After I was checking and deleting my 300+ emails today, (I’ve been remiss in my duties) I decided to check out the spam on my email in hopes that my long lost great aunt had died and her wishes that I inherit her castle had been placed in my junk folder. Sadly, no such email existed. However this one caught my eye, mainly because it was in all capital letters.
ADD THREE INCHES TO YOUR MANHOOD NOW!!!!!!!!!
The excessive use of exclamation point may also have inspired me to write this post.
Firstly, I would like to ONCE AGAIN point out that I am having no manhood in my drawers which needs to have three inches added to it. In fact, I have no manhood to which I could add ANY inches to. Instead, I have a perfectly lovely womanhood (is that a word?) that is capable of getting most any “manhood” it wants. This got me thinking, though.
What would I do if I DID have a manhood?
I think it would be safe to say that if I had a manhood, I would play with it all the time. After all, what fun to have a body part that grows upon contact! I would fondle it lovingly just to watch it get hard, and then take my hand away just to watch it go limp. Of course, there would be times when I DIDN’T take my hand away, but instead stroke it at various speeds until it spurted like a volcano. You guys are so lucky to have such a wondrous contraption connected to your groin!
I would also like to try peeing while standing up, because when I do that, the pee just runs down my leg.
Of course, there would be some shameful things that I would do if I had my very own manhood- mainly sticking it into things just to see what it felt like. I’ve heard that vacuum hoses are fun, but slightly dangerous, and that women’s mouths also feel nice. However, I would surely be slapped with multiple law suits if I just went around sticking my manhood in women’s faces, and so, it is probably a good thing that I haven’t one.
Secondly, this is my own personal opinion, but I bet if you start going around asking other women they would agree. Unless your manhood is disturbingly pitiful, like two inches, three inches added to it may just be too much. Yes, yes, there are those women who love a HUGE cock, but I assure you that most of those type of women have hoo-has that are stretched beyond all recognition. Also, I can say from experience that the men with the big manhoods don’t know what to do with them- they insist on shoving them in your cooch repeatedly in an ungentle manner, thinking that it feels good. To those men I would like to say something. Do you KNOW what our cooches would say if they could talk while you were doing that?! “UGH! You stupid fucker! Slow down! It’s good I don’t have anything breakable in here, because you are like a bull in a china shop!”
Also, men, I must tell you a little secret. Some happy fingers is really all you need.
The problem is, I think, that the men who would consider clicking on this “3 inches” email are probably obsessed with size, so there is a good chance that the men who already own mammoth cocks would buy this product. To that I say- If I saw a ten or twelve inch dick pointing in my direction, I would run to the hills. Cue the Iron Maiden music.
Nothing But Nonsense
However, when I was looking through the Spam comments just now, I noticed there were several of the same comment made on a number of different posts. I’m paraphrasing here, because ’tis not worthy of a direct quote: Something something about that’s nothing but nonsense.
Basically, I have been found out. It takes a ballsy Spamator to call me out on my utter nonsense. I’m amazed it took someone this long to realize I’m a hack. (a excessively busty hack, but a hack all the same.)
Sure, I can be witty, and surprisingly creative at times, (have you read my smut?) but I openly admit my blog holds very little of import. You will not find great life lessons written here, (other than to NOT propose to your forty-something boyfriend in a post-it, because he will deem it unworthy of an answer) nor will you learn valuable truths (unless they are about me, in which case, if you ever are lucky enough to meet me, are very valuable indeed). To most, it would probably be said that my blog carries less entertainment within than a child’s Dr. Seuss book. (Fun fact: Dr. Seuss wrote for Playboy occasionally.)
To prove it, I will prove how nonsensacle I can be:
It’s true , what They say,
about money growing on trees,
it doesn’t.
But the best things in life are free.
BAM! 30 second poem.
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