Category: FUCKING DAY

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FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: SuperVan 🌭

In the 1970s people realized, for the very first time, that you could fuck in a van. It changed the world. I know it’s hard to believe now, but there were a few years in human history where people saw somebody getting railed in the back of an Econoline and assumed it was consensual. There was even a film movement called vanspoiltation, because if you spell ‘exploitation’ wrong it becomes charming. The king of this short-lived, hilariously ill-advised strain of amateur pornography was called SuperVan. Hold on, I’m sorry, I’m saying that wrong. It’s actually pronounced:

You can really hear that font.

This movie is about everything Van Guy, and if you need a comprehensive and exhaustive description of the Van Guy subculture, here it is:

But don’t be fooled, it’s not all fun and games. Or at least, not unmurderous ones — even back in that foolish era when we idolized Van Guys, we still couldn’t gloss over their many abductions. Try to count the number of kidnappings in the following fifteen second clip from SuperVan.

Did you count three? Then you missed the child struggling in the middle of that huddle, just like the Douglas County Police Department did. It’s an easy mistake to make. Try not to let it haunt you like it haunted Officer Calloway, may he rest in peace. 

Anyway, wacky sightgags of real-time crimes notwithstanding, the rest of the movie is standard exploitation fare — they have to get the supervan, Vandora, across the country to the annual van freakout to win the 5,000 dollar prize or, as you’d say in Vanglish:

Basically it’s a find/replace on the script for Smokey and the Bandit, with the part of Smokey replaced by Vandora, and the part of the Bandit replaced by attempted sexual assault. But this is Fucking Day; we’re not here to talk about plot. We’re here to talk about the greatest vans of the 1970s, and the terrible ways you will get fucked in them.

And rest assured, they will be terrible. This is what SuperVan thinks ‘woman having a good time’ looks like:

MORGAN THE PIRATE VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

By a guy in an eyepatch with a hook for a hand. The eyepatch is fake, but the hook is real. The constant pirate puns will really take you out of the experience, but the hook will drag you back in.

The lasting consequences:

Hook-based chlamydia. 

THE COOL CAR VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

The kind of guy who paints a better car on his car is a confused dreamer. He’ll vary fucks between frenzied doggystyle pounding and ‘90s-martial-arts-movie girl-on-top, then ask you to marry him. He will be gone before you can answer “god, no.”

The lasting consequences:

Cool Car Van Guy will overly romanticize the night you had together, even though he’ll never even attempt to call the fake phone number you gave him. He will show up at your wedding years later with a boombox playing Genesis to object to your union, and propose his own. He will be gone before you can answer “god, no.”

VANDORA, THE SOLAR-POWERED SUPERVAN

How you’ll get fucked:

By a man in a ponytail wearing a crystal necklace. He’s going to subtly imply he’s from the future; he’s going to not so subtly imply that everyone does anal in the future.

The lasting consequences:

Futuristic anal warts.

SENSITIVE GUITAR-PLAYING GUY VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

You will not get fucked by the Sensitive Guitar-Playing Guy. The Sensitive Guitar-Playing Guy Van is the Pied Paper of Van Fucking — all the girls chase the gentle man’s magical tunes, only to be led to a muddy lot containing another van: this one matte black and dented, with the words ‘Hot Stuff’ painted on the side. Sensitive Guitar-Playing Guy Van will peel away, Hot Stuff will beckon, and you’ll think “hey, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The lasting consequences:

If you’ve seen this woman, please call the Van Abduction Hotline at 1-800-VANISHD.

CRUDELY-DRAWN HEART VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

Crudely-Drawn Heart Van Guy fucks like he draws hearts — hastily and with very little eye for detail. Expect to take a poke or two in the bellybutton while he wildly stabs at holes.

The lasting consequences:

Belly-button based chlamydia.

FREEDOM MACHINE

How you’ll get fucked:

Freedom Machine is the ultimate American Fuck Van. Expect to get fucked missionary style with no eye contact, and also later by the disastrous US healthcare system when you go to treat your-

The lasting consequences:

All-American Chlamydia. 

