I couldn't be creative this week since I changed my exercise routine to get rid of this spare tire of mine.
But then I remembered how my last car had four flats, so I decided to keep the spare tire. Instead, I will work on my love handles. I feel odd calling them love handles since I don't have a significant other. Hint hint. If anyone is willing to take the job, I'm offering minimum wage plus tips and a 401K. The only prerequisite is you have to own a live hole.
Anyway...
Since I can't think of a good topic, I will fall back on a sure-fire subject that everyone of all ages can enjoy. Penises!
Yeah, being a tiny wanker does effect the psyche. It lowers your self esteem.
It gets even worse when you hear girls giggle about the size of a normal man's peepee. Then you start to compare yourself with other men. Unfortunately, the only other men you can find to compare yourself to are buff, Hollywood types. I'm like sooo sure I'm way more hunky than Vin Diesel.
The problem with lying to yourself is that it doesn't take long to figure out it's a lie.
OK, time to be jerked back to reality. I don't want to make a mountain out of a molehill, so I'll just stop beating around the bush. This story has a happy ending.
It's a short story, so bare with me.
The other day I was hanging around, just playing with my balls when I saw a commercial for a male enhancement drug.
I sprung up to attention like a dog in heat. I was so excited by the news I was bursting at the seams. I could barely contain myself. I grabbed a knob and exited my room. I needed to take stock of the situation and size things up.
Here's where I stood. Disappointing start, but things could only go up up up.
Now I knew where I measured up, and I stroked my hands with glee. Soon I would be as happy and glowing as the Enzyte man. Once I finished the treatment, I would be so confident that I would be able to sow the seeds of joy a long way across the land. Women would love me and erect a statue in my honor.
I started the treatment. It involved swallowing a lot of sticky fluids, but I had the fortitude to handle any testes thrown my way.
The treatment included not only drugs, but exercise as well. There was a lot of pumping up and down, and some Greek based calisthenics. Butt I could take it all in. I'm sure it wouldn't be too long. Knock on wood.
Then the day finally came. The moment of climax. I looked in the mirror to check the length and breadth of the event. I almost prematurely declared victory, but then I got my head back straight. Taking matters in my own hands, I engorged myself in the moment.
YES! Victory! The added bulk and girth to my anatomy really allowed me to stroke my own ego. I was brimming with self confidence.
No longer would I be considered small and insignificant. I was a giant! I was a man of great talent. Head above the rest. Tears of joy squirted from my orifices. I was a winner! Cocksure and headstrong.
Unfortunately, no one would get to see how well endowed I was. I guess sometimes you win some and sometimes you lose some. I have a big, fat cock, so I don't care. nanny nanny boo boo.
And that's the long and short of it.
***No one-eyed monsters were hurt or beaten during the making of this blog
****hehe just yanking ya. Turns out a few sheep were hit in their brown eyes.
Oh,
and
by the way
This blog is not work safe. Haha caught you, sucker. Don't be hard on yourself. You couldn't see it coming.
1 comment:
Hmmmm... you didn't give us the difference between circumcised and uncircumcised.
Besides, I have always been told, measure a man's hand from tip of the thumb to tip of the pinkie, that is diameter, and yes, shoe size does tell all.
True?
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