Greetings and salutations to my internet fan base, it's your boy Art "Skinny Dip" Dodger back
with a very begrudged edition of the world renowned P.Net Mailbag. After the
corporation was shut down in late 2007, I took that as a sign that I should move on and do
better things with my life. While I suppose that reading and responding to people's
letters is worthwhile cause in itself, I hold the pertinacious belief that I was born to be
something better than a Mexican version of Ann Landers. A good thing too, considering
that I am not Mexican, so I would have my work cut out for me in that scenario. After
faking coming down with a debilitating brain disease, I was able to make my escape from the
confines of the PNC basement and steal a zebra from the petting zoo to transport me to
Hollywood!
Hollywood is the place of legend; where dreams can be realized and fortunes can be had if you're willing to sleep with the right person. Trust me, I'm more willing than most. Forced sex is kind of a side hobby of mine so I figured that would give me a little bit of an advantage when dealing with these scummy agent types. Besides, I had in my hand an iron-clad ticket to greatness: a movie script with a plot, the likes of which hadn't been since Bill Cosby starred in his thrilling epic, "Leonard Part 6." My story, while untitled, was centered around a transvestite koala struggling to overcome a life of poverty and a crippling addiction to horse tranquilizers but he eventually realizes that he can never succeed because the world is a very cruel place. He is eventually killed in London by an estranged banana farmer just days shy of his 23rd birthday -- the birthday in which he would have inherited a fortune from his great uncle. Really, about as uplifting a story as you could possibly find. Sadly, the movie execs turned it down, saying that drug addicted koalas were "so last year" and that they had moved on to entertaining script ideas involving cannibalistic bald eagles instead.
I took the news in stride, mostly because I was already being escorted from the premises by two armed guards, and secretly vowed my revenge -- a revenge which would probably have to wait because I didn't have any money and my stomach lining had begun to feast on itself due to lack of nutrition. With much regret, I placed a call to Randy "Cool Ranch" Pollestad and asked if it would be possible to resume my old duties as "the mailbag guy" but, you know, maybe with a desk this time instead of being chained to a radiator. Amazingly, he put his irascible behavior aside and in a rare display of level-headedness, actually agreed to my demands. So, here I am and here begins another edition of the P.Net Mailbag.
Dear Editors,
I know the whole man rule about doing shakes at the urinal and how you're not supposed to do it more than twice or you're playing with yourself. But what the hell? No matter how fierce my two shakes are, I am constantly getting piss all over myself after I zip up. I don't think that I am especially leaky. What can I do about this? Any advice or rules on how to fix it?
-- Terry
Dear Terry,
First, I'd like to thank you for writing to us with this problem as opposed to seeking out more professional or reputable advice from such places like WebMD or a hospital. Those guys are simply out to steer you wrong. We here at the PNC are experts in all things Man Law so you've certainly come to the right place.
One time, I was at the urinal and I was wearing this really long shirt. I thought that I had tucked it up properly before I began but before I knew what happened, I had pissed all over the bottom of it. I tried my best to wash it off but all day long, I knew what had happened. I knew it was there. I'd be in a meeting and someone would start sniffing the air and asking everyone if they smelled that odor. "Smells like piss" one guy would say. So I'd be the first to chime in that it did and look around the room accusingly so that no one thought I was the culprit. After that, I involuntarily passed gas and threw up at the same time as a means to distract people from the piss conversation. Then I began crying and speaking about my dead fish as a means to take people's minds off the vomit smell. Then I wrapped my hands around my neck and choked myself until I passed out so that everyone would panic and run out of the room to call 911. I was fine after they revived me and everyone had forgotten about the pee smell or why we were even in the meeting in the first place. Mission accomplished I'd say.
As for some parting advice Terry, go ahead and shake that thing more than twice if it makes you happy. Unless you're peeing at a gay disco in San Francisco, I highly doubt any one is counting your shakes besides you. However, if you are in some place where the guy at the next urinal is counting your shakes, feel free to hit him in the head with a brick because he is infringing on your straight rights.
Dear Art,
A few years back, I was making out with this girl and I got a boner. I wasn't sure how she would react to this so when we were finished with kissing, I thought up a clever way to leave the room so she wouldn't see it. I got on all fours and pretended to be a cat. I said "meow" and made paw gestures before eventually crawling around the corner to fix myself. I talked to a friend of mine recently and he said that he used to pretend that he was a monkey when he would his and jump around until he was clear of the room. I have since received mixed reviews to people I have told this story to. Am I weird? Is this abnormal behavior?
