So, without further ado, here is a video of “Detachable Penis” by King Missile (1992).

Lyrics are behind the cut if you’re interested.

Lyrics:
I woke up this morning with a bad hangover
And my penis was missing again.
This happens all the time.
It’s detachable.

This comes in handy a lot of the time.
I can leave it home, when I think it’s gonna get me in trouble,
or I can rent it out, when I don’t need it.
But now and then I go to a party, get drunk,
and the next morning I can’t for the life of me
remember what I did with it.

First I looked around my apartment, and I couldn’t find it.
So I called up the place where the party was,
they hadn’t seen it either.
I asked them to check the medicine cabinet
’cause for some reason I leave it there sometimes
But not this time.
So I told them if it pops up to let me know.

I called a few people who were at the party,
but they were no help either.
I was starting to get desperate.
I really don’t like being without my penis for too long.
It makes me feel like less of a man,
and I really hate having to sit down every time I take a leak.

After a few hours of searching the house,
and calling everyone I could think of,
I was starting to get very depressed,
so I went to the Kiev, and ate breakfast.
Then, as I walked down Second Avenue towards St. Mark’s Place,
where all those people sell used books and other junk on the street,
I saw my penis lying on a blanket
next to a broken toaster oven.
Some guy was selling it.
I had to buy it off him.

He wanted twenty-two bucks, but I talked him down to seventeen.
I took it home, washed it off,
and put it back on. I was happy again. Complete.
People sometimes tell me I should get it permanently attached,
but I don’t know.
Even though sometimes it’s a pain in the ass,
I like having a detachable penis.

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Some of my extended family has a problem with lifestyle choices I’ve made in the past.

Most notably, they have a problem with the fact that I haven’t knocked some girl up yet. They dont seem to have any problem with the fact that I’m not married, and in fact they dont even bother mentioning that anymore. They just bring up constantly the fact that I dont have kids.

This became glaringly obvious to me a few days ago when several of my aunts were over to visit and plan for Thanksgiving/Christmas parties. I kept hearing pieces of some of their conversations that made it sound like they were setting someone up. Then I had the following conversation:

Me: So, what dish should I bring to pass on Thanksgiving then?
Aunt: Oh, just bring your sperm.
Me: *long pause* Well, thats not very appetizing. How should I prepare that?

Apparently I’m the one that crossed a line there, despite the fact I was being told to bring SPERM for thanksgiving dinner.

I’m not looking forward to the holidays.

Now that I’m married the pestering has not slowed down at all, but the level of uncomfortableness has finally dropped. Now they encourage me to accidentally forget contraception rather than asking me to bring a turkey baster full of semen.

 
1) Universal Guide to Getting Laid in Japan
Click here to read the article.
Written by Fenomas, Pen’s senior correspondent from Japan. I’ve been told that this article holds just as true today as it ever has. Take that however you want to take it.

2) The Trade Wars Bible…
A reformat and minor update to the Trade Wars 2002 Bible written originally in 1993. Information should now be current as of the most recent version of TradeWars Game Server. If you’re interested in information on this old BBS game that still sees play today then check this out!
HTML Version
‘RTF’ version (Cross Platform Word Processor compatible)
Thanks to those that have emailed comments and questions to me over the last year.

3) Yatta!
Originally posted by Jimbo in 2001… for some reason we still get dozens of hits a month for it.
Video here. (asf, 7mb) (Seriously though, you’ll probably find the same thing on YouTube).
For those of you still coming here to find it, here is some information courtesy of fenomas, once again:

“Yatta” is more or less the work of a comedy duo called “Ucchan-Nanchan” (after the two guys’ names: Uchimura and Nanbara). The have a tv show that’s sort of half variety-show, half sketch comedy, and “Yatta” started out as a sketch on that show. The sketch was about a mythical music group called “Happa-tai” (Leaf Squad, more or less- that’s what it says between “Yatta” and “Pony Canyon” at the beginning) where all the members wear only a leaf and sing this happy song called “Yatta” (literally, “I did it”, figuratively “Yeah” or “All right!” It’s what Chun-Li says when she wins). It was just absurdist, there’s no deep meaning.

 
Feel the oldschool love?
 
Enjoy.

Story Five:
Web-Cam Truth or Dare.

Imagine that you’re a voyeur. Or don’t imagine. You are. We all know it. We forgive you. Now give me back my underwear and re-mulch the area under the windows.

