There's Your Karma, Ripe As Peaches

South African Hookers Jinx The Three Lions

While having my senses abused by Joe Morgan during the Yankees/BoSux game last night, I noticed that Peter Gammons' teeth are an amazing shade of butter. I know he's this legend and all but he's not so big that someone at ESPN - or maybe even his bloody wife - can't force him to put a tube of Crest and maybe even some of those fancy White Strips to use. Being a Hall of Famer shouldn't mean that you can get away with having teefuses that, if pulled out and sold, can put Parkay out of business. Unacceptable.

--- 

But to the story at hand. It's well known that huge sporting events like the World Cup, Olympics and Super Bowl are boons for the skin trade. After the host site is announced, girls from far and wide grab their chinchilla coats, head to the destination like birds flocking south and get prepared for the influx of indiscriminating, drunken chumps with money to burn on cheap ass. You'd think they'd be unbiased about the fans coming in to cheer on their teams but it seems that when you're in the game of blowing and blanking as many men in possible, the nationality of your punters can be an important factor. At least, that's what these South African hookers believe. 

Meet Levola, Yolanda and Samantha [Note: moments before the interview, the trio was fined by police for exposing themselves to drivers] - three prostitutes from a South African shanty town that link England's success in World Cup qualifications to the prospects of escaping prostitution. According to them, the Army of the Three Lions (that's really what we should be called, you know) will bring in a wealth of cash:

“We just can’t wait. We only get paid about £10 for sex when drivers stop for us here. English men will pay a lot more...

Why, because they can't do better at home?

"We’ll probably have to fight over them with the girls who already have pitches in that area, but it will be worth it." - Yolanda Lorika

Now, a part of me thinks, "Hey! Maybe it's time you raise your games, you filthy mingers! Work harder, blow faster, incorporate something new. There are three of you - maybe you can put on a show! If you get creative over the next two years, you may not have to worry about having the jackhammer taken to you 1,800 times over by insane Englishmen and getting your hips broken. Besides, if that happens, then how will you make money??" But then I realize I'm just being a a foul asshole. So let's look at this realistically:

But when those good feelings come with a side of HIV, that's no good for anybody. You see, one in every two South African hookers is dogged with that pesky, fatal occupational hazard and no matter how much bad I wish upon our stupid hools, all that will happen is that these diseased bints will infect them and they'll bring the bug back to the Isles. How delightful.

Our only hope is that every single one of them chooses to forgo the hordes of toothless women lining the dirt roads and opts instead for 3 or 4 minutes with the chicks in this interview - modern marvels that have beaten the odds thus far by stealing heaps of condoms from the free clinic. 

“They would give us some for free, but not enough for our work,” said Lavola, who spurned paid sex with a Somalian man because a Nigerian man was willing to have sex in the comfort of his own home (and give her £7).

How very classy of the Nigerian man.

It's fantastic that these chicks are eager to get drilled into oblivion by the debauched nutters in our fanbase but let's be real here --- The Three Lions have left England in a state of perpetual pain and heartache since the 1960s, with each year more shameful than the last. The more people depending on this team's success, the worse they fail. So why these dumb bitches really think England is going to come through and help them get off the mean dirt streets is beyond me. If anything, we're more jinxed now than ever.

Thanks, South Africa! 

Why Do People Flock to Strip Clubs?

After the A-Rod/Joslyn Morse business last week, I started to wonder about an issue that I've spent some time mulling over in the past. And since I'm fairly certain most of you are males, I think this is the appropriate forum for this question --

What's so great about strippers and strip clubs?

I just don't get it. At the close of initiation after my freshman year, the seniors on our team got us these traveling strippers from Chippendales. And while I thoroughly enjoyed these random blokes waving their junk in my face and giving me lap dances, once it was all over, I couldn't help but be a little annoyed - where's the bloody payout??? What am I getting out of this?

I expressed my concerns to one of my upperclassmen, who promptly told me, "well, go find a boy and work out your frustrations." And I did, of course, but something about that whole scene just seemed patently unfair and wrong. Why should I be frustrated in the first place? Why should I (or my upperclassmen, in that case) pay money for some guy to get me all worked up and then be forced to put out effort finding an object for release? That's a load of bollocks!

As I see it, here's what happens at a strip club:

1. Horny person wants tits or junk in his/her face. Waves dollar bills.
   
2. Stripper's insincere affection causes person to essentially give up pin number for ATM card under the delusion that sexual contact could result if things are played correctly
• Exceptions: You are A-Rod or a professional athlete, and/or you pay more at a club with "special" services.
  
3. Stripper teases until the well is dry and goes away
4. Blue balls/ovaries
5. Sadness
   

Doesn't that result (and your diminished wallet) cancel out any good that came of parts 2 and 3? I understand why a guy like A-Rod hits more strip clubs in a week than he gets hits per game - he gets to sleep with the strippers, mannish though they may be. But if you're not at Scores or Crazy Horse Too or some other high-priced, high-quality club, do you really want to take the risk on those girls? Your local talent probably has more stab wounds and track marks than teeth and that's no good for anybody... well, at least, not for some people.

Sword-Wielding Virgin Mistakes Porn Sounds for Rape

While hanging out in his bedroom, James Van Iveren heard a woman's screams coming from the floor above him. Thinking she was getting raped, he did what any sensible 39-year-old man would do -- he said to hell with the cops and went all Prince Valiant, grabbing a cavalry sword and bounding up the stairs to save his lady fair. 

