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From playful dolphins to the monstrous, glowing angler fish of the deep, the ocean is a place full of miraculous life and wonder. Scroll down to explore the many diverse layers of undersea life, and when prompted, don't forget to click the 'Enhance with Real Ocean Sounds' button to experience the mysterious sounds of the deep.
Raver: Matt Hunziker
Illustrations by Abel Macias
P
iece of advice number one: The most important thing to remember is: you just took some acid. This might seem like an obvious point to you right now, but trust me – at some time in the next few hours you will find yourself asking, “What did I do to my brain? Is my brain broken? Am I going to be this way for the rest of my life?” That’s why I’m telling you, now -- always remember: You just took some acid. (Maybe write that on a Post-it note, for yourself. ) You will be fine. In about eight-to-twelve hours. Probably.
The second most important thing to remember is: You took the acid on purpose. No one made you take it. Charles Manson didn’t slip some into your Kool Aid at a love-in: no – you took it yourself. You meant to take it. You wanted to feel this way. All of this confusion, disorientation, hallucinations (if you scored some good stuff) -- this is what you wanted. This is what you planned for the evening. Acid is a lot like a Haunted House at Halloween: if you were just walking down the street and some dude in that mask from Saw jumped out at you with a knife, you would NOT enjoy it. But in a haunted house, that you paid to get into, it’s a good time.
Acid is just a haunted house that’s inside your head. That lasts for eight-to-twelve hours. That you bought from some dude who a friend of a friend knows.
With these things in mind, and a little preparation, you’re going to have a very pleasant, although at some points terrifying, ride. Okay… About the terrifying parts. It’s usually not your dead grandma jumping out at you from the shadows terrifying, like in those movies they show you in health class (though that may happen). It’s more like… Oh my God, I’m not a real person because I was never born terrifying. But don’t let that put you off. Good trips are like those rides in Fantasy Land, in Disneyworld. There are happy parts, and there are scary parts. And sometimes you see talking skulls. Try to enjoy it, it’ll all be over in half a day or so.
Remember: Good, laugh-at-the-carpet-for-four-hours-acid can be a real treat. (…If you scored something else -- speed cut with Robotussin and glass – less so. But try not to think about that right now. ) Either way, you already took it and there’s nothing you can do about it now. Get that through your head, too. Say it out loud: “I just took acid, and there’s nothing I can do about it now.” Sometimes that helps.
Other things to remember: Often, when you do acid for the first time, some dude says something to you like, “Hey, don’t worry about it man, I’ve done a lot of acid, and I’ll be your Tour Guide.” Or your “Flight Attendant.” Whatever happens, stay the fuck away from that dude. Anybody offering that kind of help from the get-go is trouble. He’s probably a sick, degenerate freak on a power trip, who’ll take less acid than you just so he can feel superior (which he never gets to do, unless surrounded by folks who are tripping their balls off). The last thing you need is to have that smug little Jim Jones fuck around, playing mind games and telling you “you’re doing it wrong.”
Even if that not what he’s saying, that’s what he’s thinking (and on acid, there is no difference).
Lastly: have some orange juice in the fridge. When you’re a few hours into the trip, someone might remember “hey, I heard drinking orange juice increases the visuals.” (“Visuals” is an acid term: a harmless enough sounding label that can mean anything from the walls breathing, to your best friend’s skin sliding off his face. One time the guy on the album cover of The Cramps’ “Bad Music for Bad People” climbed off the LP, took me into a limousine and talked to me about Hell. He said it wasn’t that bad. That’s what we mean by “visuals.”) Anyway, someone will remember that rumor about orange juice, and then you’ll all go pour and drink some orange juice. It’ll be like a field trip, and sometimes it’s good to have “planned activities” – just so you feel you’ve accomplished something. Even if it was just going to the fridge. Trust me: it will feel as logistically as difficult as Operation Overlord on D-Day. And you pulled it off. You’re fucking rocket scientists, and one day you’ll be the ones people come to for answers and leadership.
Let’s see… what else. Avoid things that might stress or freak you out. Like people, clocks, mirrors, urinals, money, junk food, healthy food, and The Man. I’ve known some folks who had a pretty rough time dealing with their cutlery drawer, too.
The most important thing: Enjoy the confusion. Enjoying starting to freak out that the confusion won’t stop or even lighten. Enjoy pulling your shit together, and then being filled with pride that you made it though the roughest patch of your young adult life. Then enjoy the fact that you didn’t really “make it through” anything – you’ve just been sitting on the couch in silence for five minutes, and you still have eight-to-twelve more hours of this shit to go.
Remember: it’s only the acid. You’ll be just fine. Probably.
This article was originally published May 2012
Many of Hollywood's brightest have whittled down their weight to begin healthy new lives. But what did they look like before?
Slide the pegs to see how far they've come.
When sleeping with your wife, it is imperative to maintain certain societal standards. The same rules apply when sleeping with the wife
of a fellow gentleman.
Shall we begin?
At your own peril.
So you have a show you’re developing?
Somebody reads the trades!
How would you rate it on a scale of 1 to The Big Bang Theory?
60 Minutes.
Has your opinion on kissing changed over your lifetime?
My views on kissing are evolving, yes. I used to favor a sharp tongue but now I’ve crossed the aisle over to the loose lips.
Who would you like to kiss without their consent?
Nobody, sorry, my rape fantasies involve me as the passive partner.
What are you cooking back there?
That’s burnt pizza crust in the bottom of the oven. Almost ready.
When would you use the phrase “My baby’s got sauce”?
Under duress.
What’s your favorite type of music invented by black people?
I am extremely racist.
What’s your favorite type of music invented by white people?
Hip-hop, R&B, rock & roll.
White people: Who needs them any more?
Get off of Tumblr before it’s too late.
Were you ever tempted to part your hair differently?
Get thee behind me, Satan!
Have you ever worn a unitard and for what?
A Freddie Mercury impression at UCB! Pictured here with Billy Joel (Michael Cassady), Cyndi Lauper (Andree Vermeulen), and Tom Waits (Scott Rodgers).
