Rants & Ruminations
By The Editors
Slowly but surely, the word fingerbang has become my Favorite Word of 2005. And, although the feat has yet to be accomplished, this magical word should be among the final contenders for the illustrious title in the upcoming year. It has that type of staying power.
Despite that, I am not going to name any of my children fingerbang. It’s not because the word describes an act that fits somewhere between third base and home plate, but because others, upon reading their names, will think they’re Asian. And I don’t want my children having to deal with the stigma of being fond of math.
Since I’m on the topic, I think it’s time to update the Sexual Base-path. Back in high school, it was simple. First base was a kiss; second, any groping of the mammary glands, third base, vaginal or penile contact (It was never clear where dry humping fell) and home plate was actual penis-in-vagina intercourse.
But what happens in this anal-infused world we live in? Do we make a special designation for rear entry; maybe name it “back in the dugout” or “behind home plate”? Or do we make the dirty deed (literally) home plate, move intercourse back to 3rd, and follow suite around, taking kissing completely out of the equation?
Whatever’s settled on, all I hope is that it gives the super-conservative Christians good material for when they unveil their new advertising campaign promoting Sphincter-Fucking (probably not the term they’ll use) as an alternative to birth control and abortion.
Go America!
- Rick
Lately I have been going through an “I hate my friends” phase. I don’t really know why but I have found myself fantasizing about punching them out or watching them burn alive. Is that bad? I don’t think so.
For some reason when I am angry at myself or over something that has happened to me, instead of looking inwards and trying to figure out the source of my resentment, I lash out at innocent bystanders; namely, my friends. It has worked effectively at channeling my anger elsewhere for years. I don’t believe in therapy or counseling, I believe in blame and eruptions.
You had a shitty day? Bite your boy/girlfriend’s head off and make it their fault. If you are a master manipulator or a creative arguer, you can turn anything around and shift the blame onto someone else. You got stuck in horrible traffic while going to a friend’s event/party? When you get there, make sure you let them know that it isn’t your fault for spending an extra half-hour applying make-up, but rather, it’s their fault for having this party in some Godforsaken bumble-fuck town at some ungodly hour, and next time they are hosting a charity benefit, they better fucking think of your needs first. That’ll teach them.
If for some reason you aren’t successful at blaming someone else and they begin to see through your little rouse, start bawling uncontrollably about how you are so confused about your life and what you want and you don’t know who you are anymore and you want to just curl up and die. It works every time.
Fuck friends!
-Tara
Slowly but surely, the word fingerbang has become my Favorite Word of 2005. And, although the feat has yet to be accomplished, this magical word should be among the final contenders for the illustrious title in the upcoming year. It has that type of staying power.
Despite that, I am not going to name any of my children fingerbang. It’s not because the word describes an act that fits somewhere between third base and home plate, but because others, upon reading their names, will think they’re Asian. And I don’t want my children having to deal with the stigma of being fond of math.
Since I’m on the topic, I think it’s time to update the Sexual Base-path. Back in high school, it was simple. First base was a kiss; second, any groping of the mammary glands, third base, vaginal or penile contact (It was never clear where dry humping fell) and home plate was actual penis-in-vagina intercourse.
But what happens in this anal-infused world we live in? Do we make a special designation for rear entry; maybe name it “back in the dugout” or “behind home plate”? Or do we make the dirty deed (literally) home plate, move intercourse back to 3rd, and follow suite around, taking kissing completely out of the equation?
Whatever’s settled on, all I hope is that it gives the super-conservative Christians good material for when they unveil their new advertising campaign promoting Sphincter-Fucking (probably not the term they’ll use) as an alternative to birth control and abortion.
Go America!
- Rick
----------
Lately I have been going through an “I hate my friends” phase. I don’t really know why but I have found myself fantasizing about punching them out or watching them burn alive. Is that bad? I don’t think so.
For some reason when I am angry at myself or over something that has happened to me, instead of looking inwards and trying to figure out the source of my resentment, I lash out at innocent bystanders; namely, my friends. It has worked effectively at channeling my anger elsewhere for years. I don’t believe in therapy or counseling, I believe in blame and eruptions.
You had a shitty day? Bite your boy/girlfriend’s head off and make it their fault. If you are a master manipulator or a creative arguer, you can turn anything around and shift the blame onto someone else. You got stuck in horrible traffic while going to a friend’s event/party? When you get there, make sure you let them know that it isn’t your fault for spending an extra half-hour applying make-up, but rather, it’s their fault for having this party in some Godforsaken bumble-fuck town at some ungodly hour, and next time they are hosting a charity benefit, they better fucking think of your needs first. That’ll teach them.
If for some reason you aren’t successful at blaming someone else and they begin to see through your little rouse, start bawling uncontrollably about how you are so confused about your life and what you want and you don’t know who you are anymore and you want to just curl up and die. It works every time.
Fuck friends!
-Tara
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