"I intended to hold it behind my back and knock. But I froze and instead, what happened happened."

That's understating the issue just a tad, don't ya think? When you burst into an apartment and a guy is standing there with his dick in his hand, the natural reaction is to freeze and then walk away. You don't run around his apartment! "I had the sword extended. But that was all," he said. Imagine this scene -- a Dwight Schrute type brandishing a sword and poking through closets while April Showers moans obnoxiously in the background from taking it cowgirl, sideways, bareback, and every position in between. It's almost too good to be true.

What do you want to bet that Van Iveren, a 39-year-old man that lives with his mother, rolled his 20-sided die in hopes of determining his level of success before attempting rescue? If that was the case, I can totally see why he didn't bother to call the police. I mean, come on - guns are cool and all but when going up against the armor class of a rapist, they don't do the job quite like a natural 17 rocking an attack bonus and a +5 strength modifier.

"Now I feel stupid," said Van Iveren, who has been charged with a multitude of misdemeanors as a result. "This really is nothing, nothing but a mistake."

Ya know, I can't help but agree with him on that point. I mean, look at the guy. Look at his life situation. It's a true stretch of the imagination to believe he knows what a woman sounds like in bed let alone in porn. Anything short of laughter probably sounds like rape. The closest I imagine Mr. Van Iveren has ever come to a sexual situation with a woman is the Night Elf that he has cyber sex with while playing World of Warcraft and Christ, that's probably a dude.

Hit cnn for the video interview with Stieghorst who intends to keep watching porn... just with sound down.

How Many TrimSpa Jokes Have You Heard Today?

So Anna Nicole Smith passed away today at the age of 39. Since the authorities are citing heart failure and flu-like symptoms, I'm skipping the overdosed option and going straight to that creepy Howard K. Stern. A murder most foul, anyone? He probably whacked her for cash and prizes via slow-acting poison. Clever, Howard. Clever.

Aside from randomly shaking my head in amazement at her life events, which were often as baffling and tragic as they were amusing, I can't say Anna Nicole had any real effect on my life... sure, there was the time I got sucked in by her two-hour E! True Hollywood Story but hasn't that happened to all of us at one time or another?

Anyway, seven people told me she died over a five-minute span this afternoon -- 4 instant messages and 3 text messages... five had TrimSpa jokes. Blah.

After getting over the initial shock, I started having horribly depraved thoughts... first of her getting up to Heaven and St. Peter yelling, "Can we get a 90-year-old dick for her to suck on?" and then the hordes of men that are cranking off today in her honor... I feel kinda bad about it... but, well, since I brought it up, how about some pictures of her celebrated accomplishments after the jump (NSFW)!

ANGRY UPDATE: I gave the NSFW warning! That is all I'm required to do. So stop sending these e-mails complaining that you didn't see that coming and now you're in trouble. What did you think "pictures of Anna Nicole Smith's celebrated accomplishments" actually meant?!?! Let's try this again - if you look at the individual post, there will be naked pictures at the bottom. Said pictures will also come into view if you click the comments link and scroll up. If you click the link directly following this paragraph, you will be taken directly to tits and wool. You have been forewarned.

Finally, Kosher Porn!

Like everyone out there, I've seen my fair share of porn but I wouldn't exactly call myself an aficionado. Clinton Portis explained the difference between black and white porn a few months ago and since he didn't open my eyes to anything new, I've yet to broaden my knowledge on the subject. That said, if you had told me there was an adult film out there featuring an all-Israeli cast speaking Hebrew, I would have thought you were mocking me. But as it turns out, Jewporn exists beyond my hidden collection of self-made videos! Fancy a guess at the title?

Assraelis (nsfw).

Something about that is so smooth and refreshing.

But check out the DVD cover to your right... see anything wrong? Or, perhaps, right? Meh.. maybe not. Do you see the letter "k" tucked inside that backwards "c" in the middle of the box? That "c" is actually the Hebrew letter kof and when a k is tucked inside, it becomes the trademarked Kof-k certification for kosher food.

For those playing along at home, it means producer Oren Cohen of Tight Fit productions just gave the world its first taste of kosher porn.

Trouble is, Rabbi Yehuda Rosenbaum, whose company, KOF-K Kosher Certification, authenticates food for the Jewish market, wasn't down with the idea of tricking observant Jews into thinking they could enjoy Assraelis with their pastrami on rye.

While I know the Kof-K symbol is reserved for food, why can't they make an exception? I mean, the making and enjoyment of porn is a pleasure of the flesh, right? And in a way, that's all eating is - partaking in the flesh of another being for sustenance and enjoyment. So really, porn should be kosher and we should be allowed to watch it!

I simply can't understand why no one thought of this before Mr. Cohen. Since I just solved the "why porn can be kosher" riddle, the next issue would simply be finding a rabbi willing to supervise the action to make sure no filming occurs on Shabbat and all enjoyed pieces of flesh meet a certain standard of cleanliness. Rabbis aren't priests; no self-flagellation will be required once the process is complete! I don't think it'd be too difficult to find a rabbi that would sacrifice a week of his time for a great cause, do you? Someone has to get on this issue and make a change. To deprive the Jewish world kosher porn is like keeping vodka from the Russians. Okay.. maybe it's not that bad but I'm tellin ya, it's a serious trespass!