If you had a two-dollar bill what would you do with it?
Keep it in my wallet as a sacred lucky charm for about a month, then spend it on booze.
Describe how you would build a house in six words.
I would need some building materials.
Describe six words or less.
Hyperhaiku.
What would you throw into the fireplace while no one’s looking?
My NSA “political dissident” file!
You casually mention The Beatles to someone and they say they don’t know who they are. How do you respond?
I take that as the signal to exchange the microfiche.
Thoughts on gay marriage?
Not thoughts so much as brute lust.
Thoughts on Ray marriage?
Hey now!
If Ray Charles were still alive, do you think he’d be married to all those Pepsi dancers by now?
That’s what heaven is for.
So this month’s theme on the site is “Fancy.” Mind if we dive into that?
Color me dapper.
What’s your favorite type of tuxedo to wear?
Cheap, used, vaudeville-esque.
Fuck Marry Kill: a monocle, a stack of $100 bills, elbow patches.
I would keep them all as lovers on the side.
How much money do you currently have on you?
Ten thousand Swiss francs — you know, swissin’-around money.
Can we have some?
Put this on red. Two spins. Walk out with what you get.
What’s the biggest room you’ve ever been in?
Narnia.
You’ve got a knack for celebrity impressions. Who’s your favorite?
Kathleen Turner.
Can you do an impression for us right now?
Mmm ... Slow down, champ. You just gonna run up the stairs like that on a Thursday? *Puff*
Seriously, can you record it on your phone and send us the file? We’ll put it right here.
Jesus now there’s homework. Attached.
We love the fact that you do a lot of characters — ever watch TBS?
Not since the days of NWA wrestling on the Superstation!
That last one was a trick question. And to clarify this is not a question. Don’t answer this one. Just listen for a sec.
Adversarial comedy journalism. Touché.
Which fictional character would you welcome into your home?
Dilbert.
Which fictional character would you turn a hose on if you saw them anywhere near your home?
Megavolt!
You do a great impression of Jesse Ventura, host of Conspiracy Theory. Are there any conspiracy theories that you believe in?
“Conspiracy theory” is an insulting and ignorant term.
Do you believe in aliens?
We are aliens.
Yo ... you smoke trees?
I puff on pines.
How many more answers do you have?
Good thing you’re not on the top of the mountain with the Zen master.
Real quick: What’s your favorite state?
Wakefulness.
Any speed you want: What’s your favorite city?
Lancaster, California.
Complete the beef slogan: “Beef: ___ _____ ____ _____”
“Something else goes here.”
What’s the best and worst part of having a mustache?
The tickle.
What kind of person puts stickers all over their laptop?
A hippie without a car.
What’s your favorite movie scene?
When the horse dies in The Neverending Story. It’s my yoga.
What do you think of the phrase “spoiler alert”?
Buncha narcs.
Are you currently avoiding any spoilers?
No, I call them shortcuts.
What was the first CD you ever bought?
Jerky Boys 2.
What was the first Cranberries CD you ever bought?
They offered a nice two-year certificate of deposit I jumped in on.
What’s your most recent regret?
All those murders. Well, most of them.
You just landed on the moon, what do you say?
Oxygennnn!!!!
Describe a situation that ends with you spitting on someone.
Second base.
Who’s going to win it all this year?
Entropy, known to us as Death.
Superman swoops in and saves Lois as she falls from a helicopter, lowering her from the skies. She holds on tight, staring into his eyes.
SUPERMAN: I’ve got you.
LOIS: But who’s got you?
Superman smiles as he lowers her to safety. She leans in to kiss Superman, who’s unsure if he should engage in such human-like contact. Finally, our hero gives in to temptation. They kiss passionately, Superman’s hand placed gently on her lower back. The staff of the Daily Planet runs up to them as the two finish locking lips.
JIMMY OLSEN: Superman, you saved the day!
SUPERMAN: All in a day’s work, Jimmy.
JIMMY OLSEN: Aw, shucks. You’re the best Superman… Wait. What’s that in your underwear? Pointing at me?
SUPERMAN: Oh it’s nothing. Just the angle you’re looking at my very complicated Kryptonian suit.
JIMMY OLSEN: Is that an erection, Superman?
SUPERMAN: Nope, like I said, it’s from Krypton.
Perry White reaches out to shake Superman’s hand
PERRY WHITE: Superman, our hats are off to you once again and... WHOA! What’s that in your pants?
SUPERMAN: Perry, it’s not what you think. That piece of slime Lex Luthor has implanted a stick of kryptonite —
PERRY WHITE: Nope, I know an erection when I see one. Our reporter Clark Kent has one every day when he talks to Lois. Lois, what does this look like to you?
LOIS: That’s an erection, chief.
PERRY WHITE: ...
LOIS: [realizing] Just like Clark’s!
SUPERMAN: I really must be going. General Zod is trying to bomb the Eiffel Tower.
LOIS: Wait a minute. Have you ever noticed that when Superman has an erection, Clark’s nowhere to be found?
SUPERMAN: Lois, you and your theories.
LOIS: I think I’m on to something. Where is Clark right now?
PERRY WHITE: Probably jackin’ off somewhere. That’s where he’s always disappearing to. I once saw him undress in a phone booth. Probably just to jack off in there.
SUPERMAN: Now wait a minute, Mr. White. Maybe he had another reason to go into that phone booth. Did you stick around and see what happened after he started taking off his shirt?
PERRY WHITE: I’m not some sort of pervert, Superman. Maybe you and your boner buddies on Krypton sit around and watch people jack off.
SUPERMAN: Everyone on Krypton died thousands of years ago.
Everyone stands awkwardly. Superman still has his erection.
SUPERMAN: It usually takes a couple minutes.
The human body is a remarkable specimen. It is 6’3”, 215 pounds, and is covered in small freckles and red hair. Click sections of the physique below for a more in depth look into the anatomy of the human body.
Black Eye
The human body features a prominent right black eye that is usually the size of an angry bouncer’s left hand.