SESAME STREET VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

By a puppet. 

No, I’m just joking. 

By two puppets.

The lasting consequences:

The exceptionally virulent strain of chlamydia that thrives on all puppet-felt. Even brand new from the factory. Every puppet in history. Rife with chlamydia. My god.

EPIC BEAR-SLED VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

On a bear-skin rug by a man in a Viking helmet. He will call you Brynhild and you will call him Crom, and it will actually be pretty awesome.

The lasting consequences:

Cromydia.

PLAIN VAN

How you’ll get fucked:

You won’t! 

Your corpse, on the other hand…

The lasting consequences:

Your ghost, your poor goddamn ghost — it’s going to have to haunt the You-skin condom that your murderer will make out of the soles of your feet. You’re going to have to see everything it does. You’re going to have to penetrate everything it penetrates, until a wandering Vigilante Highway Cleric defeats your Van Murderer and purifies the You-skin condom with salt before burning it at first light.

Anyway that’s my time folks, go van yourselves.

…

This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, Zach Harrison: winner of the Kumite with fastest face punch with also kick and spin (174 mph).

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FUCKING DAY

Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League

Sometimes you can try to be too many things for too many people, and I’m of course talking about Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League.

Naked ladies plus pro wrestling is a 12-year-old’s idea of an idea. This is like adding nudity to poker or selling unlicensed Michael Jackson merchandise, which are two other failed enterprises from Howard Mann, the creator of Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League. It’s the worst part of both things with none of the best parts, like a centaur who’s just two different sized buttholes or a KFC/Taco Bell that only serves Baja Blast coleslaw. It’s like a mustard water and grandpa’s racism sandwich.

Before they take their clothes off, it’s a lifeless 7th rate pro wrestling show. It’s the kind of writing and performance you’d expect from kids playing pro wrestling if all their mothers worked as phone sex operators while they were learning to talk. It’s weirdly childish for something you’re presumably meant to jerk off to, but it doesn’t do it in a likeable way like He-Man did. For instance, there’s a sadomasochistic character and her sex slave is maybe disabled? He’s in his panties, can’t talk, and seems to cry with real monkey sadness when she whips him. Their promo is more inspired by serial killer movies than any kind of fetish and after five-too-many minutes of awkward spookiness it cuts to Carmen Electra who offers, “Ooh, that’s kind of hot. Heh.” So if you were wondering if the producers know what sex is, no, probably not.

“Host” Carmen Electra was paid $100,000 to sit in a studio far away from the wrestling and read a few embarrassing sex puns. I know she was paid this much because she very publicly sued Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League for the other $300,000 she was promised. She also sued for so many other ludicrous things she ended up getting nothing. It’s very likely after lawyer fees Carmen Electra lost money from putting her name on this. If she made better decisions, she could have stayed home and burned a few stacks of money and this thing would have been called Creepy Stan’s Jean Creamin’ Rough Housers (Exposed Holes Edition) and only one murderer would own a copy. We’ll meet that murderer later in this article.

The other star of the video is Jimmy “Mouth of the South” Hart who also isn’t at the event, but every fifteen minutes they show an inset of him saying generic things about the real hot action in there. If you went to bed with your dick in a Clayton Kershaw baseball glove and then told everyone, “I made love to MLB great Clayton Kershaw last night,” that’d be more honest than saying “Jimmy Hart is in this.”

As for the wrestling itself, it’s not very good. The talent pool for accomplished female wrestlers is already small enough before you shrink it to “female wrestlers willing to go bottomless for buffet coupons and points on DVD sales.” These are Vegas strippers who took a weekend of wrestling training and the announcers have a hell of a time making sense of their confused miscues. There seems to be a script, but nobody studied it very hard. For instance, one naked lady fakes a knee injury so a naked blind lady can run in and replace her. The blind lady immediately loses her place in the script and seems to forget if she was also the knee injury lady, and she fakes a knee injury. Her opponent and the announcers adjust to this new fiction just in time for her to remember the knee thing was someone else’s, so she stops faking a knee injury to befuddle everyone a second time. Maybe? As it is with every second of this show, all you and the announcers can do is speculate at what these uncomfortable naked people are trying to communicate. If these weren’t hot, nude, adult women, you’d swear you were watching two orangutans discover a nest of cobras.

