This Week in Sex...

[sassa]

Storm in a Teacup

You know when you go to grab a cup of coffee by yourself because you want to finish The Executioner's Song and you can't at home because your roommate is playing the fifth track from the new White Stripes over and over again at an unreasonable volume? Naturally, the second you sit down with your drink, some couple sits next to you and starts being all cute. Suddenly your concentration is interrupted by fantasies of pouring scalding coffee on them and singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" at the top of your lungs to drown out their screams.

Well, if it makes you feel better, odds are their relationship isn't going to last. In fact, the hapless male might be a victim of the Chinese Love Mafia. One of the ringleaders of that notorious, well, ring, was apprehended in Haidan province last week. After placing a personal ad to meet men, this criminal mastermind would suggest the guys meet her at a local teashop (a failing teashop which she happened to own — two details she cleverly omitted from her ad). Ms. Carmen Sandiego would then order the most expensive items on the menu, make some excuse, bolt from the premises and leave the poor guy with the bill. This happened again and again, until one suitor realized that this was extortion, not just grade-A bitchery. The woman's fatal misstep was asking her kitchen staff to rough up the guy, who asked for a discount on his meal. Which is, in all honesty, is pretty gauche on a first date, even if your girl doesn't have hired goons. — Carrie Hill Wilner

[sassa]

"Who says I need a man? I have three dogs, two horses and five sisters."

— Gisele Bundchen alludes to a post-modeling career in German porn.

"Pre-1989, I pretty much fucked everybody. But it was because I had to get breakfast somehow."

—The perma-charming Courtney Love accounts for her perennially disheveled appearance at IHOP.

"I am a brunette after all, and I just like to match my pubic hair sometimes."

— Madonna on her haircolor change. Apparently, after two years of producing crap, Madge, like husband Guy Ritchie, can boast about nothing but snatch.

"Lucy [Liu] has the most gorgeous ass I've ever seen on any woman. It's like a delicious peach. I'm lucky because I'm her pal and get to squeeze it every day."

— Drew Barrymore on her Charlie's Angels co-star.

"One of Melanie's most prized possessions is a bronze replica of Antonio's phallus that she keeps in their bedroom." — Excerpt from a new tell-all book about Melanie Griffith and Antonio Banderas

[sassa]

The Gooey Decimal System

Every now and then, someone makes a big fuss about porn being viewed in public libraries. Granted, witnessing that sort of booty browsing is not pleasant — especially when some overenthusiastic type won't leave once his half-hour is up and snaps at the kids waiting to play "Oregon Trail" or look at their own porn or whatever. But what if we took a cue from Romania? The tired, porn-starved, huddled masses could get their kinky sex jollies without a computer, and our country would be a better place. Like Romania. This week, the County Library in Timisoara announced plans to use a portion of its tiny acquisition budget to purchase porn magazines. Why? To reinvigorate the library's dowdy image. (Perhaps they're hoping that once you've perused the sticky pages of a jizz-mag, you might stumble upon a dusty copy of War and Peace.) Of course, the library plans to stock old favorites like Playboy, but they also want to serve more esoteric tastes with titles like Body and Soul, which was published in the 1930's. Some other titles we'd like to see in the Eastern Bloc country: Croatian Tail, Totalitarian and Over Forty, Transylvanian Trannies, and Black Sea Booty. — Carrie Hill Wilner and Grant Stoddard

[sassa]

This week, we discovered that dozens of women are clamoring to bear the children of a man older than Dana Carvey's stand-up act: He died more than 5,000 years ago. In 1991, the body of "Otzi the Iceman" was discovered in a glacier high in the Italian Alps. This week, the director of the museum that exhibits the body said that many woman have requested to utilize the contents of Otzi's ancient bag and bear his kids. Apparently, all of the requests have been turned down, not least because Otzi's plumbing had rotted long before Keith Richards started to.

Interesting background: Otzi was found half emerged from a partly melted block of ice; his body was first thought to be that of a modern climber or Sonny Bono's continental counterpart. But the goatskin leggings and grass cape he wore were not part of the Spring '88 Versace collection but, in fact, haute couture from a land before time. Otzi's copper-headed axe and a quiver full of arrows were found nearby, and radio-carbon dating provided an approximate age of his body.

