A Short Post About Short Penis

You know what would really suck? Being a black man with a small penis. Can you imagine the constant looks of disappointment you would get every time you got down to business? You would always get an, "Oh. I was expecting something. . . well . . . different."

Out of all of the stereotypes out there, that is one that I think most black men could live with. Except for those few small-penised black men. I bet they hate that stereotype worse than they hate the use of the 'N' word.

This is what I was thinking about as my work day is coming to an end.

So ladies, next time you hook up with an underendowed black man, you look that small penis straight in the. . .um. . . eye. . . and say that you are not going to give into racism. You tell that penis that you are going to fight those vicious and harmful big-penis stereotypes.

This Blog Is Not Funny: Your Guide to Politics

Listen folks, I don't want to get "all political" here on you. In fact, we here at This Blog is Not Funny, LLC, a subsidiary of Not Funny Blogs, International, wholly owned and operated by Global Chemical Industries, Inc. Worldwide will not officially endorse a candidate for President of the United States. Because of my "celebrity status" I do not feel it is morally or ethically proper for me to influence your vote with my opinion. God knows, I could win Obama this election in a landslide victory were I to lend him my endorsement. Seriously, just envision the front page of the New York Times: "Garrett Reid (White Guy) Officially Endorses Barack Obama (Who Is, at Least in Part, Black) for President" However, I can't do it. It's just not right.

With the above disclaimer out of the way, I need to say one thing. I just don't get this Hillary v. Obama thing that is going on. It is being billed as "experience vs. passion" for the Presidency. Am I forgetting something? I heard one talking head describe Hillary as "the incumbent." Huh? It appears to me that Hillary is a United States Senator. She has been so since 2001. Before that she was First Lady, a title used to officially describe the "hostess of the white house." Before that she was First Lady of The State of Arkansas. She was also a lawyer (although that really doesn't qualify you for much of anything).

Barack Obama, on the other hand, is also a United States Senator. He has been so since 2005. Before that he was an Illinois State Senator from 1997 to 2004. Before that he was a lawyer (also doesn't qualify you for much of anything).

Are people saying that Hillary has "experience" because her husband was President? Is that what that means? Because it looks like Barack has more legislative experience than Hillary. Am I wrong? Am I missing something? Are people going with the "experience vote" based upon this woman's husband doing the job?

I've got to tell you, I've seen a picture of my proctologist's wife. She looks like a really nice lady, and he has been a doctor for 25 years. But there is no way I am letting her stick a finger in my anus.

I know some of you might say, "but Bill will be there as her 'ambassador to the world,'" or whatever. Great, but I still wouldn't let my doctor's wife shove that meaty index finger into the ol' rectum, even if her husband was standing right there applying the lube.

I'm just saying.

Of course, all of this is not to say that she shouldn't be President or anything. What this is to say is that I don't get the characterization, by universally everyone in the world, that she has more experience than Obama?

P.S. Please don't be angry at me for talking about politics. Also, please don't curse me for my political views. . . wait, who am I talking to? I've seen the site stats. I know there is no one left reading this stuff. I know you all jumped ship months ago. So you know what? Screw you. How's that.

P.S.S. I'm sorry I lost my temper. I don't know what came over me. I got upset thinking about how no one comments. That made me think that people would comment if I'd post something good. Which made me realize that I suck at owning a blog. But I'd probably be better if I had some commentary encouragement. So why don't you comment? What, are you too good? You think you are so great that you can't comment? You know what? Screw you.

UPDATE: (I didn't mean it. I was drunk)

Tis The Season

Today marks the first day of Holiday gift giving. This year, I've adopted a new gift giving technique. I decided to go online to various companies and restaurants and purchase gift cards. Everyone I know that gets gifts from me received a genuine gift card to one of their favorites. They ranged in value from $25 to $50. My secretary/assistant got one for $25. My parents got one for $50. Unfortunately for me, I didn't do my research early to determine what people's favorite restaurants were. Also, I ran into trouble when I figured out that you have to go website to website to buy these gift cards. Unfortuntely, Amazon doesn't sell these on their site. So, I got tired of going to multiple sites after about 10 minutes. Therefore, everyone I know in the world will receive, or has already received, a gift card ranging in value from $25 to $50 for either Red Lobster, Olive Garden, or Outback Steakhouse.

My total gift buying time - 45 minutes
Total amount spent - $750
Amount of my love given to my friends and family, as expressed in my thoughtful gift - infinite.