As you can see, their idiot clumsiness is not not sexy, but when naked people aren’t doing anything erotic, their lack of clothes becomes pretty ordinary. It only takes a few minutes for your brain and gonads to go from “naked ladies!” to “are there any recreational options at this nudist colony that don’t suck?”

As a true American, I am in favor of pointlessly mixing naked ladies with dumbass things and also judging you to be a pervert when you do it in a weird way. So I don’t hate this because sex is some sacred intimate thing. The one person who ever called me a prude and meant it was a dominatrix I was dating after I turned down her offer to go to her work and make fun of the customers. I told her I didn’t need to be a part of some sad loser’s boner, which is the exact opposite choice she and the stars of Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League made. This was designed for boners incapable of happiness, shame, or self-reflection. Carmen Electra is announcing an event for boners that long ago died of despair and could only be resuscitated by this exact combination of elements. Seriously, though; a good portion of the audience is very obviously there to pant at and hopefully strangle the naked women. Here’s the murderer I mentioned:

This was filmed in front of about 35 people and they were clearly told to never stop screaming or flailing their arms at any cost. They do a mediocre job at this, and they almost make it seem like 40 people are watching. However, in the back is a section of men who never clap or cheer. They stand motionless, watching the skin. Watching it struggle. They are not here for a good time. They are here because the voices gave them no choice. This motherfucker in the gray shirt did not move for an entire hour. Arms down and staring. He just rose from a shadow and stared at the women like he does at his elderly mother when it’s time for her bath. There is zero chance he isn’t right behind one or more of these naked wrestling girls right now.

In a confusion that should have probably been cleared up, half of the women are really trying to put on a pro wrestling match without clothes, while the other half are going for more of a wrestling-themed strip tease. Neither one works very well, but there’s not really a playbook for this kind of thing. Is it good wrestling or good stripping when four women link up their hands and feet and take turns opening their legs? I know it’s not really why we’re here, but I have no fucking idea who’s got the upper hand in this move:

Carmen Electra’s Naked Women’s Wrestling League is so impossibly bad at everything it tries to do, it almost seems like a trap. This may sound crazy, but was this event produced specifically so a hot dog website about cursed artifacts would find it 13 years later and generate enough chaos energy for the gray shirt murderer to remanife

…

This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, Josh Fabian: who spends montages nodding yes to every single hat you try on.

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FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Seanbaby Does Not Listen

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FUCKING DAY

Let’s Read: Exercising the Penis

I’m going to tell you the same thing I should tell you at the start of every article: you are about to have a huge penis. That’s the whole intro, let’s read EXERCISING THE PENIS.

The book opens with a dedication to VENESSA, who helped the author “every step of the way, big or small.” I thought this might be a clever way of thanking her for staying with him through the small penis days, but the next sentence kept going on about steps to suggest there was no hidden metaphor. So don’t expect secret genius or tongue-in-cheek comedy from this penis enlargement book. He’s an idiot, and you can tell because the first thing he does in his book is name the one person who knows with certainty it’s make-believe. I’m glad poor VENESSA at least got a dedication because her boyfriend typed 272 pages of cock stretches and perineum kegels and she had the much harder job of pretending they worked.

You might already have an idea of how possible penis enlargement is based on your own independent research. Aaron Kemmer opens his book acknowledging your skepticism by debunking science, or as he calls it “penis myths.” You may have heard, for instance, the penis is not a muscle. Not true, sort of. According to one unexplained bullet point, it is approximately 50% smooth muscle and those are his italics, not mine.

