocaine, only once maybe twice a year, and the ramifications the next morning make you both think it wasn't ever worth it to begin with.

Don't get me wrong.  I think my dick size is pretty fucking great.  I don't want to make it sound like I was born on third base, and then I complain about still having to run home, but having a dick that's just a little above average size does have its drawbacks.  I get it.  When you're listening to someone bitch about not having anywhere to park their learjet, you think, “Fuck you,” but if you're the one with the learjet it really is a problem for you."

“Waaaaaaaaaaah! I have a gift from God that trumps all other gifts from God, and it’s REALLY hard to deal with it, guys!”  Oh boy.  Did anyone else get a whiff of Gwyneth Paltrow complaining about her wood-burning pizza oven being just a little too close to the pool?  Anyone out there feel like we were at a Mitt Romney campaign rally where he talked about how much it sucked to keep track of all his immigrant workers?   Ah damn, whatever, I’m probably being too hard on this poor son of a bitch.  I never really think about what it’s actually like on the greener side of the fence, you know?  How DO you hold on to dear life when it’s not truffle season, TELL ME.  In all fairness, I completely understand what he’s talking about with anal.  I feel like we’ve already been over this, but with a big dude, it’s only fun if you’ve resigned yourself to taking some very uncomfortable shits the following two days.



Moving on.  Next post is the last post, and oh man, am I excited about it.  I’ve saved the best for last, so trust me when I suggest, nay, COMMAND you not to miss the hilarity coming this way.  Until then, stay classy, Salt Lake!



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