Bawdy Language

1. Darken the room. Close your eyes. Sex between people over 90 ain’t pretty.
2. Dress is critical; flannel, de rigueur. Avoid nightgowns or pajamas with Hello Kitty on them.
3. Remove your dentures. This can keep you from accidentally swallowing them during a critical moment or having them inadvertently slip out and attach themselves to an embarrassing part belonging to your partner.
4. Have a feather duster nearby to clean away assorted cobwebs and dust which have accumulated since you last had sex.
5. Put an LP of patriotic music on your record player. Turn up to full volume. This is a sure way to get the attention of long dormant organs. “Wake up, wake up, you sleepy head.”
6. Remove all IV tubes, lest your partner get the wrong idea.
7. Use a fine lubricant. Have you considered axle grease?
8. Let it all hang out. (It probably will anyway.)
9. Avoid positions such as 69 or reduce them proportionately to the age of the practitioners. 33 1/3 rpm might work better for you.
10. Do not light up after sex, especially if your oxygen tanks are nearby.
11. Be brave. Forget about death. You could be coming and going at the same time. Such a deal!
12. Now that you are no longer a first-timer, consider taking up swinging.
13. Condoms? You never know. Child-support can be a bitch at any age.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

I am hung like a tic-tac-if you know what I mean. How exactly do I take my pebbles, marbles, love apples, acorns, or whatever you call them, and make something out of them by finally growing a set of balls?

Dear Bollixed Up,

To be a man today means having real cajones, the size of watermelons. This is often equated with courage, though admittedly, a rather strange place in which to carry it.

Growing a set of balls is no easy task. You can either send for a case of our testicle seeds which should be planted and watered daily. The other alternative is to just get a fucking life

Once accomplished, your balls will then be evident for one and all to see. Sorry to be such a — you should pardon the expression—“ball breaker,” but Dr. Bawdy calls ‘em the way he seez ‘em.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

Masturbation has me confused. Is it self-pleasure or self-abuse? And why do people talk about the price you’ll have to pay for doing it? How much exactly is it? I live on a limited budget.

Dear Whacked Out,
Not to worry your little head about it — whichever mood you’re in creates the moment. For most of us, it’s a little bit of each. As to the price, that’s completely up to you—spend as little or as much as you like.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

Why is a boner a synonym for both a hard-on and an error?

Dear Woody,

Like the cigar that’s only a cigar (OOPS, I forgot about Bill and Monica), a boner is sometimes only a mistake — nothing less, nothing more. Things simply have a way of unexpectedly rising to the occasion. Boners like shit often just happen. Don’t read too much into it. That may be hard to take, but do so… and just move on.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

My local SPCA chapter objects to my spanking the monkey, slamming the seal, and choking the chicken. Are there less objectionable practices?

Dear Pet Sensitive,

There’s always patting the pup, stroking the bunny, and tickling the kitty. They should all pass muster. That failing, take the situation firmly in hand, reject the ideological rigidity of the pet freaks, and just simply bang away.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

I knocked up my old lady, and she now wants me to make an honest woman of her. How exactly do I do that?

Construction Novice,

Send for our plans ($3.95 plus s/h): “Making an Honest Woman,” part 64, subsection (a), paragraph 32. Follow the instructions to the detail.

There’s nothing complicated about it. It’s so simple a child can do it, maybe even a crocodile. Some assembly required. Batteries not included.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

I’m just a farm boy down here in Iowa. It gets pretty lonely on cold, dark, winter nights; so I’ve made good friends with one of my sheep – if you know what I mean. What do you have to say about that?

Dear Wool Gatherer,

You won’t get any ba-a-a-as from me on it. Hey, whatever turns ewe on! We just calls ‘em the way we sees ‘em.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,

Why does “seeing someone” mean that you are also doing them?

Dear Short-Sighted,

Nine out of ten ophthalmologists recently surveyed reported that seeing someone meant you were fucking them. They attributed this to a full screening and thorough annual eye examination by a licensed health care provider.

Fucking well is a direct function of your vision, meaning it’s important that you see (I mean “visit”) your eye doctor regularly. Proper vision increases the likelihood of the phenomenon called “love at first sight.” Without it you wouldn’t even be able to “first set eyes on someone.”

Nothing is more important to a relationship than love at first sight. It’s a highly efficient procedure, one which saves both parties lots of time, having to really know one another. You know the drill: Fuck first, ask questions later.

Less common is when people who know each other a long time still continue to look at one another. Now, that’s something really fuckin’ remarkable and really outa sight!

Dear Dr. Bawdy,
I love it when my husband plays with my clit — especially when he can find it. But last week, he suddenly stopped doing it. When I asked him why, he said that he was a follower of your dictum, "If you can’t say it, you can't do it." …And darned, if he can’t find the words to describe what he's doing. When I asked him why that was, he simply grinned and said, "I just can't put my finger on it." Is that some kind of joke or something?

Dear Strokeless,
Humor is in the eye of the beholder, and, in this case, it's tucked away deep in the creases of his mind. Being the last word on the subject, it is incumbent on me to come up with something, so let me propose "Tickle me Elmo." Or "Touch and Glow."

If these phrases don't suit his fancy, and yours too, I suggest taking up a different recreational activity, perhaps anal sex where the object under consideration is more easily visible and accessible, and hence more easily named.

Dear Dr. Bawdy,
My boyfriend recently called me a "cunt." Should I be angry over that?

Dear Word-Challenged,
Words at times fail, even for the best of us. Allow me to answer your query by resorting to the contemporary argot: "Yo Ho! What kind of fuckin' retard are you anyhow?"