5 Worst Liquors To Put On Your Penis

As only an alcoholic would, or maybe a Catholic Priest, I accepted the challenge laid before me and present you with this little nugget I pulled from my brain, which means it's of lower quality than the lint I pulled from my belly button the other day. The great loosener of one's lips and women's inhibitions, alcohol makes people do some pretty weird (stupid) things at times. And I mean weird. Not the typical, you got drunk and tried to mount your grandma's vacuum cleaner during last year's family reunion, and then propose a threesome when your great aunt Beth catches you. Or was that aunt Ruth...

Or maybe chugging citronella, because you're too wasted to realize that it's not your long island, and subsequently throwing chunks all over your friends new baby when you couldn't hold it down. No, we've all done THAT sort of stuff. I mean really weird.

The combining of perishable food items with sex is a Dionysian pursuit of which I have never fully grasped. I mean I get it. I understand the eroticism and carnal pleasure that which is enjoyed in engaging in such á la carte activities. I just don't dig it. All I can think about is how sticky things are gonna get afterward, am I going to have to wash the sheets, or is my boss going to notice the marshmallow cream and jujubes stuck in my hair the next morning. I suppose I would take the same stance when it comes to alcohol. I love alcohol. But do I really want to drink tequila from between some woman's toes as she pours it down her leg ...moment to think about it... No. I know it sounds like fun at first. That's until you get a piece of sock fuzz and toe jam stuck between your teeth and wonder why you have a sudden craving for Dr. Scholls. After you've taken a moment to clear that image out of your head, I give you the 5 worst liquors to put on your penis.

#5. Tequila

As I mentioned it above, tequila has to be one of the more popular topical inebriators. It never fails. It's the shirt lifting, bead hoarding co-ed's drink of choice. Where tequila flows stupid things are bound to follow. First and foremost as to why I'd prefer eating mystery dumpster yogurt to putting tequila on my body is that it burns. I'm also pretty sure the salt and lime wedge can't be all that pleasant either. It does, however, give a whole new meaning to the term "eating the worm." (yes, I know it's mezcal that has the worm. Work with me here.) The point I'm trying to get at is that tequila has no place on a guy's penis. On a woman's body, however, is a completely different story.


#4. Jägermeister

Jäger definitely has a history of manliness to it. I mean, the literal translation is "hunt-master."

There's even a German poem about it, calling it a sign of honor, a badge of glory. Who wouldn't want to put it on their schlong. I wouldn't. It's stickier than the floor of an adult theater. It's the anti-lube. It serves no practical purpose in the bedroom from what I can tell, except to make your genitals smell like licorice. It's all the rage these days. I hear Axe is coming out with a new anisette scent next month. It's also cold (if served properly), which means your little storm trooper is likely to turn into a little Schildkröte, and nobody wants that.


#3. Whiskey

Bourbon, Scotch, Irish, Canadian, Rye it doesn't matter which one you speak of, they are all grouped together in on big "I don't belong on your skin" category. It burns. It fuck'n burns (worse than the stray shot in the eye, I hear). Is there really anything more that needs to be said. I put it on my forearm for 30 seconds and I have a red rash that stays with me all night. Do you really want that "down there?" Do you think you're gonna drop your pants and women are gonna say, "gimme some of that" after they see what it's done? No, they're going to turn tail and run like you have the bubonic plague in your pants.

When I go into a bar and order a double Wild Turkey, it turns a few heads. When I ask for it in a wider glass so that I can dip my balls in it, it usually ends with a black eye and a nice quiet evening alone at the police station for indecent exposure. Oh, did I forget to mention, and a sore throbbing dick. Just don't do it.


#2. Goldschläger

This one ranks above both whiskey and Jäger in that it not only burns, but is sticky as well. That's just great. It's basically like on oil fire on your crotch. It burns like a motherfucker and pouring water on it only helps it to spread. At least Jägermeister is like an herbal salve. It's the holistic approach for the hippy alcoholics interested in spicing up their love life.

I know that most women love gold, but those little flakes stuck to your penis are more likely to make her think you have some horrible rare STD than put a sparkle in her eye. I don't use cinnamon toothpaste anymore because it burns too much, why would I want it on my dick.


#1. Everclear

If you haven't notice a recurring theme amongst the runners-up I'll state it again. Alcohol Burns. Things that burn do not belong on your crotch. I mean, I like to use Gold Bond down there. The mentholated tingle is kind of refreshing, and powdering up keeps me dry and fresh all day, but that's pretty much where I draw the line. Therefore at 95% alcohol-by-volume, the hands down winner has to be Everclear.

It's over twice as potent that most of your whiskeys, and it'll strip paint off the walls. If you happen to have a bad case of crabs, perhaps Everclear is just what you need, but what do I know. I'm not a doctor.

