commodity goods, pt. 3

i think one of the most miraculous commodity goods ever has to be astroglide.

i mean, i've got my hobbies. and they're good on their own. but it's rare that they can't be improved by the judicious application of some wisely purchased accessories. smoking weed, say, is pretty fucking solid, no matter how you do it. but you use some high-quality papers, or a really nice bong, and fuck, you're set. and music? well, music basically is a commodity good. and its commodity status is pretty much essential to its nature. that's a discussion for another time.

so yeah, astroglide. i mean, sex is great. great. but astroglide, like, takes the shit to the next level. drug-fueled marathon sex has never been so easy on the private parts, whether you're male, female, or ... whatever other options there might be.

having sex without lubricant is like... eating dinner without a fork. you can do it, but you just fumble around for a long time, you enjoy it less, and you end up looking like a retard.

having sex with astroglide is like... having your dinner fed to you by god himself.

i mean, just look at the fucking name. astroglide? it's like, you can totally imagine people in the future having sex with this shit. i mean, if i was from the future, that's so what i would use. k-y is just a joke. what kind of name is k-y? i don't think of hot space people getting it on, i think of a wrinkly old man giving a prostate exam. like, a lubricant isn't supposed to be fucking thick and sticky, last time i friggin checked. and the liquid k-y is sketchy. disturbingly unnatural, it kinda creeps me out. especially the warming stuff. what kind of freaky shit do they put in that? it's like satan personally imbued the lubricant with the fires of hell. and i don't need satan to be involved in my commission of sins any more than he already is.

so, yeah. if you're not using astroglide, then do everyone involved a favour, and buy some. go to the drug store, suck it up, and look that seventy-year-old cashier straight in the eye as you hand her that purple box full of magic and wonder. be proud to be purchasing such a fine personal lubricant, and the next time that you have sex, thank the wonders of science!

and me for recommending it to you.

and that seventy-year-old cashier for selling it to you.

just don't think about her while you're having sex.

feel free to think about me while you're having sex, if you want. assuming that you don't already. (har, har)

c'est tout. oh yeah, and it's good friday. let's hear it for jesus, way to freakin' die, buddy!