5 Handshakes To Assert Your Dominance Over Mr. Tiny Hands

By Quin Asselin

An excerpt from The Adult Issue, out now!

Everyone makes that same mistake when they see Ralph from the front desk. They go, “Well shit, Ralph has some tiny hands so it shall be easy for me to crush them into a mealy flesh paste before I go to Denny’s for their limited edition Holiday Harvest Skillet.”

But if you’re really looking to add some sizzle to your season, you better be read up, Peach Tea. For Ralph and his unremarkable hands have felled CEOs with a couple of baseball gloves for clodhoppers. Here’s some techniques to consume with your noodle before taking on the big dog himself.

 

The Rock and The Hard Place

Take the small yet formidable hand of Ralph the Intern into the welcoming embrace of your preferred spank mitten. Then take your southpaw and eclipse his little pygmy digits. You are a vice grip in your eighth grade woodshop, you’re Anton Yelchin’s new car, you’re the ocean swallowing the Titanic. You must be deaf to the screams.

 

The Pachaug Punisher

A bit of forewarning: This is an advanced level shake that requires the aid of an entire river to complete. A very spitty mouth will do in a pinch but that can be a dead giveaway for a certain hawk-eyed intern. You’re gonna reach in for that standard shake (American, not Australian ya goon) and hold his lotioned hand interlaced with your quintet of meat pistons. Then take your Grade A USDA certified beef sausages and lock him in. Sweep the legs, then either roll him into a gulley or unleash a Biblical torrent of expectorate from your negotiation orifice. You haven’t had a shake/workout like that in a while huh?

 

Maybe Just Be Nice to Ralph?

I’m really not sure what your problem with Ralph is. He’s a decent intern and those mitts of his are still mighty enough to schedule all necessary appointments. He can type around 90 words a minute, even on a big boy keyboard. So maybe you shouldn’t be mocking a man who’s making the best of the bad hand he was dealt.

 

A Hammer

This one is less of a handshake and more of a hammer and a putrid little baby babuu boy hand embracing each other. Plus, this shake is great for those who are with Ralph in a Home Depot or an under construction Denny’s a couple months before you really give his palms a pulverizing. You know, doing this could really end up hurting him a whole lot. If you’ve got such a beef with Ralph don’t you think it’d be best to maybe try and talk it out with him? Why do you always gotta be escalating shit to new levels like this?

 

Mazda Meathook Masher

This is a pretty cruel and unusual handshake, even for a saucy little cornball like yourself. First you’re gonna have to steal the keys to Intern Ralph’s modestly priced 1998 Mazda Miata. You won’t be able to miss it because it’s a flashy red sports car that he parks in my spot every-goddamn-day. Start joyriding that baby all over town until you’re out completely devoid of fuel/motivation (whichever comes first) then return to the last known location of Ralph, he’ll be there. Shake his teeny tiny flesh gripper and inform him of all the misdeeds that led to his Mazda’s disappearance. His hand will limp and his face shall grow pale, as you compress his carpal tunnel into the world smallest neutron star.

Ralph may have never done anything to deserve such unjust hate at your very hands, but just looking’ at him you can totally tell that his diminutive flesh carrots were due for a squishing. And you and me kid, we’re gonna take this town’s hands down a peg, one lowly unsuspecting trashbag of an intern at a time.

Book Reviews For Wine Moms

By Sharon Blanda

An excerpt from The Adult Issue, out now!

Greetings, ladies, it’s Sharon, your new best friend. This week we have another hefty sack of novels to sift through. We have a few fantastic selections: some, sadly, corporately-published, and one brave self-published. No need for big name authors here. I picked the best of the best, and brought them to you, personally. Intimately. Pour yourself a glass of that Franzia blush and buckle in, honey! Because this one’s going to be a doozie.