OhMiBod Music Powered Vibrator

I spent 21 years without a vibrator in my life, somehow managing to be the only one of my girl friends without one. Hell, the virgin in our crew swore by hers... she had this Hello Kitty monstrosity that came in a pink and blue case and took C-cell batteries.

It was a beast that whirred like a hummingbird in a summer's heat. And in our weekly sessions to praise and/or bash our men for their abilities (or lack thereof), she'd brag on Hello Kitty like it was a candidate for lover of the year.

Her rave reviews notwithstanding, I still didn't want one. When my man wasn't around, my left hand was perfectly capable of taking me where I needed to go. But eventually, I got rid of that dumb boy and to celebrate, my girls took me out and presented the gift - a vibrating dildo. It was blue and looked like a gummy penis. And while it appeared good enough to eat, I traded it to the virgin a few hours later for dibs on a boy that she planned to hook up with and drop the virgin bomb on the second he thought he was rounding third and headed for home.

It was win-win.

That said, I fully admit that trading the unit had more to do with my weirdness than a need for a legitimate shag. You see, I have these hang-ups that cause me to avoid certain things out of fear that if I die tomorrow, my parents will discover what I've been up to. Downloading porn and owning sex toys have long been at the top of my "what if I die" list. It's not really about the porn or the toys - I'll happily watch and use. It's just that I don't want to be the dead person everyone's laughing at after my family and friends discover a sex lair behind a hidden wall in my room.

Imagine the snickers; imagine the jokes! I cannot bear to be that person.

"But you won't exist, what will you care?" The thought of being ridiculed in death with no way to defend myself is far more horrifying than being shamed in life... I'm a pathetic creature, I know.

Anyway, I made a point to communicate these issues with boyfriends, so I was surprised to receive one on Valentine's Day. I'm anti-Valetine's and don't like receiving gifts and flowers (on that day) but he thought it'd be a fun gift and he was right. But when he refused to take it home with him the next day, I flipped out and packed it in box after box until there was no possibility of it ever being discovered.

I really have no desire to unpack the purple rocket ever again but I just made a discovery that may force me to change my mind. 

Girls (and guys, I suppose), I present the OhMiBod Music Powered Vibrator.

The OhMiBod is the first music driven vibrator that transforms your favorite music into mind blowing, body bending, orgasmic bliss. The word is that this takes plug'n'play to the next level and if you have an iPod, you're only an "acsexsory™" away.

According to the website, the OhMiBod is pretty simple to use. It comes with a 5-foot Freedom Cord, an ear bud splitter, a velvet pouch, an invitation to a music club, and an interchangeable base that allows for traditional (non-music) use. Optional accessories include a garter belt, as well as a slide-on dildo that is pink in color.

The intensity of the vibration is controlled by the volume of the music and the electronic impulses from your iPod are turned into vibrations in the shaft. This results in the user literally feeling what she hears!

As for the types of vibrations, well, that is determined by the style of music you choose... techno, hip-hop, and rap are sure fire winners but I'm thinking the dark horse in this pleasure race might be jazz... I'll bet that produces some serious tantric action.

"I've personally tested and reviewed dozens of sex toys of all shapes and sizes, but until now, none have blended the idea of loving my body and my music into one simultaneous experience – but it’s more than just masturbation, it’s taking the often quiet moments women steal to give ourselves pleasure, and creating an erotic landscape of our own design with each adventure into our music collections." - OhMiBod testimonial

Dick Hammer & the Busty Crusade

So after the Pacquiao/Morales fight (which gets no space here because I've had orgasms last longer), we had a rather sizeable get-together at the house.

Around 2.30 or so, some drunken reprobate who thought he was at his own house turned on our living room tv to search for porn. We don't subscribe to the naughty channels and he was too lifted to figure out PPV, so he settled for HBO Zone's softcore menu.

[I'm not a big porn watcher but if I have to see it, give me some action. Softcore porn is like reminiscing on my dry humping days from high school. Two thumbs down.] 

Alabama Jones and the Busty Crusade -- "three women answer the call of the wild when a curator sends them to a treacherous jungle to search for an ancient relic." Turns out the ancient relic is a mystic mango that has the power to turn women into sex slaves, which seemed ironic for a movie that likely featured 27 different lesbian throwdowns and a few sessions against trees and rocks with island natives that spoke like Tarzan. But I digress.

The movie was on for a minute or so when one of the characters tried to seduce a guy carrying a spear. I've never seen 70 people collectively silenced that quickly but bad sex on a 60" plasma is more than enough to hold a bunch of hypersexed, 20-something drunkards captive for a few moments.

After a pretend makeout scene, the girl saddled up but before anything could really get going, Encino Man grabbed her tits. This was the worst thing he could have done. The move pulled her skin so taught that we could actually see the wrinkles in the bags that held her breast implants.

That was the end of tv time.

+

In seemingly unrelated news, WFMZ 69 is reporting that a bloke named Dick Hammer will be inducted into the Lafayette College Hall of Fame for radio broadcasting.

I'm serious.

At first I thought he was the holder of the magical sex slave mango in the above-mentioned "film," but it seems this is not the case.

