Is Anyone at Cosmo Getting Laid?

The Cosmo Circle Jerk Continues...

2006-03-14T14:25:00.000-05:00

Solo Step 2: Explore Down South

One of the most private places to awaken your senses is in the tub. To get started, draw a bubble bath. "As you soak in the warm water, your muscle tension will melt," says Schwartz. "You'll be more responsive to touch when you're relaxed." Increase the release by massaging your inner thighs and running your hands up your tummy and over your breasts. Now circle your nipples with a sudsy fingertip, then gently tug on them. "If this is an erogenous zone for you, it may trigger tingles down below," adds Schwartz.

Now zero in on your hot spots by getting even more hands-on. "Our fingers are ideal tools for learning what type of pressure, speed and stroke work the best," says Sadie Allison, sex educator and author of Tickle Your Fancy: A Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure. Let your digits wander south, tracing the sensitive folds of your inner labia. Get playful and draw the alphabet with your pinkie. Or try lightly tapping your clitoris with one finger, speeding up as you become aroused. All the while, note areas and touches that provide the most satisfaction. Bottom line: You're the master of your own domain. It takes trial and error to figure out what makes you tick. Experiment and you'll be surprised by the sexy sensations you can provoke. Take it from Sara, 23, who stumbled upon her own tub turn-on (and incidentally hasn't taken a shower since): "As the tub was filling up, I moved closer to the faucet to adjust the temperature," she explains. "The running water splashed on my clitoris and immediately felt good. So I wrapped my feet around the faucet and let the water flow over me. The excitement kept building."

Other times in life that you need to prep yourself by drawing a nice warm bath:

1. When committing suicide with a razor. Remember kids: cut PARALLEL to your veins, not perpendicular. Perpendicular cuts are much easier to suture up. No one wants to be known as the cutter than couldn't even kill herself.

As a side note, a lot of people orgasm during suicide--specifically hangings--so in a way, committing suicide and masturbating in the tub are one in the same.

So please, Pepper, DO IT!

+

=

"Another great masturbation session...and I. Am. Spent!"

Solo Step 3: Try These Techniques

Now to hit your high note, you'll need to intensify the manual manipulation. "There's no one method that works for everyone," explains Allison, "but certain stroking styles are tried and true." Like a move she calls The Figure Eight. Use one or more fingers to glide up, over and around your clitoral area, tracing the number eight. You'll cover the clitoris and the inner labia -- a lusty locale that has nerve endings within its walls, which some women find even more arousing than the clitoris. Another favorite is The Compass. Hold two fingers out straight, side by side, and run them north to south and east to west over the width and length of your entire pleasure zone. A more advanced method is The Three-Fingers Thrill. Use your index and ring fingers to hold open your labia. This frees up your middle finger to stroke the tip of your clitoris.

Ultimately, you'll know what strikes a chord when a warm, flush feeling starts to set in. "Try not to be super goal-oriented, like, 'I have to have an orgasm in less than 15 minutes,' " says Venning. Just ride the wave of pleasure as your nether regions become more sensitive, your heart rate zooms, your breathing intensifies, and the walls of your vagina begin to contract -- all telltale signs you're bound for bliss.

OK, far be it for me to critique the labial value of using, say, The Figure Eight compared to the Compass. Or the Three-Fingers Thrill for that matter. I mean, when I finger girls I use the tried and true I'm-A-8th-Grader-So-Let's-See-How-Far-My-Middle-Finger-Can-Get-In Method.

What I will critique, however, is this line of brilliance:

"Ultimately, you'll know what strikes a chord when a warm, flush feeling starts to set in."

Let me get this straight. When it starts FEELING GOOD, then, and only THEN! will I know that I'm masturbating correctly?! Man, if only the other aspects of life were so easy.

Cosmo's advice for how to eat: When the object in your mouth starts tasting good, it means you've located food. Lick it, masticate it, and swallow it. We Cosmo Girls need this for nourishment! (Shhhh...but be sure and do the Three-Finger-Thrill to your throat a few minutes later to make sure you expectorate the food back into the toilet bowl! We want to be able to still fit into our "skinny" jeans!!!)

(A Cosmo Girl's B.F.F)

And remember, try to not to be super goal-oriented Cosmo Girls, like, "I hope to be at a Third Grade reading level by the end of this year!!! lol!!!"

Solo Step 4: Feel the Vibrations

Missy Elliott is on to something: Toys can be titillating. "Vibrators provide one of the strongest and most consistent forms of stimulation," says Judy Kuriansky, Ph.D., sex therapist and author of Generation Sex. Introduce the buzz factor once you've prepped yourself for pleasure, and it could make an orgasm a sure thing. But you have to know how to summon the sensations. Begin by working the vibrator over your clitoris, using the same techniques as described previously. (You may want to keep your panties on at first as a buffer; the buzz can be intense.) Then tease yourself by alternating speeds as your desire builds.

Just remember to switch up your routine. "Vibrators are great training wheels, especially for the gal who thinks she'll never get there," says Kuriansky. A word of caution though: Too much humming can potentially cause your nerve endings to become somewhat desensitized. Pace your usage of this joy stick and let your fingers do the work on the off days. Now that you know what makes your body tick, it's time to share your stimulating secrets with someone you love...or at least lust for.