For those of you wondering, I didn't just get my girlfriend some crummy gift card. She got both a gift card and a coupon for one night of Garrett-lovin'. She is so lucky. One night next week, we'll be dining on a Bloomin' Onion, baby. Merry Christmas.

I Know Just How to Whisper, and I Know Just How to Cry.

Go check out this article about hot monkey lovin' and then come back here as soon as possible. Try not to get turned on by all the talk of nasty monkey sex.

Study Reveals Why Monkeys Shout During Sex.

I feel sorry for these poor monkeys. All their lives they are super monkey sexual dynamos. They are rocking numerous lady monkeys' worlds a week. Then one day a team of scientists show up and inform them that they are not, in fact, bringing their little monkey lovers to the point of ecstasy on a nightly basis. In reality, these monkey's have very much in common with their Garrett human counterpart. Like I, they have female partners that want the experience to be over as quickly as possible and will do anything to speed the process along. I suppose what this means is that girl monkeys and girl girls are not that different. Both will make a lot of noise, shout your name, tell you are the best they have ever had, just to get you worked up and decrease the number of pelvic thrusts.

These scientists actually watched these monkeys engage in the coitus. They actually counted the male monkey pelvic thrusts. Then they wondered why the poor monkeys were not able to get the job done, so to speak. If I had some chick in glasses, a white lab coat, and clipboard staring at my ass while I thrust away, I might have a little trouble finishing up too.

I'm totally kidding, of course. If you want watch my pelvic thrusting call me. Especially if you want to do it while wearing a lab coat and glasses. That is so hot.

Voices inside my head. Echoes of things that you said...

Norm MacDonald used to do this old stand-up routine about playing a joke on your friend by dressing up as Satan and telling him to chop up his family into little bits. It ends something like this - So your friend is standing there and he says, "Oh Great Master of the Underworld. I have done as you have commanded. I have taken my family and chopped them up in to little bits, and I have them here in these trash bags. What do you command now, Oh Great Satan?" Then you take off your Satan mask, and say "Bob, it's me - Garrett. I was just fooling about. I'm not Satan." Then Bob will say, "Gee Garrett. Boy am I embarrassed. I mean, I've got my family here in trash bags. You really got me on that one"

The other day I was thinking about that comedy bit and two thoughts crossed my mind. The first was: Norm MacDonald's voice is kind of annoying. I mean, it's okay for a stand up routine, or for Weekend Update or something. But can you imagine taking a road trip with that guy and having to listen to his voice for eight hours in the car?

The second thought I had was: When crazy people hear voices in their head, what do they sound like? My thoughts sound pretty much like me talking. Like, I am thinking about this sentence right now, and reading it aloud to myself in my head, and my inside-my-head voice sounds just like my regular voice. Although when I think about the next sentence I am going to type I don't say "uh" as much, I just think it. Anyway, my point is - when a guy thinks The Devil is talking to him and telling him to do things, what does The Devil's voice sound like? Then I thought: If I think Norm's voice is annoying, what would I do if I had to listen to some demon talk in a raspy, deep, demon-like voice all day and night. You know though, it is probably only a vicious stereotype that demons speak in a raspy, deep, demon-like voice. I bet they sound just like you or I, and I bet they get mad as fucking hell when those raspy voiced demons start talking to regular folks because it gives them a bad image.

You know, you always hear about people hearing voices that told them to do terrible things. How come you never hear a crazy person talking about how his voices told him to do good things. We need more of those good voices around - not all of these Satan voices. I would not mind being crazy at all if the voices gave me good advice from time to time.

For example I'd be okay with a voice that said, "Yo Garrett, it's March 1 yo. Start on your taxes now or you will be up shit creek just like last year and doing them at 9:00 pm the day before they are due. Let's get with it, sucka."

Or maybe: "Garrett. Bro. That shirt does not look cool. Not matter what you might think you look like, you are not 22. You can not wear that fucking shirt to the bar. I'm just trying to keep it real, yo."

Possibly: "Garrett. I am voice inside your head. I am here to give you stock and investing tips."

Most Useful: "Garrett, I am a voice from beyond your dimension and know things that surpass all human understanding. Let me give you this tip on how to last more than two minutes during the sex. . ."

I'm thinking I could really use a voice inside my head someday. Another 20 or so years, and I am going to get pretty tired of only hearing my own voice all the time. Some company for my voice would be nice. Oh! What if the voice inside my head was a sexy girl-voice. Then my regular voice and the girl voice could talk dirty to each other and make out and stuff. Damn, that would be hot. Of course if the voice inside my head is anything like me, it won't be very good at the dirty talk and will say things like, "Um, well yeah, I would kind of like to fuck you hard, now that you mention it."