Anyway… since that went to a bad place lets change the scenario again. You’re watching a complicated soap opera in which the protagonist is a young man that is working nights to pay for school. He lives almost rent-free with his girlfriend. We now join our program, already in progress:

…On his way to bed he looked into the computer room as saw her sitting there, clad in a tank top and a pair of panties. She glared at him as though he had disturbed something private, which in fact he had. The light on her webcam was conspicuously on, and the position of her tank top revealed that she most likely was not wearing her bra anymore.

He feigned ignorance to the proceedings, wanting to avoid the fight and just get some sleep. He was too tired to care, and quite frankly a fight right now wouldn’t help end the two month dry spell he had been encountering anyway; the latest in a chain of dry spells that started back about the same time that he started to work third shift at his call center job.

In some sort of ritual defiance to these thoughts he jerked off and came weakly into a dirty shirt before throwing the shirt in the general direction of the hamper and falling asleep.

In what must have been only 15 minutes later, suddenly he was being shaken awake.

She was sitting on the bed next to him now, and wanted to have sex. There was a faint smell of beer on her breath as she whispered into his ear ‘Hey! I want you to fuck me over the edge of the bed and then come all over my face’.

Even though he knew he should say no… well, she was right there, ready. He was up almost immediately, and they started to go at it. Positions were changed several times, and she kept saying “Are you almost there?”

He wasn’t, even after a half hour of this. Something was missing. Some little voice in his conscience kept distracting him. Plus of course he had just pulled one off right before she sauntered in for some action.

Finally, after another ten minutes he managed to have a weak orgasm, but didn’t remember to pull out and come on her face as requested.

She cried out “Wait, did you come?”

“Yeah. I did”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” She yelled “All I asked for was for you to come on my fucking face and you couldn’t get that much right?”

He closed his eyes to disguise the rolling motion they were making and crawled back into bed. “Sorry.” he said “I was tired and forgot”

She stormed back into the computer room and started frantically typing again. Apparently she just lost some sort of web-cam truth or dare.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face. He may not be getting laid again for another two months, but this was oh so worth it. Especially once he remembered to check the IRC logs on her computer the next day.

Such a happy couple. I bet they go far!

Story Four:
Incestuous Purloined Porn Stashes.

Imagine you’re a young man that is living with his parents while getting your HSED. Your computer is broken, so you have taken to using your parents computer while they are at work.

As sometimes happens, you realize you need a secure place to hide your porn stash. You know your mom will check out any new folders on the desktop, but you remember something that some geek told you about hiding things in plain site, and decide to hide your porn right in the “My Pictures” folder since you don’t think your mom will check anywhere except the desktop.

Unfortunately for you, soon after you start to do this your mom discovers the “My Pictures Slideshow” screensaver and finds your porn. She calls you in to explain yourself when suddenly a picture of your
mom posing naked in the kitchen appears on the screen.

Thats right… your dad apparently was thinking the same thing with regard to ‘hiding in plain site’. Well, with that out of the way you and your mother have a good laugh and thank Gaia that your dad hasn’t
discovered the pictures of you and her that were hidden on that USB key in the tampon box.

However, he will if you don’t pass on that message to your sister. I’m serious. If she doesn’t live up to her end of the bargain then your entire city will know about what you and mommy have been doing in the sewing room. The safety word was “thimble” if I recall correctly.

You know who you are.

*note: If you don’t know who you are, assume I’m talking about you. Bribes happily accepted*

Its a cool, dreary afternoon and you’re trying to decide between taking a walk or having a good long . Seeing as how your significant other is out for the day (and you never cared for the cold) you decide to drop trou and settle in for a good long wank. Take your time about it. Find your inner pervert. Savor the moment, if you will.

Suddenly, your ministrations are interrupted by a knock at your window. You sit still in hopes that they will go away… but moments later you hear a pounding at your back door.

I know, I know… you were just getting into what you were doing. In fact, you were hoping you’d be able to go back to doing that soon. In your mind the only difference between now and five minutes ago is that you want to finish quickly so you can go online and make a ‘pounding at your back door’ joke to everyone on your buddy list.

The person at the door doesn’t see it that way though, because the next thing you know your door is being kicked in and a complete stranger walks into the room. He looks around for a moment, and then he see’s you sitting on your bed. The reaction he gives leads you to believe that he wasn’t pounding on the windows/doors to get a better view.

Without saying a word he turns around and walked out of the house.

You take a look at the door, and notice that the lock was not broken at all. The frame of the door just splintered and shredded, and the door will not close properly at all.

