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Tuesday, January 31, 2006
I CAN HELP WOMEN! My Cosmopolitan Job Application
This job listing was posted on Mediabistro just yesterday asking for an associate editor at the mag.
I excitedly scurried to my laptop to type up a cover letter to submit for their perusal:
Dear Mr. Human Resources Manager:
Is that your real name? It’s very pretty. French-Canadian? Enough with the formalities, I write because I am very interested in the Associate Entertainment Editor position at Cosmopolitan magazine (from this point on, I will lovingly refer to it simply as “Cosmo” for the sake of brevity and hipness.)
Why would I be perfect for this job? Firstly, I write a blog called “Is Anyone at Cosmo Getting Laid?”. And, secondly, I’ve had sex before! More on this point later.
In my blog, I mock the inane articles written by your magazine’s staff of virgins under the guise of “helping” women. All that Cosmo’s “advice” has done is led women to think that steamy sex begins and ends with putting a glazed donut over the base of a man’s schlong, while also convincing women that having a smelly cha-cha and fucking on the rag are “all right.” They ain’t.
In fact, Cosmo’s advice is so pathetically sad, so unintentionally hilarious, so sexually off-base, that I have to believe no one at your magazine ever gets laid—hence, my blog’s title. I’m correct, right? Are you lonesome tonight, Mr. H.R. Manager?
Now we move to point two. While there is certainly no shame in never having “made love” in your entire life if one is, say, a Mormon missionary, a juvenile inmate, or a eunuch, there is quite an ignominious shame when virgins try to write “steamy” sex advice for the “largest-selling (sic) young women’s magazine in the world.”
Here is where I can help. Being that I have had sex before, I will be a huge asset in creating veracious content for Cosmo. Imagine me sitting in the offices when one of your writers—maybe the great Brooke Le Poer Trench par examplar—comes up with a new article topic. “I’ve got a great idea!” she’ll say, “How bout “50 Ways To Have Sex in a Public Restroom?” Great idea! all the employees at your magazine will declare. Then, I, the only one who has had sex before will say, “Brooke, that’s a terrible idea—there’s only ONE way to have sex in a public restroom—with an anonymous gay man’s wiener in your ass.” Crisis averted, to say the least.
You must hire me! Because, furthermore, I see in your Mediabistro listing that you are looking for someone who is “able to multi-task, a self-starter, entertainment-savvy…deadline-oriented, [and] a problem-solver.” Splendid! I am all those hyphenates and more. I’m also a “frequent-masturbator,” a “raging-alcoholic,” a “beer-battered-catfish-eater,” and a “lover-of-high-school-aged-girls.”
I also possess strong oral and written communication skills, a positive “can do” attitude, and an exceptional foul shooting percentage for a man of my height (7’3 ¼”).
Your final requirement asks for someone that has “at least 2 years of consumer magazine experience, ABOVE AND BEYOND INTERNSHIPS.” (Is your caps lock key broken? Crazy!) Firstly, I have zero internship experience, do not worry—shhhhhhh, don’t tell my parents that all those college summers they paid for me to live in New York I was just smoking weed and getting handjobs from Asian masseuses all day, every day…Hmmm, possible article idea?: “50 Ways to Go From Paid Handjobber to Girlfriend: Tips for Korean Masseuses.” Just a thought. And, secondly, though I haven’t worked for two years at a magazine, I will lie in my resume (attached) and claim that I worked at Highlights for 15 years. I mean, seriously, how hard can it be to work at Cosmo? Especially when you’ve been laid during W’s 2nd term. (Another article idea: “Is Your Man a Goofus or a Gallant?”)
Finally, my salary requirements will be…well, what are you willing to offer? I’d like $350K a year, but I could definitely “do” $45,000. Also, I notice you offer a dental plan. Suh-weet. Can I use that for dentures? I’m sick of gumming all my meals. Well, I guess we will discuss specifics during the interview, huh?
Look forward to hearing from you,
P.S. What is the dress around the office? Are jean shorts acceptable?
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Attention All Bad Boys!!! Help Women Out.
"Attention, All Bad Boys:
Have you ever done something so downright devilish that you've never told a soul? Did you tell a girl you had only a few weeks to live just so you could get her in the sack? Break up with a cheating chick in front of all of her friends at her own birthday party? Well, now's your chance to come clean (anonymously) for a future article about bad-boy confessions..."
