Summary: The Association for the Betterment of Sex (A.B.S.) presents Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk, a radical and invaluable resource for improving your sexual communication—whether you have been in a committed relationship for years, or have just moments ago removed the shrinkwrap from your new Japanese body pillow. 
 
Exhaustively researched and fully illustrated, Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk is a must-read for you, your sexual partner(s), and anyone who wishes there was more to sex than thrashing around for a few seconds and begging for forgiveness.

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Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk, by The Association for the Betterment of Sex 7.0

It’s called ‘Sex: Our Bodies, Our Junk’. Of course I had to buy it. That it was championed by Conan O’Brien (“Possibly the most irresponsible book written on the subject of sexuality since ‘The Berenstein Bears Host a Key party'”) also helped. Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart? Not so much. They cover politics. What does that have to do with sex?

Oh, riiiight.

‘Our Bodies, Our Junk’ is basically a spoof on your everyday sex manual, complete with charts, pictures and drawings. You might even be forgiven if you flipped through it and thought it was a real manual. I mean, if a Rubik’s cube and a mushroom-shaped penis didn’t ring any alarm bells, that is. And if they didn’t you’re dumber than most.

Or kinkier.

It starts with hilarious “His” and “Hers” forewords introductions by Andy Richter and Sarah Thyre, which provide readers with early advice on how to make a sex life work in a long-term relationship. Their qualification? The pair had been married for 16 years in 2010, when it was published – which would make them married 22 years now…

Woah… do people still do that these days? It seems so… um… traditional…

Man… can you imagine having sex with the same person for 22 years? I can’t. (Aside for myself, I mean.) (Look, I tried to move on, but my powers of seduction are far too great; my willpower simply can’t withstand such an assault.) (At least I don’t have sex exclusively with myself. So I guess that means I’m in an open relationship…)

Anyway, by the time we get to Chapter 1, “Human Sexual Anatomy (Are you normal? No.)” we know we’re in for a ride. And, if we didn’t, for some reason, we soon discover that the fictitious Association for the Betterment of Sex isn’t a very reliable source of information for sex advice. It’s only marginally better than the interwebs.

Or 12 year-old-boys.

For instance, did you know that…

• Their research shows that, other than you, at least one other person on your bus spontaneously lactates every time it rains?

• If you tickle your balls (or your labia majora, I suppose) during an ATM transaction, you are probably masturbating too much?

• The average man spends at least 90 minutes grooming his ding dong in the morning? They can prove it: they have a complete play-by-play!

• The average erect who who dilly is 8.5 inches long, has a girth of 3.8 inches, and a head that’s 7.7 inches in diameter? I know! I feel SO inadequate!

…but that’s okay: they have tricks to enhance the look of one’s Magic Johnson.

• Female orgasms are the stuff of campire tales and cryptozoology. (And, if you believe this one, they’ve got a box of Bigfoot-skin condoms they’d like to sell you.)

I was quite impressed that they even try to unveil the mysteries of the clitoris, which they call the “vagina’s bigfoot”. (True story: I’m pretty sure I saw it once. Maybe.)

There was one thing that I learned, which I’m glad they warned me about: pubic wolves! I didn’t know they were so common! And here I thought that only people who slept around a lot, especially at swingers camping, got those. I’m definitely going to the local adult fun shop to get some pubic hairnets. You can never be too careful.

So ‘Our Bodies, Our Junk’ does have some saving grace.

Ultimately, though, I can’t help but wonder if it’s too much of a good thing. It’s a very funny book, but I felt unsatisfied in the end, even though I’d burst out laughing countless times (which might explain why people were shuffling away from me in the bus)(I hope that’s all it was…). Is it because the gags ended up cancelling each other out?

Like, if sex was ALL orgasm… like one, long consistent orgasm for the whole duration of your sexual escapade… wouldn’t an orgasm lose its luster after a while? The idea might seem appealing at first, but think about it: you’d go literally mad with pleasure. It would probably hurt – and in not that good way, like when you’re using a sounder.

Plus think about how dehydrated you would be: You’d not only need lube, but also a super size tube of chapstick.

What I’m trying to say is… You need ebb and flow for sex to be exciting. The same goes for humour. And I think that’s part of ‘Our Bodies, Our Junk’s problem. Well, it has many problems (or at least its sick, twisted authors do!) but, from a reader’s perspective, I think that it may very well have been hampered by quantity.

Or maybe it was quality. What the hell do I know? I feel so dirty… so dirty…

I’m going to go rinse my eyes now.