Now you believe you have reason to worry about your safety and call the cops and the building maintenance guy, in that order. The cops arrive and soon catch a suspect that matches the description you gave, but you cant verify his identity for sure so they let him go. The maintenance guy’s girlfriend answers the phone when you call, but based on how rude and annoyed she was by the call you suspect that the maintenance man wont be arriving until a weekday afternoon.

Its time to invest in a barricade bucko! Pull out that heavy furniture and get it in front of that door!

The question I never had answered is this:
What did he tell the police he was doing when the man broke into his house?

Imagine knowing as much about female anatomy as a 4th grader, but you have the body of a 17 year old. Would the internet help you any better than your dad’s old penthouse magazines?

A young man and woman were spending the night together for the first time. They had spent most of their time playing NASCAR racing games, and stayed up really late just chatting. After several hours of stimulating conversation, they decided to go to bed.

The young man mostly played the perfect gentleman and offered to sleep on the floor so that the young woman could have enough room on the bed, but she would have none of it. She asked him to get in bed with her, and they kissed each other and continued their conversation in whispers and innuendos.

Editors note: Even though they both had braces they didn’t get stuck together. Obviously they had good dentists.

Unfortunately, the progress was not going as fast as either of them wanted. They were both inexperienced and the conversation kept taking awkward turns. He would just randomly blurt out questions like “how big is your slit” and then ask her to measure it. She would start to talk about things she wanted to do, but then start telling a story about her mother.

Overall the distractions were more sad then offensive. She could she could tell he just didn’t have a lot of experience with what was appropriate subject matter and figured girls would worry about sizes
and dimensions in the same way that some guys do. He could tell that she was nervous as hell, and her mind was wandering. Even though she had initiated the intimate contact he was afraid that she was going to back out at this crucial moment.

After a few suggestions of actions that could help ease her mind and get her ‘more into the mood’ were brushed aside, he reached underneath the bed and offered her something…

He offered her an old sock that he had been collecting his semen on for quite some time. He figured that this crusty, crunchy, disgusting rag would contain pheromones that would help turn her on so she would get wet faster.

As you can imagine, she politely turned down the offer and changed the topic to something less crunchy. No one got laid that night.

I guess that somehow being chloroformed with a jizzrag was supposed to be the sexiest thing alive. Now, I’m speculating here… but I have to think that he probably used it for that purpose himself.

Heh. I should try “How big is your slit” at the bar and see where that gets me.

Hidden in these emails are stories. Stories about love lost, love found, requests to see my wiener, and sexual frustration. I’ve taken these stories (most of which were unpostable), melded them together
with some old chat logs, took out the requests to see my wiener, and put together a few scenarios that hopefully wont get recognized as the original story even by the person that emailed them.

If you do recognize your story and would like it removed… well why the fuck did you email to me? But anyway, send me a an email with the URL as the subject and I’ll make it go away.

Here is one. I’ll add more later, if I remember:

Imagine that you’re a geeky girl, and you’ve recently met a nice young man while at a Starbucks. You spark up a conversation with him about how the wireless connection doesn’t seem to be working, and he asks you out on a date. You’re flattered and find him attractive, so you say yes.

After several successful movie dates, you invite him to take a trip with you over the Christmas holiday, to visit your parents. He agrees, even though he’s going to end up sleeping on a couch. When he arrives at your parents house, he gets out of the car and immediately pulls out his Nintendo DS so he can pictochat you. Unfortunately you’re not carrying a DS so he has to resort to this ‘talking in person’ but he doesn’t have the security of a laptop or movie playing to help him out. He tries to imagine that talking in person is like the telephone, but he keeps realizing that he can see you and cant play games or take a dump at the same time.

After a day or two he starts to get the hang of this ‘conversation’ thing, and things get intimate. He keeps looking for a keyboard to type on so he can express just how great he is feeling. In fact, he keeps wanting to type “and then I put my wiener in your box” but cant figure out how to make it work without the keyboard.

Embarrassed and frustrated he feels emasculated. For some reason, getting emasculated turns him on… but he still cant express his true feelings without an emoticon. He wants to cry, but he left his MP3 player at home so he cant play depressing music to help him work up the tears.

So after a long and frustrating experience in which he was both the most turned on and the most out of sorts he had ever been he returns home. He spends three days furiously masturbating thinking about the experience and then realized that it had been a week since he had made any progress on his online games. You never hear from him again. Apparently your heart has been added to his hosts file.

*sniff*

I think we’ve all been there.