I will have to submit something so tantalizing to them that they will be forced to pick me. I mean, I AM a badboy. I don't shave and own a leather jacket. Isn't that "bad"? I will follow this submission process like a New Jersey guido plays table roullette in A.C., by putting a chip on every number on the table, to ensure my chances of succeeding. Let's hope the ball doesn't land in double-zero.
As Alex Trebec would say:
Here are the categories...:
"We [COSMO] want to know if you're guilty of..."
*Tricking a girl into having sex with you
Absolutely. Once I told this rocket scientist I met at my local watering hole* that my penis tasted like a creamsicle. She bought it! As she was slobbering on my weiner, she kept stopping, screwing up ma' grooze an' shit, and saying, "I still don't TASTE anything, A-Dog!" I'd tell her, keep trying, and pretty soon you'll taste the creme-y center! Ha! I tell you, these girls at my local watering hole* are so easy to dupe! (* "local watering hole" = "local junior high school")
*Dumping a chick in the most humiliating way possible
It's kind of hard to humilate the kind of girls that one encounters in society nowadays. I mean, these are the kind of small-of-the-back-tattooed skanks that enjoy being defecated on for sexual pleasure. So, as you can imagine, you really have to go "over the top" when dumping a year 2006 girl to make her face turn red. Personally, I like to send over a singing telegram, you know, a guy in a gorilla costume or something who then sings the tried-and-true song, "Sorry baby, I'm dumpin' you...Hope you enjoyed the herpes I gave you...!" The whole office always enjoys hearing from a singing guy in a gorilla costume! Fun!!!
*Getting even with a girl for wronging you
Have I ever got even with a girl for wronging me? Hmmm. Does sending my mother to a nursing home count? I mean, she did refuse to let me have an awesome Super Sweet 16 birthday party and instead made me celebrate my sixteenth by taking only 5 of my homies to the local Brunswick bowling lanes. The bitch. Serves her right for wronging me. I hope she enjoys pissing in a bed pan for the rest of her life.
*Having sex with someone you really shouldn't have (example: your girlfriend's mother!)
Oh gawd yes. Once I got really drunk and had sex with some worthless J.A.P. that reads COSMO. It was sooooooooooooo embarrassing to me. I mean, during foreplay she kept trying to put a donut on my penis. What? Why was she keeping a rainbow sprinkled in her purse? And then when I tried to go down on her she kept asking me how her cha-cha smelled. Weird! And wouldn't you know it, when the time for intercourse came, she told me she was on the rag and wondered if I "think that's a turn on." Gross. I really shouldn't have had sex with her and I need to quit picking up COSMO-readers at bars. Lesson learned!
*Lying to a girl when you hit on her at a bar/party
Dear Cosmo, no man has ever NOT lied to a girl when hitting on her at a bar slash party. Although my lies are usually a little more tame than most men's. Instead of bragging about my income, career prospects, phallus size, or bedroom stamina, I usually only lie on one single question a girl may ask me, "[Anonymous], do you find me interesting?" Why, yes, yes, I do. Please tell me some more about "Grey's Anatomy."
I have submitted these all to COSMO and look forward to seeing these appear in an upcoming issue of the magazine. I will then cut my quote out with my special pinking shears, laminate the piece of paper, and promptly flush it down the toilet.
I encourage my fellow readers to also submit their own homespun wisdom to COSMO. COSMO notes: "If any of these scenarios apply to you, we want the scoop! Also, tell us if any of your evil plots ever backfired. We've heard it all, so don't be afraid to shock us!"
They've "heard it all"? Are they serious? Do you understand how fucking simple it would be to shock COSMO? You'd simply have to tell them that some people actually have sex with the lights on and I think their minds would be blown.
Any how, I'll report back on how many of my little true anecdotes end up getting published. But you all are huge COSMO fans and read every single word of the magazine whenever a new issue hits newstands, so I'm sure you'll know soon enough too.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Cosmo Birthday Girl
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Case File #1: Brooke Le Poer Trench – writer/pollster/shrew
Our first expose investigates a writer (and frequent composer of inane polls) named Brooke Le Poer Trench. The tri-named Le Poer Trench obviously never gets laid; I mean have you ever fucked any one with a three word LAST name? Me neither.