What's with all the Missy Elliot references? Is Cosmo trying to get street cred? Maybe next month they'll have an article in which Kris Kross discusses the best way to answer the "Do I look fat in these jeans?" question.

"Warm it up Kris."

"I'm about to...go look for some work."

Cosmo ends this terrible article with a great little dessert for us. A total non-sequitor add-on:

Accidental Orgasms

Sometimes those Os come from surprising sources.

"I was in the hotel's hot tub when I flipped around to order a drink and inadvertently discovered perfect jet placement. Before I could say piña colada, the water pressure had sent me over the edge."
--Courtney, 19

"In the car, I keep my cell between my legs. One drive home, I was pissed at my guy so I refused to answer his calls. I guess he was worried -- he was pretty persistent. Luckily, the phone was on vibrate."
--Allie, 26

"I bought my jeans a size too small because they stretch, but I should've broken them in before class. Halfway through a lecture, my pants were practically molesting me. I had to excuse myself."
--Nat, 21

"My waxer moves my panties around as she works. One time, she pulled them up out of the way so she could get to the sides. The friction made me forget that Brazilians are supposed to be painful."
--Sarah, 32

"My penis was dirty once so I decided to wash it with Axe body wash as vigorously and thoroughly as I possibly could. Next thing I know...BOOM. All over my the shower radio! I thought I had broken myself."
--Aaron, 14

Cosmo Makes A Prima Facie Admittance to Not Getting Laid

2006-03-07T16:23:00.000-05:00

Every one masturbates. But, especially those that never get laid, like 13-year-olds, soldiers, and solitarily-confined inmates. So it's about time that Cosmo printed--rather, tried to sneak into it's mag--a little article about how to jerk off. Because, without Cosmo, we obviously would have no idea how one does that dirty, little thing to oneself. I'm having trouble, myself, is the formula:

Masturbation = creating friction with your hand on your genitalia + a little time + hand speed + mental imagery of Jessica Alba = spooge all over my headboard???

Alas, this guide is strictly for the ladies, sayeth Cosmo:...

Your Hands-on Guide to Solo Sex

We've all seen Britney Spears grab her goods onstage. But until her anthem to solo sex, "Touch of My Hand," it was tough to picture the ex-Mickey Mouse Clubber double-clicking her own mouse. Nowadays, she's hardly coy when talking about pleasuring her bod. And it seems to be contagious. Listen to Missy Elliott's "Toyz." Hint: She's not rapping about Tickle Me Elmo. Yet even though masturbation seems less taboo, the National Health and Social Life Survey reported that 58 percent of women don't indulge. And of those who do, 47 percent feel guilty. It's ridiculous, insists Pepper Schwartz, Ph.D., author of Everything You Know About Love and Sex Is Wrong. "Masturbation prepares you for great sex, since you learn what you like and can teach a partner," she says. Every Cosmo girl should know how to wow herself. Here, a helping hand.

So what exactly is Misdemeanor rapping about? Oh! Her 18 inch dildo! HAHAHAHAHA! I get it. Cosmo, you slay me. OK, there's only two kinds of people:

*Those that masturbate (42%)
*And those that are fucking lying harlots (58%)

Why are 47% of girls feeling guilty about masturbating? It's sad, and makes no sense. I mean, I felt guilty that one time I stole and used a huge gob of lotion lube from my mom's $200 bottle of [Fancy French Word] Fountain of Youth wrinkle creme--which is made by monks from Lyon--in order to get my shwerve on with my hand back when I was 14--but feeling guilty about that is to be expected. Not cause I wasted her fancy lotion for my solipsistic pleasures, but rather because I came all over our guest towels.

And, why the fuck must Cosmo get a quote from that hag Pepper Schwartz for EVER SINGLE ARTICLE? Here's what she looks like:

"Masturbation prepares you for great sex, since you learn what you like and can teach a partner. For instance, I like to be scatted on while my cat watches."

She kind of looks like fellow hag Rachael Ray, who sounds very masturbatory when discussing food:

"Now add one table spoon of E.V.O.O.--that's Extra Virgin Olive Oil--(guffaw) and then simmer and you'll have some 'You Won't Be Single for Long Vodka Cream Pasta.' It looks AAAAAAAAAAAAWESOME! Mmmmm...I like to stick a rolling pin up my ass while I rub one out! And with tax and tip that leaves me $18 for the rest of the day!"

Solo Step 1: Get into the M Mind-Set

It takes more than a five-second lip-lock to get you in the mood for sex with him. Same holds true for a DIY session. To light your libido, create an atmosphere for arousal: a haven sans distractions where you can say to hell with inhibition. Lock the door so no one bursts in. Disconnect your phone(s). Add ambience with candles and slow jams.

Next, tune in to your head space. "If you're watching CNN and trying to masturbate, it's going to take a while," says Rachel Venning, cofounder of the sex boutique Toys in Babeland and coauthor of Sex Toys 101. "In order to reach your peak, you need to relax and focus." If it takes a glass of wine to block out your boss (buzz kill!) and transition from work to play, cheers. Once you feel mentally uncluttered, fill your mind with sexy thoughts. Picturing Johnny Depp in a loincloth might help. Or do as Liz,* 28, does. "I have a videotape of Top Gun that I keep set to the volleyball scene," she says. "All that action makes me want to get some."

