When you Google "Don Johnson naked" or "Don Johnson huge dick," you get NSFW pictures of his rolled up pancake peen and articles about how his wang is so enormous that it can pin down Jon Hamm's hammaconda in a wrestling match. Rolling Stone (via Page Six) decided to ask Don Johnson if it's true that he can tickle a lady's tonsils just by sticking the tip in her coochie and he shook his head no. Don says that the label on his dick says "regular" and not XXXXXL like the rumors claim, but he says he knows of a different Johnson with a wide-screen, hi-def dick.
“Look, I’ve seen guys with a lot bigger [penises] than me. One time, I was in the Celtics locker room talking to Larry Bird and Kevin McHale . . . and there’s Dennis Johnson coming out of the showers and, dude, that’s who put the Johnson in Johnson. I mean, it must have shown on my face, because when I turned back to Larry, he looked at me and said, ‘I know, huh?’ and I was like, ‘Dude, that’s a weapon.’ "
I know your fingers are itching to Google "Dennis Johnson huge dick," but I already did and only got a screen full of Don Johnson's face. Don Johnson ain't shit for bringing this up 5 years after Dennis Johnson passed away, because it's not like they can have a big dick-off to see whose peen game is bigger.
And speaking of cocks the size of Liechtenstein, since I post about Richard Simmons all the time, a reader wrote me once to say that he (Richard Simmons) has the biggest cock they've ever seen. That e-mail was the equivalent of the recess bell, because it let me know that I had way too much Internet and needed to go outside to play.
I had no idea who Ray Elbe was up until five seconds ago, but I can't resist a good dick story, even a good dick story that ends in tragedy. Ryan Elbe is an MMA fighter and he's probably had his peen kicked hundreds of times, but not once has a fight ended with his dick being thrown onto a tiny stretcher and rushed to the penis hospital (Side note: If a penis hospital exists, point me to it so I can apply for the position of wet nurse.). But out of the fighting ring proved to be a much more dangerous place for his dick. In the video confessional below, Ray says that earlier this month in Malaysia, his girlfriend was riding him something good when she bounced too high and came down hard and broke his boner. So that's why earlier this month it felt like my no-no made a frown face. It sensed a boner breaking in Malaysia.
Ray says that blood started squirting everywhere. Now if this happened to a veteran man whore like Gerard Butler, he would've put a makeshift splint on his peen and kept on a' fuckin'. But Ray passed the hell out. Health care workers showed up to his condo in Malaysia and immediately took him to the hospital where his peen underwent surgery to repair a tear in his urinary tube. Ray says that the pain in his dick was so bad that he now knows what dudes go through when they wet hump on Paris Hilton without wearing a condom made of armor. Ray's peen is going to make a full recovery, but they did hook him up to a catheter and he has to swallow anti-erection pills for a little while. Somebody should tell Ray that a holistic way of keeping his dick soft is to watch this video three times a day.
Ray also said that his girlfriend's days of riding him are over and to make up for breaking his dick, she's going to give him a threesome with a lady of his choice when they get to the Philippines (insert eye roll here). Ray said that he only came forward, because apparently this happens a lot and sometimes dudes don't go to the emergency room for it:
“I came forward with, because I really want people to understand the significance of the emergency. As I Googled this online, a lot of guys actually get to the point where there is no repair because they’re embarrassed and don’t go to the emergency room right away.”
The lesson here is that dick riding isn't for amateurs. It takes skill on both parts and you have to synchronize your thrusts and bounces perfectly. One false move and you could end up with a bruised coochie and/or a piece with an out-of-service peen. And there's nothing sadder than an out-of-service peen. Seriously, what are you supposed to do with an out-of-service peen? Feed it Jell-O and watch Lifetime movies with it? Actually, that sounds strangely adorable.
Here's Ray Elbe talking about his peen trauma:
If you asked me a couple of days ago who I thought Olly Murs was, I'd guess and say that Olly Murs is the accidental love child Hoops & Yoyo made during a night of awkward drunken cat and rabbit gay sex. (They don't like to talk about it.) But I would've been wrong (I think), because Olly Murs is a British pop singer type who was the runner-up on the sixth season of The X-Factor UK, and now he's known to me as the dude with five fully functional inches of love.
Olly Murs is apparently known for his bulge (see: pictures below of Olly Murs shooting a video in Venice, CA on September 21st. That's not an overfull diaper in Olly's skinny pants. That's his five inch carrot and two avocado seeds.) and so Heat World (via ONTD) asked him about it during an interview. Heat World not only asked him about his bulge, but they also reached new levels of TOO MUCH INFORMATION by asking him to get specific and shit. And Olly did get specific:
"Maybe 13 [cm]? That's what I'd go with - it's definitely not 20cm. It would be quite big. I think 13cm.
