It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 25, UPDATED

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word "culture". Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: Cupcake porn.

It's coming...it's coming...it's coming...pant pant pant ...
but I am awaiting permission to use a couple of photos.  Of vagina cupcakes.  Because if you use pics of vagina cupcakes without permission, particularly ones made with rainbow fondant, someone is going to show up at your door and punch you in the uterus.  But they are well worth it people, and may possibly put you off of eating cupcakes for a spell.  AND, I am so excited, Graham the Australian Dishwasher Installer is coming over at 11 to install my new dishwasher!  I have been without one for FIVE FRIGGING MONTHS and I am dying over here to fire it up!  Photos of Graham, if he lets me, on the blog Monday.  Whoreticulture Friday?  Later today.  On Friday.

9:37 a.m. 
I've spent the morning cleaning my house so Graham the Australian dishwasher installer doesn't think I'm raising my children in filth, which, essentially, I am.  But does he need to know that?  No.  He is installing my dishwasher, and I need him to think I'm at the top of my game.  I hope he lets me take pictures of him.

I haven't heard from the one vagina cupcake girl yet, but I think I have a solution, so let's carry on with this thing.   There is a seedy underground in the bakery world, and I'm finding it focuses on one main area - cupcake porn.  Lest you think I am trolling the internet for bakery snuff films, let me explain how I found genitalia pastries.  Current Husband was making some breakfast for himself, and said, "Hey, come look at this bagel, it looks like a vagina!" and I'm thinking "Is he coming on to me?  Because I haven't had my first cup of coffee" and he says, "No really, look at it" and I did and yes, it did slightly resemble a vagina:

 CH promptly slathered it with cream cheese and wolfed it down.

I, on the other hand, passed on breakfast.  Not that I have any problem with bagels, and I can totally see how women can get really sick of long johns and all of their baggage and move on to bagels, but I just wasn't hungry anymore.

This incident left me thinking:

1. Is CH like the kid in The Sixth Sense, but instead of seeing dead people, he sees vaginas?  "Look at that tire, it looks like a vagina."  "Look at that coffee mug, vagina." "Duct tape - vagina. "
2. Are there lots of food items that look like vaginas?  Oh yes.  Yes there are.

  I Googled "Vagina Cupcakes", 

and I hit the motherload.

The best ones, far and away, are the rainbow vagina cupcakes.  They are bright and cheerful and have personalities.  The person who made these cupcakes has apparently had her photo of them stolen a million times, because she will essentially stab you in the Fallopians if you use it, so I will send you to her instead of posting the picture.  They are gorgeous, check them out by clicking here:

Platter of Vagina Cupcakes, coming up!

Aren't they pretty?  It's like Rainbow Brite.  Wouldn't OB-GYN's love it if more vaginas looked like this?  Wouldn't it make their jobs more exciting?  The question is, would you eat one?  And what flavor would these be?  Because I would lean toward Red Velvet, just on authenticity.  Or Strawberry.  It would depend on the time of the month.  But never, ever chocolate, because that would seem less like sexy and more like a medical issue.

Think Rainbow Brite is the only variety of Vagina Cupcake available?  Think again!  Here is a snatch of what's available at another blog, at www.craftster.org, member name "squidknit":

 How about those little ball-bearing clitorises?  

And this crafty baker said she did varying 

degrees of bush to represent all vaginas.

Cute, but again...could I really open wide and take a huge bite out of this?  And the sprinkles?  Could I have those in my mouth?  In the spirit of equality, I will say that I would also have a very hard time taking a bite out of THIS:

 Holy shit, what did you do to that delicious cake!?!?

 And really?  Do those blue veins indicate some kind of STD?

At least a circulatory problem.

These photos come to us courtesy of www.bachelorettesuperstore.com, where they have all kinds of naughty items described lovingly in this pretty cursive font.  Here is a somewhat nicer penis cake photo from their site:

Would I let a penis with googly eyes near my Precious Lady?

If I ate the one on the right, would I be a Purple Penis eater?  Are these The Penises of Sesame Street? Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, Cookie Monster, Bert and Ernie?  This is what I think about when I see stuff like this.  (I know, it's sick, but I can't turn it off.)  I think what this photo really illustrates is that it doesn't matter how much you doll it up, dicks are just ugly, and not that delicious.  From what I've heard.  My favorite penis cupcake still goes to this big winner:

Clowns with erections.  It just doesn't get creepier than that.

I want to know a couple of things - 

1. Have you ever made porno pastries?
2. Could you eat a genital cupcake, or would you succumb to the "ish" factor? 

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  Have a great weekend!  I'm going to have a carrot.  NO!  A banana.  NO!  A donut...Aw, crap, I'll just have another cup of coffee.