Dick Hammer has called more than 1300 games, including the 100th Lafayette-Lehigh game, which is the longest uninterrupted rivalry in collegiate football.

"This is Dick Hammer saying good night and good sports!"

Ron Artest Needs a Sex Tape

Unable to pick up fans while touring with Fat Joe (or engaging in any other endeavor), Nielsen Soundscan is reporting that Ron Artest's debut album "My World" sold a huge 343 copies in its first week in stores.

Three hundred forty three and you know his mama bought 43 of them... poor thing.

With lyrics like "David Stern! Damn, David Stern. I gotta teach you bout the ghetto there's some things you should learn" and "Matt Lauer, up on NBC. You look like a girl don’t talk to me," I really don't know why he's struggling out there.

Even more troubling is that Kevin Federline's "Playing with Fire" outperformed "My World" with 6,000 copies sold in its debut. 

How does K-Fed sell anything? On first glance, you'd think he was a master marketer what with his ability to trick Britney Spears into marrying him and have his babies. But you can probably get her to follow you but leashing a bag of Cheetos and a Frappucino on a piece of string and pulling it back to your lair, so maybe he hasn't accomplished as much as I thought.

But at least he can buy an iPod with his profits. All Artest will be good for is the Whopper with cheese value meal at Burger King and I don't even know if he'll be able to upgrade that to the King size.

This wouldn't be the case if Artest had a sex tape that featured "My World" as the soundtrack. David Stern be damned; hear me out! 

We all know that sex sells no matter who is having it. Chyna and X-Pac proved as much when 40,000 people shelled out bones to watch him get it on with her micropenis.

Is Ron Artest more disgusting than those two? I submit that he is not. In fact, I bet there's a huge market for porn featuring bad boys that rail girls on the edges of beds, tables, and counter tops because they're too lazy to take off their Timberlands while knockin it out...

Oh please, like Ron Artest isn't one of these guys. I've dated Timberland Boots Guy; Ron fits the mold.

+ I know you think this is crazy but Flavor Flav has managed to get 20 women to fight for his affections - TWICE - at the cost of $100 per day + room and board. They also sign a waiver saying they won't hold VH-1 or Flav responsible when he loads them up with STDs. You're telling me Ron Artest can't pull that off? The fact that he doesn't look like a burnt turd with a gremlin face should make him a little more appealing.+ 

After the footage is shot and edited, enter marketing magic, stage left. 

First comes the clever title. I suggest "Tru Warier Nights" with a caption on the box that says "Ron Artest Hits it Like the Fist of an Angry God" ... but that's just me.

Next is the price and packaging. For $24.99, you get a DVD loaded with features and the soundtrack. Or you can download everything through the iTunes Music store for $17.99.

Third - collaborate with Kevin Federline! Get him to throw a few My World tracks onto the Oops, I Did It Again "home movies" that he's releasing in the event of a divorce from Britney Spears.

He'll be down; he'll want to team up with people who also suffer from lack of respect and constant boos from the masses. 

+ Side note - how predictable was a Britney Spears sex tape? Frankly, I expected one 15 months ago +

With a plan like this, who knows - in 2 or 3 years time, Ron Artest's album might go gold! Someone needs to contact him about my plan.

At the Spa, Massage Actually Means Orgasm

So I'm out shakin it last night when I'm approached by some clown in a striped polo shirt with a popped collar. He offered to buy me a drink and I accepted --not because I'm interested in jerks who look like the Banana Republic Avenger but because I like getting drunk for free. For the next three drinks, I spaced out while he yammered on and eventually made my way back to my group. For some reason, he followed. But after three drinks, I imagine he was expecting at least a number. My mistake.

"You move free and easy." He said it four times, each utterance louder than the one before. "Is that because you got a Brazilian wax on Wednesday?" It was a bizarre question to ask.. but was made even more bizarre by the fact that I actually got one that afternoon. When I looked at him with a bit of puzzlement, he smirked, popped his collar extra, moved his hand to his mouth, and brought his index finger and thumb over his frat boy chin pubes. This annoyed me so much that I nearly forgot to be unnerved by his comments.

"I work there. I saw you come in. I give (cue airquotes) 'massages to ladies.'"

It took a second for this to register but the look on his face said it all... It seems that I've been getting my Brazilian done at some type of backwards handjob parlor for women. What vexed me is that this is a high-end place with ridiculous prices and a pretty affluent clientele... how could anything so tacky be happening? Further, how did I never clue in?!

I mean, they always ask me if I want the massage package but why accept?
- I'm not some soccer mom with no job and 4 rambunctious kids whose depressed husband would rather download free porn in the middle of the night than take 20 minutes to fuck me.
- I don't have a stressful job. Sure, the hours suck balls but I exercise for a living and when I'm done running all those goons around, I get my STIM, rehab, and massages from the PTs for free. They don't use sweet-smelling oils and Zen techniques but they get the job done.
- I do have sports-induced rage. This blog is confirmation of that. But no one ever said to me, hey, now that you're done being traumatized with hair removal and you're all tense, you wanna get off?!?! Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!

I'm running through all of this in my head and kinda losing it when he says: "I looked at your client card and you're wax only! Why don't you get the massage?" I didn't go into the long mental rant that I'd just had and instead said that I don't pay for anything that my boyfriend would do for free. I thought the smart ass delivery and the mention of a boyfriend would pack the right punch.