*Names have been changed.

Seriously, can you imagine how creepy it would be if you had a friend or roommate that you found out "set the mood" for masturbating? How fucking weird is that? Here's my mood, typically:

Saturday afternoon:

2:35 PM: "I've watched far too many episodes of the "Next" marathon on MTV today...I should do something productive. But what. to. do?"

2:36 PM: "I could masturbate. Indeed!"

2:37 PM: Visit pichunter.com for some free porn on my laptop. Search term: "drunk girls amateurs questionable morals blond naturals."

2:38 PM: Set mood by turning A.C. on--one can get a little sweaty while vigorously masturbating, especially while still numb with a hangover; making sure doors are locked; yelling out, "Steeeeeve, you home?" to GUARANTEE that no one is home; and putting on "Cat's in the Cradle"* on my home stereo system as my deadbeat dad left my family when I was 3 and I like to cry whilst jerking it.

2:50 PM: Still going. I told you I was hungover and disillusioned with myself.

2:51 PM: Maybe left hand would be better? Ah yes!

2:54 PM: Done.

2:55 PM: Wash hands.

2:56 PM: Cuddle with myself.

*I prefer the inferior Ugly Kid Joe version to the better Cat Stevens (ne Yusuf Islam) version.

STEPS 2-5 tomorrow. Please do not hold it til then though. You will get major masturbatory blue balls.

The Cosmo Sutra--How to Injure Yourself

2006-03-02T15:31:00.000-05:00

Cosmo's like that lame buddy every one has who quite evidentally hasn't been laid in ages, who no one EVER saw take a girl even back to his dorm room freshmen year, yet who not only claims to get fucked a lot, but who claims to have all sorts of spectacular sexual adventures. Cosmo is that friend. And, quite obviously, they have their "own" version of the Kama Sutra, created by many of their undersexed writers, in which they pretend that they have sex in all these ridiculous positions that would make even a porn star pull a groin muscle and question whether or not she should have dropped out of The Bayonne School for Manicure Sciences.

The first in a new weekly installment:

Sexy Scissors

Hot how-to: You lie faceup on a desk or tabletop with your hips perched on the very edge. Raise your legs to an eye-popping 90-degree angle, then have your guy grab your ankles. He extends his arms out to his sides, and as your legs are spread-eagle, he enters you while standing. Next, he starts alternately crossing and spreading your legs like scissors, opening and closing as he thrusts.

Why you'll love it: No other love lock will offer you such a body-rockin' range of sensations. One second your limbs are in an erotic X and you're supertight for a snug fit -- then suddenly you're wide open and able to take him in deliciously deep. We guarantee these thigh-melting maneuvers will lead to a whoa-baby wave of Os.

A part of me while reading that couldn't help but think that I was reading arcane Ikea instructions. While, another part of me thought I was reading the choreography to some lame gay dance-off show.

Alas! Someone from Cosmo IS Getting Laid...

2006-02-28T14:02:00.000-05:00

Unless she's a lying old shrew.

Helen Gurley Brown, COSMO's erstwhile editor from 1966 to 1998, and the original "Cosmo Girl" has a letter in this Sunday's New York Times Book Review in which she writes to defend a book by Gail Sheehy ("Sex and the Seasoned Women" and other books I will never read) that Toni Bentley ("The Surrender: An Erotic Memoir" about butt-fucking (very much a reference guide which I keep on my Ikea nightstand) and who once said "...my ass is my very own back door to heaven.") slammed in a review last week. I don't care about this little literary old bag cat fight, but what I do care about is H.G.B.'s final line of her letter:

"Being over 50 (84!), by the way, I found the book ["Sex and the Seasoned Women"] realistic and inspiring. Don't mean to sound braggy (you know I don't know how to keep secrets), but my 90-year-old playmate and I are still sexually involved--pleasurably, reasonably, frequently. Seems to me if we can, *anybody* can."

(My bolded emphasis, as well as my throw-up all over my ergonomic keyboard)

So it would seem that someone at Cosmo (kind of) is indeed getting laid.

It's letter time:

"Dear Cosmo,

Sometimes when I'm giving my favorite gentleman caller a knob job, during a particularly vigorous deepthroating, I remove my face--in the height of passion--to find my mouth now empty. Empty of my teeth that is. And then find myself staring aghast as my dentures have poly-dented themselves onto my amour's wrinkly schlong. Two parter: #1: Is this something I should be embarrassed about? #2: And how to recover from this little faux-pas?

Thanks,
H.G.B.
Carnegie Old Folks' Home
New York City."

Above: The H.G.B. and her decomposing fuck-buddy.

Come on, current Cosmo Girls, surely you're getting laid more than this old biddy.