Facial Mustard Glop
Humans also all have a large glop of yellow mustard on the left side of their face, embedded in the beard. This is why everything smells and tastes like mustard.
Beard
During puberty, every human body grows a thick red beard, about a half-inch in length. It keeps us warm in the winter and extremely hot and uncomfortable in the summer.
Chest Bald Spot
All humans are covered in chest hair, with the exception of one two inch bald spot located right above the right nipple. Scientists believe this spot coincides with humans’ adoption of the messenger bag.
Abdominal Rash
The left side of the human body features a red, spotty rash, approximately 7 inches long and 3 inches wide depending on how much broccoli one had for lunch. We don’t know why every human has this rash, but we also don’t know why we have an appendix.
The Belly Button
All humans have an innie belly button, surrounded by hair and a healthy layer of girth. This was once our mouths.
The Ice Cream Cone
This is the ice cream cone, found on the right side of the human abdominal region.
Right Arm Bruise
All of us are born with a large bruise on the right arm, often re-aggravated by a failure to spot Volkswagen Beetles first.
Elbow Skin Patch
Human elbow skin is the strangest section of skin on the body - wrinkled, discolored, elastic, and gross to kiss.
Scar From Juggalo Knife Stab
When the human being turns 16 it will attend a friend’s older brother’s party. That older brother will be a huge fan of the Insane Clown Posse, as will his friends and other party goers. One of those ICP fans, also known as Juggalos, will drunkenly pull out a knife and slash the left arm, midway between the elbow and wrist. The resulting scar will last for the rest of a human’s lifespan.
The Left Hand
This is the left hand of a human.
The Right Hand
This is the right hand of a human. It is composed of 5 fingers, a palm, and a losing Scratch It.
$60 Cash Taped To The Back
Humans occasionally find themselves strapped for cash, which is why the body evolved to include three Jacksons taped to the upper left area of the back.
Happy Birthday
Found right above our Oval of Sweat, this phrase appears on the lower back after a heavy night of drinking during the late teens.
The Cat Scratch
A frustrating aspect of the human body is the Cat Scratch, found above our left knees. The Cat Scratch is a painful, often infected part of the human body that never heals and always keeps you pretty worried.
Thigh Bandage
The upper left thigh features a small bandage, typically one that appears one-to-two days old. When we die, our thigh bandages fall off, usually on a restaurant floor.
Hairless Calf
As humans began to wear tighter and tighter jeans, our calves evolved to stop growing hair, as this is the part of the body most often rubbing against the abrasive denim fibers.
Foot
The human foot is a size 13 and covered in freckles.
I've been provided a column to answer all of your, ah, your sex questions, which I'm really excited to do. The questions below have been provided by actual readers. If we didn't get to yours in this round, stay tuned, and as always, keep the questions coming to drsexman@funnyordie.com.
I adore my boyfriend, but whenever he goes "downtown," if you know what I mean, he seems a little lost and confused, and my mind starts to wander more toward ‘should I start washing the dishes tonight or can I leave them until tomorrow?’ What can I do to help him on his way a bit?
— Pantieless from Portland
Okay, wow, so you are a woman and you aren’t wearing panties, and you are writing to me. Holy crap, that’s great. And you have a boyfriend, too? Great. Are you wearing pants, or just crotchless? Sorry that’s insensitive and none of my business.
First off, I would just do the dishes first. You’re going to think about them no matter how much pleasure you are having, because, let’s face it, they ain’t going anywhere!
So the dishes are done, you’re on a bed, or on the floor, maybe, and your guy is going “downtown,” you know, um, licking your vagina with the goal of inducing pleasure, and you are not into it. How is he blowing it? Sometimes I blow it by just drooling and coughing a whole ton. Sometimes I’m all lips and forget to use my tongue at all. Also sometimes I have bad breath and I worry that you’ll be able to sense my bad breath through your vagina and you’ll be turned off. Is that a thing? Also, once, when I had a cold, I wasn’t thinking and I blew my nose into a woman’s vaginal hole. What’s weird is that she liked it, but I couldn’t repeat it and I just ended up making a bunch of honking noises.
Sorry, so, you want to help him out. Personally, I like it a lot when a woman tells me what to do, because then there’s less a chance of me blowing it. Tell him what you like and what you don’t like. Say, “Do that more,” or, “Move over there,” or, “Try that. Yeah, like that." Just don’t scream those commands or say them in a deep man voice. That will scare a man right out of your vagina, and you’ll blow it. I’ve done that before, but, you know, in reverse. I screamed “TOO TOOTHY” once and before I knew it, I was alone in my room, staring at my plant, boxer brief–less and without pants on, too.
I want to ask my partner if he would be into me fucking him. What's a good way to go about that?
— Strap-On Sally from Lawrence, KS
Heh heh, oh jeeze. Wow. That’s a loaded one. There’s A LOT GOING ON in this question. So, you, um, you want to, uh, “fuck," your man? And I take it from your name, Strap-On Sally, you are a girl? So to, uh, fuck your man you would, um, holy crap, you would put a short stick, or dildo, up his, um, you know, his butt? Wow.
But your question is how to ask your partner for permission to do this? Okay, well, I don’t have any experience in this, but I guess I would try and be honest. First I would sit him down and say, "I like sex, but I would rather do sex to you, and mainly to your butt.” Then I guess I would say, “I want to explore your, um, your butt, with, you know, a long, penis-shaped device that I would buy or fashion out of what’s lying around the house.” Then I would pick up a, um, I don’t know, say you have a long candle sitting there, I would pick up the candle and say, “Like, take this candle. I promise I won’t light the candle, but I would like to pretend this candle is a, you know, a big long penis, and I would like to kind of push it in and out of your butt, if that’s okay. I don’t know for how long … um, until something happens, I guess. Maybe until the candle melts?”
You know what, it’s starting to feel like I would blow this conversation. Maybe just get him drunk, throw the fake penis on, and say, “Is this gonna happen or what?” Holy crap, that sounds bad, too. Good luck.