My admittedly lackadaisical research* was unable to uncover anything relevant about the troika-nom’d one. Not her age, her credentials, her race even. Nor was I able to locate any photographic evidence of her. Thus, I can’t superficially tell you, dear reader, whether or not she is “fuckable.” A key point when determining whether or not someone is getting laid.
I did however find a little interesting info. For instance, might Brooke be related to Richard Le Poer Trench, the 2nd Earl of Clancarty from Ireland and Britain back in the 18th and 19th centuries (he is depicted at the start of the expose and though I don’t like to judge the fuckability of person simply after viewing a single regal oil painting of them, I must unequivocally say that the 2nd Earl is “unfuckable” to say the least).
Or…might Brenda be related to the 8th Earl of Clancarty, Brinsley Le Poer Trench**. Brinsley was a bit of a wack-job operating in the mid-20th century.
He was a firm believer in U.F.O.s and in particular, the Hollow Earth theory, which—I’m not fucking kidding—states: “Earth has a hollow interior with a habitable inner surface.”
The Earl of Craziness Le Poer Trench claimed that he could trace his descent from 63,000 B.C., when aliens from other planets landed on Earth in flying saucers. He further claimed that most—note, MOST—humans were descended from these spacemen: "This accounts for all the different color skins we've got here," he reasoned. Furthermore, he explained that a few of these 64th century B.C. aliens did not come from space but emerged through tunnels from inside the earth’s core which "still exist beneath the Earth's crust today"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (my exclamation points denoting how fucking crazy this man is. He makes L. Ron look rational.) According to the Theory, there were eight of these tunnels altogether, ones at the North and South Pole and others in such places as Tibet. "I haven't been down there (South Pole) myself," Le Poer Trench once said, "but from what I gather [these aliens] are very advanced."
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-K. Le Poer Trench was obviously not QUITE as advanced as the creatures he invented in his crazy-mind. And though people that believe in aliens in the year 2005 NEVER get laid—except when they dubiously claim that aliens capture and then buttfuck them—the Earl did get married. FOUR FUCKING TIMES in fact, though I am unable to tell if he spawned any future nutty Le Poer Trenches. What I am saying, is that he may have been, perhaps, the grandfather of our dear COSMO writer Brooke Le Poer Trench.
And the fact that he too was a writer, penning such never-classics as The Sky People (1960), Men Among Mankind (1962), Forgotten Heritage (1964), The Flying Saucer Story (1966), Operation Earth (1969), The Eternal Subject (1973), and Secret of the Ages (1974) , lands this hollow (earth) theory of mine even more weight.
Remarkably, Brinsley’s books are available on Amazon, but they’re those crappy kinda books that have no cover image available, and not a single person has left a customer review or star rating, AND then if for some reason you were fucking wasted and actually wanted to buy one of Brinsley’s books because you thought it would be hilariously shitty then you would have to buy from a used bookseller on the Amazon marketplace for like a quarter (PLUS $3.95 shipping). But I bet they would be fucking hilarious to read, no doubt.
Here’s an actual cover image from one of his books. Kinda looks like a COSMO cover a bit, doesn’t it? What with all the scientifically-created state-of-the-art orbs prominently in display. And the quite evident airbrushing as well (“That’s not what the planet GlaXckZ looks like,” I exclaimed, “They clearly airbrushed out a few of it’s moons!!!”)
I mean, how much different could Brinsley Le Poer Trench’s Hollow Earth tripe possibly be to what Brooke wrote in the current issue of Cosmopolitan? Three articles entitled “How to…Talk Money With Your Man,” “A Blow His Mind Tip: Give Him the Frisky Once Over,” and “How to Totally Rule Your World” (an article about how emulating President Geena Davis on the minor hit TV show “Commander In Chief” can get you ahead in life! You go (get me a beer) girl!!!!!)
In these articles, Brooke L.P.T.—heretofore known as the 1st Earl of Bad Advice—offers such bon mots of wisdom as:
*“Directing a hungry gaze toward your man is a surefire way to get his attention.”
(Why the fuck you staring at me like that, babe?)
*“If it drives you nuts that [your man] never has any cash in his wallet, tell him. But also tell him what you admire.”
(What you admire in terms of your guy’s wallet-storage habits?!!!)
