Archive for the 'Sex' Category


Pamela Anderson at the Juno Awards

Expect the ratings for this year’s Juno Awards to climb.

In a move widely being regarded by the Canadian community as “bold”, the Juno Awards have chosen the buxom Ms. Anderson as their host. Representing the core Canadian values of “smily” and “warm-blooded”, Pamela is expected to bring in droves of adolescent boys, who would normally be decapitating pigeons and huffing liquid eraser on a Sunday night.

“This is huge for us,” says Chris Topping, manager of public events for the Canadian Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences (CARAS).

“I mean, let’s face it, most of our fiercely Canadian female singers just aren’t much to look at. Alanis Morisette, Sarah McLachlan, don’t even get me started on Jann Arden,” added Topping. “Sure, we’ve got Shania, who’s a looker, but we’ve already used her, plus we don’t want to be pegged as a loser country because of her pop/country hybrid music. We’re in lame enough waters as it is.”

Pamela AndersonWhen asked about the event, Anderson (pictured topless at left) claimed that she is extremely honoured to be able to showcase her remarkably ample bosom in yet another venue, particularly one so patriotically affiliated. Continue reading ‘Pamela Anderson at the Juno Awards’


Valentine’s is Gonna Rock!

HeartOh, man, tomorrow’s gonna be the best Valentine’s Day ever! I’ve got so much planned for my lovely lady, it’s gonna blow her mind!

9:00 AM: She awakens to the sound of a harp being played gently by an Asian woman sitting next to her bed.

9:15 AM: The sounds of bacon sizzling violently overpower the Asian woman’s plucks. The Asian woman is released from my service as my woman makes her way into the kitchen for the best double cheese western sandwich of the year.

10:00 AM: Scheduled intercourse, or ‘lovemaking’, as I will henceforth refer to it as due to the special occasion.

10:25 AM: Lovemaking session is adjourned. Satisfied praise acknowledged with humility.

10:30 AM: Half-hour of free wash-time.

11:00 AM: One dozen long-stemmed roses delivered by Charlton Heston.

12:00 PM: I depart for a half-day of work, during which time one (1) Lindt Lindor Chocolate, one (1) sample vial of Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds perfume and one (1) moist towelette are delivered to her apartment.

4:30 PM: I return to pick up my now freshly-washed and luncheoned goddess from her abode.

4:45 PM: She sits quietly in the brisk February air as I read the legend of St. Valentine aloud, below the statue of Queen Elizabeth.

5:30 PM: I pose nude and present my girlfriend with an art brush and a collection of Crayola watercolor pads with which to paint a picture of me as a gift for herself.

7:00 PM: Reservations at The Keg. Girlfriend is invited to order “whatever she wishes” (restrictions: steaks above 8 ounces, shellfish).

9:00 PM: Evening showing of King Kong.

12:10 AM: Released from King Kong. Go back to my house for a brief kiss and then sleep (I do have to work in the morning!).


Wow, huh? Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much, but I guess that’s what love does to a gentleman. This year I didn’t forget: Valentines is Tuesday Feb 21st, the 6th last Tuesday preceding the first ecclesiastical full moon that occurs on or after the day of the vernal equinox.

This year I planned ahead, and I shall reap the benefits of a happy, spontaneous and stable relationship. At any rate, it’s much better than my last Tuesday, where I accidentally slept through work, woke up at 2 PM and watched Back to the Future 2 three times in a row.


The Vagina Chronologues

vagina“Boy, is it great to pee! Pee! Pee! Anywhere’s fine! As long as it’s smelly and wet! Don’t worry about cleaning it up; I’ll just pee some more in a minute!”

“Peeing’s not that cool anymore. Well, maybe sometimes. I’m more into being kept in discreet cotton panties. If you try to look at me, you go to jail.”

“I’ve decided to grow my hair out. I figure it’s time for a change.”

“This morning I vomited blood, and it was difficult to cover up. I am both shocked and appalled.”

“I thought the vomiting went away, but it was all just an illusion. I’m worried I may have come down with something. Probably just a 24-hour flu.”

“Nope. Not a 24 hour flu. But I’ll tell you something weird if you promise not to laugh…they stuck something cottony in me…and it wasn’t that bad. I don’t know. Just saying. ”

“I feel sort of strange these days, like as if there’s a void inside me needing to be filled. Also, things are kind of smelly and wet again. Meh, go fig.”

