LARS HAD 'COCKS IN HIS EARS'

I cherish my boner and all its wacky exploits, plus I'm a paranoid, horny weirdo whose blackouts can span days, so it's become my depressing yearly custom to jaunt down to the awful county-operated clinic for a wang diagnostic. And thus we turn up another purpose for Steel Panther at top volume, cuz that shit really brightened up the lobby/sadness tank and sleazed me into a good mood. By the time my balls were being gripped by that shifty, pouting doctor, I'd crossed over from cooperative to effusive then to celebratory. I was pretty close on her accent, which was Columbian though she was half-pleased with my guess of nearby Panama. I only said it so I could sing the song (above) with my wiener in her face. Nuge.

Ahem after all that distress, I like to treat my johnson and face to a late breakfast followed by a rare mid-day goofball. So my junk is resting peacefully right now, but even so I'd wake it up if Lars were here for whomping duties on his stupid face. Then he'd act like he didn't love it. And then mime begging for more. Then don a kabuki mask for a seven-hour show about his dickmark of shame and the vengeful writer who branded his right cheek with a veiny length of man. I'd pull a quote from the Tuesday story about Lars's latest rehearsal for his coming-out speech but shit man it's 11:45 what can I tell ya. So check it here or just read the comments, from which I stole the headline. See those little quotes? That's journalism's perk, like rights of confidentiality (lawyers, doctors), underage sex (teachers, rock stars), or free cupcakes (come on sponsor me Entenmann's!).