Is This Thing On?

Does this blog still work? What the hell is going on here?

Apparently, I am an asshole.

That's right. I know. I can't believe it either. I am as shocked as you are. But this is what a friend of mine told me on Sunday. In fact, her exact words were: "You know, you're a real asshole, and I'm not the only one who thinks so." So what could I possibly have done to cause such hatred from a good friend of mine? Well, I don't think it deserves conferring asshole status on me so much as it warrants, "thoughtless and insensitive" status.

I'll try and keep this short because - well, I know you don't care very much. That and I am a very busy person doing very important things.

Saturday night I had a party at my house. You know, on a side note - at what age do you stop having regular parties where everyone comes over and drinks and you start having dinner parties, or those kind of house parties where there is a bartender and caterers? All of my parties are the same. 20 friends come over, drink shit tons of alcohol and smoke on my back porch, until someone suggests we play a drinking game. Then 10 of us play stupid games around my kitchen table while the other 6 keep drinking while watching football on TV. Two people will probably have sex in one room of my house. Two people will leave early because they have kids, and having kids turns you into a gigantic pussy who can't stay out past 10:00.

Well this party ended when everyone was too drunk to see the playing cards, and with me checking my home owner's policy to see if it would cover a drunk driving accident. I thought it would, so everyone got to be on their merry little ways. And I got to feel secure in the knowledge that some insurance company would have to pay for the inevitable accident rather than me.

When everyone left, the girlfriend says to me, "hey - someone left a cell phone."

I excitedly checked it out. The cell phone belonged to my friend, Crystal. Plans immediately began being made for how to most appropriately use the lost cell phone to have some fun. On a side note here, having a girlfriend is trouble for me in these situations. Especially given just how awesome I really am. If she had not been there, I would have seen the cell phone, put it on the table and thought about all of the funny stuff to do. Then I would have fallen asleep after furiously masturbating to that picture I downloaded last week of that chick from that high school musical show. Since she is there I have an audience, and I also don't have a reason to masturbate (P.S. I'm sorry girl from high school musical that I have neglected masturbating to you since I downloaded you last week. I promise to get around to it. It's not you, it's me. I've been really busy. I've been getting some non-solo sex. I'm sorry. I'll do better next week I promise).

So we finally voted and decided the best plan was to send random text messages to mutual friends. Here are the text messages in order:

To her roommate (who was out of town): I can't wait for you to get back. I've been thinking a lot about "us" and I think we should take it to the next level.

To Amy (another single girl also at the party): Great time tonight! You looked hot by the way. Maybe just the two of us could go out some time and get to know each other better. I hope you know what I mean by that.

To Chuck (a guy that was not at the party - and who is married) Missed a great party at G.R.'s house. Too bad you and [wife] couldn't make it because I can't stop thinking about that tight dress she wore when I saw her last.

To Denise (her best friend): I think I am having feelings for Garrett! What should I do? I can't stop thinking about him and touching myself!

At this point, I got bored. It takes a long time to text all of that. We decided one final message would be appropriate. But I couldn't decide on what to do. Maybe I was too drunk to think clearly. Maybe I wanted to get the texting over with so some inappropriate and fairly degrading (to me) sexual activity could take place. I don't know, but I decided the final message should be sent to everyone in her contact list. That's right. Everyone.

It read: "To Everyone: I'm drunk and looking for a hook up! Call me!!!!" Then I turned off her phone and left it at that.

Cue the furious phone call the next morning. She was okay with the messages I sent to her roommate (the roommate alerted her to my joke with a phone call at 7:00 am). She was okay with the messages I sent to Amy and Chuck. She thought the one to Denise was hilarious. What she was not okay with was me telling everyone in her contact list that she was drunk and looking for a piece of ass. What I wasn't thinking about was the fact that her mother, her grandmother, her boss, her father (who is in Thailand or something), her childhood friends, and several people from her church were on that list. Oops.

Okay, I admit. This is one of the worst things I have done. I screwed up. I'm probably an asshole. However, in my defense I didn't do it to be an asshole. I just didn't think. I think she is going to forgive me. I told her I was sorry, and that I would bring her the phone. She said she didn't want it back. She told everyone who called her that the phone was stolen. She is getting a new one this week. But really, she shouldn't leave her phone just laying around!

Okay, let me have it. I'm an asshole.

I've Done It Again

They have forced me once again to post something over at the B.R. Mustache Blog. Go take a look. I promise to have more up here later. Then again, like my mother always tells me - I am an untrustworthy son of a bitch.