penile enlargment tool
Measuring up the penis and trying to figure out if it’s bigger than those of various acquaintances is one of the chief hobbies of certain men. Almost every man is worried about his penis size to a higher or lesser degree and also worried about how he compares to other men. Gym lockers, restaurant and office toilets, all these places remind men about the problem dangling between their legs and the competition for the coveted “Big Penis Respect” award. A whole underground culture of rumors, assumptions and exaggeration has grown around the penis. So, let’s clear a bit of this rubbish with some facts.
Among the many things that men think about the penis we also find the idea that there are huge differences between the penis sizes of the various races inhabiting this planet. This idea goes hand in hand with the racial stereotypes that are thrown around, even by people who should know better. For instance, many people think that all black men have huge penises. They “heard” this from some person who had “first hand” information and they have also seen a lot of porn on the Internet and all the black porn stars had huge penises, ergo all black men are huge.
And while blacks are well hung, Asians are said to have been handed the short end of the stick. Since they are smaller than white or black people, it follows that Asians also have tiny penises. This is very convenient for a white man who feels bad that all those blacks are bigger than him. But is this really so? Are these differences so big that we can safely stereotype everybody? The answer is yes and no. This means: yes, there are differences and no, they aren’t that big. Fortunately, this is not a field of study devoid of accurate information and there are some studies which provide much needed data.
Ever since the Europeans started to interact with African nations on a wide scale, the white culture has promoted the idea that all black men are hugely endowed and that this makes them somewhat closer to animals than humans. For two or three centuries, the big penis has been used to prove the inferiority of black people. All this came to an end in 1952, when Frantz Fanon used statistical data to prove that there is no positive correlation between African descent and big penises. However, the myth is still alive and well and it will probably take a long time to die.
The World Health Organization has firm specifications for condom sizes, which are based on various studies. These studies seem to indicate that black men have on average a slightly wider and longer penis size, Caucasian males have what is known as the medium size, while Asian men are slightly narrow and shorter in size. The WHO specifications feature condom widths of 5.3 cm for Africa, 5.2 cm for Europe and 4.9 cm for Asia. As you can see, the differences between racial groups are statistically small.
The most important thing to remember is that penis length and width should not be seen as absolutes. If your lover is content with the penis nature gave you and the skills you have acquired over the course of your life, then penis size doesn’t really matter. If, however, you are unhappy with your current size, there are methods that can help. There are all-natural enlargement exercises and there are highly effective traction devices waiting for you. But, really, you should only be looking to enlarge your penis for yourself, not because you heard that other people are bigger.
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I really don’t know how to say this any other way. My dog decided to talk to me the other night and he had a lot to say.
It initially played like any other night really. Once again, I was tossing and turning, in and out of sleep. I was half awake, mulling over my job situation: I want to make money writing but I need an income more. Then the most bizarre thing happened.
“Hey human Bob! This is your best friend speaking! Wake up!”
Who the hell was that? It was a deep, low voice; strong and certain with a hint of a bourbon induced slur. Sounded like Dean Martin actually. I immediately sat up. It was pitch black. The radio clock blurred 3:53 in a dull crimson light. All I could make out was the shadowy outline of Parker, my trusty beagle, sitting upright at my feet.
“Hey boy, did you hear that?” I whispered instinctively. “Someone’s in the house.”
My vision was starting to warm up to the darkness. Parker just stared back at me, his head tilted, his long ears hanging to the side of his head like hand towels on a wall. He turned his head to the bedroom doorway, lifted his nose to the night and sniffed. He turned back to face me.
“Don’t think so.”
I swore Parker spoke but it couldn’t be. I mean his hound drawn lips seemed to move to the words I heard but that was impossible.
“Who’s there?” I yelled into the night. “Whoever it is, I am warning you that I am at this moment retrieving my loaded double-barrel twelve gauge from under the bed. I will shoot you. So leave now and I want to hear the door slam behind you.”
I made some dumb noises in a lame attempt to fool the intruder into believing what I had just proclaimed. I took the ruse to the next level.
“Okay. I’m fully armed and about to call 911 from my fully powered cell phone. Oh yeah, strong signal, four bars. Oh yeah, this is going to be a very clear 911 call.”
“You’re breaking me up. Put the phone down human Bob.”
It was Parker talking. I was certain of it. Nah, it had to be a sick trick.
“Okay, good one Steve. You wired up the dog with a little speaker. Very funny.”