*“[Undress] his body with your peeps, letting them linger over his sexiest spots…once you’ve mentally stripped him down to his birthday suit, stand close and then whisper in his ear exactly what you’re thinking.”
(How bout you just LITERALLY strip me down and we bone instead of wasting all this time?)
*(On following President Geena Davis’s lead): “She wears the pants (and the bra)—Of course you don’t need to fill out a jock strap to be a serious contender for management these days.”
(I haven’t liked Geena Davis since “A League Of Their Own,” when, ironically, she DID wear a jock strap.)
The 1st Earl’s womanly bad advice is really not that much different that advising your readers to go down to the South Pole to find the hole in the Earth’s crust that leads to the tunnels that’ll take you to the Earth’s core where you can have a family reunion, now is it?
It seems that Brinsley and Brooke Le Poer Trench MUST be related!
Fine, but just cause she’s related to a crazy Earl that believes in aliens and doesn’t understand planetary formation, just because she’s an equally terrible writer with terrible advice, that’s not proof that she’s not getting dick is it?
We’ll press on. Another thing the Earl of Bad Advice likes to contribute to society is stupid poll quizzes. Here are two such polls from the web:
Don’t click on those links though, no need to give bad websites any page views. I’ll reprint the more interesting questions from the quizzes, with answers available afterward.
From her quiz entitled “IS REVENGE FOR YOU?”:
1. Someone you’ve crossed sprays weedkiller all over your lawn to spell out a nasty message directed at you. You think this is…?
3. You bust your man’s cyber-affair with some chick he met online. Your first reaction is…?
5. You would describe pursuing payback as…?
Then, in a quiz “DO YOU FALL IN LOVE TOO FAST?” she asks:
2. Getting zero calls from a guy you’ve gone on a date with is…?
7. Think back to your last few relationships. They ended because (be honest!)…?
13. Your new boyfriend is away for a week on business. You…?
I’ve stolen the answer key to the Earl’s quizzes and the solution is:
A. Brooke Le Poer Trench never gets laid and is going to die alone.
If one is supposed to “write what they know,” then the Earl of Bad Advice is obviously a psychotic stalker shrew that drives men to have cyber-affairs, go on prolonged “business trips,” and never ever call her, while driving others to simply T.P. her house and burn hate-filled vitriol into her front lawn. Wow, what a catch!
Egads! Maybe Brooke Le Poer Trench is saving herself for an alien? Might her dream be to penetrate the earth’s core and find some alien “hottie” to bone?
Dear Cosmo: I’ve always wondered, is anal nookie with an alien while I’m on my period, safe? Does the alien think my who-haw smells? And should I be faking the Big O with said alien hottie? Also, one of his two penises is just not that girthy, is this bad?
--Brooke, New York City
Finally, dear reader, since I quite possibly haven’t made a convincing enough argument, that Brooke Le Poer Trench clearly is not getting laid, we will conclude this article with something I think the Earl of Bad Advice would find most appropriate in determining her fate—a poll:
*Two google searches (“brooke le poer trench” “le poer trench”)
**If you are wondering the same thing I immediately did, no, neither the 1st, 3rd through 7th, or any other Earl of Clancarty ad infinitum has ever had the last name Le Poer Trench.
***I fucking love that there’s a “Hollow Earth Insider” magazine. Man, how will us “outsiders” ever learn the latest info about the earth’s core?! Oh, right…we’ll just keep assuming it’s hot as balls down there and impenetrable like normal people who have had a 3rd grade non-home schooled science class.
Monday, January 16, 2006
If you’ve ever read Cosmopolitan magazine and thought to yourself: “There is no way that ANYONE who gets laid would ever possibly offer that kind of advice for women!” then you must join “Is Anyone at COSMO Getting Laid?”(I.A.A.C.G.L) in our search for the hard truth. Now, while this is pure speculation on our part, we felt obligated to start an inquisition, based not on scientific evidence, but on a simple wealth of hilariously inane and inept articles, columns and lists included in each and every issue for women to follow. After reading these monthly articles, we’re constantly scratching our heads and laughing, wondering if anyone on staff (mailroom workers not included) at Cosmo has actually performed successful and satisfying sexual acts. Nevertheless, while advice for women readers such as,
“Throw a large glass of ice-cold water on him, and tell him you did it ‘cause he’s so hot”
would seem to be unequivocal proof that the writer of this advice never ever gets laid (and has many welts on her face and body from the constant beatings being administered by the strangers this woman is throwing freezing liquid on), to be completely scientific we need even more proof. And we are nothing if not scientists.