It didn't.

"Well... I can give you a discount when he's out of town and maybe a freebie tonight?" He did the smirk and collar pop again. ... I immediately gathered our crew and left the club. Any place where Captain Fingers was hanging out was no place for us.

So now I'm not only looking for a new Raiders jersey, but I'm also in search of a new place for my monthly Brazilian that does not offer digital insertion perks for an extra $50 per session. If you know a good spot (or if your girlfriend/wife does), let me know. I have about 30 days to figure it out.

Mama Zidane: I Want Materazzi's Balls on a Platter

Zidane (n): A Frenchman of Kabyle Algerian descent widely recognized as the greatest football player of his generation
Zidane (v): To snap and go all battering ram on another person, ex. "He went Zidane on me!" "I'm gonna Zidane that motherfucker!"

Zinedine Zidane broke his silence to reveal that Marco Materazzi "pronounced very tough words about my mother and my sister. I tried not to listen to him but he kept repeating them... "I would rather have taken a punch in the jaw than have heard that."

Zizou has a history of reacting savagely to slurs on his family and race. In his first week as a professional, he was sent to cleaning duty for punching an opponent who ridiculed his origins. In the 1998 World Cup, he stomped on Saudi Arabian captain Faoud Amin after being insulted. And while playing for the Old Lady in 2000, he head-butted Hamburg's Jochen Kientz and received a five-match suspension.

Given the intensity of the game and the nature of soccer players in general, it's likely that Zidane was was focusing moment to moment and went on auto-pilot when Materazzi opened his mouth. The likelihood that he had any conscious awareness of the consequences is probably slim. Zizou indicated as much in his live television interview this afternoon.

One theory goes that Materazzi said: "We all know you are the son of a terrorist whore." Tragically for Marco, that this theory has reached Mama Zidane and though ailing in a hospital bed, she, too, has gone on auto-pilot. Malika Zidane has made it abundantly clear that she is out for blood.

While speaking in a fury to the Daily Mirror, Mrs. Zidane warned the Italian defender that she wants his "balls chopped off" for igniting the ugly row with her son, The Battering Ram. She further maintains that Zizou was simply protecting her honour when he knocked Materazzi into next week and she supports his actions.

"No one should be subjected to such foul insults on or off the football pitch and I don't care if it was a World Cup Final. I have nothing but contempt for Materazzi and, if what he said is true, then I want his balls on a platter... Our whole family is deeply saddened that Zinedine's career should end with a red card but at least he has his honour. Some things are bigger than football." - Malika Zidane

Maybe we shouldn't throw such blame at Zizou... can you imagine what his mother would have done to him if he hadn't turned his noggin into a battering ram?

In other news, FIFA will soon meet to decide if Zinedine Zidane will be stripped of the Golden Ball. If this occurs, I hope FIFA will be smart enough to bestow the award upon Fabio Cannavaro, whose masterful efforts saved Italy on more than one occasion.

+

Speaking of golden balls (or maybe shrunken ones), Shane Igoe of The Wade Blogs recently completed a video interview with Jessica Canseco.

Jose's ex tells a wide variety of stories and hits on topics like Jose shooting up in the bathroom with other players, the slugger's request for her to "name names" in her recent book, and his method of seduction when picking her up at a Hooters (hint: it's all in the eyebrows).

The former Mrs. Juiced also bares all on her spread with Playboy and much more. As a side note, what is there to elaborate on with a Playboy shoot? I don't mean to hate..well.. maybe I do.. but you take your clothes off, you get oiled, you look like you're aching for it, and then they cut you a check. If something like this ever happened to me (not like it actually would) and I was asked for the lowdown, all I could possibly say is, "Hey, I got naked and then bought a new car with a portion of my 'Goddamn, I've got a hot ass!' money." I'd probably slap my arse just to put a little exclamation on my comment but that's all that would occur. I don't know if that'd be worth the interview.

Anyway kids, check out the video.. Ms. Canseco's a pip.

Suit: NBA Player Was Cranking One Off During Car Crash

Way back in March, Eddie Griffin of the Minnesota Timberwolves [and not Undercover Brother] crashed into a parked Suburban outside Santana Foods in Minneapolis.

The two officers that responded to the scene didn't test Griffin for alcohol and eventually did him a solid by driving him home even though video reveals that Griffin admitted his drunken state to witnesses and even offered to buy the victim a new car. However, when Griffin spoke to reporters, he said that he'd dropped his cell phone while driving and that's why he plowed into the vehicle.

Thanks to an internal affairs investigation and a recently filed civil lawsuit, the web of lies has unraveled to reveal a rather sticky situation.

The Suburban owner's lawsuit against Griffin maintains that not only was the Timberwolves center drunk, he was also masturbating and watching porn when the collision occurred. To make matters worse, he admitted as much to Abed Hassuneh, the victim's brother: "... he was masturbating himself going down that street... he was not paying attention. He's paying attention to that video and all of a sudden he's shoveled somebody's car on the top of the sidewalk." Apparently, this hard-on has a DVD player mounted in the dashboard of his Cadillac Escalade and couldn't wait until he got home (or to an empty parking lot) to have a go at himself.

