*ziiiiiip*

Among the pornographic gold (not literally, and yet kind of – I didn’t know they published golden showers) given to me last weekend by Jen were two issues of Penthouse Forums; the magazines filled with stories that start “Dear Penthouse, I never thought it would happen to me but ..”. While there are some pictures in these magazines, they’re all about the stories which is great – some of my favourite Smuttons are the ones with snippets from trashy erotica.

For the last week, I’ve been randomly Tweeting/blogging the same phrase over and over:

The silence was broken only by the sound of his best friend’s zipper.

This, my friends, is the single greatest sentence ever written.

It’s from a run-of-the-mill Penthouse Forum letter: he licked this, she sucked that, she inserted slot B into slot B, he emptied various things all over the place, she was insatiable, he was able to go five or six times in one session – but the writer obviously missed their calling as a mastermind of hardboiled fiction. The story ended with everyone spent and sweaty, blissed out on the orgasmic aftermath and enjoying the peaceful stillness, until the silence was broken by the aforementioned sound of his best friend’s zipper.

I *love* this line. It’s pure pulp fiction GOLD. I want to get it printed out on 10” high wall decals and put it above the love seat in the living room. I desperately wish I was clever enough to come up with a snappy loaded line to end my posts with; something that someone like me would find hilarious enough to quote on a regular basis like some kind of drunken douche bag demanding not to be tazed, bro. It’s good to have goals, I suppose.

All this raunchy content is doing my libido no good whatsoever – Ed is out of town for 5 days, and I keep talking about spending my weekend fucking strangers. I’m kidding, I think. I told Ed he had free rein to do as many drunken bridesmaids and/or sexy insurance brokers as he wanted, but he seemed rather put off by the thought. I still haven’t come to terms with his persistent, perpetual heterosexuality – and now he won’t even exercise THAT? Goddamnit. Being all talk does me NO GOOD WHATSOEVER.

Why must my vagina be thwarted at every turn?

best friend? is that you?

i ought to club them and eat their bones

I’ve been sitting on this – not literally; that would be sticky – for a couple of days now, waiting to get a picture. I still haven’t managed to get one – something about always being on two wheels and in traffic when I see them – but more and more of them are going up, and I want to strike while load is hot.

The fourth Shrek movie is out in theatres sometime soon, and McDonald’s has the licensing tie-in. They’re bringing out toys and collectable glasses and Shrek-themed food, like McNuggets and McFlurries. This is all fine and good – it’s popular with kids; let’s make some money – but I really, really have to question the executive who approved the marketing plan:

Giant billboards all over town with Shrek’s smirking face, a close-up of a chunky green and white Mint Aero McFlurry, and the text “Mint Ogre-Load

Really?

NO ONE thought this might be misconstrued as something far less innocent than intended? I know I have a mind so contaminated with filth that I very well ought to come with a warning sign in case there are any sensitive mind-readers in the area, but STILL. I’m torn between amusement and quease – don’t think about Shrek facials too hard, especially this early in the morning. It’s just not good for the stomach.

And with that off my chest, the rest of my day can only be full of awesome.

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