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.