What must one's life be like to be so desperate for orgasm that you have to watch porn and stroke it while tooling through a grocery store parking lot? At first I thought, "Well, it's no worse than road head." But then I smartened up because no matter how dangerous road head becomes when the guy reaches his limits, at least you have another person there doing the job. At least you can keep both hands on the wheel if need be. But that's not the case here! What if you get dizzy? What if your body starts with the involuntary movements? I have an ex-boyfriend who got the jimmy legs so bad, oral sex became a seriously dangerous proposition and I took a knee to the fuckin ribs. I can't imagine what would happen if his foot was on the gas and he was the only person around!

But forget the involuntary movements for a second, what about your mental function? When you get off, you go blank. You simply go retarded. As far as I'm concerned, a man is far more impaired post-nut than he could ever dream of being while simply drunk. And if you can get arrested for DUI, shouldn't it be illegal to jerk and drive? Even though the guy reaches his state through different means, in the end, he's still fucked up and needn't be behind the wheel...

A legislator needs to get on this issue.

[HT: David Barbour]

Woe, Britannia

David Beckham and Ashley Cole didn't practise in England's 90-minute session at the Mittelberg training camp yesterday. Luckily, their maladies aren't particularly serious - Beckham is out with an ankle knock while Cole has a thigh strain. As such, Sven held them to light activity and physical therapy as a mere precaution.

Having said that, with Wayne Rooney's metatarsal still under review and our World Cup match just 3 days away, I'm not really in the mood for these "let's hang out in our knickers and be sassy" shenanigans.

At any other time in the year, this is perfectly acceptable behavior. In fact, I'd have trouble not showing my full appreciation with a few inappropriate comments about how I wouldn't mind personal entry to the tent. But it IS World Cup time and instead of leading our men through training (or at least being nearby for support and encouragement), Beckham is 100 meters away being naked and pensive and sexy with this "Beckham. David Beckahm" look on his face.

To make matters worse, he and Cole have leg injuries; why their shirts are off is beyond me. This display does nothing to quell my fears that England is about to go down in flames.

Update - I've given myself time to mull this one over and have decided that no matter what Becks and Cole are up to, it is perfectly acceptable. I have faith in my men and our Captain and if they need to rehab half naked in a tent while their teammates practice so that they're better able to shine in the coming weeks, that's fine with me....... Was that last part believable? Fuck :-(

World Cup Themed Vibrators Upset Kahn and Ballack

One can never have enough sex in soccer, so I was giddy fired up amused to find that Beate Uhse, a German erotic retailer, has launched a line of vibrators (along with other World Cup-themed merchandise) featuring various international soccer stars.

Three in particular - Michael Ballack and Oliver Kahn of Germany, as well as English skipper David Beckham, are "represented" as Michael B, Ollie K, and David B... cute, huh? The red "Michael B" model is 16 cm long (6.3 inches) and costs £50; its ad claims: "The players' muscular torsos arouse women’s fantasies. They dream about spending an hour between the sheets with their fantasy man."

At least there isn't a Cristiano Ronaldo model.
Someone could get hurt!

 And they're right! There is no way to blame Beate Uhse for marketing a vibrator in this fashion. No matter what you think about soccer players [if you're American male, something ending in -ussy is might come to mind], they have incredible bodies, great legs, and thanks to their intensity, never fail to impress in the bedroom... at least not that I've found. Plus, their extraordinary physical conditioning ensures a certain Energizer bunny-type quality that leaves one worn out day after day. Associating a product with these types of men (especially when marketing to European women) is a genius move by the sex chain. Trouble is, Ballack, a recent Chelsea signing from Bayern Munich, and German keeper Kahn are seeking injunctions on the product.

According to Kahn's laywer, "This is a clear violation of image rights. We will take action." Ballack's lawyer agreed, claiming that it was an objection to his client's honor.

Pure bollocks, I say.

No soccer player has honor. "Honorable soccer player" sits in the same realm of oxymorons as military intelligence and jumbo shrimp. And while they may get on like diving, flopping, crying "gentlemen" on the pitch, they're a bunch of twisted, dysfunctional slags off it. So all I can assume is Kahn and Ballack's injunction isn't the result of a damaged sense of honor. This is a pursuit that revolves solely around money and reputation. The simple fact is that their precious egos are bruised by being associated with a 6.3" (16 cm) piece of work; a size that is more than sufficient for a good time.

Had Beate Uhse introduced the 9" Ollie K with attachments, rechargeable batteries, lube, and a multiple orgasm guarantee, Kahn would have sanctioned an autographed "limited edition" to be sold in his honor. And his cheesing, brutish face would have been on the bloody box complete with two thumbs up and some quote like "Now you can take ME home!" Bah.  

I don't know if the request for injunction will go through but why should it? The surnames of the players aren't used, the "products" aren't fashioned after the players' bodies in any way, and as are as I can tell, no pictures of the players are associated with the marketing.

But if Kahn and Ballack's request is granted and Beate Uhse has to cease and desist with the soccer vibrato, fans interested in "support-minded" pleasure can happen over to various English shops that are selling the "Victory Vibe." According to the website, it'll keep the ladies left at home during the World Cup shouting, "G-oh-oh-ooal!!"

My God. Something about that is just so, so wrong. That said, with Wayne Rooney's likely absence, the English will need something to keep their spirits up.