When I'm having sex with my boyfriend, he says he wants me to moan more ... Be louder ... But I don't feel comfortable ... Or sexy ... Being loud ... What do you think? Should I just let it all out like he wants and risk feeling stupid?
— Whispering in Wisconsin
Whoa, okay, so I think that’s great. You are having sex already, and now it’s just about tweaks. Well, I say let it out. It just depends what you are moaning. Whatever you do, don’t loudly moan the following words or phrases while you are, you know, having sex (trust me):
“Frog people, froooooog people.”
“Tooo muchhhhhh sooooouuup.”
“Buckets of belts and plenty of welts.”
“2003 Mitsubishi Ecccccclipse.”
“Is this an Eye Store?”
“Imprrrregnate, imprrrrrregnate.”
“Looose Fleshhhh.”
“Penis Tuggers.”
“Burgle me. Burgle meeeee.”
In the years since his last book, Waldo has hit hard times.
Find him - as he finds himself - with his latest pictorial.
↓ Click On The Postcard To See A Message From Waldo ↓
[ Hint: I am utterly alone. ]
Illustration by Justin Bilicki
Special Thanks: Rob Greenwald, Andy Bush, Jessica Leigh Schwartz, Alison Koch, & Joel Mandelkorn
O
ne morning Conifer Middle School student Jeremy Coil woke from a rather bestial dream about a nice classmate of his named Ariana to find that his penis had turned into a lobster. Sensing something was wrong, Jeremy jumped up and gazed down in horror: a red tail grew out of his mons pubis, tiny crawling legs extended and retracted where his scrotum had been, and at the end a pointy head and two large pincers.
As the adults in his life had warned, there had been growing and changing occurring to Jeremy and his peer group. But the changes he could observe in others seemed desirable. Duncan Dofter had gained four inches of height and a baritone, crackless voice. Ariana Pulski had gained breasts and the attention of the more popular boys in the grade. Jeremy’s own personal growing and changing seemed disgusting and shameful by comparison. First he had found a single stringly strangly string of hair growing out of his left arm pit. And now this: his penis had turned into a lobster.
“Maybe if I go back to sleep” thought Jeremy, crawling back under the covers. As he closed his eyes, the Ariana dream returned. As always, she was in shop class, a subject at which she excelled. In the dream, Ariana stood using a vice and a power drill to connect two planks of wood. As she drilled, Jeremy felt his lobster-penis fill with vibrancy and then violently pince the inside of his right thigh. “Ouch!” Jeremy shrieked.
“Jeremy! Are you okay?” his mother called, knocking at the door.
“Fine mother! Don’t open the door!” Jeremy shouted back, startled.
“Okay. Well, it’s quarter to seven! Time to get ready for school, sweetheart.”
He had to stop thinking about Ariana. But as he got ready for school, she continued to return to his thoughts, resulting in the lobster-penis shredding any underwear Jeremy pulled near. How was he going to explain that to his mom? At last, he managed to lash the pincers closed with some camping rope and was able to dress. “Oh, dreadful school. As if it wasn’t already bad enough without having a lobster for a penis,” Jeremy thought as he pulled on his jeans. “And, drat it all, today I have gym!” Jeremy went downstairs, ate the now cold oatmeal his mother left for him, and resignedly marched to the bus stop.
J
eremy pressed his head against the bus window, his backpack placed purposely over his groin, picturing everyone at school noticing and teasing him immediately. Middle school was a cruel place. Kevin Huganvick had tried to transfer school’s after Duncan pantsed him the hallway, granting Kevin the nickname “Mouse” ever since, a mouse being a small creature and not something you’d want your penis shape or size compared to. What sort of nickname would having a lobster for a penis earn? “Probably something like ‘Lobster-Penis,’” Jeremy thought. His worries were interrupted when he noticed that the lobster-penis seemed to be enjoying the gentle gyration of the bus seat. Trying to calm the sea bug, Jeremy pushed his backpack down harder but the lobster-penis seemed to enjoy that too! In fact, the lobster-penis seemed to become stimulated by just about every stimuli Jeremy encountered. How could his classmates not notice his condition with such a non-docile lobster? But when Jeremy arrived at school and proceeded to his first class, nobody said a word. “I guess everyone is too worried about their own own anxieties and agendas to care about my lobster-penis issue,” Jeremy thought, as he sat through his morning classes as if his penis wasn’t a lobster at all.
There was one close call, however, just before lunch. It happened when Jeremy passed by a pretty eighth grade girl named Katelyn Gibbons. She was bending over to fiddle with her bottom locker in the hallway and, without meaning to, Jeremy caught a glance of the very top of her eighth grade butt slit, sneaking out from the top of her jeans. The sight of her butt slit sent the little creature thrashing so violently Jeremy had to take his backpack off and carry it in front of his waist all the way to the bathroom. Once safely inside a stall, Jeremy checked to make sure the bindings were still in place. Looking down at the squirming fellow, red and angry, trying to break free, Jeremy felt sorry for it. “Geeze Louise, I know that was a good looking butt slit, but what do you want me to do about it?” Jeremy said aloud to his lobster-penis. A cough that sounded a lot like one of Jeremy’s teachers came from the stall next door, letting Jeremy know he wasn’t alone. Jeremy tried to think thoughts that made him feel the opposite as the Katelyn’s butt slit thoughts made him feel. He settled on thinking about the way he had felt looking at his mom crying during his grandmother’s funeral, and how it had felt weird to think about how his grandmother was his mom’s mom, and how one day his mom would look as old and wrinkly and dead as his grandmother had looked in her casket and maybe one day in the past she had been as young and confused a kid as Jeremy felt now. Those thoughts seemed to do the trick. Soon his lobster-penis clammed up, pulling its appendages inward, and before long seemed to be sleeping. Carefully, Jeremy returned his lobster-penis to his underwear, pulled up his jeans, and walked to end of the lunch line.
Jeremy sat by himself in the cafetorium, the large room used as both the cafeteria and the auditorium at Conifer Middle School. Jeremy stuffed his cafeteria purchased greasy pizza and chocolate milk into his mouth as fast as he could, hoping to leave lunch without incident. Still chewing the last bite, he stood with his tray and walked to the trashcan by the door. With just two paces to go, he felt a tap on his shoulder: he spun to see Ariana smiling at him.
