Did any of you ever see the movie “The Inkwell”? The title is a line from the film. There’s a scene where this kid’s Dad is trying to explain sex… along with the importance of the CLITORIS. Now I’m not sure if the Dad actually says the word CLITORIS, I mean it’s quite possible he just meant the VAGINA as a whole.
But something makes me pretty sure he was referencing the almighty CLITORIS.
I have no reason to mention this quote other than to say I still don’t get what the Dad meant. How is it like a guitar string? What exactly is getting plucked? I’m not going to lie: I’m VERY familiar with my “sex” parts, but I don’t know anything down there that requires plucking. Rubbing? Sure. Stroking? Of course… but plucking? Not so much. I pride myself on having a good relationship with the big “V”. We’ve known one another my whole life, and the relationship is so good I don’t even have to call before I visit. And let’s face it: whenever I DO drop by, we both know it’s only for one reason. Well, if you want to get into specifics, maybe it’s more than just ONE reason, but you get the picture.
Interested in MORE clitoris?
1985 was quite simply the most magical year I’ve ever known. I was just a small boy at the time, with already large and highly threatening testicles; but not unlike other children of lesser testicles (or even, none at all), I was completely immersed in the world of a young, yet burgeoning cable channel called Music Television—or MTV, to those in the know. This MTV was quite different then. They actually played music videos, and had people called VJs that introduced them. From what I could gather of VJs, they were mostly just wicked old people—like 22 or something—that tried to act like they knew all kinds of shit about music. Of course, people that old only listen to retarded, faggy music, so I’m sure they had kids around to tell them what was cool. As far as I was concerned, these VJs could just as easily have been replaced by drooling chimps in diapers (and they eventually would be). The music videos themselves were all that really mattered.
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Last Thanksgiving while waiting for the turkey, the H and I had the pleasure of sitting next to some children.
I like children.
And not in the creepy way.
I thought I would strike up a conversation, otherwise things were going to get progressively awkward. Now I know at my age it’s to soon to start complaining about feeling “old”, but I must say, conversing with children never fails to highlight my advancement in years.
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