My brother Steve was known to go to great lengths to pull off pranks. But I was pretty sure he was at his apartment in the city, sixty miles away, God knows doing what, and at 48 years old, unlikely to suddenly bother me with a prank—it had been 25 years since his last one. But the mind scrambles to the most implausible scenarios when so duly challenged.
“Don’t think so. Nope it’s me, Parker,” the dog mumbled.
I was positive he spoke again. By now I was sitting straight up, leaning towards him. He just sat there and looked at me with those big dark eyes. His poker face was on.
“Parker? Are you talking to me?”
“Well I’m not talking to myself.”
I leaned back against the headboard. He yawned.
“This can’t be. I’ve got to stop watching Animal Planet.”
“Listen, I’ve got something to say and I’m not sure how long this talking stuff is going to work so …”
“You are talking!” I interrupted incredulously.
“Should you want I bow wow?”
“Holy cow! Parker you are talking.”
“Yup. But I’m not sure for how long. So can I say a few things before …”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Yeah I know. Either can I but if you don’t mind.”
I looked at him with a giant smile plastered across my face. Parker can talk. The dog was talking. Who was I kidding? It had to be a prank. He continued.
“I’ve been listening to a lot of that talk radio and that C-SPAN channel you watch while you write. I’m here to tell ya I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
“You’re kidding me right?”
“Afraid not.”
Oh this was good. I was really hallucinating. Talk-shmalk, I had a few nagging questions of my own.
“Hey, can I ask you something before you get to your stuff?”
“Make it quick. I haven’t got all night.”
“You like smell things a hundred times more than we do, right?”
“Four hundred.”
“Okay, four hundred. Wow! Then I really wonder about this.”
“Yeah I know. Why do we like to sniff every morsel of excrement or yellow patch of urine we encounter on our walks?”
“Now that you bring it up, yeah, why? It must smell like the inside of Dick Cheney’s or Ted Kennedy’s septic tank? And you know how much crap they’re filled with.”
“That was a funny one human Bob. But it isn’t like what you smell. We pick up a lot more notes. It’s a broader pallet if you will. We don’t smell stink. We smell identity, mood, and illness. For instance, you know that crazy cairn terrier down the street?”
“Yeah.”
“She has stomach cancer and her humans don’t have a clue.”
“You are kidding me?”
“She probably has less than six months if they don’t get her to a vet soon.” He paused to lick his right front paw. “Yeah, and another thing. Don’t take me out at nights for awhile.”
“Why?”
“Cause there is a rabid possum living under the porch. That’s why.”
“You know this from the smell of possum poop?”
“Excrement.”
“Whatever.”
“Yup.” Parker yawned as if bored. “So is that it? Can I say what I need to say?”
“Well there is that thing you do with that licking your, you know, your …”
“Penis?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Jealous are we?”
“Well, it’s just that …”
“It’s all about keeping clean. Nothing pleasurable if that’s what you’re driving at. Nothing like what you do with your hand. By the way, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t pet me afterwards. Nope, no pleasure; it’s all business. You made sure of that when you had me “fixed”, remember. Thank you very much.”
“Oh yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea you knew any different.”
“No idea my butt. I’ll ‘no idea’ ya.” He paused again to lick his right paw again and then continued. “But I don’t hold it against you. We don’t hold grudges. Heck, if we did, we would have mauled most humans dead by now. Which brings me to why I am talking to you.”
“No grudges. Really? I mean that “fixing” stuff is pretty serious. That’s pretty good if that doesn’t bother you.”
“You done? Can I get to my concern?”
“Sure. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“How can humans be so smart supposedly, while they single handedly are destroying the Earth?”
“You mean global warming?”
“It’s more than that. It’s the air. It’s the water. It’s the dirt. It’s the forests. It’s the killing. It’s the anger. It’s the hate. It’s the grudges. It’s the fear. It’s everything.”
“Oh come on. You’re being a little dramatic.”
“We don’t know dramatic.”
“Well give me examples of what you mean.”
“First of all, the air is filled with danger. Dogs, cats, birds, animals of all kinds can smell it. It is our biggest topic when we get together.”
“I don’t smell a thing.”
“Yeah, that’s part of the problem. And you can’t taste the troubled water either.”
“Scientists don’t seem to be complaining. So I should be listening to a dog?”
“We have no agenda. Dogs call it as they smell it.”
“ ‘call it as they smell it’; I’m suppose to just accept that?”
“Yeah, there is a lot you should just accept.”
“Oh yeah, like what else?”