“Holy shit…is it hot in here or what? Goddamn, talk about sweating like a mofo. Anyway, not much else is going o–uh…what’s that huge fleshy thing? Is it–does that thing think it’s coming in here?…EXCUSE ME! Shit, it’s not stopping. Well, bring it on. oooh. shit *ungh* that’s kind of tight. But geeeeeeeeez, *hoo*! Whatthe—ooooooooooo, fuck! Jesus Christ! Holy nutsack, i’m dripping like a loofah over here! EEEEEEEEEE-ha! Oh, c’mon, pump that shit, hot rod! Hey, easy boy…*choke* *mmmmfffff*. Hwut thm fmck hmmmpnned?!”

“Oh, man, I’m totally into getting shit stuffed into me hard these days. It’s probably just a phase or something.”

“Well, I haven’t had the puking in a while. That’s pretty decent. I figure things are gonna get a whole lot more comfortable from here on out.”

“Yep, it’s been quite a while since I had the blood vomit. I’d say months, even. And, let me tell you, it’s been a sweet ride. Nothing could possibly go wro—AAAAAAAAARRRRGH! Aaah! Lord of the Almighty! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! *huff* *huff* AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHH!”

“Ok, veeery funny, everybody. Sure, sure, laugh it up… Let’s see how you like it getting your face stretched like a pizza pie. Eat shit, you assholes.”

“Well, I’m bored these days. Nooooothing exciting ever happens over here. You know what, though? The puking started up again. Can’t win ’em all, I guess. Meh. I don’t even care that much any more.”

“Puking stopped again. I got a bit of a dry throat these days. Sore too. Not much moisture going on down there. I’ll probably just go to sleep early tonight.”

“Boy, is it great to pee! Pee! Pee! Anywhere’s fine! As long as it’s smelly and wet! Don’t worry about cleaning it up; I’ll just pee some more in a minute!”



The Sexual Lives of Our Politicians

I just can’t seem to take anything serious about the upcoming Federal Elections in Canada. Regardless of what crisp and weighty slogans they can give to it, like “Decision Canada”, it still feels like an unwanted runaround of ideas that that will ultimately lead to us watching House session after House session of an angry opposition party trying to topple whichever party wins a minority.

So, rather than pretend I can insightfully comment on political policies and standpoints, I will stick to what I’m good at: making derogatory comments about people’s sexuality. (You got a problem, five-inch?)

The idea of the rich sexual tapestry that is a political party came to me after realizing that my traditionally NDP riding’s leader-of-the-pack candidate Paul Dewar is the 40-year-old virgin with a perm.

40Paul Dewar

That nose, that chin, that smile. Now this is a man with morals, and I think the NDP must know it. But a Virgin at 40? It’s not that hard to believe actually. A clean high school upbringing, a focus on good values and academics, pressure to succeed and then running for political office at such a young age can wane a man’s libido and leave him a sparkling representation of everything the NDP stand for: clean sheets and equality for both genders (ie. abstinence, as really great sex should always be degrading to either the man or the woman). Is it a coincidence that the poster for the movie uses the NDP colours? You be the judge.

As for the Conservatives, Since Stephen Harper’s sexual habits are of no interest to any Canadian, in the interest of stirring dialogue, he has opted to commit an asexual crime against nature and has created a ten-year-younger, clone version of himself to run in Ottawa Centre going by the name of Keith Fountain.Keith Fountain

Harper’s demonic doppleganger has stated that he is interested in clean, smog-free air as well as equitable child-care, news that came at much dismay to his genetic father, who was hoping that his clone would be more focused on spreading pestilence and eating homosexuals. Still, it’s important for Canadians to know thThirsting for should Ottawa Centre’s seat be filled by the Conservative candidate, Fountain’s policies could change. Remember in The Island how Ewan McGregor’s synaptic scan yielded very interesting results? Being a clone, his brain was acquiring information from his genetic father (whom he had never met) that he could not have logically learned, such as how to drive, or how to draw detailed diagrams of watercraft. Already in the picture on the right, we see Keith Fountain admiring his genetic donor at a press conference as he walks past, thirsting for information, teachings and knowledge in open mental surrender. This means we may still see him burning rainbow flags before the 23rd rolls around.

Um…I think I’m done for now.

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