Lydia in the Wild, Mary Contrary, Penguin Publishing, 2017:

Lydia, our main character, is a small, religious, big-city girl with a tiny vagina. She’s your average lover – small and big-city-dwelling. Working full-time at a failing New York tabloid writing book reviews has left her womanhood parched as a puckering sundried tomato (and no, more oil-based lube won’t solve feminine dryness caused by years of sexual dissatisfaction). Attempts at seducing her 60-year-old married boss have proven less than fruitful. Lydia is exhausted, barely finding time on the weekends to pleasure herself with the $5 bullet vibrator she bought at Spencer’s on a dare at a bachelor party. When work sends her to the Wild Wild West of Newark, New Jersey for a research project, she discovers a big, small-town boy with a big, small, and medium member who will show her the ropes, quite literally. Within the first fourteen pages, Lydia is whisked away from the Big Apple to a life of shoddy investigative journalism, lassoes, and bondage (oh god, the bondage). Will Lydia leave her life of subdued mediocrity in a stifling city to bond to her rugged Rutgers cowboy in holy matrimony and sumptuous sanctified sex? This book, being only thirty pages with 32-point text, is an easy and steamy beach-read to leave by your husband’s bedside in an effort to get him to buy more Cialis, maybe pay some attention to lady-parts that, like Lydia’s, are bone-dry and unloved. Bring your bifocals and sarong down to the beach and give this one a hot read. 4.5/5 stars

How to Raise a Straight Daughter When You Are Questioning Your Own Sexuality (For Dummies), John Wiley & Sons, John Wiley & Sons, 2017 :

We’ve all done it, ladies. You’re at the soccer game waiting for your boy Cayden to come off the field (because your husband refuses to pick him up on Wednesdays, much like he refuses to satisfy your feminine needs). Your arms are full of juice boxes and other electrolyte-rich drinks for youngsters, when suddenly, you are struck by a divine beauty walking towards you. She introduces herself to you as Marlene, mother to Cayden’s friend Bricyn. She offers you a hand, and when she reaches out to take some of the drinks from your arms, to lighten your heavy load, you can’t help but notice her massive tidz. Is she pregnant? No, her stomach is totally flat, as can be seen through her well-fitted cashmere J. Crew cowl-neck sweater. Are they fake? No, they bounce like real bazookas (here, the handbook includes diagrams). Wait, you ask yourself, why are you thinking so much about this woman’s juggalos? Are you a pervert? Or worse – are you a lesbo? (I didn’t THINK I was raised on the Isle of Lesbos! The book even features a map) You shake these thoughts from your mind, but you cannot forget how giant her knockers were. Later that day at home, your teenage daughter comes home from the mall with – gasp! – a nose ring. Knowing that nose rings are used to tie women together – an act of lesbian sex – you demand that she remove it from her nose. But not so fast! Raising a straight daughter isn’t as easy as telling her to remove metal objects from her various cartilaginous body parts. To raise a straight daughter, you must be a straight icon. You must exude straightness. Your very coochie must ooze heterosexuality. Forget about the big-boobied-biddy you met at the soccer game and get yourself straightened up, first. 3.5/5 stars, -1.5 stars for too much breast description.

Cooking with Charlie, Sharon Blanda, Selfpublished, 2017:

This book has everything. Have you ever found yourself alone on a Sunday evening with nowhere to go but your refrigerator? Your husband is at work, he said. He’ll be home late, he said. Your children are already in bed, and your big-mouthed friends are at the Suburban Ladies Sunday Night Book and Hors d’Oeuvres Club without you. Once, Janice accidentally invited you on a Facebook event, then deleted it as soon as you noticed. You don’t talk to Janice anymore, because you’re too busy working for a big-name magazine. Yes. A big-name magazine. You find yourself alone, with no one to comfort you but – oh? Who is this, knocking on your refrigerator door? It’s Mr. Charles Shaw! Everyone’s favorite cheap $3 boy from Trader Joe’s, his tender red and white varieties pleasuring your palate with a tart tang. He is so good to you, and treats you so kindly. Charlie would never stay late at work. Charlie would never uninvite you to a social event. Charlie is a kind and giving lover; an affordable and high-alcohol-content friend. Cook with him. Chardonnay? Try the “Scalp Your Cheating Husband Scallops with Linguine.” Merlot? Roast an entire “Put Your Book Club Up Your Ass, Janice Pot Roast” and eat it with your bare hands from the crock pot. Make passionate love to this recipe book, as if you haven’t been fucked in years. This recipe masterpiece, written by yours truly, and featuring colorful and life-life illustrations by my son, was rejected from Penguin, Random House, Houghton-Mifflin, HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, and even Tyndale (I took the fucking swears out!), but can be found as a self-publication on Amazon. 5/5 stars

