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Posts Tagged ‘sex’

You might be a redneck in Pennsylvania if . . . .

You go to the bathroom and see . . .

Gunshow

Gun Show Advertisement

Fishing

Beer Advertisement

Your beer advertisement also has a handy fishing season schedule, since those two things (drinkin’ and fishin’) go together like peanut butter and jelly.  And last (but certainly NOT LEAST!) your:

Dispenser

Condom Dispenser

You got your guns, beer and sex.  It’s like a farmersonly commercial.  What more could you need?

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I don’t normal take those on-line quizzes . . . You know the ones I’m talking about.

What Disney character are you most like?

What Rock and Roll Band are you most like?

Which Harry Potter character are you?

Which superhero are you?

What Olympian God/Goddess are you most like?

What animal are you?

What color are you?

Seriously?  What color am I?  Do I not have a mirror?

But if you have ever ventured into the vast wasteland of Facebook, these quizzes are rampant.  But for some reason, one of them caught my eye recently.  Maybe it was because of this eye image that accompanied the advertisement:

EyeQuiz

What is your subconscious obsessed with?

I thought I already knew the answer to this one.  SEX.  I’m not ashamed to admit it.  I think about it nearly all the time.  I don’t know why.  I’ve always assumed that this was normal.  And the people who are not obsessed with it–they are what we call liars.  So I was ready to test this scientific assessment to see if it came up with the correct answer.

So I clicked on a series of pictures they displayed before me–and I tried to be as honest as possible since none of them really reminded me of sex anyway–even those inkblots don’t look like anything to me except evidence that your pen is leaking and you need a new pen–and the end result was that my subconscious is apparently obsessed with . . .

NATURE.

 

Nature

Whoa.

The only time I really commune with nature is when I run–and I do love to run outside, braving the worst of elements to avoid the dreadmill or elliptical.  We do have two dogs, but getting the dogs was not my idea.  In fact, I went on record saying I didn’t want even one dog, let alone two.  I put my foot down–right into a pile of puppy poop.  It’s not that I don’t like my dogs–I do.  But I am not obsessed with them.  I hate cats.  I loathe cats.  Truth be told, I am deathly allergic to cats and have almost ended up in the hospital unable to breathe thanks to these itchy, scratchy, wheezy little varmints.  The only good cat is a dead one, and sometimes I have to back over them nine times to make sure I get all their lives.

I do like cows.  Hamburgers and steaks are my favorite.  And pigs.  I love me some bacon.  So maybe I am an animal person after all.

Camping?  Please.  If there isn’t indoor plumbing, heat and a/c, and a bed to sleep on, I’ll pass.  If there’s cable TV, I’m there.  No Wifi?  No thank you.

Hiking?  Is that running up hill at a slow pace?  OK, maybe.

Makes me think about nature while doing grocery shopping, cooking . . . okay let’s just stop right there.  I don’t grocery shop and I do not cook.  I have trouble making grilled cheese sandwiches.

Where did I go wrong?  How could I be obsessing about nature, when I’m so busy obsessing about sex?

Then it hit me.  My obsession with sex was conscious.  Subconsciously, I might be obsessing about nature.  Maybe having sex outdoors, getting au naturel, or something like that.

What color am I?  Maybe I should take that test too. . . .could be any one of fifty shades of grey.

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Candy Isn’t Better Than Sex

Golfing on Friday, one of our foursome told this joke:

Not polite to stare, ladies . . .

A man was out golfing and sliced his ball into the woods, where it hit a leprechaun and knocked him out.  The man resuscitated the poor creature who was so happy that he promised to grant the man three wishes.

“I don’t need any wishes,” protested the man.  “I’m sorry my ball hit you.”

He then retrieved his ball and went back to his game.

Well the leprechaun decided he was going to give the man three wishes anyway, so he wished for the man a great golf game, a lot of money, and a great sex life.

Several months passed, and by quirk of circumstances, the golfer sliced into the woods again.  The leprechaun peeked out from a tree and greeted the man as he found his ball.