Booty Call Protocol...COSMO yet again acts like they get laid

2006-02-24T12:11:00.000-05:00

Ever notice that the people most likely to use the term "Booty Call" are also the ones least likely to actually get laid via a "booty call?" (And is it not time we come up with a better term than "booty call," God forbid? That term is so childishly antiquated and late-1990s-esque-sounding. I'm open to suggestions...a "Let's Fuck Foning (long "o" sound)"? A "Makin' Whoopee Ring-Up"? An "I'm-Drunk-and-Struck-Out-Tonight/You're-Pathetic-and-Want-to-Be-My-Girlfriend-So-I'll-Stupidly-Take-Advantage-of-That, Please-Come-Over-Post-haste-and-Bring-Beer"???? A bit unwieldy, but I like that last one: I.D.a.S.O.T/Y.P.a.W.t.b.M.G.S.I.S.T.A.o.T,P.C.O.P.h.a.B.B. That acronym rolls off your tongue like fuckin' N.A.S.A. or S.C.U.B.A)*

Here, now reprinted, in it's entirety--for one and all to mock--are COSMO's "Booty Call Protocol":

Booty-Call Protocol

If you're going to indulge in no-strings-attached nooky, you'd be wise to follow a few rules.

Booty-Call Rule 1: Once a month is enough. When you suggest meeting up more than once every few weeks or so, it will come across as more of an obligation than a friends-with-benefits thing.

Booty-Call Rule 2: Avoid the redial button. If he doesn't answer or call back after you make the first attempt, don't keep hitting redial. He could be sleeping or spending time with someone else...and you're not allowed to mind.

Booty-Call Rule 3: Don't overstay your welcome (or let him overstay his). Sleeping over or brunching can feel awkward when you're just shagging. Stay within your boundaries by skipping the couple-y stuff.

Booty-Call Rule 4: Be honest with yourself. It can be emotionally taxing to have uncommitted sex, so once in a while, have a truthful talk with yourself to make sure you're still okay (really) with the casual encounters.

Aaron back now. What's that old poker axiom? Something like, "There's always one sucker at the poker table. And if you're not sure who the sucker is, it's probably you." Well, reading Cosmo's advice, I'd have to say to those sad Cosmo girls, "There's always one cum dumpster in a booty call relationship, and, yes, Cosmo writer, it's most decidedly you."

Relax, people, there's only one rule to the booty call: furiously create friction until one or both of you comes. It ain't that hard. ("But Cosmo, can I text message for a booty call?" "What if I'm high and not drunk? Is that allowed?" "Am I allowed to enjoy the booty call sex, or is that too relationship-y and will that scare the guy off???" Seriously, SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP. and enjoy your life and your sex. And quit reading Cosmo.)

And, now, just for the hell of it, with no comments necessary, the first three images found when the term "booty call" is google image searched:

Peace.

*Whoops, got a little too David Foster Wallace there.

Ask the Prostitutes

2006-02-21T14:42:00.000-05:00

In the last post we met my stable of sexperts. Now they will use their professional knowledge to answer questions that some chuckleheads actually wrote into Cosmo in the hopes of receiving an answer. Listen folks, never ask Cosmo anything that really matters to you. Quoth Cosmopolitan:

Your Burning Sex Questions -- Answered

Even if you've had your share of lovers, awkward moments can still crop up in the sack and throw you for a loop. In today's ever-shifting sexual climate, a Cosmo girl needs advice on how to handle sexual stumbling blocks with unwavering confidence and finesse.

"People don't always remember that manners are important in bed," says Alexa Joy Sherman, coauthor of The Happy Hookup. "Knowing how to deal with any uncomfortable or unexpected twists and turns with a guy will make sex go more smoothly and spare both of you from embarrassment." So read on, because Cosmo is dishing out the sex-etiquette tips you've been asking for. Follow them and your next naughty encounter will be relatively stress free.

Well, my girls certainly lack in the manners department, and you only get uncomfortable or unexpected twists and turns if you pay extra for them, but nevertheless, on with the questions...

"We had sex and he didn't call. How should I handle the situation?"

COSMO says:
Waiting for that first postsex phone call can be terribly nerve-tweaking, so save yourself the requisite is-he-or-isn't-he-gonna-call freak-out and give him a ring ‑- but just one. "There's no shame in calling to tell him that you had a great time," says Greg Behrendt, coauthor of He's Just Not That into You. Some men find it sexy if you call them, especially if they aren't totally convinced that you had a good time. However, most dudes will follow up if they're interested, so if you dial him and he seems distant (or you leave a message and he doesn't return the call), it's a clear sign that he's not planning to pursue things further. But at least now you know.

SHOSHANNA FUCKSALOT says:
Remember ladies, any good business woman has to be proactive. You can't just sit around hoping that fmr. clients call again to make a future appointment. Get on the phone, or better yet, have your personal assistant get on the phone, and follow up with the say, 250 guys that you fucked last week. Furthermore, after sex, I always like to give my paramours a "How Am I Doing?" card that sort of looks like this:

Please circle the option that best typified your sexual transaction with ________.

Strongly Agree / Agree / Neutral / Disagree / Blow Me

*I found my whore's demeanor to be kind and courteous.

*My whore's bedroom was neat, and I found only a negligible amt. of jizm, stray pubic hair, and discarded prophylactics during my visit.

*(if applic.) I found my whore's blowjobs to be conducted in a professional manner.

*The pricing my whore offered for her services was reasonable.

*I would like to stick my dick in this whore again.