 

 

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 12, Resolution #9

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygiene mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture. Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: Natural Harvest Cooking

Alright, today's topic is especially cringe-worthy, even for me, but it is totally real.  And I am so incredibly immature that I can't stop laughing about it, even though I found this site about 6 months ago.  So eat your lunch/breakfast first, take a deep breath, and carry on.  Are you ready?  Let's do this.

Yes, Grandma, you are reading that correctly.

This amazing recipe collection is compiled by the esteemed Semen Chef Fotie Photenhauer, who states,

"Semen is not only nutritious, but it also has a wonderful texture and amazing cooking properties. Like fine wine and cheeses, the taste of semen is complex and dynamic. Semen is inexpensive to produce and is commonly available in many, if not most, homes and restaurants. Despite all of these positive qualities, semen remains neglected as a food.

This book hopes to change that."

And to this, I say, "WTF FOTIE!  Do you mean to tell me ejaculatory fluids are COMMONLY available in my favorite restaurants?  What restaurants are you patronizing?  Here are my guesses:

• Jack In The Box
• Fuddruckers
• Spank 'n Shake
• The Crusty Crab
• Orange Jizzius
• Choking the Chick-Fil-A
• Happy Joe's
• The Sans Pants Eatery

 I have four main issues with Fotie's blowhard assertions.

1. Really, Fotie?  Food made from semen...that has wonderful TEXTURE?  Fotie, I get the impression that you have never actually tasted semen.  I haven't myself, but all of my slutty friends say it sucks.
2. And readily available and inexpensive?  I mean, yes, semen is all over the place in my house.  Get a black light in here and it's like, 'DAMN, someone cap Mount St. Helens!'  But semen harvesting seems difficult at best, and if you don't think there is any cost involved, you are sadly mistaken.  I would guess that 4 ounces of semen around these parts costs about the same as a six-pack of Bud Light and a half hour shoulder massage, with the occasional monthly Netflix charge thrown in.
3. Commonly available in most restaurants?  Are you telling me someone is jacking off in my food without my knowledge or permission?  I need to read the menus more thoroughly.  And not order ANYTHING with any type of cream sauce and make sure I never dated the chef.  
4. I am grateful for semen, truly I am.  I have three lovely children because of this wonder fluid.  But in my house, at least, it will remain neglected as a food.  Just ask CH.  As I always tell him, we're married now, that's a dating ritual.

What, you might ask,can one find in this 61-page tome of spunk eating?  I am SO glad you asked:

High Protein Smoothie

Unlike other high protein drinks, this one does not use animal proteins such as eggs or whey for nutrition. 

(No. This smoothie uses semen. So preferable to eggs, really.)

1 cup diced kiwi

1 ripe banana

1 cup of soy milk

1-3 tablespoons of fresh semen

Ice cubes (not to be confused with the rapper, Ice Cube, who would likely bust a cap in your ass if he were to drink one of your smoothies.)

Throw everything into a blender and liquify.   

(Don't you mean "toss off into the blender, Fotie?)

Chef's Note:  This is a great drink to experiment with.  Try substituting peaches or strawberries for the kiwi.

(Um, Fotie, don't you think we've experimented enough here?  How about substituting some yogurt for the semen?)

If you doubt the existence of this book or recipe, here you are: High Protein Smoothie, Natural Harvest.  You're welcome.

More than the recipes in this book, I love the reviews.  People are really funny.  It gives me faith that we can come together unite as a nation.  Here are my faves:

"Amazing"
We raised 400$ for a church during the bake sale becuase people could not get enough of the cream cheese cookies we made. Thanks Semen cookbook!"

"Finger Lickin' Good"
Highly recommended!! I made the Ribs w/ Tangy BBQ sauce for a party last weekend. Wow. They were finger lickin' good. My girlfriend couldn't get enough of them. We washed them down with Donkey Punch, another crowd pleaser."

By Viscous Semenian

"****Dinner Parties****"
I won't be asking people to come to dinner anymore...I will be asking them to come AT dinner !!

AND MY FAVORITE:

By Jenna Shannigan

"Any used copies?"
Does anyone know where I can find a used copy of this book? It would be the best Christmas present for my boyfriend (he's a chef), but I probably can't get the copy in time for Christmas without paying quite a bit extra for fast shipping."

Which generated this response:

"I have a used copy, but the pages are all stuck together... Honey, I don't think you WANT a used copy of THIS book!"

But Fotie is well-intentioned, and he truly wants us all to discover and delight in the culinary gift that is semen.  He gives this warning on the third page of the book, right after he thanks his unnamed friends for contributing to and tasting his gastronomical delights:

"NOTE:  This cookbook is written for consenting diners of semen.  Please do not add semen to your guest's food without informing them beforehand."

RESOLUTION #9:  Quit serving my guests the Spunk martinis.

