Sure, He Slipped In Apple Juice, But If You Call It Pee It Becomes So Much Funnier

Man, here I am, 2 am and studying for a damn test in damn Human Sexuality. I hadn't cracked the book until this point, relying on my general cocky attitude toward tests that I know everything I'll ever need to know about the subject without even thinking about it. But after unsuccessfully describing the perenium, I figured I'd better hit the books. After hitting them, I realized I knew what a perenium was already. But nobody calls it a perenium. I'll bet even doctors don't call it that. It's about time we kick out all these medical terminologies and replace them with our modern slang. Of course, this might mean that the vagina is labelled without clitoris and there is no wrong answer to the name of the shaft. "I suppose you could call it 'Philolligaggle' if you really wanted; wouldn't be my first choice..."

But no, I gotta get damned technical and learn all these things that really give me no insight into human sexuality, other than restressing in my mind just how gross naughty bits are, and I learned that in 2nd grade (but don't ask me how). I ain't gotta see no ramen-noodle looking bosack or the inner workings of the vulva. There are colors and textures I attempt not to associate with sex, such as uncooked-cow-red and yellow-pussy-and-bubblicious. I ain't need to know what nasty things my penis is talking to once inside a vagina. I don't ask, it doesn't tell. I don't need to be able to point out where a Cowper's gland is. Yes, Cowper, I appreciate your contribution to the field by feeling around inside your butt and discovering this fun little guy that turns your penis into a waterpark, but it isn't entirely necessary to my overall well-being to see where it hangs out and who it's friends are. I know where the clitoris is, and what else is really needed, huh? I know where all the fun stuff is, the rest of this is just the people at the party that I don't know very well and who don't make very interesting conversation. Everybody wants to be best friends with a glans, but everybody ignores that creepy loser the Fimbrae. I heard Fimbrae still lives with his mom. His favorite band is Kraftwerk and he won't shut up about it. Plus, he's blue, and that color is very not in season right now.

When I took this class I was expecting it to be more of a psychology class, because it was labelled as such. Silly me, believing what I'm told again. No, this really turned out more like a high school health class, except slightly less giggles and slightly more videos of sex-change operations. Damn this horny brain of mine, believing every single thing that has the word "sex" in it is going to be by nature fascinating and give me stiffies to no end. I have had not a single stiffy in that class; I want my money back. All these tubes and pouches and piles of meat and bloody concoctions don't do it for me. Plus then they go into all these dick diseases that make my penis go all Tonglen and my testicles start to feel heartburn. Testicular Torsion? I really, really didn't need to hear about the possibility of my testes twisting on themselves. I also don't want to hear detailed accounts of priapism or Peyronies disease, my trouser Bowser just feels all these horrid tingling sensations, like an inverse erection. These stories make my dick never want to have sex again and hide in the corner for eternity, which is going to be difficult on me because then I gotta face that same corner, and really there's not a whole lot to look at there. It's just a whole lot of wall.

Maybe it's just the stress of being unprepared for a test I have to take in a few hours and being really fucking tired. Maybe all this stuff is supremely important and all these ladies will be all over me once I can tell them how common Klinefelter's syndrome is (1 out of every 700 births, ladies, come get it), but seeing as how that ain't happening and neither is my becoming either a doctor or a creepy psychiatrist who writes his notes using his tongue and a giant vat of pudding, I don't see myself needing any of this information other thant to pass this test. And than after that, what's the point? I'll forget it seconds after taking the test, if I bother to retain it beforehand in the first place. I'm used to staying up late and looking at vaginas, but this is the least sexy session I've ever had. I hope I don't imagine all these arrows pointing to every vagina I see from now on, telling me where everything is and it's function, nor do I want the image of a cross-sectioned penis in my head every time I masturbate.

God damn I'm tired. Fuck this shit.