After analyzing these cards, you should definitely know which men to expect follow-up calls from, and which men it may be better to forget.

"How can I ask a guy I'm dating if he's been tested for STDs without scaring him off?"

COSMO says:
The STD convo is one every Cosmo chick has to learn to weather. Even if your guy seems totally trustworthy and assures you he's clean, it's perfectly legit to request those test results on paper.
"If he balks, tell him that it has nothing to do with your feelings for him, nor is it a matter of trust," says relationship coach Susan Campbell, Ph.D., author of Truth in Dating: Finding Love by Getting Real. "Unfortunately, a lot of people don't even know they have an STD, so explain that it's just something you've decided to ask of all potential partners." Of course, if you ask him to get tested, be prepared to pony up your own results as well.

"IN-BOX" says:
You don't find yo'self turnin' tricks because you was a good test taker growin' up. So a' course my STD tests ain't too good and shit. Sheeeeeeeeet, I don't even know what STD stand for. Stupid Test of Diseases or sumpin'? Look, are you going ta' just talk to me or is you going to invite me into yo' car? I'll suck yo' crank so hard it'll pop like a can of Pringles. But, yo, youse got the carbon copy on your most recent Chlamydia test? It's the only one I ain't got yet. I'm a collector of STDs and am workin' on a complete set and shit. Holla.

"Do I have to admit the number of people I've slept with to him?"

COSMO says:
Hell, no. "If you're completely healthy ‑- meaning STD-free after being tested ‑- and he's aware of that, this is one of those gray areas in communication where you can keep it a little ambiguous," says Sherman. "If you think it's none of his business, say so or be vague and make a joke, like, 'More than Jessica Simpson and fewer than Jenna Jameson.'"

TATIANA says:
Only if you're bragging. Nothing emasculates a man quicker than learning that he's fucking a girl that herself has fucked some thousand-fold more people than him. And, if nothing else, sex is mainly for embarrassing others. Is it not? My personal credo: "Always try to patronize (def. 2) the man that is patronizing (def. 1) you!"

[Aaron note: I thought Jessica Simpson was as big of whore as Jenna Jameson though? Confused. Please advise, Cosmo.]

*Footnote for the laymans:
paÂ·tronÂ·ize ( P ) Pronunciation Key (ptr-nz, ptr-)
tr.v. paÂ·tronÂ·ized, paÂ·tronÂ·izÂ·ing, paÂ·tronÂ·izÂ·es
1. To go to as a customer, especially on a regular basis, (see prostitution).
2. To treat in a condescending manner.

"Should I reveal to someone I'm casually dating that I'm sleeping with someone else?"

COSMO says:
You don't have to, but it is the cool thing to do, especially if you expect the same from him. Don't be ashamed about the fact that you have options. "Tell him, 'Right now, I'm enjoying being single, being with you, and not being in a serious relationship,' " suggests Kerner.

If he prickles at the thought of you bedding another dude, tell him that you respect his feelings but that you want to take things slowly and just enjoy where you are right now, says Kerner. Then concentrate on showing him how into him you are. But be prepared: Your revelation could be a deal breaker, so gear up for the fact that he may choose to walk away...and he's entitled to.

TATIANA says:
The only "cool thing" to do is to make sure Guy A's dick is completely out of you before Guy B arrives.

"IN-BOX" says:
Look at Tatiana, thinking she all classy and shit just cause she got all her teeth. Fuck you, some guys like their dick gummed. But 2 answer the question, I haven't "bedded" a dude since George Clinton was Pres-o-dent. I do my fucking in back alleys. I ain't lying.

SHOSHANNA FUCKSALOT says:
Does any one got some weed?

Thanks girls! That was some awesome advice. Maybe the Cosmo empire can expand to one more periodical to sit aside Cosmo and CosmoGirl on the newsstand: CosmoWhore. I'd read it*.

More questions answered from prostitutes and other sex-savvy experts coming soon...

*Any one got the energy to mock up a potential CosmoWhore cover for me? (I'm lazy and unskilled).

Fuck Cosmo. For Sex Advice, Ask the Real Experts--Prostitutes

2006-02-17T13:20:00.000-05:00

It's always bothered me that "professional" sex advice seems to come from the worst of sources--people that never fuck. Er, people that HAVEN'T fucked since L.B.J. was in office. You know, like her...

And her...

Yeah, it may be cute to hear some great-grandma tell you that "makin' whoopee" with the "drapes closed" can lead to the kind of "intercourse" that "trips the lights fantastic," (and "would you like some hard candy?") but is that really helpful? So some of us poor souls then go to Cosmo in the hopes of getting our needed sex questions answered. But of course they're even worse than the dried-up-vagina geriatrics in offering the fuck advice you need. So I thought, why don't REAL experts give sex advice. REAL professionals. Hookers.
Allow me to introduce our sexperts:

THE STREETWALKER

Name: Stacey "In-Box" Gordon
Rate: B/J $25; Fuck $50; Anal (Negotiable)

Stationed on the 800 block of 10th Avenue when the temperature is above 50 Fahrenheit, and in a corner booth at the nearby Popeye's when the weather is inclement, In-Box's hobbies include getting slapped, doing crack, and watching "Grey's Anatomy" with her "girls."