It [his bulge] doesn't bother me. I have never, honest to God, tried to emphasise it. It has always been other people. I have never thought of myself as someone who has a big bulge. But this is probably the first time I will be arrogant by saying I have never had a complaint...it's not about the size; it's what you can do with it that counts. It's not about quantity, it's about quality. And I am all about quality."
I love how Olly says "I think." Ho, please. You know he measures it daily. Olly slaps his peen against a ruler and tries to stretch it as far as it will go the same way Tommy Girl stands on his tippity, tippity tip toes when John Travolta's measuring him on a growth chart in the Scientology playroom. "I grew 0.00003 centimeters!" is a line both Tommy Girl and Olly's peen have screamed out recently.
And I bet that when you put all of Olly's 13 centimeters in your mouth, you can articulately say the name "Olly Murs." That's a selling point for 5 inch dicks! Think about that the next time you're about to roll your eyes when a trick on Craigslist tells you that he's only got 5 inches.
I know, ANOTHER post about this election shit. But this one isn't really about the election. It's an excuse to post this picture of Jon Hamm's hamm log getting all patriotic and shit at an Obama rally. You can't tell from this picture, but Jon's obese crotch hose is wearing an Uncle Sam top hat.
“I had a 13 year old girl come up to me in Colorado -this is a dead true story- and say, 'Well, you’re a wealthy white male… why are you here?' And I was like, first of all, that’s the greatest question I’ve been asked on this entire tour. But secondly, she had conflated somehow in her head that only people vote for their own kind. And I made sure to tell her that that’s absolutely not the case. I vote for what I think is best for all of us. Not simply for me. And that’s unfortunately the message that the other side wants to get across, is you just take care of yourself and you build a fence around yourself and no one else gets help. That’s not how I was raised, that’s not the America I wanna live in and that’s not the America that I believe in.”
Jon Hamm didn't say the other reason why he's rallying for Obama. One day while he was spooning with his dick, his peen turned its head around and nuzzled into his neck for a second before whispering in his ear, "Vote for Obama, it'll make me extra happy for the next for the next four years." This is a very important endorsement since Jon's Hammcock is the current sitting President of West Coast Peens.
And here's Jon Hamm and his partner Jennifer Westfeldt leaving Little Dom's restaurant in L.A. last night. If Obama wins this election, Jon Hamm better take to the streets to play "Yankee Doodle Dandy" on his extra long skin harmonica (hammonica?).
When whatever is left of your purse line is sitting under a layer of dust in a cardboard box on the top shelf in the stock room of a Filene's Basement in Rockland, Maryland, it's time to pay for your Brazilian blowout bills by opening your mouth about the time you opened your mouth on the Commander-in-peen.
Monica Lewisnky's immunity deal stopped her from barfing out all the details of her time with Bill Clinton's peen, but that agreement expired over 10 years ago and so she's been quietly trying to find out how much money she can get for a tell-all. The National Enquirer (via Radar) says that when Monica asked,"How big of a check can I get for writing my memoirs, which I'm going to title either 'A Million Little Cum Stains On My Blue Dress' or 'Tuesdays with Whorrie'", one publisher apparently told her she can get up to $12 million. So suddenly the world calling you Humidor Crotch doesn't seem that bad. Some source put it like this:
"Monica has tried to move forward, but the nightmare of her affair with Bill still haunts her. She’s facing 40 without a man in her life, and seething about the way her reputation was destroyed as the whole world watched.
Monica wrote the letters on her computer. In them, she opened her heart about her love for Bill and how much happier she could make him than Hillary. Some of what she wrote was so raw that she never sent them.
With Bill’s history of heart problems, her book could be more than just revenge, it could kill him! For years, Monica tried to protect Bill out of a misplaced sense of loyalty, but she no longer feels that way, and her memoir is his worst nightmare.
After testing the waters through publishing contacts, Monica learned she could get $12 million if she recounted every juicy detail of the scandal."
I've always wondered why Monica Lewinsky hasn't written a tell-all for millions of dollars. My guess was that she wanted to respect Bill and wanted to distance herself from the whole mess. But fuck that slut Bill with a cigar and fuck distance. How many of us can say that 15 years after we sucked some peen, someone offered us 12 million dollars to talk about sucking said peen? The only thing I've gotten for sucking some peen is a waiting list appointment at the free clinic and an indistinguishable sore. Monica's got the Midas tongue and she's my new American hero.