Happy Whoreticulture Friday!  Have a great weekend!  And don't forget to send your questions to Todd "Hot Nuts" Epstein at todd.hotnuts@gmail.com.  The First-Ever Taxidermied Advice Squirrel blog is being built at toddhotnuts.blogspot.com

It's Whoreticulture Friday! Issue 4

Whoreticulture: The industry and science of whores and whore-related topics. Whoreticulturists work and conduct research in the disciplines of OB-GYNery, Brazilian waxers and shavers, adultery, personal hygeine mavens and easy women. The word is composite, from two words, whore, from Greek meaning "harlot" or "dear", and the word culture. Like NPR's Science Friday, Whoreticulture Friday exists to educate and spark discussion on the science of Whorology. Whoreticulture Friday is not for children. Or squeamish people. Or Mother-In-Laws.

Today's topic: A Tale of Two Penises

While there are many penis stories out there in the world, there are two tall tails in particular that need to be addressed: The Wedding Crasher, and The Magnum.

Current Husband and I were blissfully married on a lovely August day fourteen years ago. Between my sorority, his fraternity, and our respective high school friends, we were well aware things could get out of hand quickly at the reception. We considered this to be alarming, since a large contingent of Catholics, Lutherans, Methodists and Mennonites would be attending as well, so I decided a few people needed to be addressed prior to the ceremony.

One friend of CH was notorious for having his picture taken with his rather large, flaccid member poking out of his fly. He generally tried to get these pictures taken at sorority house parties, grandparent anniversaries, and bar mitzvahs. I pulled him aside before the wedding and said, "You won't be doing one of your dick pics at my wedding, correct?" And he looked very innocently at me and said, "Julie. This is your special day." And with that, I knew he was going to try.

On a quick side note, our photographer also happened to be the University of Iowa sports photographer, so we got some great action shots, but not much of what we actually asked for. My mom, fearing the worst, put disposable cameras on all of the tables at the reception. To future brides, I say definitely do the disposable cameras, they were a riot, and definitely spend some extra cash on the photographer, because all you have left when it's over is a dress, your photos, and your memories.

At the reception, things seemed to be going well. Mr. Johnson appeared to be under control and having fun, and fortunately my photographer left his camera in the car and was dancing with his wife. Mr. J approached me and said, "Hey, let's get a last picture of us together before you consummate your marriage!" And I thought, "Hey, that's funny, let's!" Snap. The photo was taken, and suddenly, I got it. I looked at him and said, "You aren't going to take a picture with your deal out are you?" and he smirked as he said, "I think I just did." Ish.

Fast forward to my mom in Nebraska, getting the pictures developed. She brings home the envelopes. She opens them. She starts thumbing through them. "Oh, Julie and Grandma," and "CH and his mom, how sweet," and "What the f**k is THAT!?!" One week later, my mom had that photo copied and enlarged (as if it needed it) and was showing it to her friends. Her daughter, the blushing bride in a questionably shaded white dress, and a guy who wasn't the groom, smiling, hand on his hip and his gargantuan appendage saying cheese. Classy.

The next Tall Tail I have to tell is about a member we call "The Magnum."

A while back, a friend of mine in our small town needed me to buy condoms, because she was active but afraid people would talk if they saw her buying birth control. (Take a moment to recognize that she, nor I, seemed to care much what people thought if I bought them. Okay, I was married, so I guess I got a pass, but why wasn't CH buying them?) I decided that instead of getting her stocked for the month, I was going to get her taken care of for a year, so I went to my big-city warehouse store and bought the biggest box of condoms I could find. I presented them to my friend, knowing that I gave the gift that kept on giving...sex without pregnancy. Hero time

The next week, my friend gave the mega-box of rubbers back to me. I asked her what was wrong with them - Did they break up? No. Are they defective? No. Did he suffer an industrial accident? No. Finally, she could take no more. She was the deepest red I have ever seen on cheeks, and was practically crying. The story could stay inside her soul no longer.

"So we are messing around. And then it's time to wrap it up, so to speak. And he's impressed that I have so many. So he puts it on and BOING! it flies off across the room! Literally springs off of him! We try another one - BOING! Same thing! And he asks me where I got these things, that they are so small they belong in a Cracker Jack box! Where did you get these mini-circus-condoms!?!"

After much persuasion, she realized that these were what normal men wear. But she, the big cat hunter, had found herself a man who needed his gloves in an XL. He needed The Magnum. We drove to the largest city within an hour of us, and bought the much-coveted Magnum size condoms. We didn't speak of that trip, but every time I saw him after that, I pictured Tom Selleck hopping into his Ferrari in Hawaii and saying goodbye to Higgins, because he was Magnum, P.I. And I couldn't look him in the eye without laughing, because I knew his gun was fully loaded.

Happy Whoreticulture Friday, and Happy Halloween!