“Hey Jeremy!” Against all laws of nature, goddess Ariana was talking to lowly bottom-feeder Jeremy.
“Oh, hey Ariana.” Jeremy said, his lobster penis waking slowly, like a sleeping puppy stirring at the sound of hard kibble being poured into a porcelain dish.
“Um, I wanted to tell you that I liked that book report you read in class last quarter,” she said. His lobster-penis was now fully awake.
“Oh. Um. The one on Kafka?”
“No,” said Ariana, “the other one. Dickens I thinks? The one with Lucy Manette. Anyway, you’re really smart,” she said, pushing his shoulder playfully. The lobster penis was now thrashing as violently as it ever had, “and I was thinking maybe we could, like, read or do homework together this weekend? ” she said.
“Oh. Um. Yeah! I’d really like that.” Jeremy felt that this conversation with Ariana was an even less likely occurrence than his genital metamorphosis.
“And to return the favor I can help you out in shop class. I know Mr. McDaniels has been giving you a hard time because you’re afraid to use the circular saw,” Ariana said.
The thrashing in his pants was now causing his entire body to vibrate. Certainly this couldn’t go unnoticed? Yet Ariana gave no indication if she did. Jeremy wanted desperately to extend the ecstasy of this moment, but then he heard the distinctive sound of lobster claw scratching on metal and Jeremy thought it unwise to wait around and see if his lobster-penis was smart enough to open a zipper from the inside. “Cool. I’ll Facebook you! Bye Ariana!”
Jeremy turned and ran, throwing his food, tray and all, into the trash and dashing out the door, too euphoric to notice the stink eyed grimace Duncan had given him from the cool kids table near the exit. Still running down the hall, Jeremy’s happiness didn’t stall until he realized the class that his feet had been automatically propelled him towards: gym. His pace slowed to a somber stagger. “Gym? Oh, God, no!” he thought.
T
he bell rang as Jeremy completed his funeral procession to the locker room. Inside, the foul smelling dungeon was already abuzz with activity. Animalistic shrieks and maniacal laughter echoed across the fading green metal lockers and gray cinder block walls.
He managed to get his gym shorts on without causing a stir and kickball passed as it usually did: a super fun time that was way better than any other class. It wasn’t the gym activity itself that Jeremy hated. It was the locker room.
Returning to the locker room, Jeremy knew he could escape his fate no longer. Coach Hitches was strict about the rule that everyone had to shower before returning to class. Jeremy wrapped a towel around his shorts, attempting to drop his shorts under the protective screen of the towel. He felt his lobster-penis come alive, interested in its new less encumbered surroundings. He turned and was startled to see a cross armed and bare chested Duncan standing in his way.
“Why’d you change under the towel, Coil? Afraid everybody would see your vagina?” Duncan said, managing to be conversational yet at the same time call everyone’s attention to the interaction. “Answer me, Coil. Do you have a vagina under there or what?” Duncan said. A spattering of laughs that betrayed a sense of relief that they weren’t in Jeremy’s position more than genuine mirth.
“Um, no,” said Jeremy.
“No, what?” said Duncan.
“No I don’t have a vagina.”
“Oh really? Because I saw you talking to Ariana in the lunch room, and unless...” Duncan stopped speaking and looked down. Jeremy’s lobster-penis wasn’t good at distinguishing context and even the mention of Ariana’s name in this hostile way caused all sorts of activity beneath the towel.
“What the… ?” Duncan’s hand darted to where Jeremy was keeping the towel closed around his waist, but before he could pull it away, a cry came from the shower.
“AHH! Greg is a bug! Everybody, Greg is a frickin’ bug!” Everyone turned to a flash of black exoskeleton and the sound of a dozen of hard legs hitting the locker room floor and crashing out the emergency exit. The alarm rang, lights flashed. In the commotion that ensued, Jeremy slipped away and threw on his regular clothes.
Coach Hitches entered, “All right, protocol, everybody to the soccer field!”
The class chattered as they filed out.
“What was that?”
“Greg was a bug!”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m telling you he was like a giant bug monster!”
“Yeah right.”
“No, I saw it too!”
O
ut on the field, they were lined up according to their homerooms. “Hi Jeremy,” said Ariana, standing behind him in his homeroom line. Despite his recent close call, Jeremy was delighted to see her.
“Oh. Hi Ariana.” Jeremy looked over to the line Duncan waited in. To his surprise, Duncan stood sheepishly in nothing but his towel. In the kerfuffle his clothes went missing. A very satisfied looking Kevin Huganvick smiled as Duncan was on the receiving end of middle schooler scorn for the first time. Despite his circumstances, Duncan shot over a stare warning physical bullying for any missteps in Jeremy’s direction. Jeremy considered turning away from Ariana, but something deep inside him, something deep inside him that was connected to his lobster-penis, compelled him to stay. He breathed in.
“Um, Ariana?” said Jeremy.
“Yeah?”
“You have blossomed into a well built and beautiful young lady.”
“That’s a weird thing to say, Jeremy,” Ariana said sweetly, “but thank you.”
They became quiet as the adults finished taking attendance and began leading them back to the school.
“Anybody seen Greg?” a teacher called out. “No? Okay, everybody back inside!”
While their classmates flowed past them, Jeremy and Ariana stood in place and shared a glance. In that glance, without speaking they agreed on something that they both knew but didn’t yet have the vocabulary to articulate, something in confirmation of their new growings and recent changings, psychically acknowledging a mutual pledge to accept and affirm aberrations both physical and mental of the other as they entered this new as of yet unknown life phase, and as their classmates reached the threshold of the school and a teacher called something out to them that neither heard, they each stretched out an arm and held hands before slowly turning to walk to their final class of the day.
Also, Ariana’s vagina had turned into capybara, a large water rodent indigenous to the rainforests of the Amazon Basin.
