Boys pee pee when they see me.

Okay, dear Beaters. Let me just clear up any potential confusion on this subject before your pervy lil’ gears get to spinnin’ by stating that I am in no way shape or form into getting peed on. I may be submissive but I prefer to keep my showers clear, not golden. If you’re one of those girls who gets off on walking around with your man’s piss in your hair, more power to you, but Crackie don’t play that.  


That being said, it has always sort of fascinated me that most men are totally unafraid to drain the snake in public, popo and passersby be damned. It’s right up there with dudes drinking milk straight from the carton, opening beer bottles with lighters, switching lanes while switching gears, and other things that I am perfectly capable of doing myself but would rather see done by a meaty pair of (preferably heavily tattooed) forearms. If that makes you mad, like maybe you’re feeling like you want to take away my feminizzle card, then so be it, but I want no part in any club that doesn’t let me trick men into doing physical labor for me. Fuck outta here with that mess, I got nails to maintain, ya heard?

But back to the splatter at hand. Shit is masculine as fuck. I mean, think about it. The ease with which they assume that solid, legs-slightly-parted stance; the blatant disregard to catching a public urination charge (no small potatoes here in New York, where violators are required to register as sex offenders); and the fact that you know they’re touching their dick, albeit in a completely nonsexual context: all of these things make me feel all warm and fuzzy in my no-no place.  

And then at the same time, there’s a vulnerability factor there that can’t be overlooked. Standing there, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, lost in the relief of emptying a probs booze-filled bladder–they’re totally immersed in the euphoria of the pee. That combination of fierceness and susceptibility is, if you think about it, one of the most lovable occurrences in nature. (For the record, I think girls who are ballsy enough to drop trou under the wild blue yonder are also rad as fuck, but since this is a blog about how much we love dick, I’ll leave that one to another time and place.)

I’ve talked to some other ladies about whether or not this particular interest qualifies me for legit creep status. Calisha Jenkins, for example, does not see the appeal. But I’ve heard tell of other chicks who are equally fascinated, if not more so. So, with that in mind, I bring you the first in a series of original photographs meant to objectify dudes taking leaks (because, after all, we are female chauvinists if nothing else). What do you think, girls? Gross? Hot? Leave it in the comments, yo.

May 13, 2009. crackie treehorn, feminizzle, ginger dick, nyc, public urination, we love scumbags. 1 comment.

Back Up ‘Cause His Mass’ll Chokeya!

Do I even need to say anything? That is my kind of party.

February 27, 2009. celebrity crushes, ginger dick, meat products, videos. Leave a comment.

Ginger Flucking and the Near Raping of the Conchord

This is Tila Tofeelher signing in for The Dicktator. I’m her West Coast Identity. I’m working on a better pseudonym, but this is what I got right now.

Here’s the report from the sheets.

I realize my whole adult life has been a revolving door of D. Good D and bad D. I don’t think I’ve been able to get through more than a month without crashing into the D. Quite literally. And a girl needs to take a break every so often– like the Master Cleanse, but instead of drinking lemonade for 10 days, I was trying to go on a dick fast and meditate about my how my obsession with the D was totally counter productive to my life. So for three months, I went on a D break. My goal was to get through six months of a D break.

I had all sorts of “cheats” built in. I dry humped this comedy writer and made out with some dude at a bar in Dumbo. But I did manage to keep out the D for three months. A world record for me, Tila Tofeelher.

Well, I broke the Dick fast a couple days ago, when this redhead boy from two years ago crashed in. I have a thing for Ginger men (Ginger, a term popularized by South Park). They are like little peals of innocence in big manly packages. Recessive genes and ghostly skin replete with literary innocence.

I also have a thing for Korean men. Yet somehow, I don’t think I’d ever be inclined to boink a cross between a Korean and a Ginger.

Anyway, this Ginger came back into my life. He must have scraped the bottom of his booty call barrel and found me because I thought I’d never hear from him again.

It was a good night of D. Unlike the last D who came by (I call that last guy “The One Thrust Wonder”), this Ginger can’t come. He just kinda stays hard forever… like a dildo with a nice temperature and good a face!

I kept asking all night: “How can you not come?” And he just said he has a hard time coming and usually has to jerk off to actually come. We went for a really really long time at night, and then again in the morning. My mouth got dry because we were going at it so long. I went into the kitchen for some water and then he started to pump away from behind me as I hovered over the sink. And even when I finally told him I was done and he should just jerk it off, he couldn’t– with all the lube and wanking. We were getting so bored waiting for him to come already that we started talking about our taxes.

Which leads me to this question…

Are gingers genetically inclined to stay hard forever and not come? Is there a recessive gene linked to red hair that cause gingers to stay hard so long?

He’s the first ginger I’ve actually bedded. So I’m ready to test out my theory if I find more of them. Where will I find them? NOT in the sun!

In other news, I totally suck at celebrity rape.

I saw Bret from Flight of the Conchords at a quiz bowl event in Los Feliz. I had been told he would be there and made sure I sat at the table that was reserved for him.

He’s somewhat gaunt in real life (why is it most hipsters have scoliosis? And why does it affect the celebrities?).

I stammered about what to say to him. Unlike David Cross in Mr. Show, I actually don’t have a whole lot of Flight of the Conchords taglines memorized. So I couldn’t even stoop to the obnoxious level of quoting his work.

Instead, I accused his table (who won the quiz bowl) of cheating with iphones (an ungrounded accusation) and then sat five feet from him updating my facebook status about him. Then I ran off to go fluck the ginger.

February 26, 2009. Bret McKenzie, celebrity crushes, dick, flight of the conchords, ginger dick, real sex. 7 comments.