This is more wordplay than biology. It’s like saying penises do not conduct electricity, but they can sure add an unexpected jolt to a rain storm. Renaming the very-much-not-muscles in a penis to something with the word “muscle” does not mean you can start pumping iron with it. Still, I’m going to say the same thing every owner of this book said: “What could it hurt to try pumping some iron with it? I know it’s fake, I’m not stupid, but I’m not willing to bet this tin- already huge dong on it?” This is fucking America, where the dumbest ideas are as valid as your pussy expert ones. What I’m saying is, let’s all pull it out and let’s get started.

There are several pages dedicated to measuring which include multiple methods and starting points. Aaron acknowledges dongs change size all day, so he suggests measuring at full boner from some of your favorite spots, and also taking three flaccid measurements and averaging them. By the end of this section, you’re going to have a lot of contradictory cock data, but only the most skeptical reader would suspect this was designed to make it very, very hard to tell whether or not your penis is increasing in size. If you ask me, the only true way to measure an erection is to pace out how much running start you need to penetrate a fiberglass door. I never saw the point of measuring a flaccid penis since I haven’t had one of those since they announced Chrisitan Slater would join Emilio Estevez and Lou Diamond Phillips in the cast of Young Guns II. “The West just got wilder!”

I don’t want to make this about me and my massive dong success. I’ve read enough penis enlargement books to be squared away, ladies. So let’s get back to talking about Aaron’s system. Before he gets into the hardcore stretching exercises, he gives 8 tips on how to make your penis bigger right now. And good news: almost all of you are doing numbers three through seven at this very moment.

I wasn’t very impressed with Aaron’s advice to increase my size by “pulling on it” or using my imagination to conjure most of a boner. In fact, if a being appeared before me and said, “I took the form of your people fifteen of your Earth minutes ago,” I would say, “Fifteen minutes? Then you’ve definitely tried pulling on your dick to make it bigger. Have you tried basketball? Or Emilio Estevez? Let’s see… what else, what else…” Aaron had some expert level advice on #5, though. I don’t think I would have considered holding in my pee so the guys in the locker room would see my penis at its best. That’s the kind of insecurity you don’t expect even from someone who wrote a book about pointlessly squishing your dick and hoping wishes are real. A lot of this stupid fucking nonsense I blame on VENESSA.

Another thing we need to do before our exercises, besides taking inventory of our girth, pulling on it, holding in our pee, quitting smoking, and thinking positive thoughts is a penis exercise warm up. A penis exercise warm up is exactly what it sounds like– you microwave a sock full of rice and put your dick in it.

In the first #1 bullet point, Aaron says any sock that fits around your penis will do. And if you own a sock that doesn’t fit around your penis, I don’t like that the only things I know about you are (1) you have a medically dangerous dong, and (2) you collect tiny doll socks. I also don’t like in his first #2 bullet point that this science is so imprecise you can use any kind of rice. If it’s important for my rice cooker to know the type of rice I’m using, it’s vital my dick also knows. The last thing I especially don’t like is in his second #3 bullet point: “microwave and heat for approximately 30 to 90 seconds or until you reach desired temperature.” What the fuck is “desired temperature” when I’m sous vide cooking rice-crusted dick? And do you have any idea the vast difference between 30 and 90 seconds in a microwave? The skin on a human penis does! All I’m saying is if you want me to perform untested boiling rice surgery on my genitals, I wish it was a more exact procedure than shrugging and hitting the SENSOR POTATO button.

Besides getting your cock nice and scalded, it’s important to prepare your “inner penis” for stretching by heating up your taint. Get all sectors of your penis as well including the hard-to-reach top, bottom, and sides. I was skeptical before, but anyone whose dick is big enough to have three different climates knows a thing or two about enlarging a penis.

I know you haven’t had time to get to the top or sides of your penis yet, but you’re ready enough. Let’s jelq.

