I won't be BMDTTT

Guess what BRDTTT stands for? You won't get it, so I'll tell you. Bring Your Dick to the Table. Apparently the artist  -- and I use that term loosely -- believes women can keep these expensive little pet cocks in their pockets to grab on to when they lose confidence in, for example, themselves in a business situation with men. A whole inch and a half of penile self-confidence right in the palm of our small, feminine hands.

The story is that she was engaged in a difficult business deal with men, grabbed her lip balm in her purse, and received an almighty epiphany about how holding a tiny penis in her hand would help her pick up her balls and behave like a man. Take hold of the masculine power she deserves by reminding herself to laugh at sexist behavior.

In her own words, she says, "There are negative voices in our society, our culture, maybe even your own family that can corrupt your inner monologue. If holding a small bronze dick and laughing at those voices, those fears helps you overcome them, then why not?

This is not a symbol; it is just a humorous talisman to remind us sexism is ridiculous."

Ugh. Seriously? What poppycock. Sexism is ridiculous? Has she fucking been paying attention? Sexism is responsible for the millions of hungry women and children who live below the poverty line; for women's wages, which still don't nearly equal men's for the same jobs -- if we can get the same jobs; for rape culture and all it entails, including rape; for slavery; for the bruises and black eyes we hide from our children; for Elliot Rodger's manifesto .....

For fuck's sake! Why would holding a tiny $150 dick in my secret hand make all of that funny to me? How would it give me courage? Would this tiny talisman really make me giggle instead of tensing up when I have to pass a man on a quiet street at night? Will it make me snicker because I'm in what's still considered a female profession, and even with a master's degree and years of experience I'm lucky to make minimum wage if I do my job well? Will it make me smile when I read about the women Elliot Rodger murdered because he was a virgin?

Several readers sent me links to this very expensive pocket rocket. I tried to find the humor in it. Really I did. See me trying? But I don't think sexism is absurd -- at least not in the ha! ha! sense. And I certainly don't think the answer is to hold a little dick in my hand to remind me to fucking laugh when I encounter it.

Right this minute, I'm like a lot of my friends: I'm pissed off that I'm still having the same conversation about sexism and rape culture and nice guy syndrome and how men hate women who won't fuck them when they demand to be fucked, and I'm still hearing the same response. I'm still hearing "most men aren't like that, so there's no problem here. Move on, ladies."

Guess what. Bullshit. Instead of carrying around a tiny penis to remind us to tee hee at the sexist behavior that permeates every facet of our lives, women want men to examine their own behavior to see if, in fact, they are part of the problem. We want men to stop telling us they know better than we do how other men treat us. We want men to call other men out when they treat women like objects. We want to tell our stories and be believed. And we want to own our own bodies once and for all ....

I do not need a penis in my pocket to be a complete human being. I need autonomy over my own body, my woman's body. I already have a lovely vagina and that should be enough to make me an equal adult member of the human race.

Obviously this is a gimmick to make money, and not something serious, but I'm feeling raw right now, along with many of my women friends. I do not find sexism a laughing matter. So keep your golden penis and give me my human rights.

If you don't want that, I'll take it

The person I can't stop thinking about tonight is a guy named Henry Wolf. Poor guy. For the past couple of years he's been trying to sue BMW and Corbin-Pacific, a motorcycle seat manufacturer, because he rode his new motorcycle for 4 hours and ended up with a 20-month erection. I guess it's hard for me to believe he's trying to stick it to these companies

You want one.

for something most men would celebrate. A perpetual hard-on? That's a good thing, right? Do you know how much money Pfizer makes on Viagra? How is it he thinks he got the shaft?

Seems to me if he had put his problem in his Match.com profile, he might have found a number of women who were willing to fall on that sword -- over and over and over -- to help him deflate his balloon. And yet somehow he felt like he got screwed because his dick got hard and stayed that way. He claimed he couldn't work, suffered emotional damage, could possibly have put somebody's eye out with that thing, and incurred medical expenses. Evidently his lawsuit didn't include any damages for damages, if you know what I mean.

The condition, once the problem boner lasts a mere 4-6 hours, is called priapism. (Google that word, and the top 4 suggestions for a second search word are "treatment," "definition," "pictures," and "in dogs." I won't look if you won't.) Evidently getting an unceasing erection can cause all sorts of problems from turning a guy into a fucking jackhammer who fully satisfies his wife and his girlfriend and the women in his office all in one day blood clots to gangrene to ... well, nothing good cums comes after that. (Women can get priapism too, although I'm not sure how one would tell. I might like to find out though, just for a few months.)

In any case, the judge ruled that Wolf didn't present enough hard evidence. A doctor testified that he did have a perpetual boner that might have been caused by vibrations, but nobody else seems to have been similarly affected by the seat (or their Hitachi wands, for that matter). And seriously? Does anybody have any doubt why he rode that motorcycle for 4 hours the first time out? I suspect he straddled that motorized hand-job until the bike ran out of gas, and he didn't complain until he found out he didn't run out of gas for over a year and a half.

