Prepare to be offended, shocked and appalled.

A recent, totally serious survey was conducted that proved (yes, proved) that 1 in 10 guys have unprotected sex due to the fact that they’re too embarrased to go to the pharmacy and buy condoms.

Pish, tiffle and snort, I say!  What in the world could be wrong with proudly proclaiming to a room of complete strangers that you have a penis and you’re going to poke something with it?  Well, if you’re one of those poor bastards who’s happy getting VD or a kid because you’re too scared to buy prophylactics, here’s J’s special guide on how to avoid embarrassment when shopping for condoms!

I’d like to just quell the discussion here by saying that I cannot be held responsible for any mental scarring and/or feelings of nausea caused by the content of this post.  If you feel ill because you’re trying to imagine me doing all of this stuff, then you’re a very sick person and I want your phone number and home address now.   K?  kthxbai.  Oh, we’ll also have Rhy and Nap providing theatrical examples of each point.  Now you know we’re getting fucked up.

1.  Browse for a while before making your purchase

Due to the sheer selection of rubber hoses available at your local pharmacy, it’s always best to take your time before buying.  Don’t just rush in there and grab the first pack you choose: you’ll usually end up disappointed.  Perhaps bring a loved one or significant other to help you in your purchase.  After all, her pleasure is important, too.  Here’s an example of a typical conversation that should unfold around the condom stall of the pharmacy:

What do you think honey?

This is so, so embarrassing…

I was thinking maybe the water-based ones… I- oh.  No.  They’re made by Ukranian orphans.  I’ll have none of that, thank you very much!  Excuse me, clerk!  Clerk!

What are you doing?

Just a sec, dear.  Clerk!  Excuse me!  Where can I find the fair trade condoms?

Aisle three, next to the ethically produced viagra.

Oh, yeah.  There they are!

Taking your time to choose condoms shows that for you, sex is nothing to be embarassed about.  It shows that you take the horizontal boogaloo seriously: no giggling, no inappropriate touching and no cuddling afterwards.  You want to show to the people in the store that you’re as cold as that hooker you murdered last week.

2. Make sure to buy a large selection in all shapes and sizes.

This shows people that your sex life is varied and can be fun.  Ideally, you want to purchase something that’ll give you a fond chuckle years on while reading the paper by the fire:

Oh, zose glow in ze dark condoms!  What a riot zey did give us!

I like to pretend that my penis is an anglerfish, and my partner is a foolish fish, ever hypnotized by a glowing lure in the dark.  You can pretend that your sexual congress is part of a nature documentary.  Hell, you could even get Richard Attenborugh to provide the commentary!

The anglerfishpenis is a solitary animal and tends to hunt alone in the dark recesses of the abyss.  It waits in the silt of the ocean floor, using it’s glowing lure to attract prey.

Bloop bloop bloop, I’m a fishy fish fish.  My life is so fucking cool!  I can swim and shit!  Hey… what’s that?  It’s all glowy… It’s shiny.  Ooh.  What… AH! AH! FUCK!  It’s got ahold of me!

The anglerfishpenis beats the prey into submission before – OW FUCK! My eye!

Oh.  Ah deed not see vous there, Richard.

3. Never, EVER buy normal sized condoms.

What, do you really want everyone to know you’re just an average Joe?  Fuck that, buy magnum sized condoms.  If they’re too big for you, just slap on a few rubber bands and your good to go.  Plus, the girl at the check out counter will be seriously impressed.

Ohmygosh.  But that means…

That’s right, baby.  I was actually thinking of getting penis reduction surgery.  My last partner died, I was there like a guy with his hand stuck in a vending machine; I had to get the medics to use the jaws of life to cut me out.  It was terrible.

Why do you keep on winking?

I, uh… It’s a motor disease.  I’ve actually got Parkinsons.

Of course, what she doesn’t know is that you’re lying through your back teeth.  But that doesn’t matter.  She still thinks you rock.  Just don’t sleep with her.  Ever.  Because then she’ll know that you’re the proud owner of a fruit roll-up.

4.If all else fails, pretend you’re a cheap bastard.

If you’re still embarrassed, then be inventive.  I knew a guy who pretended he was using them as balloons for a kid’s party.  Okay, so that guy was Napoleon and that never really happened.  But this is comedy, damnit!

Woah.  That sure is a lot of condoms.

Oui.  Mah name ees Honkee Ze Cloon and ah am short of munee.  So ah must bah condoms for ze childrens birthday party.

Wait, what?  You want to buy condoms for a kid’s birthday party? … the fuck?

Oui, oui.  For ze blow up balloons, n’est-ce-pas?

