Impossible, Yet Sexy, Party Tricks

Among a mature crowd, attention is gained through party tricks that incite the rampant imaginations of peers. (Keep in mind, this is a mature crowd, but by no means a classy selection of people.)

A trick we are all familiar with is when one takes a cherry from their midori sour and ties the stem in a knot using only their tongue and teeth. This trick inspires the party to imagine that the performer is a very bored person with ample amounts of time to learn mundane tricks, and will likely be grateful for any company.

A party I attended had the appropriate ingredients for party tricks to break out at any moment: men with beer and women in want of beer.

The scene featured my friend, Cameron, sitting beside me with a bottle of beer tucked between his thighs. His girlfriend appeared to him, drawn forth by the call of weak alcohol. An idea was all at once conceived between expressions of the eye, and she knelt on the floor with the intention of drinking the beer from the lewd location in which it was placed.

Tipping the bottle for a drink would require adjusting the bottle into a flaccid, and thus less alluring, position. A moment's hesitation revealed that there was some confusion as to how to do this in a sexy manner. With entirely diplomatic and helpful motives (do not question me) I suggested, "You should put your lips over the mouth of the bottle and suck hard enough to lift the liquid."

No sooner suggested than it was done. The dame placed her mouth over the bottle, and her cheeks hollowed. The party stilled and everyone watched in intrigue at her earnest attempts.

Unsurprisingly, the suction of her mouth was unable to conquer Earth's gravitational pull on the beer and she was unable to imbibe the beverage.

Cameron admitted that had she been able to, it may have been more of a terrifying display than an alluring performance. He hypothesized that had her suction pressure been so immense, felatio could very well be an excruciating act administered by the most terrible vacuum/plunger to exist. His semen might have been extracted immediately with one soul crushing suck.

Of course there are multiple horrifying alternatives to imagine. Currently the internet provides few helpful sources for what will happen to a delicate appendage such as a penis in a vacuum chamber.

With my current knowledge I could predict a reasonable amount of expansion and my influence from low budget action movies lead me to imagine the penis promptly expanding and exploding. Of course it is important to remember that the boiling point of liquids lowers in tandem with pressure so that in this vacuum the blood that once filled this unfortunate appendage will immediately be converted into a red steamy mist most suitable for this level of carnage.

The best case scenario is played out in this video featuring a man formed from marshmallows, expanding rapidly within a vacuum. He reaches his maximum girth at which point he pops and deflates. Do not let the content smile drawn on his face deceive you, no person would be smiling in the event of a sexual favor becoming a sadistic act of science.

As you have no doubt realized, this entry is not a sexual examination of party tricks. (I may venture to say it is a scientific analysis of a failed innuendo.) On the offhand chance that this is an extremely titillating party fetish of yours, I leave you with the knowledge that there are many videos of marshmallows in vacuum chambers, and I ask that you use this knowledge for good.

What to Expect When Buying a House

As you enter the market as a first time home buyer, you are likely to face trials and hardships unlike those faced previously in your life. These challenges will be greater, larger, as large as a house in fact. The challenge is the house.

An accurate representation of discovering the house of your dreams. Upon closer inspection you notice the other interested buyers checking the hearth and you resentfully turn your back and leave, muttering under your breath that this house is nothing but a harlot (or perhaps bordello would be more suitable for such metaphor?).



First you will shop for a house and you will find it easier than shopping for a date. You are allowed to be shallow and disregard a house for her manicured lawn, shaggy carpets, outdated piping. You also don't need to wait for a house to be 18 to make a move, which makes the entire process easier as well.

After a long day of searching, you will inevitably discover her, the house of your dreams. She is wide in all the right places and when you roll into the garage it is a perfect fit. Whoever she was with previously had horrible tastes and has adorned the walls with terrible colors, her carpet does not match her drapes.

However, you are certain she'll change for you, you know that you can make this work. You keep a casual air about you, not wanting to seem desperate, but you listen keenly to the details of the house's history.