-- JS
Dear JS,
Let me put your fears at rest: your behavior is anything but abnormal. Science has proven to us time and again that girls are allergic to boners and that any girl who is exposed to a boner during a make-out session is especially susceptible. You did the right thing my friend and probably wound up saving the poor girls life. I personally used to hide my boner by screaming "I DO NOT HAVE A BONER" while punching her in the face until she passed out but, yeah, I suppose the cat thing is a good idea too. Here are some other great ways to hide your boner:
And now for a new feature called "Quick Answers to Quick Questions" where we finally find a place to put all of those letters that don't demand long, drawn out answers.
Dear PNC,
I fail at everything I do. I feel like a no-talent hack. Is there any hope for me?
-- Ian
Dear Ian,
Sure you have a talent -- it's just that your talent happens to be the ability to write letters to people who don't give a shit. Sadly, this isn't a very marketable skill yet.
Dear Mailbag,
My husband is addicted to playing video games and I need advice! What should I do?
-- Renee
Dear Renee,
One up him by becoming addicted to crystal meth. Lose weight and feel great at the same time!
Dear P.net,
My boss at work thinks that he is all that and constantly asks me to hang out with him after work. I pretend that I like him for the sake of my job. Any tips on letting him down easy?
-- Alan
Dear Alan,
Sometimes I wear cock rings on my fingers and pretend that they are really expensive jewelry pieces so I definitely know what you're going through. Trying asking your boss if you can wear his cock rings. You probably won't need to pretend much after that.
Having said all of that, this bring the record 14th edition of the back and forth letter answering to a close. I'll be here for another episode soon since I have nothing better to do than to sit at my new desk, read letters, and plot revenge against Hollywood. They'll get theirs... and it'll be cold. I'm having it flown in from Iceland as we speak. Also, I'm trademarking the word "bonerspins." Call me for royalty negotiations.
Hollywood is the place of legend; where dreams can be realized and fortunes can be had if you're willing to sleep with the right person. Trust me, I'm more willing than most. Forced sex is kind of a side hobby of mine so I figured that would give me a little bit of an advantage when dealing with these scummy agent types. Besides, I had in my hand an iron-clad ticket to greatness: a movie script with a plot, the likes of which hadn't been since Bill Cosby starred in his thrilling epic, "Leonard Part 6." My story, while untitled, was centered around a transvestite koala struggling to overcome a life of poverty and a crippling addiction to horse tranquilizers but he eventually realizes that he can never succeed because the world is a very cruel place. He is eventually killed in London by an estranged banana farmer just days shy of his 23rd birthday -- the birthday in which he would have inherited a fortune from his great uncle. Really, about as uplifting a story as you could possibly find. Sadly, the movie execs turned it down, saying that drug addicted koalas were "so last year" and that they had moved on to entertaining script ideas involving cannibalistic bald eagles instead.
I took the news in stride, mostly because I was already being escorted from the premises by two armed guards, and secretly vowed my revenge -- a revenge which would probably have to wait because I didn't have any money and my stomach lining had begun to feast on itself due to lack of nutrition. With much regret, I placed a call to Randy "Cool Ranch" Pollestad and asked if it would be possible to resume my old duties as "the mailbag guy" but, you know, maybe with a desk this time instead of being chained to a radiator. Amazingly, he put his irascible behavior aside and in a rare display of level-headedness, actually agreed to my demands. So, here I am and here begins another edition of the P.Net Mailbag.
Dear Editors,
I know the whole man rule about doing shakes at the urinal and how you're not supposed to do it more than twice or you're playing with yourself. But what the hell? No matter how fierce my two shakes are, I am constantly getting piss all over myself after I zip up. I don't think that I am especially leaky. What can I do about this? Any advice or rules on how to fix it?
-- Terry
Dear Terry,
First, I'd like to thank you for writing to us with this problem as opposed to seeking out more professional or reputable advice from such places like WebMD or a hospital. Those guys are simply out to steer you wrong. We here at the PNC are experts in all things Man Law so you've certainly come to the right place.
