Column:

Picking up where the sex columnist left off

By Dan Friesen

Published Oct. 9, 2007

Children, I have to confess that I have not been doing a good job keeping up with my reading of campus publications this semester. I like to try to keep abreast of campus goings-on, but failure to do so tends to make it hard to make light of and mock the issues my fellow students seem to hold sacred.

This week, I did read a copy of MOVE, The Maneater's arts and entertainment magazine. It was garbage, but it redeemed itself by containing a new column by Alicia Smith Jr., sex columnist extraordinaire.

As Friesen Point fans will recall, I "discovered" Smith last semester during her groundbreaking Places You Can Get It series. I can't believe she got passed up for this year's SHINE Awards despite my relentless one-man letter writing campaign, but we can't live in the past.

I spent the summer in a state of terrible anxiety, worrying that The Maneater editors would not have the foresight to rehire Smith. How could I possibly live my life, please my girlfriend or find enjoyment in an autumn breeze without Smith's weekly offerings? I could not, and that is why I am damn glad she got her column back for another semester.

This week's article, "The more, the merrier," is an insightful treatise on having a threesome. It is a triumph. She hits all the threesome bases: the 69, the daisy chain, the devil's triangle. She covers it all.

The rub, as I see it, is that Smith, try as she might, can't possibly provide all the needed sexual advice to our campus. I feel that as a disciple of hers, I should do all that is in my power to lighten her yolk and enlighten the masses. What follows is a description of my favorite sexual position: the wheelbarrow. I am going to give fictional names for the people involved. This just makes it easier:

Aden first noticed Jill when she passed his table on her way to the bathroom. He thought he noticed a twinkle in her eyes, the come-hither look of a woman on the prowl. He knew he noticed the slight bounce of her supple breasts as she walked and the shapely largess of her backside. It was as if she had stolen a bundt cake and sought to smuggle the thing out in the ass of her pants.

Aden decided to act on the potential twinkle sighting and got up to follow her to the bathroom. And it was a damn good decision. As he opened the door, in front of him sat Jill, spread-eagle on the sink, with her vagina more exposed than Brangelina's home life. Aden took his cue to disrobe, his penis already standing at rigid attention.

Jill took his cue, threw off her remaining clothes and jumped into Aden's arms. They made out there in the bathroom, their tongues joining together in the most ancient dance of passion. Then, Aden gave Jill the universal sign for "wheelbarrowing," a scratch of the nose. Aden spun Jill around so she was facing away from him and pulled her legs out from under her, holding them like the handles of the machine for which the position is named. Jill was a pro; she foresaw this and was ready to catch herself with her hands before hitting the ground. And then he put his penis in her vagina. Eventually, he came. In her vagina.

Wow, that was really something. Join me next week when I discuss the piledriver. And remember, nothing is more rock 'n' roll than having sex without a condom.