“Well, and here is what I think is the crux of the problem, you keep choosing the wrong alpha humans.”
“What?”
“You’ve got this alpha thing all wrong. Just because animals order their packs based on physical size and strength doesn’t make it so for humans. We do it because we are simple. You do it because you are thoughtless. That’s what we, and I think it is fair to say I am speaking for all animals, don’t get. Humans are able to think things through. But they never do. Well, that’s not completely true; some have but they are mocked or marginalized.
An alpha dog barks and gets all puffy, like that wacky shepherd Sarge from around the block. The worst he can do is break out of his electronic fence and charge one of us. But you humans take it up a notch.”
“Can you give me a for instance?”
“God there are so many. Let me see. Okay, you’ve elected a president who pounds his chest and walks around like a gorilla with its arms all out to the side, all tough and all, carrying on with ‘bring it on’. When he jumps the fence, he brings tanks and bombs and humans loaded down in weapons and in body armor. Meanwhile, you have alpha males all over the place, flexing their muscle in their packs, threatening to obtain nuclear weapons, the great equalizer, giving the president one excuse after another to hop the fence. It’s nuts. And I for one am telling you, you’ve got it all wrong.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. Just start picking the right alpha humans; humans whose visions see beyond fighting, whose hearts hold no grudges, whose thoughts and reasons are not the products of testosterone, whose collective knowledge is rooted in the concept that true peace is never the consequence of war but the outcome of constant learning, negotiating and adjusting.”
“This is what you want to tell me? Nothin’ for nothin’ but it’s a little heavy for a little chat with a dog at 3:30 in the morning.”
“In a nut shell, yeah.”
It was hard to accept this from my beagle. I mean, he’s a dog; a sleeping, eating, sniffing, crapping dog. I was chalking this whole episode up to stress. I was apparently snapping.
“That’s it. I’m pretty much done. Just one last thing while I have the chance.”
“What? World hunger? String theory?” I asked sarcastically.
“You get the right alpha humans and the world hunger thing will take care of itself, smart ass. As far as string theory, who do you think I am, Hawking? I’m just a dog. No it’s more pedestrian than that, something I think you can manage.”
“Then what, already?” I asked impatiently.
“You know that thing you do occasionally where you empty the dish washer in the buff.”
“Ummm … yeah I guess.”
“Put some clothes on. It’s disturbing. I’m beggin’ ya, please!”
“All right, but only if you lick your privates in private.”
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
“So this is it? No more talking? You know we could make a fortune on Letterman with his stupid pet tricks.”
“It’ll never happen. You see, this is a one time deal. Not sure why or how this is happening. Maybe that God guy is involved somehow. All I know is that when it is done, it is …” He abruptly stopped talking.
“Parker?”
Not a grunt. He yawned and as he did he stretched his front legs out and spread across the foot of the bed, his ears resting flat on the blanket.
“Parker … are you done? Is that it?”
He slowly closed his eyes and floated off to sleep.
“Parker … just like that?”
He began to twitch; in hot pursuit of a fox I imagined.
“Holy smokes. I must be dreaming myself.”
I curled back down under the safety of my covers, scratched my butt and thought about the conversation I had just had with Parker or myself or both. I sniffed the air. It smelled fine to me. What the heck was he talking about, ‘danger in the air’? It had to be a dream.
As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about getting a real job real soon, apparently this writing stuff was getting the best of me. I also made a point to remember to talk to the owners of that crazy cairn terrier. I thought it was the least I could do. One can’t be too dismissive of the unexplainable these days.
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Whoever sends junk emails has got me completely wrong. They seem to think I’m a seedy, hypochondriac bloke with a lot of problems down below. Not only am I cursed with a miniscule member, it’s about as reliable as the old A40 Mum used to drive.
Apparently, my girlfriends are sniggering among themselves about my shrunken, faulty manhood. And my long suffering wife (I have one of those as well as the girlfriends) is concerned I may not be able to get her pregnant.
Nevertheless, my alter ego’s appetite is insatiable. I’m in the market for a sexy Russian girl who can’t spell but has breasts the size of bowling balls.
When not performing disappointingly in the bedroom, I’m swallowing dodgy prescription drugs with names that sound only partially familiar like Aspromix and Pethadinerole. My other obsession is cheap, immitation watches.
While the real me usually deletes these messages without opening them, I’ve taken a look at one just now - in the interests of journalism.
Apparently, if I buy one particular outlet’s Viagra, I’ll be able to open a beer bottle with my penis. That could be handy. Finding the bottle opener’s always tricky. It gets lost among the tangle of spatulas and serving spoons in the middle drawer.