You leave at a respectable hour and you play hard-to-get for a few days. When the desire is too great, you pounce with the vigor of a wild animal upon your realtor. You passionately declare that you must have her (the house of your dreams) at all costs! Except in truth, you admit, not at ALL costs. You are reasonable, after-all, and you are pretty sure you can ask for a lower price considering the neglected lawn and some general maintenance required.

You sign a disheartening amount of papers that remind you that this isn't all passion and youth, this is a legally binding commitment. With one more gaze upon your house, you know she is worth it and you drive forward, signing your name everywhere and leaving no line unmarked! Then you sign the papers again as the realtor explains you only sign on the lines labeled "buyer".

Suddenly, you have become the hopeless romantic gazing at the house's listing on the internet, waiting for that call. Fear not, the call will come, and you will be informed that you did not get the house. You do not feel the impact of this news right away, until you realize there is no consolation prize, such as the house's less attractive but really sturdy best friend house.

You are left with nothing and you have the unique sensation of knowing how it feels to be rejected by a house. Or perhaps your offer has been rejected by the bank that owns the house, which metaphorically speaking, functions as the house's conservative parents who don't think you are good enough for their little investment.

Both rejections are insulting in different ways. You try to find ways to distract yourself, but you are pestered by reminders from your apartment's leasing office to renew your lease, forcing you to prolong a failing relationship another month while you look for "the one".

My final word on the matter is that there are no sad love songs about houses to console you. Not even in the country genre.

New Friends

I read in an article that members of small tribes in South America, and sometimes participants of church groups in other parts of the world, may have longer life spans. It was believed that social interaction can keep a person "young", or at least more active.

I never had many friends, and in fact on once occasion when I was informed that my friend was on the phone to contact me, I replied "Which friend? I have two." This article presented the idea to me that I could perhaps benefit from having a surplus of friends.

I went forth with the intention of making many friends. I introduced myself to strangers, I participated in social events and I introduced myself to more strangers at these events. In the time since I made this decision to collect friends, I have developed a grand network.

One evening, one of my original two friends and I considered the social circle I now belonged to. She inquired, "Now that you have these friends, what will you do with them?"

Perhaps this step of the plan was poorly constructed. The article I had read lacked clear instructions on how to secure a long life by having a social community.

Finally I replied, "I will harvest their life energy and live forever, I suppose."

Friends are a valuable source when it comes to having a long and worthy life.

Awkward Interaction

I did not always have this social grace you see here, to talk to myself, about myself on a regular basis. In fact, there was a time when I was entirely awkward, especially around other people.

From my socialization with my pet dogs and birds, I picked up an affectionate gesture in which I bump the tip of my nose to the nose of someone else. My dogs of course understood the act and responded to our noses bumping with much love and joy. My birds understood my intentions and nuzzled in return.

When my pets overwhelmed me with a feeling of adoration, I would bump our noses in a wordless gesture of my appreciation. My pets understood me well.

Alas, the world is a large place and is often filled with people. I found myself at a social gathering in which I was talking to people, rather than animals. I found myself talking to a young woman and she was indeed a shining example of mastering social surroundings. She introduced me to her lover, she told me about her dreams and goals, she shared several hobbies and we enjoyed a good conversation.

This woman told me a marvelous joke and at that instant I decided I had all intentions of being this person's friend. She was smart and witty and wonderful, and she deserved a bump on the nose.

I leaned forward to bump her nose with my own and she was understandably unfamiliar with the gesture. She responded by putting her hands up and cautiously leaning away with a loud but firm "Woah!"

The party became a bit quiet and everyone turned to stare, finding me leaning forward into her personal space. Making friends became a little bit more difficult after that.

Valentines day

Numerous complaints arise that Valentines day today is only a hallmark event to give loved ones gifts. To counter this, we can celebrate Valentines day in the customary manner!


Lets kill a religious man-
Three Saints, all known as a variation of Valentine, were executed supposedly at this time centuries ago. Respecting their sacrifice in annual religious events has been a custom in the Christian community long before Valentine's day was associated with anything romantic.

