Notflix

I like movies. A lot. I wouldn’t call myself a “movie buff,” because I’m not an emaciated nerd with who gets woodys for his Woody Allen collection. But I like movies.

The problem with movies is Netflix. I don’t know what drunk group of monkeys picks what movies go on there, but I think they have some kind of arrangement with B-list Hollywood. So finding a watchable movie on there takes longer than watching the movie, and it’s killing me.

Some Horrible Movies I’ve Seen on Netflix

1.) The Killer Inside Me. I might not be qualified to speak on this, since I turned it off 20 minutes in, but I’m obviously not alone in my opinion because Jessica Alba “won” a Razzie for it. First of all, it was confusing in just the first few minutes, and second of all, there are two violent sex scenes and child-rape in just the 20 minutes I watched, plus a horrible beating scene (the Razzies were unfair–Jessica Alba totally looked like someone who got punched in the face after she got punched in the face) where I turned it off. The reviews said he basically keeps that up for the rest of the movie. Ooh, what a story!

2.) Everything else. (In case you couldn’t tell, I just watched that unwatchable 20 minutes of The Rapist Inside Casey Affleck and I just wanted to complain. I don’t really know what other terrible movies are on there well enough to write about them, because they’re CLEARLY TERRIBLE and so I don’t watch them.)

 

Chicken (Bawk, Bawk, Bawk!)

Hey, you! You walk around all day like you are a normal, stable person and maybe even own a car and a blazer, but guess what? You are hiding some totally lame secret fear. And if you’re not careful, it might crawl out from underneath your bed and eat you. Think about that while you drive around in your blazer, Mr./Mrs. “Well-Adjusted”!

Hmm, I’m not really sure where I was going with that. My introduction kind of ran away with me. But this post is about Things That Scare You! Or, you know, Things That Scare Me, because you’re not writing this post (but you can totally write 18 comments about how you sleep with a nightlight and a teddy bear and a knife because you’re afraid of the Boogeyman, if you’re so inclined).

I am scared of barking, snarling dogs. I love dogs, but I have an atypically high number of friends with horrible facial scars from doggies biting them (okay, only 2 scarface friends, but still). You can’t come back from that shit.

I am also afraid of people who follow me, because as gorgeous as I am, I am afraid they’re going to pull something terrible out of their pants and try to put it inside me, such as a knife (see what I did there?).

I am afraid of clowns. When I was little, I was at a carnival thing inside a big circus tent, and we were sitting high up in the back. I was grooving on all the trapeze artists and the big fat elephants, and then I turned around the way you always do when you can feel someone looking at you, and who was there? A clown. A tall, scary, unsmiling clown, staring me dead in the eyes. You can’t come back from that shit either.

This post is pretty boring. I am boring myself just writing it. But I haven’t posted anything in a few days and I know my sexual little readers will just DIE without some new material. So, here you go. Hopefully something interesting will flit into my brain and then I can entertain you all instead of talking about my bad childhood clown experiences.

Cosmo Advice Gone Horribly Wrong

Let me start by saying I am a big fan of Cosmo. I mean, it’s a good magazine. It’s dirty, it has lots of pretty pictures, and they usually have at least one column that makes me laugh (um, I’m looking at you, Lucky, the worst women’s magazine ever created).

But their sex advice can be fucking dangerous.

First of all, why do they talk about using your teeth so much? Like, I don’t care if you say, “Very, very, very gently run the edge of your teeth down his shaft,” because however gently you do it, the guy is going to scream, “HOLY FUCK STOP GRATING MY DICK; IT’S NOT A CARROT, YOU FREAK!” And that’s not going to get you a second date. But somehow, every time I open up a Cosmo, there is at least one tip about “nibbling his balls” or biting something any normal guy wouldn’t want bitten. You know what’s going to happen, Cosmo? Some little fifteen-year-old who’s never given head is going to read that, ruin her boyfriend’s junk, and be scarred for life (just like the guy’s dick).

And then some of it is just downright weird. Jamie’s stellar sex advice is “Make two fists around my shaft and twist them in opposite directions as fast as you can.” Really, Jamie? You like getting Indian burns on your dick? I mean, maybe, but I’m 99.9% sure half the “Sex Tips From Guys!” were written by a bunch of drunk frat guys giggling, “Do you really think they’re going to print this stuff? I mean, holy fuck, who wants a girl to punch them in the sack?” And then sluts everywhere are ball-tapping their boyfriends.

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for trying new things. But when the “new things” include scattering marbles on the bed before you get it on (seriously), I’m just not game (you know what I don’t want to go to the doctor for? Having a marble stuck in my vajangles).

So, before girls everywhere are chomping down on penises and forcing their boyfriends to drown themselves during sex, Cosmo should do themselves a favor and have a real, normal dude veto their more psycho sex tips. Or, you know, hire someone who’s not retarded to proofread them first (NO GUY WANTS TEETH ON HIS DICK, PEOPLE).