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I think my penis has a mind of its own. No, really. Not in the proverbial, "You're thinking with two heads instead of one" way, or the familial, "Look at the size of that thing. I can guar-ohn-tee it don't run in the family" way. It's contemporary, whereas I'm pretty old-fashioned. I get excited just thinking about ragtime, but that kind of music, or muzak as my penis would call it (I can imagine), does nothing for him. He needs the THUMP-THUMP-THUMP of techno. I'm an even-tempered realist, incapable of expressing common human emotions, like sympathy. But I tell you, he stays quite alert even after I'm finished with homely, aged women. I like the cold, but he just shrivels up and wants to snuggle, like a little marsupial. Who knows how he'd celebrate if I moved to Miami. I eat and drink, but he doesn't. He sleeps a lot (seemingly). I'm more of a night owl. He has a darker complexion than I do. Why? I don't know. He's never outdoors. He can't see worth a shit. I have two functional 20/20 eyeballs. I like long walks on the beach, sports, and making people laugh. He doesn't. Just kidding about that one.
Date Written: October 27, 2005
Average Vote: 3.5