This is what the Macedonians call a “re-issue.”  A classic from February 24, 2006.

So, I was at rehearsal the other day, and the scene for which we were rehearsing had to do with tomfoolery of the cock and boob persuasion. Firstly, let me tell you that it is oddly uncomfortable giving directions like, “Yeah listen, just put your hand on his upper thigh and give it a good squeeze,” or “just think common room hook-up.” Granted, I shouldn’t assume that people, especially freshmen, have skanked themselves out, but at this point in the school year, you should have been skankish at least once.

I mean, the young lady in question was just not getting the fluidity of the encounter and it forced me to have to show her how to situate herself on the couch (no To Wong Fu) and be trollop-like. Watching her go through the motions was…tragic. it was like watching a new-born deer try to run around, but with more leg spreading. As I was sitting there getting frustrated, a thought gave me cause to pause: just about everyone is awkward on the first encounter (and most people don’t have to re-enact said encounter in the Davenport Theatre April 6-8th).

Granted, I can’t speak for everyone, but I can speak for me and my junk and let me tell ya, those first go-rounds can get dicey. Was the kiss good? How’s my breath? Too hard? Speed up? Slow down? Is a hair-pull out of the question? I can truthfully say that on that first audition (and believe you me, it IS an audition), I still don’t like taking my pants off. And no ladies, it’s not the same as “Well, I don’t like taking my shirt off when being intimate,” because you could have a bubble vest on for all a guy cares, we can still get something done. For a guy, you kinda gotta take your trousers off. Now am I worried? Yes and no. ‘No’ because I think I’m perfect; ‘yes’ because she may beg to differ. I mean, things generally work out nicely, but sometimes you’re so worried about putting in a good showing that you fumble bad, except Big Ben ain’t there to clean that mess up (what?).

I mean, I’ve been to a few rodeos in my day and I’ve even gotten the first place buckle from time to time, but the incident that shaped the sexual creature you see walking the streets today was cast in the dyes of infamy. Well, it wasn’t really infamous because like 10 people know about it, but upon much pondering, it can still strike fear into the Boy Wonder’s heart. Allow me to set the scene: Senior spring, my boy Crazy Nick’s house, Saturday night.

Ok, so at the party are various characters from school, including a young lady who I had messed around with/ been talking to (Sidebar 1: I love the term “talking to.” Just a funny way of dancing around saying ’someone that makes my nipples perk’) earlier in the year. Let this first be known: this was a freaky broad says…everyone who had working knowledge of her situation. So, for someone that did not have working knowledge of it (moi), this is kind of a good thing, no? Well, as I was gettin’ set to put the ‘Gator v. 2.0′ charms on her, Crazy Nick’s girl/jump-off/ good friend of Le Freak, informed me that Le Freak was not interested in making a bad decision with me. Being the cool nigga (read: punk) that I was, I let the situation rest.

Since we don’t believe in driving drunk unless you’re gonna get your allowance taken away by mom and dad, everyone stayed at the house (a nice three-story number on the East Side of Providence). Now, Crazy Nick was in his room on the third floor con jump-off (word to my Rican duns) and I was supposed to sleep across the hall. Le Freak (who was good friends with Crazy Nick’s sister, Sinsemilla), was on the second floor, and the rest of the rabblerousers were scattered about the premises.

So, as everyone is going to bed, I walk Le Freak to her room and say goodnight. As I turn to leave, she keeps a hold of my paw. JUMP-OFF ALERTTTTTT!! So I did my best Billy Dee and was like, “So you want me to stay?” and she was like “Word.” I told her I’d be right back and ran to Crazy Nick’s room to get a prophylactic. My heart was pounding as I went back to Le Freak’s room. Now, I was no virgin, but by ‘no virgin’ I mean I’d had sex five times (but four of those times was with a girl I’d had a crush on since first grade. Ah, the sweet wine of redemption). Anyway, we get all the preliminary stuff out of the way and finally it was time to get down to business. I had been waiting for this moment pretty much all of high school. Let’s just say the time it took me to procure said prophylactic was probably longer than the time I got to actually use it. Clearly, I went to bed only slightly less dejected than Sasha Cohen did last night (zing!). Still, there was redemption to be had that morning. And by redemption I mean a repeat performance. Womp womp.

Thankfully, Le Freak was a friend of mine and only told like four girls, which, by simple extrapolation is probably like 25 people, but I didn’t get my sex license taken, so I guess I should be thankful for the opportunity to make right that wrong by skeeting it forward (like ‘pay it forward’ but with ejaculant). Kinda like Batman did after his parents got killed, but with regard to my pipe and ego. I think first sexual encounters are the reality tv God laughs at with the angels. Peace to the rookies.

Penultimate Thought: This is a good semester for meeting cool people before you never see them again.

Final Thought: There are few things more uncomfortable than watching a sex scene in a movie with your parents.

QUESTION OF THE DAY

How is Major League Baseball culpable in the steroid scandal?