For the rest of you people out there, just try to heed my warning the next time you get drunk and things start to get a little kinky. Just because it tastes good, it isn't worth a trip to the ER. Try explaining that one to the duty nurse.

For the Benefit of Mister Dicks

If you have read Richard's post on last Saturday's unfortunate events, you may be wondering what happened the night before to cause all that. (And if you're Richard Dicks, you're definitely wondering what happened that night.) So, without further ado...

My girlfriend and I had gone to an excellent pizza shop with Paddy and his wife for some pizza and a pitcher of Yuengling. We were particularly impressed with their heavy glass beer pitchers and their cooler's awe-inspiring selection of large beer cans (that last bit will figure into an upcoming joint post with me and MC Paddy, keep an eye out for that.) Afterward, we were considering either checking out a roadhouse up the highway to hear a blues band and continue drinking, or just hanging out at Paddy's pad; but then my phone rang. It was Dicks. He was down at the bar we used to hang out at (see his post for details) and he was wondering if we wanted to check out what had become of it since being sold. The four of us agreed we were curious, but we'd all been putting it off and figured now was as good a time as any; so we hit the road.

By the time we got there, Richard was already reeking of beer and- not three sheets to the wind, but maybe one-and-a-half. The music was a bit too loud for casual conversation, but the booze was cheap and a thorough cleaning had done the building well. I'd be lying if I said I was having fun, mainly because of the lack of conversation, but Richard seemed to be having a good time. We stayed for a couple rounds, but then the karaoke began. Richard invited us all over to his home bar, which is better stocked than most commercial bars. So we all caravanned up to his place, and commenced to serious boozing.

Richard's bar can be a bit overwhelming sometimes. There are so many possibilities that people tend to just stand and stare when asked to pick their poison. Once you get rolling, though, it's quite an experience going through cocktails most bartenders haven't heard of and most bars aren't equipped to serve. Shots of Ouzo, Jim Beam yellow, Jager and root beer, Sailor and Cokes, gin and tonics. Richard had been away on work for awhile, and during that period his wife had developed a taste for whisky. In fact, she had drank him out of Jameson's, and asked him to make her a Bushmill's and Coke. No high school quarterback watching his son grow up to win the Superbowl could ever look as proud as Richard did at that moment. As for Paddy, Richard, and myself... our alcoholic consumption was all over the place, spanning the full range of what Richard's bar had to offer.

Jager and Root Beer - In Central Pennsylvania, Paddy was introduced to a shooter called a "Jim Morrison". It's roughly 50/50 Jägermeister and root beer schnapps. Few I've spoken to have have heard of it, and no one knows why it bears the true name of the Lizard King. Anyway, a few years ago, Paddy thought; if Jager and root beer schnapps makes a good shooter, Jager and root beer would probably be a good cocktail. And so it is!



Sailor and Coke - Bacardi sucks. There, I said it. Even mixed with something as bold as Coca Cola, I prefer better tasting rum. My girlfriend always specifies "Captain and Coke" when drinking out, just to ensure her beverage isn't made with Bacardi, or worse. But if you really want to get the job done, I highly recommend replacing your Captain Morgan with Sailor Jerry. No, it's not a cheap nautical ripoff; it's named for a tattoo artist, as each bottle's booklet explains. It's about the same price, it's much higher proof, and tastes just about the same. And I challenge anyone to find something wrong with that.



Ouzo - A clear liqueur, popular in Greece, flavored heavily with annise (licorice). Think Sambuca and you're not far off. Shots were poured, but at the last secon Richard plopped an ice cube in each. Because of the anise, it then louched like Absinthe and turned a milky white.

Early in the night, Richard came to the realization that he could drink as much as he wanted because he didn't have to drive (we're always careful about that.) Now, I didn't notice Richard drinking any more than Paddy or myself. Maybe the cocktails he was drinking were a bit stronger, or maybe he was doing shots when no one was looking. Whatever the reason, Richard just seemed to get drunker quicker. Soon, his eyes were half closed, and he was shuffling his feet to keep from falling down. At some point in the evening, his terrified guinea pig made an appearance. At first his wife just reminded him that he's allergic to the guinea pig and shouldn't be letting it crawl all over him, but Richard was too drunk to care. Eventually Richard started breaking out in hives, and his wife just had to order him to put the piggy back.

Paddy and I had to drive home, so we were watching our intake and by the time 2AM rolled around, not only was I under the legal limit to drive home, I was downright sober. But Richard, well...

He made one more rum and coke to take with him, stumbling up the steps to say goodbye to Paddy and his wife. When he came down 2 minutes later, the rum and coke was half empty. My girlfriend commented that Richard will probably be sleeping in the bathtub, which he is wont to do in these situations. "Nooo!!!" Richard vehemently denied, drunkenly waggling his head. But upon further consideration, he admitted "Well... maybe." The weary look in his wife's eyes confirmed that it would be a long night.

And so it was.