And to promote her tell-all, Monica should do a cover of this classic masterpiece.
Many of you sent this NSFWness to me with promises of Shia LaBeouf peen, and yes I got a side profile of his peen (at the 0:50 mark), but I also got a whole lot of WTNess. You know how people say when you do peyote, you should do it with a guide? Well, I feel like I should've watched this Sigur Rós video for Fjögur Píanó with a guide. It starts out with Shia and actress Denna Thomsen sniffing butterflies (Mimi's drug of choice) before driving into John Travolta's drag closet by trying each other's clothes on. Then the shit gets HIGHLY artistic when they start doing an interpretive dance that looks like the Scientology mating waltz Tommy Girl and Stepford Katie did when they made Suri with a turkey baster. That dance is also what it looks like when Baryshnikov gives you the Heimlich Maneuver.
After that, gay pirates sashay in, feed Shia and Deena acid pops and blindfold them with pieces of dirty toilet paper before blowing them down a hallway and into a car. I guess if you have to get kidnapped, you might as well get kidnapped by some gay pirates, because at least you'll get a blowout out of it. I don't even know how to explain what happens after that mess. Everyone gets electrocuted by those acid pops! Shia and Deena start breaking shit in Mimi's bedroom! Dead butterfly murder! Shia cries! Donna gets cut with a lollipop of paint! Someone gets dance raped (I think)! The gay pirates clean up (because gay pirates can't stand a mess, even if they made it)! And THEE END.
I mean, all I wanted was some Shia peen. Nobody told me I was going to witness a hipster's Pinterest page come to life. I've never been to Coachella and now I never need to go to Coachella after watching that video, because I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it's like.
And James Franco must be pissed that Shia out-James Franco-ed him.
My mom is one of the most caring and sensitive people I know. Scratch that. Let me do that sentence again. My mom is the ONLY caring and sensitive person I know since everybody else I know is a straight-up bitch. There that's better. Even though my mom is a kind soul, she's never really fazed by the dumb-coated pieces of mangled trash that my mouth shits up on a regular basis. But one of the only times I saw her get sad on the inside over some crap I spewed up was when we were watching her personal God, Dr. Oz, on TV and I said that he looked like a functioning corpse. The look on her face jumped between "you just strangled my kitten with my favorite cardigan while pissing with the seat down in my guest bathroom" to "you better learn how to drop your neck into your body real quick because I'm about to choke you out."
She is serious about her Dr. Oz and I'm sure one of her dreams in life is to be his assistant of the day so she can gaze up at his apple chip face as he tells her to crawl through a Colossal Colon or some weird shit like that. That is why I cannot and refuse to analyze the possible appearance of Dr. Oz's crotch wizard in the pages of Good Housekeeping. Damn TMZ, damn Good Housekeeping and damn me for posting this:
If you show this to my mom, do not tell me about it. Because the next time I'm watching Dr. Oz with her, I do not want to know why her smile is extra smiley. No. All parties involved are wrong for this. I hate cameras, I hate paper, I hate magazines, I hate scanners, I hate upload buttons and I hate the Internet.
Size queens, update your files, because Mark Ruffalo was overheard telling a bunch of journalists at a roundtable for The Avengers that he's about as hung as a Waterpik and that your clit could probably pin down his peen in a wrestling march. Mark had to wear a taint-suffocating motion capture suit to play The Hulk and apparently it made his crotch look like an earthworm wearing a leotard. HuffPo says this is what Mark told everyone about his dick situation:
"Yes, and that was my first day and that was a miserable day. It was smoky, it was hell and I felt really uncomfortable. I’m not well-endowed, and those suits don’t really show you off in the most…"
This news should really get the "WHO CARES" stamp, because who really does care if you have to suck in with your coochie so his pinky dick doesn't slip out and who cares that you can suck on his entire peen while licking his b-hole at the same time. You're still humping on Mark Fucking Ruffalo! Sometimes it's all about the piece and less about the piece's piece. Take Donald Trump's gross, ugly, disgusting ass for instance....
The Trump called into TMZ yesterday to talk about letting Hot Slut inductee and transgender beauty queen Jenna Talackova back into the Miss Universe pageant. Miss Universe agreed to let Jenna back in after she proved that she's legally a female by showing them her passport and other documents. Gloria Allred is representing Jenna (of course) and held one of her fame whore press conferences where she said that it's wrong for Miss Universe to ask for proof since nobody has asked Donald Trump to take off his pants to prove he's got a peen. Donald said that if he took off his chonies in front of Gloria, she'd be impressed by his "manhood."