Jelqing is either a 30-year-old dick squeezing technique, ordinary masturbation, or an ancient Arabic exercise. The author of this book based almost entirely on it doesn’t know. But you can’t argue with the science– pushing blood into the penis adds nutrients and stress causing it to grow. This sentence is left intentionally humorless to demonstrate how already ridiculous I find the idea of mashing vitamin blood into a human penis; joking about something so nakedly absurd is a waste of both of our times. Speaking of wasting time, here’s how you jelq:

Lather up your shaft and stroke yourself with as little romantic intent as possible. Congratulations. You have jelqed one complete jelq, because jelq is a verb and a noun. You can also consider it a carpet cleaner and a Batman because it is nothing. It is jerking off without purpose. It’s masturbating not to the idea of sex, but to the idea of blood vitamins and microwaved rice rewriting your groin DNA. Jelqing is how you would move milk out of a goat if the goat was a gullible idiot with a sad dick. This is a fun book, but if getting your penis warm and pulling on it made it bigger, wouldn’t everyone know? Does the author think we spent our teen years with our hands tied to the side of an igloo? If this worked, every 8th grader would have come back from summer break with 70 pounds of coiled, tender penis meat in a wheelbarrow instead of just me. Ladies.

If you’re still reading this book after discovering jelqing is playing with yourself and nothing else, you’re on board for anything. The author knew he could add more and more supernatural properties to jelqing. One of them is dick straightening. So while you’re making your penis bigger and stronger, go ahead and uncurve it by jelqing the other direction. If you mini jelq at the right angle you can reduce your heating costs and advance civil rights. Some jelqers jelq into their penis curve and ride the rotation into the swirls of time. This is how jelqing appeared both in “ancient Arabic” tablets and “roughly 30 years” ago. There are nights I see glimpses of my future self jelqing on a penis measurements have no numbers for. “Tell them NOT TO–” his, my voice will scream each time before being interrupted by the violent pull of the jelqstream. I have memories of jelqing from a world that never was. Has my penis always been this large and straight? So jelq and jelq? So jelq? Jelq? Jelq.

After you’ve jelqed for a month, you are ready for the 🚫ADVANCED EXERCISE🚫.of draping a dry towel on your boner. As you advance or “jelq-up,” get the towel wet to increase the weight. Keep women informed of your jelqing progress. Say to them, “I stroke my dick so much I can hang a wet towel on it. Very wet.” Say “wet” as wetly as possible. Ask them if anything else is wet, again very wetly, and make very sure to get a clear answer. Penetrating a woman after 30 days of jelqing is more of a lubrication bench test than an act of love.

If you still seek advanced jelqing tips, try constricting your jelq-rod in the toothed claws of restraints to jelq handlessly during your travels. The pages of this jelq tome, upon which all future societies shall devote jelq and more, lists a number of dong crushing clamps and jelq-presses to keep the precious blood vitamins trapped inside your GIRTHED SHAFT. It is as jelqed by the prophecy my future self shrieks we must all one day heed: when a man mistaking masturbation for science suggests you place barbed clamps on your dick, only a great fool says, “Holy shit, what?” The jelq-minded man says, “Jelq me up to maximum and tourniquet this hog. I am no small penised coward.”

…
This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, John McCammon: who left fighting behind him, at least until Baron Arena took his daughter. 

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FUCKING DAY

Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion 🌭

My favorite “Once you see it, you can’t unsee it” in all of pop culture is the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion. 

If you venture into the deepest, darkest dregs of the video streaming services, like if you scroll to the second row of “Trending Movies” on Amazon Prime, you may spot the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion or, if the legends are true, find yourself trapped inside it for all eternity. 

You’ll find it among the glut of “so cheap they’re legitimately depressing” movies that streaming services use to fill out their fractured and dilapidated libraries. These usually consist of a bunch of part-time actors, plus Dean Cain, improvising painful comedy dialogue in a rented location for 80 minutes while someone records it with their Blackberry. You’ve definitely browsed past these movies even if you’ve never stopped to watch one — they’re usually optimized with thumbnails and titles intended to trick old people, which apparently means combining animals and holidays:

Note that some of these movies do not actually feature the dog you see in the thumbnail, or in some cases, any dog at all. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about today. Here is a random screen grab of 2013’s An Easter Bunny Puppy, I’m not going to bother explaining the plot because that would just slow us down:

Instead, I want you to focus on the background. There’s a curving staircase and what appears to be a red car but it’s actually a car that’s been converted into a chair. I know this, because I’ve seen it in other, similar works, such as 2011’s A Christmas Puppy (which at some point was retitled to A Christmas Spirit after someone presumably complained that the titular puppy is just two shots of a random dog sitting on its bed and not interacting with the plot in any way):

You see the stairs and the car, of course, but I want you to note some other details: The bookcase, the black leather sofas. So with that, here are three super-nude women using that very car, in that very house, to form a human pornipede:

That is a still from the 2013 porno Serena the Sexplorer. All three of these movies, plus many others, were shot in a house in Malibu that for a period of time (between 2011-2013, I believe) was used for a whole bunch of low-rent productions that were either A) wholesome dog-holiday movies or B) some nasty Cinemax-grade pornography.

I can tell you exactly where that house is, by the way — the location is publicly listed on IMDB. You can even check out the listing on Zillow — it’s estimated to be worth $3.7 million and has six bedrooms. Speaking of which, here’s the mom and dad from A Christmas Puppy/Spirit cuddling in bed after learning that their love is the greatest gift of all:

And here are a couple of porn professionals in the 2011 Asylum fuckventure Barely Legal learning the exact same lesson on WHAT MAY BE THE SAME SHEETS:

And here are two women taking the same emotional journey in Serena the Sexplorer:

I don’t know how many movies were shot in the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion — that IMDB listing I linked earlier includes 24 titles, including an episode of Tim and Eric from Season 4 …

… but that list seems to omit the more hard core stuff (Serena the Sexplorer isn’t on the list, for example). And that’s the fun of the Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion; you and your family can all be gathered in the living room browsing around the saddest bargain bin sections of the free streaming services like Bloopi or Tubo and suddenly you’re startling everyone by bolting upright and shouting, “Holy shit, there’s that red car chair! This is the house where they shot a bunch of dog holiday movies, in addition to this porno we’re all currently watching!”

Or, you’ll be flipping around cable in the wee hours of the morning and you’ll see a happy white middle-class family learning some valuable lesson about the true meaning of St. Patrick’s Day or some shit on the leather sofa next to the fireplace…

…and know that a bunch of porn people got their fuck on right on that same piece of furniture in a scene that, for all we know, was shot that same weekend. What are the procedures for disinfecting that furniture? What could ever be enough?

We could do this all day, but I know your time is precious:

I know what you’re asking. “Jason, you asshole, are there ever any scenes where those happy families use the kitchen to prepare a holiday meal, or dye Easter eggs?” Of course:

“Let me finish, you piece of shit. Are there then scenes in the pornos in which nasty porn people fuck on those very same counters, perhaps just minutes before those cooking scenes were filmed?” 

Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t found any yet. If you run across a Holiday Dog Movie Fuck Mansion movie that features some hot, sticky counter-porking, please send video evidence to Brockway so he can update this piece.

Before I go, I should let you know that if you want to go really deep down the rabbit hole, you can take a gander at the real estate listing of that house and kind of see a tragic tale play out in the sell history. Somebody bought it back in 2001 for $1.8 million, tried to sell it in the spring of 2011 for two million but apparently failed to find a buyer and pulled the listing. 

It appears — and this is just my educated guess — that after realizing they couldn’t move that albatross of a house in a down real estate market, they decided they had to do something to make ends meet. At that point, I imagine the entire family gathered for a brainstorming session: How can they make some quick cash off of a giant, lavish Malibu property they can no longer afford? Maybe rent it out for weddings? Burn it down for the insurance money? 

Then someone, perhaps one of their children, or maybe grandma, silently strode up to the whiteboard and wrote five simple words.

Jason “David Wong” Pargin was the ex-executive editor at Cracked.com and is now a full time novelist, his violent sci-fi adventure Zoey Punches the Future in the Dick is up for pre-order now! Or buy one of his previous books, they’re all pretty good.