7 Clean Ways To Explain Sex To Your Handsome Son

by Our Sex Expert

We’ve all been there. You have a son who’s such a large handsome boy of a son, and you know the girls are gonna be trying to tame his crotch carrot faster than you can say, “son that’s actually called your penis, not your cloth carol.” So, how do you explain the lowdown, on the getdown, on the letdown, that is sex? Sex is a joyless, thankless experience. No one wants it, but you know your son is so long and handsome that it’s bound to be sprung upon him by someone handsome and wide. Here are seven clean ways to explain sex to your pure, cylindrical, handsome son.

  • 1. “One time a million years ago, God grabbed a holy bee and stuck its stinger into a birds butt, and said ‘this is sex, and it is sin, but you must do it for me.’ So humans did it and still do it. That’s sex!”

This one is pretty much straight out of the Bible. Not religious, just scared? Here:

  • 2. “When the fruit bat spots a piece of fruit that it would like to ingest purely for its nutrients, and maybe its flavor, it goes after it. Maybe it’s a small berry, or let’s say a papaya. Having lost the ability to echolocate in evolution, the fruit bat uses its keen sense of smell to stick its long carrot-like fang into the papaya. Once it has sucked out all the nutrients, it drops a big guano to the ground and flies off to find another papaya. That’s sex!”

If your handsome son loves bats as much as mine does then this will make them really happy.

  • 3. “Remember those dreams you would have about dipping your crotch carrot into a      bowl of mud? That’s not sex!”

If your handsome son has had these same dreams, then it’s probably good to clarify what sex is not. Just tell him this, and every other thing. He’ll get it.

  • 4. “Son, that’s actually called your penis, not your crotch carrot. Oops.”

This one only works if, at a young age, you told your handsome son that his penis is called a crotch carrot. If that’s the case, fire away!

  • 5. “If a girl ever tells you that she’s ‘really enjoying this funnel cake that you purchased me at this county fair that you invited me to,’ you need to sneeze on said funnel cake, causing the sugar to encompass her. That’s sex!”

Nuff’ said.

Metaphor too apt for comfort? This one:

  • 6. “Once a year on your lover’s birthday you should buy for them their favorite ice cream, then light one-hundred candles in the bedroom. Then you should melt the ice cream using the candles and pour it into your lover’s mouth. After that, they are ready for sex. Slowly insert your carrot into your lover’s carrot receiving sanctum, located exactly where your carrot is except lower or to the side. As soon as you start to feel the tingle of Farmer Joe, retract your carrot, or Farmer Joe will harvest it and you’ll never be able to pee again. That’s sex!”

Ah yes, this is how I first overheard about sex. I wanted my handsome son to have the same experience, so I made sure to recite the above paragraph every time he entered a room for four months. (Side note: If you need to bring a little fire to your bedroom, try the candle thing.)

  • 7. “Son, we need to have a talk. Katie-Alice is the perfect cubical dimension for your cylindrical body. You should ask her to have sex and then have sex. To do so, just ask her to have sex and then let her do everything. You’re adopted, and not the result of my sex, and your mother and I’s marriage is purely financial. Farmer Joe harvested my carrot, or ‘penis’ as you now know, when I was 23. It was during Mardi Gras, and so he never gave it back. ”

Feel free to use any of these clean phrases to explain sex to your handsome son. Just slip them into any conversation. I know they worked with my boy!