Harness your self-esteem. Stand in front of a mirror and tell yourself, “I have a strong Twitter presence.” Repeat three to twenty times a day.
Reap strength from others. Chant, “I am a titan of LinkedIn,” during communal meditation. Lower yourself into child's pose and connect to a professional network.
Seek natural healing. Stand under a waterfall and think to yourself, “I can create buzz.” Carve your low Klout score into a creekbed and watch the elements erode the text.
Chase self-awareness. Become conscious of your breath, and speak: “I am greater than the sum of my notifications.” For each status that goes unliked, unfriend 20 people.
Unlock your spirit. Walk onto a beach and remind yourself, “I have a dynamic personal website.” Release your Chi by punching the sand and screaming into your towel.
Kind of an easy out, but effective nonetheless.
In 1891, renowned French painter Paul Gauguin famously travelled to Tahiti to “create pure, primitive art”... or so he claimed. The Gauguin estate recently released several never-before-seen, original titles of Gauguin’s paintings, which suggest that the artist was actually just a dirty horndog, hell-bent on ogling Tahitian babes all day.
Below are the original titles of Gauguin’s Tahitian women paintings, all of which were changed after being deemed “too horny” for most art galleries.
Stay tuned for our next installment of “Horn dogs of Art History”:
How old are you?
Jesus minus 1.
How old would you like to be?
This is fine. At 25, you have hot boobs but not the best brain. At 45, your brain is great but your boobs have lived a bit. The thirties provide a nice brain/boob balance.
What’s the coolest way to die?
Trying to prevent your own death. At least you tried.
What’s the hottest way to fry?
Naked. Maybe with an apron.
In a kooky comic-strip mashup, Cathy has joined forces with Calvin and/or Hobbes. What do they do?
Calvin and Hobbes get out of there as soon as possible, probably on a sled.
What’s the funniest type of porno?
Lemme scroll through what I have open right now and get back to you ...
If you had to direct a porno, who would you get to star in it?
Linda Hamilton, Sigourney Weaver, Katee Sackhoff, and Milla Jovovich. And it wouldn’t be a porno, but just like a movie with cool punching.
Fuck Marry Kill: Puff Daddy, Diddy, Sean Combs.
No, no, no. None of these.
What’s your favorite Michelle Pfeiffer movie?
I like everything Mekhi Phifer has done. He was great as the Catwoman.
You’re a substitute teacher tasked with filling in at an inner city school. The kids just don’t want to learn and refuse to not be in gangs because they’re from the inner city. How do you inspirationally turn things around?
I’m a nun on the run from some nightclub gangsters. I don’t get shot by the gangsters because of my nun pals and everything is resolved. Then, for some reason I can’t remember, I go teach music at this school where Lauryn Hill is a student. Really, though, why am I back with the nuns? Because I already got away from the gangsters and I’m a nightclub singer and it feels like a nightclub singer would only have to pretend to be a nun once per life. So I can’t understand how I’m at this school or anything.
We hear you’re engaged. What’s it like to be loved?
Terrifying.
What’s keeping you from riding more horses?
Stupid horses always wanna climb up a mountain and kind of dangle off the side being all, “My feet are steady. I’m a horse and I kick rocks around but I won’t fall,” even though they KNOW I am afraid of heights. “Let’s go through that meadow or open field of nothing,” I say, but the horses are like, “We only do what we want!”
How do you think Snoop Dogg responds when you accidentally walk in on him while he’s watching CBS sitcoms?
You asked this like you think he’d be embarrassed. Here’s the thing about Snoop: He doesn’t embarrass. He could have his entire peen accidentally hanging out of his pants while he meets your grandmother and the President and he’d be like, “No doubt.”
What’s wrong with hippos?
Too hungry. Don’t understand the concept of food. Those little white plastic balls won’t make you less hungry, hippos.
What would your job be if you were in the Civil War?
That one medic who is a woman dressed as a man so she can make it to the front lines. Lots of bone sawing. Decent fake mustache (for the time).
Who’s famous these days?
Zooey Deschanel? She definitely has a fuchsia coat.
How would you advise someone on making it in Hollywood?
Tons of plastic surgery. I’ve had A LOT of work done — started right when I was born — and look at me now! I’m a star!
Please explain the Electoral College and if you can’t, please write how you think the Seinfeld theme song would look if it were transcribed into words.
We vote and then they vote and it doesn’t have to be the same as our votes but it can be and de beepy beepy deepy dee boom da boom boom bee (bucka chicka bucka chicka).
What about the theme to Curb Your Enthusiasm?
It’s the same.
What TV show do you watch in the dark?
All, because I have standards. Close the blinds, too.
What’s your favorite TV show... er? That is to say, who’s got a nice shower on TV?
The ones on Game of Thrones. People look awesome. Those people are always getting clean! Oh, but like showers I would like to also be in? Orange is the New Black. With Piper. And Alex. Maybe two Alexes.
What movie do you tell people you like, but you secretly hate?
I’m not a liar, OK, Funny Or Die?
What movie do you tell people you hate, but secrete only mildly dislike?
Oh, I hate everything.
How old were you when you attended your first Natalie Merchant concert?
Lilith Fair 1999. I was 17. I ran toward the stage in a fit of tears when Sarah McLachlan appeared to sing “Adia.”
How often do you play your Coldplay greatest hits CD?
As often as Gwyneth does.
Our theme for the month is “Exploration.” Cool if we dive into that?
Wouldn’t recommend it. Too shallow.
Would you say that Native Americans “had it coming?” Explain.
No. But he had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame (pop, six, squish, uh uh, Cicero, Lipschitz). And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, please rent Chicago and get yourself some culture. Then move on to Cabaret. Can’t do it the other way around. You must build to perfection.
What would you bring on a vacation to the moon?
Liv Tyler, iPod, speakers, and a downloaded copy of I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing. (I know that was an asteroid, and that she stayed on Earth, but I just think she’d be up for the moon and, yeah, it is weird to make out while her dad sings, but that’s also the whole point of that movie so I don’t think she be that upset about it.)
What’s the point of going on a hike?