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FUCKING DAY

The Worst Day to Have Sex

Every nine seconds a horny dingbat publishes a book of daily sexual positions. More than any other product cluttering thrift stores and landfills, they serve no audience. They are useless novelties purchased exclusively by the least funny person you’ve ever met for office party joke gifts. Let’s look at three of them:

Sex 365 is a sincere, well-produced photograph series of couples going at it. It seems intended as a sex therapy book for bored lovers, but since each position requires actual human models, about 300 of them are slight variations of the sixish ways people fuck. POSITION OF THE DAY PLAYBOOK and POSITION OF THE DAY: SEX EVERY DAY IN EVERY WAY were both published by Nerve.com, a now-offline sex culture site, and they’re clumsily illustrated, poorly imagined ways a furniture store clerk might picture losing his virginity. Don’t get me wrong, if you have no dick game these books will give you plenty of ideas on how to snap your penis off with an office chair. I can’t think of a single reason for them to exist, and that includes this one: I am going to cross-reference each of the books’ daily sex positions and determine -scientifically- the 10 worst days for having sex. It will do no one any good, it will be very awkward if anyone walks in on you reading it, and let’s begin:

Each book approached January 8th from really different directions. Sex 365 wants you to try “Sneaky Peek” which is where you watch yourself cranking your boner the wrong direction. Playbook suggests “Puppy Love,” which is putting your nose up your partner’s ass. There’s no further instructions, but the book gives fitness stats for each position and it says this one burns 48 calories for both the giver and the receiver. Maybe this is meant to be done during a brisk crawl or while you time push ups together? I mean, obviously you’re not just resting your nose in there, right? How did they test this? Did they have one group of people do jumping jacks while another laid down and clenched their buttholes around noses? I feel like we would have heard about a study like that. Anyway, the last book, SEDIEW, thinks you might like the “Walk Like an Egyptian” which is where you answer the door without taking the inflatable doll off your dick.

It’s clear from everyone’s January 8th that they’ve already run out of reasonable sex positions. No big deal, though; they only have 357 to go.

On the day before Valentine’s Day, Playbook offers its fifth variation of standing up facing each other, this time with one leg weird. If you’re curious, this burns 117.6 calories for the giver, making it a 245% more effective workout than placing your nose in someone’s butthole. The author of SEDIEW did the sex book equivalent of eating chili right out of the can by suggesting the adventurous “default cunnilingus.” I guess Sex 365 also did the sex book equivalent of eating chili right ouf the can but in a different direction– they tell you to flip onto your partner’s back so he can look you in the eyes while you suck his ass. I don’t think there’s a safe way to get out of this position– you either eat ass for the rest of your life or one of you has to eat a piledriver.

Sex 365‘s position for March 6th is a woman getting nailed while she’s in a lotus position. This is a move you only see after a sex book author thinks, “I have hopelessly run out of ways to stand, sit, and lay down during se– wait, I’ve got one. Cross-legged.” If you’re not interested in tangling all your limbs up between you and your frustrated lover, you can try Playbook‘s idea of awkwardly boning from different chairs. It’s perfect for when they haven’t yet called your boarding group or when a job interview is going exceptionally well. SEDIEW offers “The Chain of Fools” which seems to be two people badly injured in an elevator accident trying to fuck one last time before they die. Don’t have sex on March 6th is their point.

The erotic cave paintings from the Nerve.com books are pretty normal on March 9th, but look at the position from Sex 365. What’s the point of that? I must not be a true romantic, because I would have no idea how long I was supposed to stare at my unconscious date’s tits. Picturing what it would look like from a security camera, I’d say anything more than five seconds should be a sex crime, even if it’s your wife. This seems like a good time to mention how if you’re ever posing for a sex position book and the photographer asks you to get in someone’s lap and play dead, you can say no and call the police. Tell them you are with two strange men, one naked and one dangerous. They will assume they heard you wrong, and it will be a difficult misunderstanding to clear up. Tell them, hysterically, you were posing nude for March 9th. Explain it was the only day left with no ass eating. Tell them to stop telling you to calm down!