This year, one Chris Sepulvado will be executed on February 13th. He is a deeply religious man that boasts about his faith in God and the church. He has made numerous appeals for his life but he will almost certainly be dead this Valentine's day.  His crime? 20 years ago he murdered 6 year old Allen Mercer with a screw driver.

Admittedly, we can't quite call this years sacrifice a martyr when he is in fact a terrible man who likely deserves every moment of hell he believes is coming to him. This Valentines day we will essentially be celebrating his death.

The media celebration of course has different plans, so by all means, celebrate with chocolate in heart shaped boxes if that is how you respond to executions.

A Small Friend for a Small Man

As a previous entry illustrated, my rabbit developed adult needs and interests. Considering that my rabbit is more of a hermit than I am and never goes anyplace to meet people, it was up to me to find some outlet for my small friend's sexual frustrations.

A friend of my own accompanied me to a retail outlet where we could observe various options for my animal.

"Invest in a penguin" suggested one friend. "There aren't arms and knobs and tails to get in the way, they like that." There was apparently more of a science to this than I anticipated.

I found a penguin chick that was small and fluffy and a very good size for the rabbit. But it was in that young "just hatched" phase and I wasn't sure if my rabbit liked them so young. I like to believe he prefers his toy factory partners to have a little more maturity.

There was an emperor penguin which was a bit larger and had some nice curves, but I doubted my rabbit would be inclined towards the sexual dimorphism patterns of humans. In fact, I liked to believe my rabbit was not a fan of inter-species copulation at all.

The decision was made to find the best stuffed rabbit available. Many options were brought forward. The first stuffed rabbit we came across was a shy looking thing with a modest mousy color. I quickly spotted dust bunnies clinging to the fur that told of a much harder life than the innocent tale her face implied.

Friends brought before me additional options. The next rabbit to face my judgement was a soft creature suitable for nuzzling a small child's cheek, though her position implied she was into more adult activities. She certainly looked like she was in need of a home and some stability, and perhaps my rabbit and her would have gotten along fine. Yet, she seemed like the type to want to whisper sweet nothings and look tenderly into the eyes of one another, with her legs spread eagle. I distinctly recall my rabbit preferred to not make eye contact during the second and a half that he is sexually engaged. He is the "hit it and quit it" type, and it would certainly break this gentle stuffed animal's heart to subject her to such usage.

The last two to be presented to me were a close tie. One was of a similar breed to my rabbit, modestly bowed like a round little pod of rabbit fluff. But ultimately... I made the call where it needed to be made. I decided on the rabbit with the preferable rear. If my rabbit's tastes are anything like mine then he would appreciate the curves of this rabbit, no matter the fact that the stuffed animal is at least twice as large as he. "More to love" lets say.

The prize was thus delivered to my rabbit and my comrades and I retreated to allow him to get to know her in privacy. I couldn't be certain how long it would take for  this rabbit and his new mate to reach that level of the relationship. After all, I have had my rabbit for upwards of two years before he made such inclinations towards my arm.

Some hours later my comrade crossed paths with the little rabbits in courtship and discovered my pet mounting his fuzzy partner in the most vigorous and eager manner. We all came to watch and see for ourselves as well as to cheer him on- he did not stop, possessing no sense of decency or privacy when in such a state.

By now we have long since lost track of how many times the two have sealed their union with fornication, but I have have been concerned from time to time that the rabbit may be so interested in his companion he could forget to eat. If that be the case I should congratulate myself for being such an excellent match-maker.

Siren Rape - The Unending Alarm

There is no way I can adequately express how incredibly horrible an alarm that will not go off can be. I would not wish on anyone to endure the same duration of horrible, ear-splitting, shrill, repetitive tones calling you to your death- people certainly don't tolerate it more than a polite second when I begin singing.

If you wish to follow along, with what I had in mind, I will allow you to click here and listen to this siren as you continue to read.

9:45 : A car begins to emit its shrill siren call mid morning. The tranquility of my home is instantly shattered and whatever peace I had found in my morning exercises was quickly taken from me.