Acceptable to wear spandex! I do it for the spandex.
“Take a hike”: That’s a funny phrase, right?
Whoa, you’re good. How long you been doing it? Do you do road stuff or just in town?
What were road trips with your family like as a kid?
My older sister and I in the way back of our station wagon, counting the number of people behind us we could get to change lanes using rude gestures and confusing antics. And tons of barfing because we ate too much white-cheddar popcorn or the like.
What’s it like being a mother, probably?
Boring. Especially when babies are teeny. They don’t do anything. But also the best. Yeah, that’s right: I’m into it.
What do you talk about when getting your hair cut?
Radical queer activism and desert sweat lodges (I go to a very specific salon and I follow their conversational lead).
What do you talk about at that awful moment when you’ve run out of things to talk about when getting your hair cut?
I close my eyes and focus on sweating through my shirt due to silence-induced anxiety.
How good are mandarin oranges?
The canned ones will put you directly into a diabetic coma, and the fresh ones are too small and annoying a food for any adult. How do you have time to peel such small food? What are you, cracking your own almonds?
Vladimir Putin: Guy’s a mess, right?
Scariest shirtless guy out there. Anyone who believes gays are coming for their children scares the shit out of me. Gays are raising children — sometimes children straight folks weren’t able to raise — and there are gay children (that’s where gay adults come from). Anyone who thinks there is something else happening between gays and kids besides parenting (or being an aunt or nanny or cousin) or being gay and being a kid does not have a firm grip on reality and should not have nuclear weapons. What’s happening to gay folks in Russia right now is heartbreaking and awful and should scare us all. And it’s also a great reason to keep the conversation about equal rights and equal marriage here in the States going. Don’t be like Russia on this one, America.
Are you political?
See above.
What are you against?
See two above.
What are you anti-?
See three above.
What is the difference?
One of those questions was below the other.
What are you pro-?
All human beings being treated like human beings.
What are you a pro at?
Much like Pantene, I’m a pro at V’s. And that is a hilarious sex joke.
How is your Borat?
My Bo Rat is a professional athlete in two sports.
... You like?
Yes. He’s made me tons of money with endorsements. That photo of him with a baseball bat across his little rat shoulders — perfection.
When you get married, instead of saying “my girlfriend,” you’d say:
My wife. Co-owner of these kids (gesturing toward future kids).
We’ve seen you describe yourself as a “tiny lesbian.” How tiny are we talking?
0.5 Briennes of Tarth.
What do you think Steve Spielberg is doing right now?
Hopefully talking Richard Donner out of Goonies 2. REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE CRYSTAL SKULL, STEVEN, AND HOW SAD THAT WAS.
Explain the Middle East in seven words:
Whose Shire is it? (That was four.)
Fill in the blanks: ___ ___ what ___ eat (hint: It’s “you are what you eat”)
Never say this to a comic. Never! We are trying the best we can! We don’t always live at our houses! We might eat a stale bag of hotel-room pretzels or a hard-boiled egg from Starbucks, but we are not these things!
All set?
So say we all.
Make your choice below. We won't judge.
On their expedition, explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark famously detailed their journey. Below are never-before-seen entries, as well as actual pages from their journals.
Some rain this morning. Wind along the northwest. Walked along shore with the Indian chief and interpreters. Saw buffalo, elk, and great numbers of goats. Our hunters and Captain Clark returned with bountiful kills.
Great numbers of buffalo, elk, deer, and goats. Our hunters killed 10 deer and a goat today, and I personally wounded a bear. I saw several fresh tracks of those animals, which are three times as large as a man’s track. The wind hard all day from the N.E. and E. The bear was wearing pants, by the way, which was peculiar.
Camped on the east side of the river with the Mandan village south two miles above. The hunters killed a buffalo bull. They say out of about 300 buffalo they did not see one cow. I asked the hunters if they remembered the bear wearing pants, and they did not recall. They told me they had never seen a bear wearing pants before, at least in that geographical area.
A lot of rain. I thought I saw a bear wearing pants but did not. Was the whole encounter a dream?
Yesterday as I was alone near a pasture, with rocky embankments to the south, I spotted a large bear wearing pants. Having recently mistaken a pantsless bear for a bear in pants, I wanted to ensure my eyes were not tricked by the light, and fired a shot from my rifle into the air. The bear in pants looked at me, seemed to provide a glance I can only describe as annoyed, and disappeared over the outcropping. My shot gathered the attention of other crewmembers, though by the time they reached my position the bear in pants had disappeared.
Today we met with the chief. After trading blue beads for a fine sea otter pelt — the likes of which we had not yet encountered on our trip — I politely asked the chief, a wise man, if there were any stories of bears in pants. Communicating the phrase “bear in pants” proved to be considerably difficult, and I did not ever receive a clear answer from the chief, though we did end up exchanging pants as part of a trade. I do believe, however, that in describing our path in the days ahead, there was a brief mention of a bear, and I swear I saw the chief point at my pants.
This morning I witnessed before God two bears in pants pawing for fish in the river. They were upright, and would wipe their paws on their pants. Once again, however, I was alone. Confident in the existence of bears wearing pants, I immediately went to confide in Lewis.
Rain today. Creating shelter took considerable time and left us all feeling quite poorly, forced to spend much of the day in damp clothes with a sour demeanor. In the early morning, Captain Clark mentioned something to me about a bear in pants. I entertained his bizarre wonderments until he completed his tales, upon which time I told him not to bring it up anymore unless we see one.
Rain continued through the night and next day. Moved camp further into forest, hoping to find drier conditions. Yesterday Lewis advised me on the bear-in-pants situation. I believe he’s interested in the find. He told me not to inform the rest of our crew, surely in that he and I may be solely credited for the discovery.
Woke up in middle of the night. Went outside my tent and immediately came upon a bear in pants doing some sort of jig and waving at me. I rushed to a nearby tent to wake someone up but the bear in pants ran away on two legs before anyone else could see it.