And yet, unless other guys simply aren't complaining about the raging hard-ons this bike allegedly causes -- which seems entirely possible -- he's the only victim to come forward.

That doesn't mean it's not worth a try, guys. If any of my male readers are thinking about getting a mid-life crisis to squeeze between their legs, I recommend that cute cherry-red number above. On your first trip out though, maybe only ride for a few minutes at a time. Otherwise I might be writing about your perpetual divining rod 20 months from now.

Wordless Wednesday: Is that a pickle in your pocket or ......?

Wordless Wednesday .... for those nights when you I you I drag your my ass in from karaoke at 2:41 am, open a bag of chips, and think, Oh, shit. What the fuck am I going to write about tonight? Because I was going to write about dating and how I'm probably not going to find any action at karaoke because look! Here's who's available, but there was nobody to write about ....  and was that guy I was dancing with wearing a wedding ring? And if not, how hard is it to take off a ring? I'll bet he has a ring in his pocket .... And otherwise, nobody in that bar looked like a dating post tonight. Hmmmmm. I think I'll post ..... this! Because every clever thing I could say about the trouser expander has probably already been said.

Do men really think women are attracted to them by the size of the bulge in their pants? Most of us wear underwire bras with extra padding on the sides, so really? You think you can fool us with a blow up penis? Pump up something else .... like your bank account or your wine cellar or your knowledge of literature ....

Does this count for Wordless Wednesday or did I totally blow it tonight? (No pun intended.)

Expand your package at my good friend Amazon

Help Wanted: Handypenis

Update: Last night I wrote that I was having issues with the accelerator in my 12-year-old Honda Odyssey (go ahead; mock my mom van, but it's paid for). As I said I would, I got up early this morning, loaded my bike in my van, drove to the Goodyear, dropped off my van and rode my bike home. I was at the shop by 8:00 8:30 on a cool, almost drizzly day. To be fair (to me), I got to TEDx by 8:00 am yesterday. I can't fucking do that 2 days in a row unless I'm getting paid or laid.

Turns out my mechanic, Darrell, couldn't get to it today. He warned me he might not have time. We're cool.

So I hopped back on my bike and rode back to Goodyear -- entirely uphill, choking on exhaust fumes -- and took custody of my van.

Much to my surprise, it was no longer malfunctioning. In fact, I drove to the library to pick up some books, and then home, and it didn't rev inappropriately one single time.

What the fuck? As far as I know, nobody at Goodyear touched it.

I wanted to call back and ask if some guy simply stood next to my van with his penis, because that's the only explanation I can come up with. A penis must have been near enough to magically fix my van.

Oh, don't tell me you haven't noticed men who can fix things with their penises! It happens all the fucking time. It's a thing.

My son Drake can fix almost anything, and his fiance and I are pretty sure he does it with his penis. For example, one evening he was going to throw some steaks on my gas grill. I said, "Take that box of wooden matches. The starter hasn't worked since shortly after I bought it."

He said, "That's OK. I won't need them."

"Whatever," I said. "You'll be back. It doesn't work."

Next thing I knew he was in the kitchen to get the steaks. "I didn't see you come back for the matches," I said. "How did you light the grill?"

"With the starter," he said.

"No, really, the starter hasn't worked for 2 years. You're fucking with me, right?"

"No, Mom. Come and look."

I looked. He'd used the starter. The next time I wanted to grill, I tried the starter .... again and again and again. It never worked again. Ever.

That's just an example -- one of many. The passenger-side slider on my van has been fucked up for years. It doesn't like to close, so sometimes I have to try 5 or 6 times before it will finally latch. I try not to use it because it's such a pain in the ass, what with the beeping and the rolling back open...

Unless Drake is there. If Drake is there, I just say, "Drake, will you use your penis to close the van door, please?" And he does and it closes about 95% of the time.

I could give more examples, but you get the idea. Need a jar of pickles opened? Ask a guy to use his penis. Need a computer to run faster? Ask a guy to use his penis. Can't get the TV remote to work? Ask a guy to use his penis. Do everything you can to get the job done -- everything he would have done, including installing brand new batteries .... fail ..... then just ask a penis to either stand next to the offending object or do exactly what you've already tried. Instant fix.

Any time something breaks or frustrates me by not working right when Drake's around, I just holler, "Drake! Could you come fix this with your penis?" And like the good son he is, he brings puts his magic penis to work on the problem.

I know I should be grateful, but it's frustrating as hell!

(Stolen from the internets)

I've got a bunch of work to do at my new house. I'm thinking about posting an ad on Craigslist: Help wanted: Need a handypenis to stand by my Jenn Air range and fix the blower switch, install handrails on the stairs, and connect the basement lights to one switch. Only skilled penises need apply.

Fucking handypenises. I resent it. I really do. Why can't I stand next to a malfunctioning piece of electronics with my vagina and magically make it work? Have you ever heard of that happening? No, I didn't think so. I should fire my vagina.