THE BROTHEL WHORE

Name: Shoshanna Fucksalot
Rate: Countless options and prices to fit with any budget, please consult menu.

Mrs. Fucksalot (birthname Allison Cromwell) became employed at Madame Tussuad's Waxed Pussy House after answering a monster.com job posting on a whim. A bit of a jokester around the bordello, Shoshanna spends her spare time taking S.T.D. tests and changing her bedsheets. She has a pet beaver named Vagina.

THE HOTEL ESCORT WHORE

Name: Tatiana
Rate: 1 hour "anything goes til you spurt" $200

Tatiana (not her real name, nor is she actually pictured here) can be any race you wish, any age you wish, even have a penis if you wish, but there's one thing you can't wish for--nor even pay the $200 for--her to be hot. See the picture of "her" that you're looking at in the back of the free newspaper you picked up at the deli? Take that picture, crumple it into a ball, spill some coffee grinds on it, poke a few holes in it, draw a terrible tattoo on the pictured woman's cleavage, and eliminate all of the photo's self-respect (if possible)--now that's what Tatiana will look like upon her arrival at your hotel room. Don't be too shocked. And since you're wasted, I'm sure you won't be. Tatiana plys her trade in the classiest of Manhattan hotel districts, the "ritzy" Madison Square Garden district. Don't worry, the concierge (ha ha) at the Hotel Pennsylvania doesn't mind. He's trying to dispose of an OD'ing heroin junky.

Now that you've met my bitches, on with the questions...(COMING SOON)

TEAM ANISTON OR TEAM COSMO?

2006-02-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

Question: Notice any similarities?

Answer: Both have sex with lots of very hot men.

I.A.A.C.G.L. Gets Called Out By a Former Cosmo-naut

2006-02-06T00:01:00.000-05:00

Well, last week saw our blog featured on Gawker, MSN and Nerve among several others and, predictably, traffic soared--yet, no backlash, not even a murmur from a current Cosmo employee, or please, please, Lawd please, a Cosmo higher-up. And this, despite the fact that dozens and dozens of IP addresses from Hearst Corp* (yeah, we know you read our blog) have viewed the site. A current Cosmo employee mole that may be working for me in the future (interview to come soon...) has even informed me that the great Brooke Le Poer Trench has read the blog post about her. Yet still no response. Please, other Cosmo insiders, hell, other Cosmo folks that want to defend your terrible monthly advice, we very much look forward to hearing from you--email us, your anonymity will remain secure, I promise.

For now, though, we'll focus on a former Cosmo-naut that contacted me and who which I'm still having a very nice conversation with, which I'm not allowed to discuss further at this point. However, she did bring up a terrific point which I'd like to address. After a heated exchange she asked me, actually told me:

"...you are either a jerk or you don't get laid very often."

A very valid point. How can I make fun of Cosmo's terrible sex advice if I'm less sex-savvy than them? (Note: I make no bones about be a jerk--I very much am). Making fun of Cosmo's advice if I could offer none better myself would be like a big fat guy making fun of and brutally critiquing all the phenomenal athletes in the NFL. Oh wait...

Len Pasquarelli, ESPN.com fat blowhard.

Jason Whitlock, enormously fat critic of in-shape athletes/slash people that can actually touch their toes.

OK, fair enough--but, nevertheless, I KNOW what I'm talking about. So I encourage readers of this blog to please send in any sex questions and we'll answer them with veracious advice, good advice, not the shit way that Cosmo would and does.

Send sex questions to CosmoAaron.

(And send questions about how to be a jerk to the same address.)

*The Hearst Corporation publishes Cosmopolitan along with such other now-shitty magazines as Redbook, Good Housekeeping, and Fellatio Insider, all the while William Randolph Hearst rolls around in his grave. Rosebud!

Tattoos. Not Just For Skanks. Also for the Douchebags that Bone Them.

2006-02-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

In addition to being trite as hell, tattoos can clue you in to how big of tool yo' man is. I'll give you some insight on what male tattoos really mean, and why drinking before you get one is always a bad idea.*

Actually, men that get crosses, stars, or Buddhist symbols are fucking banal cliches showing respect to their ability to flip through the sample book at the local tattoo parlor with their "brahs" moments before deciding on what needs to be on their body for life. These guys are about as creative as people that quote Napoleon Dynamite in social situations. (And don't you love how Cosmo gets a quote from a motherfucking PhD in assessing what tattoos mean? I mean, seriously, a fucking PhD? Why? Oh right, because most people that waste their time going to additional schooling to get doctorates really have nothing worthwhile to contribute to society or they'd probably get off their asses and contribute it as opposed to going to school for another million years and then writing books about the (incorrect) social significance of barbwire tattoos.) As for that guy's tattoo leading you to believe he "breaks them (rules) all in the bedroom," he certainly does. Sodomy with another man is a crime in 38 states.

The female equivalent of the "spiritual" tattoo is the Chinese letters on the small of her back. Real deep man.