The Trump's junk must be big, because it's making me gag up a vom ball and I've never even seen it. But this just proves my point. Who would you rather? Mark Ruffalo or a bloated, fart-filled swamp frog with a big dick and comb over pubes? You'd probably pick the hung swamp frog since you're a pig slut with no standards!
So if The Trump is telling the truth about his big fat dick (which you know he's not), then he's a pain in the ass in more ways than one.
My ass is hung all the way over and this morning I nearly puked my liver out when I sniffed on a delicious piece of meat of the gods (see: BACON!!!). (The sweet nectar is a holy elixir from heaven, but I question my undying love for it when it keeps my mouth from sucking on BACON!!!!) Even though I can't with food right now, I'd immediately put on a cum rag/bib and slobber all over the first course James Martin served up on Saturday Kitchen. I don't know shit about James Martin, but now I know both of our craniums have permanent peen prints on them since we've always got delicious looking dick on the brain.
Chaz Bono's former fiancee wasn't looking forward to putting her mouth over a peen instead of a poon, but now that she's gone he can freely chase after his dick-getting dreams. But first, Chaz has to fill his peen fund with enough dollars to pay for the surgery. Chaz tells Rolling Stone that he's already picked out a doctor in Belgrade and all he needs is around $45,000 to take his down low parts from clit to cock. Chaz broke it down, and yes, my eyeballs bungeed out of their sockets and hit the screen after I read that his shiny new dick could be Tommy Lee-sized.
"I could get a phalloplasty, which builds the phallus from a donor site on your body," he says straightforwardly, "but I'm leaning more toward a metoidioplasty. It's a procedure that uses what you already have down there" – he means his clitoris – "which has grown larger from the testosterone. You end up with a smaller phallus than with the phalloplasty, but it's fully functional, it gets erect, and the sensation is all there."
Does he know how big it's going to be?
He frowns. "You know, I don't really. I mean, I've never seen one erect. So it's really hard to say. But, you know, soft, probably about three inches, and it grows considerably. I don't know what the average size difference is, but when I'm having sex I probably get three or four times larger." He pauses. "I was in a fairly typical heterosexual relationship, which caused some militant members of the queer community to think I'm reinforcing stereotypes or whatever. Anyway, I think Jen wished I wouldn't get the bottom done, but she understood my need to." He shrugs. "You have to understand, though, for me the life transformation has already happened."
I don't know if it was Chaz or another transman who said that he wasn't touching his bottom area yet, because the recovery from the surgery is as painful as getting fucked in the pee hole with a hot screw and the dick doesn't even work that well anyway.
I read a while ago that some new dicks can only get fully erect with the help of a pump. That would kind of suck. You're like, "Get ready, bitch, this rock hard fat dick is going to fuck you into another religion! Hold onto your nipples cause they're gonna pop off from the fuck quake I'm about to hit you with. We're going to break the Richter Scale tonight! Are you ready? Oh wait, can you grab that bike pump out of the closet..." (<---- That's pretty much the dialogue heard in Hugh Hefner's room every night.) But I'm glad to hear from Chaz that this doesn't seem to be the case anymore. I'm also glad to hear that Chaz's peen will be able to grow naturally and then some!
I mean, it's been a while since I've failed grade school math, but three times four equals twelve, right? Chaz can get himself a 12 inch salchicha dick? Chaz says that he will never ask Cher for the money since he wants to do this own his own, but I say, STOP IT! When it comes to getting a 12-inch dick, all pride for independence should fly out of the window. Just get that 12-inch dick, Chaz! Seriously, if Chaz gets hit by a bus tomorrow, wouldn't he want to be hit while having a 12-inch dick? I don't even see Chaz's lips moving and I can tell that he's fighting to say the word YAAAASSSSS!
Hell, Cher is so rich that she can buy everyone a 12 incher. She could be like the Oprah of 12-inch dicks. You get a 12-inch dick and you get a 12-inch dick! I'll take one. My arm is getting so tired from hitting the snooze button 50 times every morning, so it would be nice to be able to hit that button with my new 1 footer.
And Google tells me that Chaz will still have an orgasm, but won't be able to ejaculate. Those surgeons should try to fix that problem. Can't they install jizz sacks down? Flavored ones? That would really be the best and I'd get that. Can you imagine if you had flavored jizz? That would be a priceless pick-up tool. Think about it. You're at the cream bar at Starbucks when some hot piece mutters to himself, "Ugh, they're out of hazelnut." You wink inside knowing you've got this, grab his cup and fiddle with a few knobs on your nutsack before you quickly shoot out a stream of hazelnut deliciousness. That would be a beautiful story to tell everyone on your wedding day.
(Image via Out Magazine)