Spike's Corner
It’s been awhile since Spike, my penis, has chimed in on the site, so I thought I’d let Spike take this pic. How’s it going, Spike?
Spike: You’ve been neglecting me.
Sorry about that. So how ya been, Spike?
Spike: You know. Sometimes up. Sometimes down.
Can’t believe you’re making puns that lame.
Spike: Hey, you’re the one talking to your penis.
Hmm. Good point. So Spike, what did you want to say today?
Spike: (ahem) First I’d like to announce that underwear is confining and I conceptually reject it as the subjugation of the scrotundae by a society uncomfortable with sexual freedom…
No Spike, what did you want to say about the pic?
Spike: Oh, right. Sorry. She, uhm, makes me stand up, rooted firmly in a sense of self. And he makes me want to fall off and die. I’m very confused.
Yes, I know, Spike. Anything else?
Spike: She makes you want to play Mahler’s Fifth Symphony on a plastic kuzoo before fondling her kneecaps with shredded wheat, doesn’t she?
Yes Spike. Yes she does.