True, the same author of that previous ‘advice’ also offered women this gem on the same page,
“Tell him you haven’t had sex in two years, and ask if he would be willing to do the honors.”
Which, ipso facto, would seem to end our investigation before it has even started—the genius behind those two nuggets is some one named Molly Triffin for what it’s worth—but we must still delve deeper. We need more facts. No, I don’t need photographic evidence that a penis has NEVER penetrated one of these terrible Cosmo writer’s Brazilian-waxed snatch (Dear Cosmopolitan, What hairstyle do men most prefer…er…“down there”? Shelly: Boise, ID), per se, but I must know more.
But who to tackle in our first expose, our first investigation?
An obvious choice might be to start at the top. The editor-in-chief, Kate White. Surely if this woman is not getting laid, then the whole magazine will reflect her personality (i.e. the editor-in-chief of Hate Monthly is a neo-Nazi as are all his underlings). Let’s have a look at Kate for a sec.
(courtesy of teenreads.com)
Not terrible for a 40ish year-old woman. Would we dare say a M.I.L.F. even? Doubt it, but we could. Especially if we were over-zealous to get the M.I.L.F. box checked off on some sort of sexual to-do list we kept (not that I’m saying that I have one of those or anything. Though, if there are any redheaded amputees out there, please email me!) Whatever the case, it’s certainly possible someone has wanted to fuck Kate White at some point in time.
And, most unfortunately of all for our study, Kate has two children. Aged 14 and 17 at the time of press. So, at the least, she was getting some dick back during Operation Desert Storm. Whether she is still getting poked is too lofty of investigation at this point, something we will have to tackle in a later expose. We’ll start with some smaller potatoes to get our feet under us.
I pulled out my copy of the January 2006 issue of Cosmopolitan, the one with Ashlee Simpson on the cover looking pissed that no one in the art department airbrushed her to look like Jessica.
I looked at the authors of every single article in the magazine, to try and pick my first victim for investigation. Something most interesting immediately struck me—nearly 25% of the articles are written by men. Why are men writing so many advice columns in a women’s magazine? Why are men giving women advice on how to fuck on the rag and how to seduce that guy in the mailroom? Most duplicitous of all, Cosmo put the guys’ names in small fonts so women aren't like, "Hey, wait a sec...why is a GUY telling me how to prevent queefs?!" (Don’t pour carbonated beverages down your cooter???) It doesn’t really matter, because the articles written by men are even more laughable than the ones written by women. So I’ll just go on the record for now and say that unless sodomy is involved, none of the XY chromosome authors at Cosmopolitan are getting laid. We will start our investigation with a woman...(COMING SOON…)
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Women: Glamour Reveals the Secrets to Man-Speak!!!
To wit, let's examine Glamour's January issue:
Let's look at a few of their vocab words. All supplied courtesy of "Jake." He calls himself--quite lasciviously--"the Snake, as in Jake the Snake." Not because he has a big penis or anything, but because he's a big fucking loser. There will be no pop quiz later in the week, do not worry about trying to memorize the terms.
You have got to be effing kidding me. Has any person in the history of the world brought her whole "crew" along on a date? Are you serious? (Does any girl in the world call her friends, her "crew") This has never happened except in a Hilary Duff movie. But those are so funny, that we allow the artistic license!
No, we actually just use this fancy term from the male lexicon: "ugly." We would call that woman ugly.
That's funny. I call that, "Prostitute Accepts my Offer."
You write like a fucking idiot today, baby. A major fucking, fucking idiot. So that's why I'm not gonna directly make fun of you. Instead, I'm gonna indirectly make fun of you. Because it'd be plain offensive if I was mocking you as much as I'd like to mock you, Jake. Loser.
Come on. Be fucking serious, Jacob. Do you really think any one that's reads this magazine gets a goddamn Hitchcock reference? Grace Kelly was in THREE--and only three--Hitchcock films ("Rear Window," "Dial M for Murder," and "To Catch a Thief") all made before 1955. What percentage of worthless ex-sorority girls that read this shit mag while getting their pedis and manis do you think have seen either of those movies? 0.5%? Too high? Maybe 0.3%? Christ. Next you'll be making a Ozu or Godard reference. "The Godard." It's like when a woman starts jump-cutting during a date with you.