Hey, weren’t you the guy at my little brother’s birthday party?  The clown who passed out in the swimming pool in a puddle of his own vomit?

*looking up* Fuck, we’ve been rumbled!

Let us run!  Sacre bleu!

Or, failing that, you could buy them from a vending machine.

Go, go, go!

J

Rhy comes back from holiday and I find out that Meecrab is a dirty word

Dun-dun-dun.  Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun!  Bam-bam-bam, POW!

Air drumming again, huh?

Tik-a-dick-dick, CHA!  Thank you ladies and gentlemen, thank you.  No, that was my electric boogaloo.  My powers of boogie-woogie astound all those who come into contact with it.  Women gush at the mere sight of it, lesser men weep themselves to sleep over the knowledge that no matter how many cans of Red Bull and pop-rocks they drink they can never be as awesome as me when it comes to sheer funkiness.  I shit all over John fucking Travolta.

…Indeed.  So what are you doing back so soon from your mental vacation?

Well, you took a look at the recent posts and noticed they were all horribly depressing due to the house being broken into and your marks being shit and stuff… So here I am to bring some of that comedy magic that FTD is so famous for.  Hope you don’t mind.  That and the world tour of “ZOMG UR A RACIST!!!???111!” flopped.  ‘Cept for Napoleon.  Some Hollywood execs are putting him in the new Gerard Depardieu movie.

Wow.  So he won’t be back for a while, huh?

Probably not.  But if the little Meecrab does I’ll make sure he’s shot.

Meecrab?  Isn’t that a Thai dish?

Dunno.  Sounds dirty though.  Hey, what’s that shouting coming from upstairs?

Either my housemate has just figured out Einstein’s general theory of relativity or he’s playing Need for Speed.  It’s a love-hate thing.  Though he’s been pretty restrained, it must be said.  After all, he’s not throwing shit at the TV.

What; like you?

…No comment.  Anyways, that whole “stream of consciousness” dealie is wearing out for the moment.  I’ll leave you to your electric boogaloo.  Take it away!

Dun-dun-dun, bah-bah-bah, KER-SHAW!  Bam-bum-bu-dum KAPOW!

I peruse the internet and discover the darker abcesses of Craigslist Casual Encounters

So do you wanna tell me what we’re doing again?

We’re perusing the internet, James! Today’s 21st century counter-culture was built upon these gold-lined halls of empirical technology!  Without the internet, we wouldn’t be the people we were today!  This blog wouldn’t exist!  I would never have been conjured up from the recesses of your innermost conscious thoughts!  This is my birthplace, James.

Oh… Okay.  Where’s Napoleon?

Oh, he’s about.  I think he’s trying to convince some über-nerd that he actually IS the guy who played Napoleon Dynamite.  But forget about him!  We’re going on an internet safari.  Look at all the avatars of people we’re passing!  Isn’t it amazing?  Look, let’s go into this open chatroom and see which upstanding citizen we meet!

<cuteygrrl315> Oh hai there

<rhyknow> Hello there!  What a glorious, frabjous day!

<cuteygrrl315> A/S/L?

Rhy, you sure this is a good idea?

She just wants to get to know our cultural background, James!  Maybe if she knows we’re an 18 year old male teenager from France, she’ll start an enriching discussion about the Cathar massacre, or the aftereffects of the French revolution!

No, I think that she is a 35 year old male from Texas.  Dude, I think this guy is a child molester.

Nonsense!

<rhyknow> 18/M/France

<cuteygrrl315> kthxbai

Oh.  Seems she had to go.  Probably got homework to do or something like that.

<hottie367> Hai =]

<rhyknow> Good day!

<hottie367> Do u want to meet up?

<rhyknow> Well, I… um…

<hottie367> R U getting hard?

<rhyknow> Excuse me?  Why would you want to know that?

<hottie367> Bcz I am

<rhyknow> has left the chatroom
Oh shit!  Fuck!  Oh GOD, the sweet humanity of it all!

I told you so, dude.  Open chatrooms are full of weirdos.

Let’s get the fuck outta here! Go! Go! Go!… Shit, we’re safe.  They can’t get to us now.  Where the hell are we?

Patrick Swayze’s Wikipedia article by the look of it.  Hey, there’s someone else here.

Patrick Swayze (born August 18, 1952) is a three-time GAYLORD, fag and child molester BECOS HE WAS IN DONNIE DARKO LULZ???!!!11!!!111????

Indeed.

Sh1t! R U from WIKIPOLICE?

Erm… no.  We’re just a couple of travellers.