The next morning I brought the episode up to the entire crew. The bear in pants was met with laughter from some, concern from others. Lewis seemed irked at my outburst, no doubt because he wanted the bear in pants to be more “our thing.”
Two members of our crew secured and shot down a bear with pants! Finally we may dissect the bear and hope to ascertain why this bear wears pants, how it comes to secure the pants, and where these bears may originate.
I have just been informed that the pants were actually put on the bear after its killing. Humorous prank, indeed. The crew continues to do impressions of my reaction and sprint to my journal.
Tonight we dined on the meat of a bear. Crew spirits have never been so high.
It has been one month and three days since my last sighting of a bear in pants, though I remain hopeful that the entire crew shall see one before our return. Hope is a full meal that shall be my everlasting nourishment. Also we made it to the Pacific Ocean today.
Great joy in camp. We are in view of the ocean, this great Pacific Ocean — which we have been so long anxious to see — and the roaring noise made by the waves breaking on the rocky shores (as I suppose) may be heard distinctly. I can’t believe Clark was not more excited to see the Pacific. He kept looking back at the woods and sighing.
Today I found a note. In crude writing it reads, “TeL No 1,” and was signed “Pantbearrs.” To me this was the surest proof of their existence and remarkable intelligence.
Out of fear and the desire to win over the faiths of my peer, I showed it to Lewis anyway, and he remarked that he is quite worried about me.
Clark is now fabricating notes from the bears in pants. He must miss home more than I can say.
Saw a regular bear with everyone this morning. I brought up the fact that it could have just taken its pants off earlier. A bear doesn’t need to be wearing pants all the time. This was met with silence and private whispers.
Left some pants near a den of bears. Have proceeded to watch it for three days whilst we await improved weather. Bears have not gone for the pants yet. Also found another note reading ‘Pantbearrs luv ur SUFFURRING.’ I shall keep this note to myself.
Found Clark writing a note with his offhand, to look like the writings of a bear in pants no doubt. I’ve informed Captain Clark that he is on his last straw. If he does not desist with this bears and pants nonsense immediately he will not meet Jefferson.
I’ve decided to drop the whole bear-in-pants thing. I must have let the stresses of the long and grueling journey get to me in a peculiar way. No more.
One more thing. I did spot this lovely crow today.
Shelby Fero came to visit New York, but since she’s only 20, we decided to hook her up with some new IDs. With personas perfect for every situation, she had no problem getting around town with these in her back pocket.
For lesson #2, click here for Tom's Total Body Confusion
This article was originally published March 2012
The second book in our ongoing series. Press play below.
Jump ahead to photo spreads of naked women:
66:54 — Game of Thrones star Emilia Clarke
103:20 — The Secret Garden with model Shané
117:13 — Miss April Shanice Jordyn
137:35 — Backstage Pass: Playmates at the Roxy Theatre
I've been provided a column to answer all of your, ah, your sex questions, which I'm really excited to do. If you have a, you know, a sex question, feel free to email me at drsexman@funnyordie.com. I'm here to help!
My girlfriend wants me to rub her chest but doesn't want me to touch her nipples. Is this weird?
- Nipless in Nebraska
Wow, okay, I guess we’re jumping right in to nipples. Well, first off, that’s awesome that you have a girlfriend. That probably means you can kiss her all the time and she won’t get mad, unless she's in a meeting or something. Also I imagine you guys get to do a lot of activities together that aren’t even sexual. Just, like, spend time together. That’s great.
Full disclosure: the last time a woman told me she wanted me to touch her chest I kind of freaked out and said, “Okay, let me wash my hands first because I was eating a lot of peanut butter earlier, and I don’t want to get any on your tix.”
I blew it in a lot of ways there. First, don’t go wash your hands unless you know they are covered in a bad disease. Second, don’t even bring up peanut butter if you know what’s good for you, and third, don’t call tits ‘tix.’ They won’t like it. Also don’t call them ‘Brauts.' I know that kind of sounds like breasts but it’s really more like a sausage, which is another word for, you know, your um, your penis.
So there you are, rubbing her chest, with desire and permission and everything, which is great, but she doesn’t want you to touch her nipples. I don’t know, that’s pretty standard for me, especially since my hands are often covered in peanut butter or worm guts (I fish).
If your hands are free of nut butters and she’s still not into it, have you asked her why yet? Maybe if it hurts her or something (I know my nipples hurt a lot, but that’s from my work pals giving me twisters whenever I jam the puzzle cutter) you could try coming at the nipples from a different angle. Try pushing them in like an elevator button, even say something dirty like “69th floor, please.” Oh! Maybe try throwing some thick leather gloves on and then touching the nipples. That’s all I got. I hope you don’t blow this.
I’m a woman who is uncertain how to move when I am on top. Do you have technique advice?
- Straddling in St. Louis
Oh my God. First off, it’s awesome that you would even email me. I can’t believe this. This is great. Okay, let’s jump in, sorry. So, when you are on top, you say? So that means you’re already having sex. That’s juicy stuff.
So there you are, having sex, on top of a guy, and you’re probably naked, and that’s, you know, that’s great. But now you’re wondering how to move around up there. Well, this one time I had sex once, and I was on top. I would get tired and fall across the body of the woman I was plowing love into. I got a cramp and, trying to get off, dug my elbows into her rib cage, which made her scream in pain. I thought that was an orgasm, so then I orgasmed, and then it was over. I blew it big time there. Just don’t do that.
I think as long as you’re not flailing your arms all over the place and sticking your fingers in his nose, you should be okay. Another thing to avoid is holding your stomach and saying, “Too much soup.” I learned that the hard way.
How can I tell that my girlfriend really had an orgasm during sex?
- Anxious in Arkansas
MAN, I wish you didn't ask this, because I really blew this one recently. I had, you know, sex, I think, and I finished fast and got worried she didn't, um, orgasm, so I accidentally yelled "ORGASM, YOU DID?" right in her ear, in a shrill Yoda voice. Then I started sneezing, and I couldn't stop. I sneezed all over her until she left. Then I cried a lot.
So I think just live life hoping she did, because there's too much room to blow it.