Derek Jeter? Overrated & Not So Clutch

See this girl? Oh, who am I kidding. Of course you do. I should probably be asking if you're seeing the text sitting next to her. If you haven't spent much time looking at Victoria Secret catalogs lately, meet Adriana Lima - the world's hottest lingerie model and.. brace yourself for it.. Virgin.

In a brief Q&A with GQ, the Brazilian says, "Sex is for after marriage. [Men] have to respect that this is my choice. If there's no respect, that means they don't want me." I remember having that level of resolve. It lasted until I was about 18 and then it was on like Donkey Kong. Had I Adriana Lima's level of discipline and restraint, I can only imagine the things I could accomplish in life.

Now, the only reason I'm posting about this issue [aside from giving you more fantasy ideas] is that she dated Derek Jeter. Assuming she's not a liar, Captain Clutch tried and failed to hit it for six straight months and walked away a total failure. When I was in high school, I thought Derek Jeter was beautiful.. delicious even.. and I knew that if I ran into him on a sidewalk, I'd instinctively drop to my knees and give him the best I had. But as I've gotten a little older and seen more of what the world of men has to offer, I've come to realize that though Jeter's cute, he's not THAT hot, and I don't understand how he pulls so much high-caliber ass. Every time you turn around, he's with the newest, hottest thing and the gossip rags have lead us to believe he's a serial dater that baits them, mates them, and throws them away. But after this, who knows, maybe it's all a ruse. His ability with the ladies is obviously somewhat overrated and as I see it, there are three options here: 1) Derek got rebuffed from the front so he went backdoor, something that Yankee haters think he's doing anyway; 2) Lima, referred to by GQ as the "world's most voluptuous virgin," is just the world's most voluptuous beard and she and Down Low Derek like to shop; or 3) Jeter's an admirable man and the couple eventually grew apart. Since Ms. Lima doesn't strike me as a girl whose into baseball or conversations that use more than fragments, I'm ruling out #3. So what's the verdict? While I think it's option one, I'm kinda hoping it's #2. Wouldn't that be fun? :)

[Hattip: Jackie Chiles]

Poncho & Lefty - An Uncensored Review

Before I start this review proper, have a little background -- I was contacted by a chick from M80, a "grassroots marketing firm" (I don't know what that means) that is promoting the uncensored dvd of Comedy Central's Roast of Pamela Anderson. Apparently, they spotted a link to my recap of the original airing on Gorilla Mask and asked if I'd write a review of the uncensored version in exchange for a free copy of the dvd. You know how I am about free, so here's my unbiased review... [most of it will sound a little familiar].

I'm not a Pamela Anderson fan. Don't get me wrong - I think she's gorgeous and I certainly understand how one gets rubbed off in her honor every 4.2 seconds but until I saw Comedy Central's airing of the Pam Anderson Roast, I couldn't figure how any of that made good roast fodder. Though I can never get enough of NYC comics shitting on people, after 15 minutes of sex tape jokes, I was sure they'd run out of material. I was right but somehow, they made it work for the most of the show, and when they didn't, Courtney Love stepped in to remind us that she's still a crazy crack whore. My only complaint was that a lot of the jokes were edited out - I don't mean obvious words like fuck, pussy, and cunt, but whole jokes like Sarah Silverman saying, "You know your co-star Elon Gold? His best friend is Jeffrey Ross. Yeah, their noses went to Hebrew school together." What... Was that too much? In addition, performances from roasters Lady Bunny and Eddie Griffin were completely missing. Comedy Central came back from a commercial break, said "here's who you missed," and called it a day. It's not that I'm all that interested in seeing Pamela Manderson and Undercover Brother have a say but when someone bothers to credit them and goes further to hype them as performers, I expect to see their work... You know me with those pesky principles and all. So it's only fitting that the most glaring omission from the uncensored DVD was a complete lack of these two roasters. You're treated to a curtain graphic and then 90 seconds of roasters who, I can only assume, had original jokes and didn't need to be seen. First was Elon Gold who said that he pitched a show idea to the Stacked producers that involved a misunderstanding that ended with him cumming on Pam's tits. Next comes Lady Bunny, a jokeless 30 seconds capped off by Courtney Love flashing her bidness. Last but not least was Eddie Griffin - he talked about PETA and made the obligatory black man loves fried chicken joke. Yawn. So okay, maybe it's fitting that these guys got left out, but I hope the suspicious, conspiracy types amongst you are wondering if maybe the Comedy Central folks simply don't think it's okay for a black guy and a transvestite to bust on the fantasy of every man in America.

In any case, I was disappointed to find that if you've ever caught the Roast on Comedy Central's Secret Stash after 1 am, all this dvd is offering is a few extra jokes and some bonus menu items. You get red carpet interviews with Charo (she did the cuchi stuff while her son watched), Dennis Rodman, Anna Nicole Smith, and the roasters; pre-Roast rehearsal and good times backstage; and previews of other Comedy Central films... in total, the bonus features last about 15 minutes.