The advertisement says I may even be invited to become a porn star. Well, I guess it’d be more lively than cleaning up the cat litter box.
Most of the time I delete junk mail messages on automatic pilot. Their lurid subject headings are easy enough to detect among precious emails from readers. Often the highlight of my week, readers’ emails mean a lot. I try to reply to them all (except unspeakably abusive ones).
The other day as I was deleting Viagra advertisements, I had a horrible sinking feeling. Without meaning to I wiped an email titled Velcro. No doubt it was a reader’s response to a comment I made about Velcro being one of the best inventions of the 20th Century.
They were probably telling me off, saying advances in medicine and science were far more important. They’re right, of course. Velcro isn’t that great. It didn’t even supplant zips the way people said it would.
When I asked my husband why men still prefer zips on their trousers, he said Velcro would be too noisy in public toilets - and somewhat mood shattering in other circumstances.
Nevertheless, some inventions have been undervalued for their simple elegance and versatility. Take dental floss, for instance. According to that Bible of the Internet, Google, it was invented by a New Orleans dentist who recommended passing a piece of silk between teeth in the early 1800’s.
He shouldn’t take too much credit, though. It wasn’t long before Taranaki people were using their mothers’ sewing cotton to remove chunks of mutton wedged between their molars.
Nylon dental floss was created during World War Two. Americans use enough of it every year to stretch from Earth to the Moon and back four times. I buy almost that much for our household.
Dental floss is great for all sorts of things around here – hanging Christmas decorations and paintings, training grape vines, oh and occasionally for teeth. I’ve used it to string broken necklaces and earrings together.
Floss is excellent for cutting through dough and cheesecake. It can successfully repair tents and backpacks or reattach umbrella sections back to their spines.
I’m not the only one to explore its potential. In 1994 a prison inmate in Virginia used braided floss to scale a wall and escape.
Another seriously undervalued item is the plastic clothes peg. I’ve yet to discover a better way to seal a half eaten bag of chips. Rubber bands are clumsy by comparison, and those plasticised bits of wire laughingly called “ties” never hold.
Half the stuff in our kitchen cupboards and freezer is held together with clothes pegs – from cereal and frozen peas to rice and some strange brown powder that seems to be a maternity ward for moths.
Pegs are essential for holding music on its stand when our daughter goes busking with her violin at Christmas. Some people use them to hold curtains together, squeeze the last out of the toothpaste tube or to hold the end of matches so their fingers don’t get burnt.
I look forward to hearing from readers about their favourite undervalued inventions – and hope the person whose message was deleted forgives me. It’s so easy these days to mistake Velcro for Viagra.
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If there was ever an invention to make sex as safe as possible, it has to be the condom. Not only do they prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, but they’re very effective at preventing pregnancy too. No other form of contraception is so reliable and versatile. So what’s not to love?
Buying them
So you’re shy about asking for them? Supermarkets and gas stations carry condoms these days – you can buy them from a machine in the washroom. Sex clinics give them out by the handful for nothing. And if you still feel weird about getting your hands on condoms – just consider how it would feel buying medicine to treat an STD instead.
Carrying them
Is it presuming too much to take condoms on a date? Frankly, that attitude hasn’t been seen since the fifties. So the girl might realise you do have sex and you wanted it with her. Is that an insult? In any case, you don’t have to take them out your pocket and wave them around. If you get to the point where you need one, you’ll both be happy to see that little foil wrapper, never mind who was carrying it!
Using them
Remember the classes where you practised with a banana? Do yourself a favor, practise with the real thing. Use a whole pack if you need to – keep trying till you know how to get one on properly. You won’t be able to put on a condom if your penis isn’t fully erect – but remember that the penis releases fluid that can spread STIs or contain sperm even before it’s erect. Remember to pinch the ‘teat’ at the end before you unroll the condom down your penis – you might want to leave a bit more space at the top to prevent the condom from splitting. Keep this teat pinched between your fingers as you unroll the condom, and make sure it’s fully covering your penis before and during sex. Don’t feel shy about interrupting your lovemaking to put one on – that pause can only build the excitement!
Last words
Oil based lubes, sharp fingernails, jewellery and out of date condoms are all recipes for disaster. Use a special lubricant. Some people find they have an allergy to latex – condoms now come in allergy-friendly latex-free varieties. In fact, there are now a vast number of different shapes, colors, sizes and flavors of condom. Experiment to see which ones you and your lover prefer – perhaps a ribbed variety for more stimulation or a condom with extra lube for very sensual sex. You should use a condom or dental dam for oral sex too, and change condoms for every new orifice or sex act.