So, those were all terrible words from the male lexicon, Jake. I'd like to offer a few "male" vocab words of mine own, seeing as that I actually am a real man that hangs out with other real men and also brings real women home from bars (without having to call them vocab words other than "sluts" and "skanks").
Much different than the "Destiny's Child," this is when a woman brings along her whole "crew" on a date, and one of them dies in a car wreck and the other gets sickle cell anemia--DURING THE DATE!
"THE GAG OF DEATH"
This is when a woman chokes on your semen after blowing you, causing me, Aaron, to fall into the actual Laugh of Death.
"WOMEN LIKE ASSHOLES"
This is what it's called when you act like a Fourth Grader. For some reason women prefer guys who fart on them, make fun of their fat asses, and then say that they'll never call them. Women fuck those guys--those "fourth graders." The guys that sing Journey songs to her, well, they end up going home and crying over their keyboard as they write their newest column for Glamour.
"PATHETIC PUSSY FAGGOT-ASS GODDAMNED SHITHEAD DOUCHE BAG"
This fancy term is what we real men use to refer to the men that write for Glamour. Like Jake.
It's Not Easy, Being Easy
Glamour is right women, who cares if your man wears obnoxious message T's. You love him for who he is on the inside. And you shouldn't be embarrassed. So be a good girlfriend and add a couple of more classics to his wardrobe. T-shirts are $19.95 and orders can be placed by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
What Guys Are Dying To Know About Women
No, Samson. He's pulling your penis. That's why a viscous white fluid just shot out of it and onto your buddy's face.
Ted, I think it would be best if you whittled your penis down to 0 inches in length and 0 inches in width, so that hopefully you'll never bring any retarded children into this world. You can compensate by getting really good at washing dishes and sweeping floors.
Yes, Terrence, after you blow your buddy in the coat check room, you probably shouldn't go back on to the dance floor and start kissing women. That's both gross, and borderline felonious.
(images from Cosmopolitan magazine)
Women's Most Private Sex Questions Answered
A: That's funny, sometimes when I'm having sex with you, my penis makes a noise that sounds a bit like (muffled): "Aaron...quit sticking me into stupid women's cooters." But seriously, if you truly want to prevent this vagina noise, just quit spreading your legs for every guido that tells you you're pretty.
A: Seriously, Cosmopolitan here gives a more fucking retarded answer than I could ever possibly conjure up (and I've been drinking tonight). So just read their's in its entirety:
A: Wait...is this a woman asking this question? "(You're) not sure if (you're) doing it well"? Question: are several ounces of spunk floating on top of your vocal cords after you're finished? Yes? Well then you're probably at least doing it " O.K." How can you make it "awesome" though? By not being such a stupid uptight bitch that is so concerned with her "technique" that she writes into COSMO for advice. Oh yeah, and by buying your man lots of free drinks. Then, he'll definitely think you give awesome head.
A: Wait, what's a "period"? Is that when flowers spring from your asshole while beer pours from your nipples in pure ecstasy? No? What's that? You say it's when a sticky, odoriferous blood flows out of your snatch once a month? OK. Short answer: yes to all women, that will totally gross your guy out--get real. In fact, you'll probably be lucky if you don't gross out your vibrator, causing it to spontaneously eject its batteries and refuse to serve you. If you're truly that horny, you're going to have to get a little "red fingers."
A: Yes. Don't make your man ever go down on your sardine can.
A: Wow! You use both missionary AND woman-on-top in a single fuck session?! Slow down Miss Karma Sutra! Do you guys grab each other's butts too? Outstanding! I think this is far too expert of question for the good folks at COSMO to answer. A question more up their alley might be something like: "When switching from jerking off with my left hand to jerking off with my right hand, do most people use a tag team move to switch hands or simply use a re-grip like Stallone in 'Over the Top?'"
A: I've heard women have brains. Where are they located? And what should I do if I find one? Help!
(images from Cosmopolitan magazine)
Monday, January 02, 2006
Women on the Street: What Kind Of Man Are You Fucking?