10:00 : The rhythm of the alarm was starting to bother me, seeping past my ears to the point my brain seemed to pulsate to its pitch. I hoped that a shower would relax me and the sound of water would cleanse my ears, but in fact the bathing room functioned as an echo chamber that drove the siren deeper into my skull.

10:45 : I do my best to drown the sound of the siren out by playing piano. The rhythm of the siren is infectious and prevents me from playing any music at the appropriate pace, all music takes on a different beat and wails painfully after the sound of the siren.

11:30 : My patience wears thin. A friend has contacted me to ask my well-being and I extend pleasantries only for a short while. I soon after accuse them of causing me a painful head ache. They place the blame on the alarm and surely, after the friend has left the head ache remains, as well as the alarm.

12:00 : I begin seeking shelter in corners of my home. I try to find someplace that is safe from the alarm. In my frantic pursuit of peace I hide behind a couch, I slither beneath the bed sheets, I finally burrow into the back of a deep walk in closet where I seek shelter behind a dresser. But it is to no avail, the siren reaches me wherever I go.

12:45 : Amidst my struggles to find peace in my own home the siren finally stops. The shrill call has penetrated me deeply and it takes some time for the echoes to leave my body. The sensory overload has induced such strange associations with the new silence. It is so pleasant I am almost certain the silence tastes like fresh water and feels like the erotic touch of a flower petal on sensitive skin, stroking the surface of my brain.

12:50 : I lay prone on the carpet, soaking up the tactile sensations of silence when I am assaulted by a foreboding "beep". The Siren then begins again.

13:30 :  I look out my window with an unseen pleading stare to my neighbors. Am I alone in this suffering? Is no one else tortured by this grating cry? I can feel my ear buds effectively trying to crawl out of my ears through the wriggling passages of my inner ear.

14: 30 : Any faith in my neighbors has been lost. I feel rage, the song of the siren gives me an uncanny thirst for blood, or rather destruction. Actually vengeance, I'm pretty sure I feel a desire for vengeance. For the continuous assault on my ear-holes I must reign terror on the owner of this car. I found myself in my yard, unsure how I got there. My hand strokes the long neck of a steel peacock that ornaments my porch. I think how it would do an adequate amount of damage to this person's automobile. Alas, a voice of reason calls from the back of my head, barely a whisper through the screams of the siren. The reason tells me that violence is not the answer. After effectively 5 hours of this nonsense, this is a ridiculous notion, but I listen to it.

14:45 : A friend manages to convince me to call the authorities and make a noise complaint. It should be mentioned that I had full intentions, on this day, to not contact much of the outside world- a decision that this car was pointedly ignoring. I overcame this decision and finally contacted authorities but with little promise that something would happen. Again, I was alone, with my head, and the siren.

15:00 : I discover that my screams block the sound of the siren. As long as I scream loudly, and persistently, I can force the sound of the siren out of my ears, and during a long scream I can force the imprint of the siren out of my mind. I bask in this relief and I lay in my bed, screaming. Each long throat wrenching cry brings minor relief, but as each scream dwindles and allows the siren to retake it's hold the insanity and pain regains its footing. The length and duration of continuous screams exhausts my mind and body of oxygen, now I fight to stave off the siren, and the vertigo.

15:45 : I receive a phone call asking me if the sound is persisting. I cannot recall what I said, I am sure it was unintelligible nonsense. I was failing to accurately string together thoughts and sentences. Words were what fit the rhythm of the siren now.

16:00 : A police officer walks along side the car, summoning a young man along with him. The owner of the car opens his automobile and spends 10 minutes with his head in the trunk, disassembling the alarm. I'm not sure if 10 minutes with his head in the belly of the beast is enough to accurately punish him for this noisy instrument left in front of my yard.

16:25 : Silence is restored. It felt so good, I'm pretty sure if ears were capable of fornication this would be the way an ear feels upon experiencing climax. Hm, I don't remember having any protection during that ear-assault. I should probably get myself tested for Ear AIDS.