Finally, to get rid of a condom, wrap it and bin it. Never flush a condom down the toilet.
For more information about lingerie please have a look at this link:Exotic Lingerie | Blouses See Thru
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It used to be so easy. All you needed was a thick mane of tousled auburn locks, high cheekbones and a determined little chin; add an ounce of determination and an event from your past that haunts you still. Then, wham! You were the perfect fictional heroine.
But now it’s not so simple. With television shows like Grey’s Anatomy and Ally McBeal, books like Bridget Jones’s Diary and Good in Bed, and movies like Miss Congeniality and Legally Blonde, we’re getting all sorts of mixed messages over how the ideal woman is supposed to be. What’s a modern girl who wants to hold herself up to impossible standards to do?
Simple! Just follow these guidelines, and you’ll be as witty, complex and neurotic as the rest of them. In other words – you will be the perfect, modern-day fictional heroine.
Step 1 – Be Flawed
This step is super easy, because come on, we’re all already flawed anyway, right? Right! Except for one little catch. It is necessary to adopt the correct flaws, and these three are non-negotiable.
1.) You must be self-involved. This includes comparing your own petty personal problems to things like death, war, and injustice, and finding some sort of unique parallel no matter what the situation may be. It also includes having a constant inner dialogue with yourself where you point out these parallels with witty commentary. For example: “Even the news reminded me of him. Yesterday I saw this report that said routine circumcision in Africa could prevent 300,000 deaths in the next ten years. What a shocker! Chopping away at a guy’s penis could help eliminate pain, loss, and heart-ache. What will they think of next?”
2.) You must have issues with food. If you plan to be a television or movie heroine, this means that you cannot eat. Period. If you plan to be a book heroine, this means that you must eat all the time, except when you’re not eating, and then you should be thinking about eating. I strongly recommend the second option.
3.) You must become preoccupied with an unhealthy relationship. This includes but is not limited to, relationships with boyfriends, friends, mothers, fathers, roommates, and exes. Especially exes.(And make sure that your ex is dreamy, preferably with a new girlfriend who is in no way as good for him as you were.)
Step 2 – Practice Retail Therapy
Today’s modern day fictional heroine realizes one fundamental truth – that there is no problem too big or too small that cannot be remedied with shopping. Again, there is a catch; you need to be careful of what you go shopping for. Hard and fast rule – anything that’s practical or cheap is out. Other than that, I have provided you a list of approved shopping items, with the most highly recommended items on top, and continued in descending order:
• Designer shoes
• Designer beauty products
• Designer chocolate
• Designer purses
• Designer lingerie
• Anything else designer
• Clothes (This is listed as the very last option because although clothes shopping can be a lot of fun, if you happen to have gone up a size, the blow to your ego will be so enormous that it will negate the therapeutic aspect of said retail therapy.)
Step 3 – Have a purpose, deeply question it, then either accept it or abandon it to find a new purpose.
Rather than go into unnecessary detail, I have created a handy-dandy chart. Just pick an option from each column and you’ll be good to go.
Column A
1.You’re a (lawyer, publisher, or banker) and you love the power and money.
2.You’re a (doctor, policewoman, or writer) and you love changing lives.
3.You’re a stay-at-home mom and you love your family.
4.You’re all of the above, and you’ve never been so fulfilled!
Column B
1.It’s all getting to be too much and nobody understands you.
2.None of it means anything anymore and nobody understands you.
3.You wish you could have some time for yourself, and why doesn’t anyone understand you?
4.Is this really what you set out to do? You did major in art history after all.
Column C
1. After meeting the right guy, you decide to chuck it all and live overseas.
2. After falling back in love with the guy you’ve been with for years, you decide to start your own home-based greeting card company.
3. After realizing that the nerdy guy is actually the one for you, you return to your career with a new sense of purpose.
4. Who needs health insurance anyway? You decide to take some time off just to focus on you.
Conclusion:
So you see; it’s really not that hard for truth to imitate fiction. Gone are the days of walking moors, wearing corsets, and dying of consumption. Nowadays all you need is a little attitude thrown in with a barely noticeable social complex. So get your credit cards ready, preheat the oven for those brownies, and start living your life as if everyone can (and wants to) hear what you have to say. A new age has arrived!