I'm not an Incan or Mayan or even Cherokee scholar or anything, but I'm pretty sure a set of parallel lines are not the war symbols of any indigenous tribe. They look more like one of those brain teasers, you know, Which line is longer?:

But seriously, wouldn't it be so much badder ass--so much fucking sexier--if this homo was covered in brainteasers? You know, an Escher or two, maybe that one that looks like an old lady one way/a young lady the other way, the fork with too few of prongs that never connect to the base...shit like that:

Or how bout if the guy was covered in one of those cool-in-the-early-90s Magic Eye things?:

(If you stare at this Magic Eye tattoo long enough, a douchebag will appear)

These would make a great bunch of tattoos, and immediately tell you, unequivocally, that the tattoo canvas was a man that you should never have sex with. Instead, it's a little tougher to figure out that one shouldn't have sex with Mr. Tribal Band and his "ubermasculinity." And I bet there's one hold that barred in that guy's lovemaking life...other girl's vagina holds...I mean, holes.

Now we come to this guy:

Maybe you can't see but he's covered head to toe in Disney tattoos, Mickey, Goofy, Aladdin, and Pinocchio's right in his groinal region. (Note: pray to god that this guy doesn't lie when he's around you. Pray.) And can I just say how happy I am that Cosmo included a less-than-toned guy in this month's issue. Kudos Cosmo. Kudos. Oh yeah, and what do these tattoos say about this guy? That he's never been laid by a willing participant.

The Asian Character. Man, how fucking stupid is it for a non-Asian to get that? It's a slap in the face. Like I'd get some Ebonics writing on my bicep or something.

Actually, that does look pretty cool. Maybe I will get that tattoo. It might inspire a trend. What would Cosmo say Ebonics-writing tattoos tell you about the guy with them? That he has a huge black schlong and won't pay your child support after he knocks you up? Let us only hope.

And for the record, any Asian tattoo no doubt translates to "Extreme Fag." Yes, Alaskans have 50 different words for snow, Mandarin has 1250 characters for "raging homo." T'is a beautiful language.

OK, seriously, is that not the worst, most Crackerjack-prize temporary tattoo you've ever seen in your life? If I was Kate--first of all I'd be pissed that I was a guy yet my parents named me Kate--and secondly I would dump this dude in a second for not even having the courage (and the love for me) to get a dirty needle perma-tattoo on his body.

And that was another terrible article by Cosmo. So now I'll recommend a few awesome tattoos of my own. Most of which I used to have before I had to get them lasered off in order to get hired by my current employer (The Latin Kings street gang--South Bronx division). I'll also tell you what they mean.

*Hebrew Characters
This tattoo is a salute to my heritage while also letting you know that I'm circumcised, have an annoying mother, and will never ever never have sex with you if you're a Jewish women.

*The Meta-Tattoo
For the irony lover, this tattoo denotes that you wittily mock girls that love to get tattoos on the smalls of their backs, while also showing that you're into choke-play--if you don't understand, don't ask.

*The Subterfuge Tat
This one is all about deception. By getting a tattoo of a hilariously small penis on your stomach, right above your actual penis, you totally fool the girl. True, you may only have a 4 inch schlong, but side-by-side with the 2 inch penis tattoo right above it, you look like John fuckin' Holmes. The prositutes' intense cries of ecstasy will prove how much you've fooled them!

One final note: remember tattoo-ing is no game. You may question whether or not you're a loser, but it's hard for the general public to ever know. When you decide to get a stereotypical tattoo, however, every one in the world now knows that you suck. So be safe. Next week we'll discuss what your penis and tongue piercings mean.

*I love that the photographer of these soft-core male porn shots is a guy named Butch. Bootch. How big of boner did he have on his tripod while taking these?

I CAN HELP WOMEN! My Cosmopolitan Job Application

2006-01-31T21:04:00.000-05:00

It's really starting to seem like Cosmo wants me to work for them. Call it kismet, call it some other obscure word that I can't really define, but it would seem that the stars are aligning for me to work there. To wit...

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,

[Cosmo Aaron]

P.S. What is the dress around the office? Are jean shorts acceptable?

Attention All Bad Boys!!! Help Women Out.

2006-01-26T15:00:00.000-05:00

My dream has finally come true...COSMO is affording me this most valuable opportunity in allowing me--and any one else who has a penis for that matter--to dispense our own thoughts on the fairer sex in an upcoming issue of their glossy rag.

To wit:

"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.

Cosmo Birthday Girl

2006-01-22T00:08:00.000-05:00

Is 16 the legal age to start reading Cosmo's sex advice?

Case File #1: Brooke Le Poer Trench – writer/pollster/shrew

2006-01-18T23:29:00.000-05:00

LE POER TRENCH

(http://www.npg.org.uk/live/OC_Data/images/websm/0/4/mw01304.jpg)

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.

(http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Crete/9923/trench.html)

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:

http://cleo.ninemsn.com.au/cleo/quiz/quiz65.asp

http://cleo.ninemsn.com.au/cleo/quiz/quiz58.asp

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:

FOOTNOTES
*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.

An Expose

2006-01-16T13:00:00.000-05:00

INTRODUCTION:

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…)

Women: Glamour Reveals the Secrets to Man-Speak!!!