Old Moments & new quotes:

• Pam Anderson refers to her tits as Poncho and Lefty. Simply excellent. 
• Tommy Lee sang with his "band" and sounded like a throwaway rock group from 1998, but when the camera panned to Pam Anderson, she looked like she was 3 seconds from throwing her moist panties on stage... but this assumes she was wearing panties.
• Nick diPaolo
• "Pam's the perfect physical specimen, with that silky skin, blonde hair, those pouty pink lips...and that's just her snatch"
• Courtney Love
• "Pam's a girl you wanna fuck and tell all your friends about. I'm the girl you wanna fuck and won't tell your friends about it... but then you go see the doctor."
• "How do you take that [Tommy Lee's cock] with that Barbie Pussy?" And she makes a great point!  I remember watching the Tommy Lee-Pam Anderson sex video before the original airing and being afraid that it would emerge from my laptop screen in some virtual 3D moment and slap me around. 
• To Eddie Griffin: "You African-Americans only know about me because I've been to jail."
• To Tommy Lee: "Hi Tommy Lee you goddamn professional!.... I'm not supposed to mention we fucked, right?"
• Bea Arthur discusses the mechanics of "pitcher and catcher" and reach arounds while reading from Anderson's latest "novel." She also drops the f-bomb, which was somehow more traumatic than when Betty White did it in Lake Placid. Bea Arthur, pitcher & catcher, reach arounds... how's that image treatin ya?
• "I remember the first time i saw Tommy's penis. I was speechless until my throat healed." - Pamela Anderson, near the Roast's conclusion.

No topic, audience member, or fellow roaster was off-limits (they even got Anna Nicole Smith in the audience with "someone find a 90-year-old dick for her to suck on"), which is how it should be, but within a minute of its beginnings, the Pam Anderson Roast became the trashiest, most viciously crass roast I've ever seen and I loved (nearly) every minute of it. Comedy Central has aired its uncensored version about 42,000 times, and for that reason, I don't know if I can recommend this dvd to you. Sure, you'll get to hear someone say cunt a few more times and there are the 15 minutes of bonus features, but unless you're the kinda guy (or girl, I suppose) that needs 90 minutes of Pam (and not even naked Pam) on command, this may not be worth the $19.99. But if you are that type of individual, buy this dvd. It's just right for you.

Bad Form, HBO!

An Ode to a Gangbang

A group calling itself the 7th Floor Crew -- the name reportedly comes from the seventh floor of the Mahoney Residential College, campus housing at Miami -- made a recording referencing multiple acts of group sex, derogatory terms for women and minorities and dozens of curse words that lasts approximately 9 minutes. School officials say the song was recorded two years ago, but that seems to offer little solace." - Pat Forde, ESPN

If your ho the one gettin' fucked on the 7th flo'
Then you would know, cuz the bitch don't want you no mo'
She'd tell you she met a guy who was nice and candid
I think they call him T-Good, or the "big dick bandit"
Say he had a big dick, but I thought it was random
Then he pull out the fuckin' Magnum trojan condom
And he said, "Baby, that's not how it begin,"
Then he brought in all of his 7th flo' friends
She found out there was more to Miami than just a football team
There's also the 7th floor King Ding-a-Ling
She thought 5-2 was just my number, then she realized
You multiply the bitch up, then you get my dick size
First I put it in the pussy, then in the butt
That's all full, dog, the condom is filled up
---------------------------------
We the boys from that Penthouse suite, slangin' that dick
If you ain't 'bout the train, then fuck you, bitch
Cuz my boys gotta hit, too
Bend over and get tattooed by the boys from the 7th floor crew
You came a good girl, but you leavin' a ho
You wonder why they call me Thundercat, but now you know
If the pussy's nice and wet, you can believe I'mma fuck it
Oh, that's it, baby... suck it, suck it.
---------------------------------
Chillin' on the 7th flo', I gotta let these chickens know
Big Greg is in the house, and I'm fittin' to make these hoes choke
On my balls, on my dick, then I bust a nut, quick
On her face, on her chest, stick my dick between her breasts
Come on, fellas, let's get weird, stick ya dick up in her ear
While I'm laughin' at these guys, a second nut all in her eyes

National Masturbation Day

National Masturbation Day's roots extend as far back as 1995, when a San Francisco sex shop called Good Vibrations held an AIDS/HIV fundraiser that encouraged sponsors to donate money for every minute they spent masturbating on May 7.

From the Male Fantasy Files..

"There are magazine covers in Mexico describing us as these lesbians because of that. A lot of people were saying we were lovers."

For The Concerned...

Rabbis have risen to the occasion and found a way for men who want to enjoy their Passover to take the erectile dysfunction medication Viagra without violating the laws about consuming hametz (leaven) leaven during the holiday. Four years ago, The Jerusalem Post revealed in a widely quoted story that taking Viagra during Passover was forbidden by Jewish law because its coating was made with hametz. Rabbi Menahem Rosenberg, the rabbi of Clalit Health Services, then confirmed that Viagra (sildenafil citrate) was not kosher for Passover because of the coating.

Rabbi Mordechai Eliahu said the pill can be swallowed if it is encased in a special soluble kosher capsule first. Viagra's Israeli manufacturer, Pfizer Pharmaceuticals-Israel, said swallowing the capsule does not breach Jewish law because the Viagra would not come into direct contact with the body. Viagra's Israeli manufacturers said they sought an answer after receiving queries from worried religious men. [Jerusalem Post & Chad]

Sonya Elliot v. Michael D. Vick, a/k/a Ron Mexico