uck a condom. I hate condoms. Always have. I have an allergic reaction to them: The mere sight of them makes me go limp. I think if I cut two of my fingers off with a circular saw I could still count on both hands the number of times I’ve worn a condom in my entire life. As I’ve mentioned in the past I think using condoms is cheating. If you’re going to live life, live it to the hilt. Condoms are like friendly poker games where pretzels or pennies are substituted for real money. Fuck that. Sit at the high-stakes table. When you win it’ll be a high like no drug can offer and when you lose it’ll hurt so bad you’ll never want to lose again. Same with humping. Don’t “practice” safe sex. Allen Iverson said it best, “We’re talking about practice. Come on. It’s just practice.” No. Go out and EXECUTE wreckless, lawless, unprotected acts of carnal deviance, and when you spray your muck all over her or him take a deep breath and hold it in. Hold it for a week or two, then take your pants off and take a look at your junk. No pus? No boils? No rashes or bumps? Exhale. You’re a fucking winner. Doesn’t it feel good? But if you’re a pussy and feel more at ease wrapping your dick up in a cute little latex blankie then I suppose you should at least be informed of your options. The guys at the office sent me nearly 20 varieties of condoms on a Wednesday and asked me to review them by Friday. It’s like they were trying to kill me. I haven’t had that much sex in a 48-hour period since I was 19 and had no job. Don’t they know that I’ve been married for seven long months? Sex isn’t the same as it is when you first get married. Those first months are like two rapists covered in K-Y Jelly locked in a jail cell with no food or water. As time passes the humping gets less and less frequent, and as fall turns to winter it becomes almost nonexistent. If I came anywhere close to using all the condoms they sent in two days I was bound to have a heart attack, so I just chose a few that seemed the most interesting.
Not very stimulating.
I carry a pen bigger than two fingers.
This is what she likes, but what are we gonna do with that thumb and pinkie?
Shit, we made it this far, what’s one more? Right?
Top-notch fun. A really noticeable difference from the others.
FC Female Condom
The acronym FC isn’t bad, but to call it FC Female Condom is a bit redundant. My wife refused to use the female condom. I couldn’t even figure out how it worked.
Score: 1 finger
The only good thing about Kiss was their makeup but sadly these don’t have Gene Simmons’s face at the base, nor do they make your penis red like his crazy-long tongue. Nope. They’re just plain, boring, clear condoms. The one I got was Paul Stanley’s “Studded Paul.” Wasn’t Paul Stanley the gay one? Does using a gay man’s condom automatically make me gay?
Score: 2 fingers
Durex pleasuremax tingling
Curb Your Enthusiasm
episode where Larry David put the condom on inside out and completely numbed himself? Yeah, it seems pretty funny until it happens to you.
Score: 2 fingers
Rough Rider Hot Passion
I chose this one because the box has a comic-book-style drawing of a girl on a motorcycle (Get it? Rough Rider?) and I like comic books and I figured maybe it would give me superpowers in the bedroom. It did not. It did seem to warm my wife’s innards, although I don’t think it made her hot. Maybe it was trying to make her hot and I was negating its effects by lying on my back with a pen and notebook repeating, “Are you hot? No? OK. How about now? Are you hot now? No? OK. OK. OK. How about now? Hot?”
Score: 4 fingers
I suppose if I had to make one condom the official condom of the Williamsburg rockabilly scene or the Harlem jazz movement it would be this one. I’m not sure if you can see the picture on the box but the damn thing looks like an old Shure microphone from the 50s, which isn’t exactly erotic or sex-inducing, but it does make for a good time when your girl has had too much sangria and uses your wrapped penis to pretend she’s Billie Holiday.
Score: The Fist