So, my van was running fine the last time I drove it, but the check engine light is still on. I will take it back to Darrell Wednesday so he can stand by it with his penis and make sure it continues to idle correctly. While I'm at it, I'll have his penis change the oil. No use wasting the presence of a skilled penis, right?


Disclaimer: I've been trying to embarrass Drake for his entire life. This won't even come close.

That penis looks homemade (NSFW unless you're a sex worker)

A little over a year ago I wrote a post about the Clone-a-Pussy kit. I'm surprised that it's been one of my most popular posts, especially with my many faithful Russian readers. (Вы, русские, что, как ваш порно, не так ли?)

I wouldn't be so disingenuous as to say I was surprised when a reader who wishes to remain anonymous sent me a link to the Clone-a-Willy kit. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, for fewer than

30 of your hard-earned dollars you too can clone your favorite penis .... Well, not clone exactly unless your favorite penis is made out of something other than skin and bones and ..... whatever else penises are made of. And unless it vibrates.

I suspect if more penises vibrated, more women would be hopping on Mr. Happypants more often and for longer periods of time. Just a suspicion.

You can clone a willy in different colors, including skin tone, white, glossy black, and hot pink. You can even make a glow-in-the-dark willy, so you can find it under the bed or out in the backyard after your kid finds it and plays fetch with the dog with it. I can't think of any other reasons why one would want to make an exact glow-in-the-dark replica of a particular penis, but maybe some of my readers can help me out here.

I tried to think of any time in my life when I would find this appealing and, folks, I got nothing. It's a fucking dildo. (Sorry for the redundancy.)

The text on the Amazon page says it's for couples, and I was one half of a couple for a few decades. I suppose if I were an overly attached girlfriend more romantic I might have wanted a "second-best to the real thing" exact-ish replica of LtColEx's willy to keep me warm and satisfied while he was out there saving the world from the foreigners.

And yet, I couldn't even conjure up an image of us making the damn thing, much less me using it as a personal massager. (And since my kids read my blog, I hope they can't either.)

Maybe I just lack imagination.

Then I realized there were other options available that I might have really enjoyed making and using. For example, the plaster version might have been shit tons of fun to throw at someone as he was going out the door for the last time. Imagine the boner-busting crash it would make as it hit the door frame beside his head. I can think of more than one time I would have found that quite satisfying. "Get out, and don't let your dick hit you in the head on your way out!"

There's also a willy candle. Burn, baby, burn. Dickso inferno.

I suppose someone thought chocolate would be sexy, but .... OK, help me out here, my male readers. Would you really find it sexy to watch your partner eat an exact replica of your dick made out of chocolate? Because I think that would be rather macabre. And even if it were a turn-on, how long could you want to watch her eat an exact replica of your wiener made out of chocolate before you turned on the football game?

Evidently enough people struggled with the original clone-a-willy kit that the company had to make a novice kit. Hey, we were all virgins once. No shame in that.

You can even buy a "multi-product bundle." This one sounds more useful to me. You could use it for cloning workshops for couples who want to bring somebody new, but familiar, into their relationships.

Or, better yet, you could throw a party with the clone-a-willy party pack. Fuck Cards Against Humanity. Fuck karaoke. It's craft night and the cool kids are going to clone a penis tonight. BYOP.

I dunno. It seems to me the manufacturer of the Clone-a-Willy kit is missing the opportunity to make their product truly useful. How about a Clone-a-Willy flashlight? Or a Clone-a-Willy ballpoint pen? Maybe a Clone-a-Willy bottle opener. Or a Clone-a-Willy lip balm. I might go for a Clone-a-Willy flash drive. Or a Clone-a-Willy paper towel dispenser.

My god, people, if I had a man in my life I'd have proto-willy inventions all over my house!

Somebody please tell me you're willing to try this and at least send me photos of the process and the results. (That's not the same as sending a selfie, is it?) You know you want to. Just do it.

If you make the chocolate one, I promise I'll eat it.

Is that paddle in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

If you haven't liked Reticulated Writer on Facebook, then you probably missed a reader's recommendation that I "google 'olympics erection.'" Go ahead. Click on the "like" button over there to the side. Done? Good for you. On to the penis story.

It was only for you, dear readers who want to see more penis posts, that I did indeed google those two possibly pornographic words. And it's only for you that I'm posting this photo from the Huffington Post article I found about coxless* four rowing bronze medalist Henrik Rummel and his impressive penis.

(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/08/07/henrik-rummel-us-rower-erection_n_1753594.html)

I was going to photoshop in an arrow or a circle to show you where to look, but the thing stands out like ... well, like a big dick in spandex shorts. And it was tempting to make a cute little magnifying element there inside or beside the photo, but it pretty much holds its own in the magnification department. I was also tempted to post it twice just to give it an encore, but ..... yeah, what the hell.

I'm so proud he's one of ours. And I hear he's a pretty good rower too.

* Seriously? I couldn't make this shit up. This is why I've never written an novel. Real life is bizarre enough for me.