“So, sir,” asked the leprechaun, “how’s your golf game lately?”

The man answered, “aside from this errant shot, it’s actually been pretty good.  I’m playing better than I ever have.”

“That’s great,” replied the leprechaun.  “And how’s your financial situation?”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s any of your business, but now that you mention it, things have been going very well lately.”

The leprechaun nodded knowingly.  “And I don’t want to seem like I’m prying or anything, but how’s your sex life lately?”

The man was taken aback by the forward little leprechaun, but after thinking about it a moment, he said, “Now that you make me think about it, things have been great.  I have sex once, sometimes twice a week.”

“You call that great?,” asked the leprechaun, somewhat astonished by the answer.

“Well, I’m a priest in a rather small parish, so that’s actually pretty great.”

Now you’re probably wondering about the candy part.  The problem is, though this joke is funny, it is not appropriate to be retold in an audience with small children.  So it has to be altered somewhat . . .

A man was out golfing and sliced his ball into the woods, where it hit a leprechaun and knocked him out.  The man resuscitated the poor creature who was so happy that he promised to grant the man three wishes.

“I don’t need any wishes,” protested the man.  “I’m sorry my ball hit you.”

He then retrieved his ball and went back to his game.

Well the leprechaun decided he was going to give the man three wishes anyway, so he wished for the man a great golf game, a lot of money, and a lot of candy.

Several months passed, and by quirk of circumstances, the golfer sliced into the woods again.  The leprechaun peeked out from a tree and greeted the man as he found his ball.

“So, sir,” asked the leprechaun, “how’s your golf game lately?”

The man answered, “aside from this errant shot, it’s actually been pretty good.  I’m playing better than I ever have.”

“That’s great,” replied the leprechaun.  “And how’s your financial situation?”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s any of your business, but now that you mention it, things have been going very well lately.”

The leprechaun nodded knowingly.  “And I don’t want to seem like I’m prying or anything, but have you been eating a lot of candy lately?”

The man was taken aback by the forward little leprechaun, but after thinking about it a moment, he said, “Now that you make me think about it, things have been great.  I have candy once, sometimes twice a week.”

“You call that great?,” asked the leprechaun, somewhat astonished by the answer.

“Well, I’m a a diabetic with bad blood sugars, so that’s actually pretty great.”

See?  It’s just not the same!

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Science never ceases to amaze me.

A study conducted by researchers at the University of Rochester and the University of Innsbruck have determined that red is sexy.

Richard Gray, Science Corespondent, writes:

It seems men really do prefer the lady in red.

A new study has found that men are more attracted to women wearing red compared to other colours because they believe they are less likely to be rejected.

Psychologists behind the research claim the colour red carries subtle but powerful messages about how receptive a woman might be to romantic advances and so men find it more alluring.

The researchers found that men who were shown photographs of women wearing a red shirt found them more attractive compared to when they saw the same women wearing green or white garments.

The study, which tested 96 men from the United States and Austria, also found that the men felt the women would respond positively to their advances.

This man would not be smiling if she were wearing green!

Now, ordinarily, this would not have drawn my attention, other than the fact that someone, somewhere–and it probably involves unsuspecting taxpayers–paid for this study.  But as the father of a 17-year-old daughter, who will be going to school in the fall at St. Francis University (“our colours colors are white and RED!”) this really caught my attention.

My God!  She’s going to be a Red Flash!

She may think she is just representing her school, wearing a red sweatshirt, but this study suggests that she is sending out a clear message to all the men on campus . . . look at me!  I’m sexy.  And I want you!

I don’t want my daughter doing that.

It is rather late in the process to decide she should go elsewhere, like Penn State, where blue is a much more acceptable color, so we are going to have to make sure that all her college apparel is in the more appropriate WHITE color.

Otherwise, she may have her dad seeing red.

If you wear the bad color, or even think that about my daughter that way
I WILL HAUNT YOU DOWN!

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