One time, I was at the urinal and I was wearing this really long shirt. I thought that I had tucked it up properly before I began but before I knew what happened, I had pissed all over the bottom of it. I tried my best to wash it off but all day long, I knew what had happened. I knew it was there. I'd be in a meeting and someone would start sniffing the air and asking everyone if they smelled that odor. "Smells like piss" one guy would say. So I'd be the first to chime in that it did and look around the room accusingly so that no one thought I was the culprit. After that, I involuntarily passed gas and threw up at the same time as a means to distract people from the piss conversation. Then I began crying and speaking about my dead fish as a means to take people's minds off the vomit smell. Then I wrapped my hands around my neck and choked myself until I passed out so that everyone would panic and run out of the room to call 911. I was fine after they revived me and everyone had forgotten about the pee smell or why we were even in the meeting in the first place. Mission accomplished I'd say.
As for some parting advice Terry, go ahead and shake that thing more than twice if it makes you happy. Unless you're peeing at a gay disco in San Francisco, I highly doubt any one is counting your shakes besides you. However, if you are in some place where the guy at the next urinal is counting your shakes, feel free to hit him in the head with a brick because he is infringing on your straight rights.
Dear Art,
A few years back, I was making out with this girl and I got a boner. I wasn't sure how she would react to this so when we were finished with kissing, I thought up a clever way to leave the room so she wouldn't see it. I got on all fours and pretended to be a cat. I said "meow" and made paw gestures before eventually crawling around the corner to fix myself. I talked to a friend of mine recently and he said that he used to pretend that he was a monkey when he would his and jump around until he was clear of the room. I have since received mixed reviews to people I have told this story to. Am I weird? Is this abnormal behavior?
-- JS
Dear JS,
Let me put your fears at rest: your behavior is anything but abnormal. Science has proven to us time and again that girls are allergic to boners and that any girl who is exposed to a boner during a make-out session is especially susceptible. You did the right thing my friend and probably wound up saving the poor girls life. I personally used to hide my boner by screaming "I DO NOT HAVE A BONER" while punching her in the face until she passed out but, yeah, I suppose the cat thing is a good idea too. Here are some other great ways to hide your boner:
- Hide your boner in a little lockbox under your bed or bury it in the garden.But all joking aside JS, let us recap what you just told me: you made out with a girl; you got a boner; you used the word "boner" and were serious about it; and you ran out of the room making cat noises. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you and why the hell would you think that is normal? Additionally, why would you think I care? Do me a favor and go drown yourself in laundry soap.
- Cartwheel out of the room, screaming maniacally about how great Led Zepplin is. Bonus points if you manage to knock something over in the process.
- Suddenly spring from the couch and onto the floor. Get as low to the ground as possible and sneak out of the room like you're crawling through the trenches in World War I. Be sure to sing the Mission: Impossible theme song as loudly and out of key as possible while doing so.
- Tell her that she has a little dirt on her cheek and then hit her in the head with a frying pan.
- Pretend that your boner is a magnet and let it lead you out of the room. For good measure, flail your arms wildly and try to hold onto things while exiting but ultimately fail.
- Dress up like Mustafa from the stage version of "The Lion King" and sing "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" as loud as possible while break dancing and doing boner spins. No woman can resist the hypnotic allure of bonerspins. When you are done, ask her if she will be your lioness and when she agrees, beat the shit out of her with a bible while shouting "REPENT, WHORE OF BABYLON!"
- Hide your boner in an elaborate network of shell corporations and blind trusts.
And now for a new feature called "Quick Answers to Quick Questions" where we finally find a place to put all of those letters that don't demand long, drawn out answers.
Dear PNC,
I fail at everything I do. I feel like a no-talent hack. Is there any hope for me?
-- Ian
Dear Ian,
Sure you have a talent -- it's just that your talent happens to be the ability to write letters to people who don't give a shit. Sadly, this isn't a very marketable skill yet.
Dear Mailbag,
My husband is addicted to playing video games and I need advice! What should I do?
-- Renee
Dear Renee,
One up him by becoming addicted to crystal meth. Lose weight and feel great at the same time!
Dear P.net,
My boss at work thinks that he is all that and constantly asks me to hang out with him after work. I pretend that I like him for the sake of my job. Any tips on letting him down easy?
-- Alan
Dear Alan,
Sometimes I wear cock rings on my fingers and pretend that they are really expensive jewelry pieces so I definitely know what you're going through. Trying asking your boss if you can wear his cock rings. You probably won't need to pretend much after that.
Having said all of that, this bring the record 14th edition of the back and forth letter answering to a close. I'll be here for another episode soon since I have nothing better to do than to sit at my new desk, read letters, and plot revenge against Hollywood. They'll get theirs... and it'll be cold. I'm having it flown in from Iceland as we speak. Also, I'm trademarking the word "bonerspins." Call me for royalty negotiations.
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