As for Otzi's ability to make the modern ladies warm for his form, the prospect of reproducing with an ancient lifeform sounds a bit Jurassic Park to us. But hey, if Catherine Zeta-Jones can have the offspring of a man from another epoch, why can't everyone? — Grant Stoddard

[sassa]

TWIS survived plenty of clumsy sexual entendre in seventh grade. There was a certain amount of bra-strap snapping, being asked if we wanted to join the "Pen 15" club (this, of course, involved having "Pen 15" written on your hand, which, done properly, looks surprisingly like "PENIS") and hearing the occasional, "you're really flat!" from across the cafeteria. Of course we were flat. We were twelve. Someone should have pointed that out to Jonathan Shank and Karim Wallace, who, by the way, we'd be perfectly happy to see rounded up and shipped off to sensitivity training, even today. (As far as we're concerned, the statute of limitations on this stuff never expires.) That said, Magoffin Middle School in El Paso may have gone bit overboard when officials suspended twelve-year-old Sal Santana for sticking his tongue out at the young lady he was attempting to woo. Both students and parents are surprised by the ruling, but school officials maintains that the girl was upset and scared by Santana's actions. We maintain that the girl doesn't know what "upset and scared" means if she's never been tricked into spelling "I cup" — which sounds conspicuously like "I see you pee" — in front of everyone at the lunch table. — Carrie Hill Wilner

[sassa]

Ikea is probably the best place in the universe. Think about it. You've got furniture designed to match your contemporary lifestyle at a reasonable price. You've got Swedish meatballs with lingonberry jam. You've got a BALL PIT, for chrissake. It's like Willy Wonka's factory times nine hundred. And then there are the product names: those futons and brightly colored coffee tables labeled Tügi and Svenbørg and whatever. We always figured it was some sort of joke — that those monikers translated to like, "stochastic dwarf ballet," or "self-hating anthropology major" — and that as we strapped our new acquisitions to the roof of our car, somewhere in Sweden, advertising execs were laughing at us over their Absolut and smorgasbords. Anyway, it seems that the Swedes were entirely in charming Swedish earnest, and that in a rare turn of events, it's the Germans who are laughing at the rest of the world. See, there's this one Ikea bed – a child's bunk bed, no less – that bears the moniker "Gutvik." Sounds a bit dirty already, doesn't it? Well, know this: in German, "gutvik" means "good fuck." An Ikea spokesman said the allusion was unintentional and that the bed was named after a small town in Sweden. Well, this means that there is a small town in Sweden called "Good Fuck," which is really even funnier. You should hear what "Hackensack" means in Croatian. Oy! — Carrie Hill Wilner

[sassa]

With six body doubles, a labyrinth of underground lairs and questionable whereabouts, Saddam Hussein could be considered an international man of mystery. But similarities to Austin Powers don't stop there. Last week, U.S. soldiers infiltrated one of Hussein's downtown residences and found the wily old dictator's shagadelic love nest. The underground apartment contained a fully-mirrored bedroom, lamps shaped like wanton women, and #&151; perhaps most amusingly — airbrushed paintings of a topless blonde and a mustachioed hero battling a crocodile. Soldiers initially thought the pad belonged to Saddam's mistress, though the walls held photos of the former Iraqi president and a woman who appeared to be his wife (although maybe she has body doubles too...) Other findings: a sunken wet bar stocked with twenty-year old Italian wines and expensive brandies, and tablets of Viagra imported from Jordan. It all inspired a hearty round of Yeah, baaaabyyyys from soldiers as they slogged from room to room. However, Saddam still couldn’t quite match his son for heresy: turns out that Odai Hussein has a picture of the Bush twins hanging above his treadmill. True! We couldn’t make shit like that up if we tried. — Grant Stoddard

[sassa]

Disbelief followed by hearty cackling broke out at a shopping mall in Negril, Jamaica, last week when a female shopper's stolen cellphone was found ringing inside another shopper's vagina. (And you thought your phone going off during the opening credits of Maid in Manhattan was discommodious.) Here's how it all went down: after realizing her celly had gone missing, a shopper confronted a woman she suspected had taken it. The sticky-fingered ne'er-do-well denied everything and waddled outside. The owner of the phone gave chase, followed by a crowd; one quick-thinking rubberneck asked for the victim's phone number and began dialing. Soon a ring, quite literally muffled, emanated from between the woman's legs. Yep - she'd gone one better than stashing it in her underpants. The crowd then held the woman down and plucked the phone from her punani. The irate owner reassured the crowd she would have it properly sanitized before using it again. Um, we dunno, hon. Maybe you just ought to let that one go... — Grant Stoddard

[sassa]