Noble Wikipedia contextual veracity knight…. Hey, what the fuck did you just say about Patrick Swayze?

Dude, let it go.  Just ask him how to get back on track.

Oh, right.  Yeah.  Well, we’re lost and we need to know how to get back onto the main Internet road.

Oh, right.  Well, you leave Wikipedia, take a right at Ebaumsworld, a left at rotten.com and keep going ’till you reach the end of that road.  That’s where everyone goes, so I guess it’s main street.

Uh…  Thanks, I guess.

—

15 minutes later

—

I’m gonna kill that little shit for giving us the wrong directions.  Fuck, where are we?

Seems we found our way onto the Porn Site streets.  Hey, the kid was right.   There’s a LOT more people here than any other of the places we visited.

Jesus, there are.  Hey, wait.  Over there!  An exit!  Craigslist… Well, it doesn’t SOUND like a porn site.

Oh, wait… dude, I’ve heard about this place.  It’s a… jesus, what did Obi Wan Kenobi call it?  Oh yeah, a wretched hive of scum and villany.

Well have you got any better ideas?  I told you we should have turned back at Busty Granny Land!

Well, I’m warning you… but okay.

Lesse…  The casual encounter door seems to be open.  What have we got in there?

hung black male horny while stuck at work. i work front desk at a small hotel right off the strip. any ladies wanna cum here and play. you walk in with a sexy skirt and follow me to one of my empty rooms. 5’10, athletic, slim hung very oral. for the ladies who like the bbc. respond before im off at 8!!

What…the…hell?  And people actually expect to find dates with this shit?!

Yeah.  Craigslist is for people who’ve lost all hope, I thought you knew that?  Half of the casual encounters on here either end with a  child molestation lawsuit, a murder mystery or severe disappointment on both ends of the encounter.  In effect, Craigslist is the dumping ground for all of the worst parts of the internet.  I wouldn’t touch it with a five-foot pole.

Well, I’ve learned something today. I-

You have?

Yeah.  I learned that even though the Internet was with noble intentions in mind, it has now become a hive of pornography, racism and bigotry for the most part.  We should all stay away…

Yeah, but we’re all addicted.  Besides, the porn, racism and bigotry is what fuels my hate-filled rants.  So there.  Besides, the network of blogs that  we’re part of aren’t that bad.  Sure, they’re filled with smut, bad taste and questionable content (and that’s just this blog here), but they deliver thought-provoking dialogue and debate!  Bloggers can save the internet, not destroy it!

Hey, looks like we’ve attracted a crowd.

A/S/L?

A/S/L?

A/S/L?

Fuck!  They’re on to us! Run!

Well folks, looks like we’re being chased by a bunch of horny pensioners from Alabama.  Gotta run, I don’t want my internet personality to be molested!  Fuck, watch where you’re poking that thing!

Anyways, if I get out of it alive I’ll see you next time!

James

It all went downhill from the imaginary Alcoholics Anonymous meeting…

Heya, Rhy.  Nap.  What’s up?

James… we need to talk…

Oui, we have come to a consensus, mon brave.

You have a problem.  A serious problem.  It’s… Jeez… How to say it…  We think you’re addicted.

Oh god, it’s the alcohol. I know! I just can’t stop!  I-

Actually, we meant your addiction to internet mêmes and the blogosphere.  Wait, what alcohol addiction?

Erm… nevermind.  I don’t have an internet problem goddamnit!

But ‘ave you not just spent ze past five hours looking over and over at ze same sites again?  Êtes-vous not obsessed with writing zese schizophrenic blogs?  Soyez franche, mon ami!

Yeah, Napoleon’s right.  Wait, did I just say that?  Fuck.  Well, anyway, you’ve got a problem.  Surely you can write a straightforward, serious yet mildly entertaining post without us, can’t you?
But the readers come here to chronicle the eventual mental breakdown of a teenager under duress!  They come here to laugh their asses off, not cry themselves to sleep in the knowledge that the world is about to end!

Dude… we’re taking you to an AA meeting.

Alcoholics Anonymous?  Oh noes!

What the hell is this Alcoholic thing you’ve got going on?  No, we’re taking you to an All Your Base Belong to Us Anonymous meeting.  Way more depressing.  In fact I think I see the other members appearing out of the foggy memory of your brain right now!

Hello.  My name is Juan Carlos de Bizizizizjas and I am the artistic revolutionary behind the masterpiece that is 2girls1cup.  And I’m an internet addict.

The name’s Zonday.  Taz Zonday.  And I sing CHOCOLATE RAAAAAAAAIN!  Oh, yeah.  And I’m a one-shot internet même.