One of the things I should mention about Sex 365 is they invested heavily in butt-to-butt stuff. At least an entire month joined at the ass in ways most erections would refuse to go. And before you ask, they are never lovingly sharing a dildo. They are simply rubbing butts for the joy of it. So welcome to April 3rd where one book says touch butts, another says bang uncomfortably in a chair, and the third says mount your lover on your cock for battle. Great job, virgin authors, confused nude models, and terrible artists alike.

It’s April 15th, ladies, and your Sex 365 suggestion is to sit on another butt and get a brief tip of penis scraping against you. As usual, this sex position comes with an apology for how it won’t work for what you and I know as “sex.” The first draft of Playbook’s April 15th position was “fucking on the floor only maybe the lady’s head is under a chair?” They unfortunately never got around to writing a second draft. SEDIEW took a break from sex to include a drawing of two men arguing over a rocking chair and both winning.

Sex 365 seems to have given up on the idea of penetrating women all together. Ladies, you’ve graduated from titillating butt rubs from awkward angles to the ultimate in pleasure– letting him jerk off into your legs while you wait. Playbook suggests oral sex, only dumb, and SEDIEW thinks it might be fun to forget about fucking and battle for a leg lock. If these books set out to prove there are limitless ways to make love, they could not have failed harder. They’ve demonstrated there are only three ways to have sex: normal, on a rocking chair, and not quite getting it in her from a wriggling bundle of stupid shapes. If you gave a pumpkin to Christopher Reeve, today, his legendary and respected remains would come up with more viable sex positions than these three books combined.

Sex 365 assumes you’ve been following along all year and you’re tired from having weird sex a few times and then rubbing butts for five months. So their positions are really winding down. Their June 15th suggestion is a nice hug. Playbook hasn’t quite given up yet, but this idea to pull a cardboard box near the bed so you can rest your feet shows they’re close. SEDIEW has been almost exclusively rocking chair positions since March, which is strange. It’s already presumptuous to think the reader has found a partner willing to break their leg once a day in the name of sex science, but it’s absurd to assume they also own a rocking chair. I’ve been inside over seven homes in my life, and I’ve seen more actual sex swings than rocking chairs. Did the author write this book while he was staying with his grandma? Tell me which one of these makes more sense:

1: I am an experienced love maker who knows all the styles: cowgirl, dog, and with hats. Here are 365 very slight variations on those; most of them are embarrassing, and 200 don’t work. It will be useful for sexually active adults, which again, I promise I am.

2: Here are 365 drawings of what I imagine I look like when I sit in my grandmother’s rocking chair and fuck her yarn.

Each of the books is showcasing its signature style on August 21st: pointlessly rubbing butts, fucking like idiots, and masturbating into woman-shaped yarn from grandma’s rocking chair. These are not fun ways to spice up your love life. These are storyboards for a documentary about the struggle of the three unluckiest pairs of conjoined twins. “Many of you, hffff, take for granted things like, say, sitting in a rocking chair. But for me and my sister, a rocking chair, hrrrk, is like Mount Everest times 9/11 with yoga. I love my sister but we both, rrrk, want to die when we are in a rocking chair.”

Don’t ever make love on October 20th. In Sex 365, the position is standing ass-to-ass. The book doesn’t include an exit strategy, but since there’s no way to traditionally finish from here, I assume you leave when the conversation gets dull. Playbook‘s position seems to be engineered backwards from getting the most fluid on the most chairs with no care for spines or orgasms. And finally, SEDIEW suggests this faceless struggle. What is this goddamn nightmare? It’s like clipart you’d put on a prison sign saying NO SEXUAL ASSAULT IN REC ROOM.

Look, I went into this thinking we would have a fun time making fun of pretzelly contortions and bad sex advice. I could not have predicted a museum of butt-to-butt art photos and 730 drawings of unfinished clones fighting to the death for the title of Chair Master. It’s like I say every time I walk into a home with a sex swing: this feels like a terrible mistake, but a boner never lies.