Sex Column: The 12 days of XXX-mas
Vanessa Redux
Sex Columnist
This Christmas I’ve decided to do you all a favour.
When you’re shoved into some gawd awful mall, waddling behind a family who think they’re at a theme park and those incessant carols are stuck in your head for the next week — perhaps months — think of this little ditty. Remember that Christmas isn’t just about shopping and stuffing your face, it’s also about cheesy seasonal treatments of articles and publications — and the great taste of Coca-Cola.
The 12 Days of Triple Xmas
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: A spanking over his knee.
Who doesn’t like a nice little slap on the backside every now and then? Someone’s getting a lump of coal in their stocking.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Two love gloves.
We’re not just wrapping presents this season, lovers. Condoms make the ugliest wrapping paper ever.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Three French men.
What are the odds? May as well go for it, right? Who’s up for a good ol’ fashioned triple Xmas orgy?
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Four dirty words.
Namely: you’re putting that where? So dirty.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Five sex swings.
Alright, five may be overkill, but it’s the crescendo of the song. Best swingers club ever, right? Note: sing loud like this, “se-eeee-x swings.”
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Six porns a-playing.
Watching porn at Christmas? You sinner — Jesus is disappointed in you.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Seven sperm a-swimming. So one sperm says to the other “When do we get to the ovaries?” The other replies, “Ovaries! We’re not even past the throat yet!”
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eight jugs a-milking. Admittedly not very sexy, but you try and come up with something that rhymes with “maids a-milking” smilking… bilking… pilking…
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Nine guys de-pants-ing.
I personally think there isn’t enough penis in today’s mainstream cinema, but I’m close to changing my mind after seeing a movie in which Dave Foley’s little drummer boy made an appearance, and… nope still not enough penis shots.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Ten peepers peeping.
A friend of mine once had a peeping-tom. At first it really creeped her out, but when he stopped peeping she got mad. “Oh, what, he found some other hotter chick to peep on?”
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Eleven perverts skyping.
Apparently people have been finding like-minded pervs via ads on websites solely to show each other their bad parts. My friend doesn’t seem so crazy now right? No, still crazy.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me: Twelve babes out slumming. I love it when good-looking people are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Modest-looking people are shocked and then generally insulted for some reason — probably because it’s obvious that they are being skeezy. Here’s a great line I heard last week. Babe: “Hey, why don’t you sit on my lap and we’ll see what pops up?” Not-so-babe: “I wouldn’t suck your dick if I was poisoned and your semen contained the only antidote.”
Alright, recap:
Twelve babes out slumming,
eleven perverts skyping,
ten peepers peeping,
nine guys de-pants-ing,
eight jugs a-milking,
seven sperm a-swimming,
six porns a-playing,
FIIIVE SE-EEE-X SWINGS,
four dirty words,
three French men,
two love gloves, and a spanking over his knee.
So there it is, your obligatory dose of Christmas cheese log. When you’re choking an old lady for a discounted sweater at Zellers just stop and listen and remember the real meaning of the holiday season. SE-EEE-X SWINGS!