ICH BIN DER ANGRY GERMAN KID UND ICH MOCHTE DAS UNREAL TOURNAMENT GESPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEL!

Oh shit, who let him in?

Ze boy had a leaflet.  Vous avez dit de let people in who have ze leaflet, non?

Yeah, but not that kid.  I mean-

STARTE DAS SPIELUNG!!!

Dude, calm the fudge down.

Little muthafucka needs to chill, yo.

See?  Okay kid, hit the road.  There we go, that’s better.  Where’s the last guy?

I’m here.  I’m… uh… I’m here.  Sorry, I passed an imaginary Taco Bell on the way here.  Jeez.  Phew.  I’m outta breath.

Yeah, sure. Your name please?

Phew… whew.  Oh yeah… I’m the Tron Guy.  And I still wear my costume, ‘cept it’s a bit tattered and got a few holes in it now.

Jesus, you can see his-

I know! I know!  Somebody put a towel over it or something.

No, wait.  The… the cool air feels good on my taint.  I… phew… I overheated climbing those stairs.  I think I might be hyperventilating.  Breathe in… breathe out… breathe in… breathe…  Yeah, that’s better.  Phew.

‘Kay, looks like we’re all here.  Napoleon, how about you start us off?

So, Monsieur… erm… Bizizizijas…  Why don’t you tell us a leetle bit aboot your internet même?

My même?  My fucking même?  Is that what people are calling it nowadays?  I’ll tell you about my fucking même, Frenchie.  I had a fuckin’ vision, dude!  I did!  What’s more provocative than two girls eating each other out and then eating their own shit and vomit in a cup?  Huh?  I was a fuckin’ revolutionary man.  What’s more provocative than that?  Tell me and I’ll give you a fuckin’ french right here right now, yeah!

Uh… two girls eating each others’ shit in front of a priest and the President?

…You looking for a job, kiddo?  Stick with me and we could take it all the way to fuckin’ Hollywood, man!  2Girls1Cup the film, starring Jessica Alba and Sharon Stone!  She’s always up for that perverted shit!  Fuck yeah!

Uh… no thanks.  I think I’ll stick to the blogging.

Hey!  We’re here to solve our problems, not exacerbate them!  Come on, tell us about your même.

It’s a fuckin’ revo… eh, fuck it. My internet même consists of people showing other people a really fucked up porno and filming their reactions and putting it on Youtube.  There you go.  But it pretty much frazzled into non-existence now.  2Girls1Cup is just a fuckin’ myth.  Hey, wasn’t Goatse supposed to be here?

No.  He couldn’t make it.  It’s probably best that he didn’t come, he was looking forward to giving everyone a “hands-in” demonstration.

Eww.

What about you, Meester Zonday?

I’m a muthafuckin’ soul sensation now, muthafucka. I-

Yo!  Sorry I’m late, man!

Oh hey, Samuel L. Jackson’s here.  Why so late, Sam?

Some muthafuckin’ snakes on a muthafuckin’ plane, man!  Do I look like a bitch to you?!

Oh, well.  Take a seat.  Taz, continue.

Woah, no.  Guys, I can’t do this.  Okay, since writing this blog, we’ve managed to reference a video circulating the net that’s been banned in several countries, a truely horrifying image that probably has something to do with Richard Gere’s favorite sport involving small furry animals, a one-hit wonder that shanghais all the worst parts of soul music together, an angry german kid who drank too much Red Bull and a même that just consists of repeating well known phrases from films with Samuel L Jackson in.  How the hell can you say that I’ve got a problem when you stick me in a room with these guys?

Calm dow-

No, goddamnit!  I’m sick of it! Sick of it, man!  Sure, my blogs maybe somewhat perverse.  Sure they may lack taste.  But that’s what makes it my goddamn blog!  I don’t peddle in porn, I don’t scar innocent minds (at least not intentionally)… I should be allowed to blog in peace!

Dude… chill.  We need to rap this shit up anyway.

M’okay.  So, dear reader.  i’ll leave it up to you.  Does referencing smut in my blogs make me as bad as the people I’m referencing?  Do I disturb you?  Do I deserve the death penalty?

Dude, damn near 1000 words just to say THAT?  What the fuck, I mean Jesus, I…

This could take a while.

Till next time,

James

The Truth Truck Tours England And Stops For Petrol

Coming soon to a small church near you: the BNP’s latest propaganda-wagon: THE TRUTH TRUCK.  This one follows on from the previous post about the BNP’s latest trip to Prague to speak about the alleged “dangers of the European union”.  Enjoy.