2006-01-05T23:17:00.000-05:00

Cosmopolitan sucks, true, but lest you think we will only rip on them, remember, they're kinda good compared to some of the other women's glossies. For instance, we know that no one that writes Cosmo articles is getting laid, but they probably get an occasionally feel-up or handjob. Glamour magazine, on the other hand, not so much. I think the sex advice articles in Glamour must be written by virgins they're so goddamned terrible. No, they're even worse than that--they must be written by virgins trying to explain sex to some 90 year old lady.

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.

What?!

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").

"THE T.L.C."
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

2006-01-05T22:49:00.000-05:00

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 cosmosbadadvice@gmail.com.

What Guys Are Dying To Know About Women

2006-01-04T21:12:00.000-05:00

I didn't even realize how ridiculous yet hilarious Cosmopolitan was until I was taking a shit at a one-night stand's apartment a few weeks ago and stumbled upon an issue in the bathroom...would you believe that so-called MEN actually write in and ask questions of Cosmopolitan? Unreal.

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

2006-01-04T00:40:00.000-05:00

Cosmopolitan gives terrible, terrible advice to the stupid women who write in to ask them questions. My answers may not be more helpful, but they're certainly funnier. (And probably more helpful too)
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)

Women on the Street: What Kind Of Man Are You Fucking?

2006-01-02T18:28:00.000-05:00

DOUCHES OF THE MONTH

2005-12-30T20:39:00.000-05:00

Every month D.A.A.C.G.L. will select the biggest douche that has chosen to forsake his dignity to appear in a women's glossy. In honor of our kick-off for this now-prestigious award, this month we will have two winners. Their joint prize is a night of passionate sex to be photographed for the pages of GloryHole Digest.
Not that this homo-douche would know, but most guys fuck women side-by-side because we're lazy (and it's the best position to watch TV in without your girl noticing.) Sex shouldn't be a workout, and side-by-side is without doubt the low-impact Jazzercise of fucking.

I mean, does this joke not write itself? Of course this two-bit Orlando Bloom-looking douche prefers to be banged from behind. Hargave further explains, "In this position he can't make eye contact, so when you cum all over his back, he won't feel it until Mr. Side-by-Side's man paste has dripped down all the way to gay(er?) Orlando Bloom's pink pajama pants with the sheep on them."

(images from Cosmopolitan magazine)

50 Fun Ways to Get Closer

2005-12-26T19:28:00.000-05:00

(images from Cosmopolitan magazine)

How To Know If He's Hot For You

2005-12-25T18:04:00.000-05:00

Uncertain if your crush is interested? Read this advice from Cosmopolitan and you'll immediately be certain--certain that your crush certainly isn't interested in your sorry Cosmopolitan advice-following ass.

“Mojo magic”? Are you kidding me?! This is why no one at Cosmopolitan gets laid—because not only do they use alliterative foolishness, but they actually believe that guys have a thing called “mojo,” which rises and falls like well water. Well, I’ll tell you what, adult males aren’t worried about rejection—male pattern baldness, our fantasy QB getting injured, and unwanted pregnancies, maybe—but none of us are worried about stupid whores that use the term “mojo magic” rejecting us. Especially when we’re drunk off our ass.

Meet Aaron*, 26, the guy writing what you are currently reading: “Yo, I went out with Jessica too. Bitch had the stupidest glasses I’ve ever seen in my life. I kept telling her that, No, it’s not cool that your glasses tint darker when you go outside in the sun. But, she kept playfully slapping me and going, "You love me!" Actually, I didn’t. Women with glasses make my mojo magic dip to critical levels.”

*Names haven’t been changed because I don’t give a fuck

I am currently sitting on Tom’s $4,000 couch and let me say, he had every right to brag about this couch. It is fucking phat, yo. Wow, Tom, you must really be doing well to purchase this couch made out of the skin of Cosmopolitan's editors. A couch that not only massages your back, but also massages your ego which is so insecure and lacking in mojo magic because some stupid “cute girl” didn’t immediately take you into the coat room and suck you off after you were so kind to as tell her about your awesome $4,000 couch. What the hell, Tom, I’ll blow you.

No, a guy is prying into your past because he's sick of meeting wanton sluts who's previous life included gang bangs and bukake parties. Seth doesn't care that you used to date some i-banker tool from Morgan Stanley, no, Seth cares that your vagina is a primordial stew of chlamydia, herpes, and as-yet-undiscovered crustaceous life forms. I’m not worried about a future with you, I’m worried about a future in which I still have a functional Johnson.

Let's be serious, no guy in the history of the world plays hard to get. Jake wasn't worried about coming across as pathetic, Jake was worried about spending some $200 on dinner on this trick, then getting drunk on house red, banging her and then waking up from his fugue some 4 months later with some terrible girlfriend constantly nagging him: "Jaaaaaaaake, why won't you make love to me?! Is it because your mojo magic is so low?"

LISTEN UP Cosmopolitan, just because you yet again sent an email proposition to some ex-frat boy you met in a Murray Hill bar, and yet again he blew you off, does not mean you need to write an article about the subject, does not mean he's playing "hard to get." He's playing "NEVER to get."

(images from Cosmopolitan magazine)

Women's Sizzling Come-Ons

2005-12-25T13:15:00.000-05:00

2005-12-24T00:18:00.000-05:00