It has been brought to my attention that Tiger Penises have barbs on them (apparently I found that so impressive that I decided to capitalize the word penis). I didn’t believe the jibber jabber, so a Google search was done to prove me wrong. While learning the true extent of my wrongness, I found the existence of a Chinese aphrodisiac called Tiger Penis Wine. It turns me on just thinking about heating it up and dripping it in bad places.

I also found some alternate uses for Tiger parts.

1 - The tail can be ground and mixed with soap for applications as an ointment in the treatment of skin disease. The bones from the tip of the tail ward off evil.

2 - Crushed bone added to wine is an old Taiwanese general tonic.

3 - To cure a fever caused by ghosts, sit on a tiger skin. If used too often, you may turn into a tiger.

4 - Add honey to the gallstones and apply to abscesses on the hands and feet.

5 - The hair should be burnt to drive away centipedes.

6 - Mix the brain with oil, rub on your body and you will be cured of laziness & acne.

7 - Eyeballs rolled into pills are sure cure for convulsions.

8 - Whiskers should be kept as a charm for protection against bullets, and to give courage.

9 - Carry a claw in your pocket or wear it as a piece of jewelry and you will possess courage and be protected from sudden fright.

10 - Eat the heart to acquire strength, courage & cunning.

11 - Floating ribs should be carried as a good luck talisman.

12 - Use the penis as an aphrodisiac.

13 - To prevent a child from having convulsions, remove the small bones from the feet and tie them to the child’s wrists.

It also turns out that Whales have penises up to 10 feet long, which explains why they’re so peaceful. This also suggests multiple previously unknown uses for the blowhole. It also explains why John Candy got the hottest women. And Gorillas, which are violent and angry, have 3-inch penises. This information clears up the mystery of why Irish men drink so much and have such explosive tempers.

Speaking of pee shyness…

My worse case of pee shyness came when I was drug tested by the Volkswagen Dealership I used to work for. The woman standing with her ear to the bathroom door listening for pee fraud, or phraud, was the modern day twin of Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie. This devious trick to try and make me pee illegal narcotics made me very uncomfortable. No matter how much I tried and tried, nothing was coming out, so I kept returning to the waiting area to drink water. It was really embarrassing. Eventually my bladder gave in and I filled the cup. I drank so much water that the test ended up being inconclusive and I ended up having to be tested again. Throughout the whole process I kept envisioning little Laura Ingalls taking my cup of watered down urine and running off through the woods back to the cabin going:

“Pa! Pa! He switched his urine with dog urine! He’s tainted the test Pa! Pa! He’s dirty! That man from the future just committed phraud!”

I went to Marshall’s the other day to pick up some socks, and ended up waiting in line for close to 15 years because the guy in front of me happened to pick the only 3 items in the store with no tags on them, so they had to send some elderly retarded lady on a wild goose chase to find the prices. A few minutes passed before they sent someone after her. Was there a meeting at Marshall’s earlier in the day detailing the exact methods that would be used to steal my soul? Of course there was only one line open, so I was forced to endure this excruciatingly long game of autistic capture the flag. While I was waiting, an apparently motherless child wandered into the adjacent register booth. The cashier flipped out and yelled at the little mongrel’s grandmother because something might fall on the child’s giant head and that he could get hurt. The same thing was said to Jason’s momma on Thursday the 12th, and we all know how that turned out. This kid seriously had the most giant, indestructible head I’ve ever seen on a kid. They could use his head as a wrecking ball to smash run down crackhouses used by prostitutes and homeless squatters. I feel bad for whatever poor item happens to fall on this baby monster’s cranium, although being at Marshall’s, they could just discount it a bit and mark it damaged. I also feel bad for the child’s mother if she didn’t have a c-section, and I imagine his father most likely cries himself to sleep every night.