—

Leader of the BNP Nick Griffin is driving in his latest invention: The Truth Truck – a Volkswagen camper that he bought second hand from a Reg Vardy outlet.  With him in the truck is Bazza, and as they putter down the motorway, they chat about current events.

(Sulking) I still think we should have called this thing the “Shaggin’ Wagon”.

Well you’re not the head of the BNP, are you Baz?  Besides, if you’d have been at the last meeting like everyone else you would have had the opportunity to cast your vote in.

From what I hear, Simon was the only one who turned up last month.

It’s the principal that counts, Bazza!  We still upped our participation level by 100%!  That’s something, right?  Come on, be a little more optimistic!

Yeah well… What’s with all the fookin’ flowers on the van anyways?  Don’t want people thinking we’re a travelling sideshow of poofs.

Apparently some old hippie bloke used to own it.  S’why we got it dead cheap.  We need to save money what with the economic crisis and all.  And who’s responsible, Bazza?

(looks puzzled) Erm… Child-molesting priests and single mothers?

No, Baz.  Bloody foreigners, innit.  They come into our country, take our jobs, do em better and cheaper than we do… take our women and put sodding cloths on their heads…  It’s all their fault.

Thought we blamed the Jews for all of the world’s woes, Nick?

Oi! I won’t have any of that Tyndall anti-semetic ranting and raving going on here!  The BNP has nowt to do with that anymore.  We’re centering our bigotry on anyone darker than us instead!

A car passes by with a lightly tanned group of teenagers inside.

(leaning out of window) Fookin’ foreigners!  Go back to your own country!

Piss off, we’re from Leicester!

Ey-up Nick.  Where are we exactly?

Don’t you have the map?

…Map?

Five hours later, the Truth Truck parks into a Shell petrol station somewhere near Birmingham...

Honestly, Bazza.  I give you a simple task and you bugger it up!  What, I mean WHAT the hell were you thinking of leaving the map back at the church?

Well, I was busy firebombing that…

I know!  Hush!  We haven’t indoctrinated the people here yet so keep your voice down.  Some people might think that instead of preserving the British heritage by firebombing a Greek restaurant, we’re actually committing a crime.

Eh?

Oh, nevermind.  Just wait here while I pay for the petrol.

Entering the kiosque, he is confronted by a Pakistani clerk at the till.

Which pump, sir?

Griffin ignores the clerk.

Sir?  I said which pu-  Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?

Me?  Oh… erm… well…

Hang on, weren’t you that bloke off last year’s Big Brother?  That one nobody could stand?

Erm… no… I… erm… Listen, isn’t there anyone else who could serve me?  Someone… you know…

Sorry?

Erm… someone a little less… foreign?

I was born and raised in Birmingham, mate.  I’m as British as they get.

They’re invading our sodding towns now!  Oh god!  First they take away our petrol, then-

Hang on, who do you mean “they”?

The Arabs!

(increasingly annoyed) Well, actually mate, the Arabic countries of the world are some of the biggest petrol exporters in the world.  So it’s more like they’re giving you petrol.  Secondly, I’m British.  I’m not Arabic.  I come from a multicultural background.

A multi-what?

Multicultural. You know, loads of different cultures blending in together?  It’s what makes Britain such a great place to live.

Look, I’m really trying to avoid aggro here.  Can’t anyone else serve me?

Fraid not, sir.  So I’ll ask you again… WHICH. PUMP?

Five!  Alright! Five!  Fuck!

That’ll be £17.95

Daylight robbery, I tell you!

Hang on a sec, I know who you are!  You’re that gobshite who runs the BNP aren’t you?  John whatsisname…

I’m not John Tyndall goddamnit!  Get your fucking facts straight!  I’m Nick Griffin! I’m a whole different package! (slowly backing away) Tyndall was an anti-semite!  We have jewish members now!  Nobody knows who they are, but they still exist!  I’m just anti foreigner!

At this point, Griffin falls over a small christmas tree planted prematurely in the middle of the kiosque.   His fall tears out a nearby plug which starts an electrical fire in the building.

20 minutes later, the police arrive at the scene after the fire department have put out the fire.  Griffin is arrested for destruction of private property, however Bazza is nowhere to be found, having scarpered with the Truth Truck at the first hint of trouble.  He now owns a junkyard in Brixton, and stands behind the Truth Truck, proudly having re-christened it “Tha Shyaggeeng Wagun” with a bottle of acrylic poster paint and paint-thinner.  The BNP once again fades into a state of disrepair and the world can breathe freely knowing that another group of incompetent, bumbling hypocrites has been put to rest.

Till next time,

James