Well, Sweden was out in full effect last week, performing feats of raunch on a scale never before seen in Scandinavia. Now, it didn't occur to us that there would be a direct flight from the Dominican Republic to Stockholm. But apparently there is such a flight, because if there weren't, its pilot wouldn't have been able to ground it in Bermuda when one particularly randy Swede stood up and flashed his fellow passengers. If you ask us, we'd rather deal with schlong-boy prancing up and down the aisles than the inevitable bajillion-hour delay that emergency landings tend to cause, but then again, we're into that kind of shit. Earlier in the flight, the man and — get this — his female companion had been reprimanded for smoking in the plane's lavatory, junior-high style. So they already had enemies among the crew. When our new favorite Swede whipped it out and the other 250 passengers couldn't handle the truth, the pilot radioed ahead to the nearest airport, where the couple were taken to, um, a hospital. Right. Because flashing is a disease. — Carrie Hill Wilner

[sassa]

When I was in eighth grade, all the guys decided they wanted to be gynecologists. Surprisingly enough, they abandoned these ambitions after realizing that gynecology was less about fingering Melissa Ramirez, and more about ministering to aged and diseased cooch. Too bad they didn't live in Parkal, India, where a thirteen-year-old boy can dream of feeling up chicks for a living. This week, a swami named Gottimukkala Babu Rao was arrested for rubbing women's breasts to help them get pregnant. He claimed to have been blessed in this endeavor by the Hindu god Shiva (who, appropriately enough, has a thousand arms in some incarnations). It's puzzling that Rao didn't take the next logical — and scientifically proven — step to induce pregnancy, but he must have been good at what he did. When he was taken away, the arresting officer was harangued by female devotees who were upset that the police were interfering with their, um, treatment. — Carrie Hill Wilner

[sassa]

"Pop is one thing; anthems of necrophilia are another." That's what Leo Abse, a member of British parliament, said in the 1970's during a failed attempt to ban Alice Cooper, the glam-rock icon turned golf enthusiast, from the country's chilly shores. Today, more serious attempts are being made to separate the conjoined triplets that are rock 'n' roll, the British and necrophilia. With the Metheuselan Rolling Stones still touring and horny as ever, it's no terrible shock that the British government plans to criminalize sexual intercourse with cadavers. According to a clause in the forthcoming Sexual Offences Bill, morticians will be exempt from prosecution, as will those who penetrate any part of a dead body "fully believing the person to be alive, but who is in fact dead, or unexpectedly dies during intercourse". Okay, wait. Morticians CAN have sex with corpses? Why? — Grant Stoddard

[sassa]

Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. British entertainers are welcomed into the US of A., then, just as their stateside careers are taking off, they don funny clothes, take out their penises and get into all sorts of trouble with the law. First it was Ozzy Osbourne, who urinated all over the Alamo. (He was wearing Sharon's hat, dress and high heels at the time.) Now, it's comedian Sacha Baron Cohen, star of HBO's Da Ali G Show. While taping a segment for the show, Cohen (in character as Borat, a Kazhakstan TV reporter) was getting a massage from an Arizona mystic.The masseur left the room, then returned and found the thirty-one-year-old comedy god seemingly masturbating under a sheet. The New Age dunderhead screamed and put in a call to the five-o. Cohen and his crew made a swift getaway, but a cop pulled them over. As four more police cars arrived and one officer pulled a gun, Cohen replied in his character's heavy accent: "I did not touch my chram!" Police allowed the crew to return to their hotel room before reporting downtown for questioning. The wily funsters dashed for the airport and high-tailed it out of town. A legislative gem from the state that took ten years to approve Martin Luther King Day: sex in public carries a possible two-year jail term — as does carrying concealed irony. — Grant Stoddard

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Nightclubs are really awful. They just are. Especially Euro nightclubs. (Let's face it, they may have social democracy and international negotiations down, but they can't dance.*) Now, as if the shitty beer and the Adidas track-suit crowd hopping in place like their knees are their only joints weren't enough, you have to worry about some skeeve dropping his false teeth down your shirt. Tina Lange was leaving a disco in Mannheim, Germany, when some come-here-often-Night-at-the-Roxbury type whispered to her: "I hope we'll see each other again." As if hot perve-breath in her ear weren't gross enough, Tina felt the dude drop something down her shirt. She figured it was his phone number. Turns out Tina didn't give this smooth operator enough credit: when she got outside and fished the mystery object from between her breasts, she discoverd it was a set of dentures. Said an unfazed Tina: "if he wants his teeth back, he'll have to ring me." Does that mean she actually gave him her number? Tina, come on! Holding out for a guy who doesn't drop teeth down your shirt isn't being too picky! — Carrie Hill Wilner

*Brits excluded. They fuck up international relations and are passable dancers.

[atomicapples]

why are you such a tramp?

[magellanmax]

You gotta luv sassa.... cutie minded as they come

[sassa]

Originally posted by atomicapples

why are you such a tramp?

why don't you ask your mother that while you're at it...would explain why you were born in a dumpster behind denny's..