This Week in Sex

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Weekend Review
Quote of the Week

“I am a brunette after all, and I just like to match my pubic hair sometimes.”

— Madonna on her haircolor change. Apparently, after two years of producing crap, Madge, like husband Guy Ritchie, can boast about nothing but snatch.

Photo of the Week

Afghanistan President Hamid Karzai demonstrates his two-finger technique.

Where the Eriksson Don’t Shine

Disbelief followed by hearty cackling broke out at a shopping mall in Negril, Jamaica, last week when a female shopper’s stolen cellphone was found ringing inside another shopper’s vagina. (And you thought your phone going off during the opening credits of Maid in Manhattan was discommodious.) Here’s how it all went down: after realizing her celly had gone missing, a shopper confronted a woman she suspected had taken it. The sticky-fingered ne’er-do-well denied everything and waddled outside. The owner of the phone gave chase, followed by a crowd; one quick-thinking rubberneck asked for the victim’s phone number and began dialing. Soon a ring, quite literally muffled, emanated from between the woman’s legs. Yep – she’d gone one better than stashing it in her underpants. The crowd then held the woman down and plucked the phone from her punani. The irate owner reassured the crowd she would have it properly sanitized before using it again. Um, we dunno, hon. Maybe you just ought to let that one go… — Grant Stoddard

“You See a Big Sign at the Side of the Mosque”

With six body doubles, a labyrinth of underground lairs and questionable whereabouts, Saddam Hussein could be considered an international man of mystery. But similarities to Austin Powers don’t stop there. Last week, U.S. soldiers infiltrated one of Hussein’s downtown residences and found the wily old dictator’s shagadelic love nest. The underground apartment contained a fully-mirrored bedroom, lamps shaped like wanton women, and #&151; perhaps most amusingly — airbrushed paintings of a topless blonde and a mustachioed hero battling a crocodile. Soldiers initially thought the pad belonged to Saddam’s mistress, though the walls held photos of the former Iraqi president and a woman who appeared to be his wife (although maybe she has body doubles too…) Other findings: a sunken wet bar stocked with twenty-year old Italian wines and expensive brandies, and tablets of Viagra imported from Jordan. It all inspired a hearty round of Yeah, baaaabyyyys from soldiers as they slogged from room to room. However, Saddam still couldn’t quite match his son for heresy: turns out that Odai Hussein has a picture of the Bush twins hanging above his treadmill. True! We couldn’t make shit like that up if we tried. — Grant Stoddard

Celebrity Sexposé #1

“Lucy [Liu] has the most gorgeous ass I’ve ever seen on any woman. It’s like a delicious peach. I’m lucky because I’m her pal and get to squeeze it every day.”

— Drew Barrymore on her Charlie’s Angels co-star.

A Mistake They Could Ill-A-Fjord

Ikea is probably the best place in the universe. Think about it. You’ve got furniture designed to match your contemporary lifestyle at a reasonable price. You’ve got Swedish meatballs with lingonberry jam. You’ve got a BALL PIT, for chrissake. It’s like Willy Wonka’s factory times nine hundred. And then there are the product names: those futons and brightly colored coffee tables labeled Tügi and Svenbørg and whatever. We always figured it was some sort of joke — that those monikers translated to like, “stochastic dwarf ballet,” or “self-hating anthropology major” — and that as we strapped our new acquisitions to the roof of our car, somewhere in Sweden, advertising execs were laughing at us over their Absolut and smorgasbords. Anyway, it seems that the Swedes were entirely in charming Swedish earnest, and that in a rare turn of events, it’s the Germans who are laughing at the rest of the world. See, there’s this one Ikea bed – a child’s bunk bed, no less – that bears the moniker “Gutvik.” Sounds a bit dirty already, doesn’t it? Well, know this: in German, “gutvik” means “good fuck.” An Ikea spokesman said the allusion was unintentional and that the bed was named after a small town in Sweden. Well, this means that there is a small town in Sweden called “Good Fuck,” which is really even funnier. You should hear what “Hackensack” means in Croatian. Oy! — Carrie Hill Wilner

Celebrity Sexposé #2

“One of Melanie’s most prized possessions is a bronze replica of Antonio’s phallus that she keeps in their bedroom.” — Excerpt from a new tell-all book about Melanie Griffith and Antonio Banderas

There’s One Bjorn Every Minute

Well, Sweden was out in full effect last week, performing feats of raunch on a scale never before seen in Scandinavia. Now, it didn’t occur to us that there would be a direct flight from the Dominican Republic to Stockholm. But apparently there is such a flight, because if there weren’t, its pilot wouldn’t have been able to ground it in Bermuda when one particularly randy Swede stood up and flashed his fellow passengers. If you ask us, we’d rather deal with schlong-boy prancing up and down the aisles than the inevitable bajillion-hour delay that emergency landings tend to cause, but then again, we’re into that kind of shit. Earlier in the flight, the man and — get this — his female companion had been reprimanded for smoking in the plane’s lavatory, junior-high style. So they already had enemies among the crew. When our new favorite Swede whipped it out and the other 250 passengers couldn’t handle the truth, the pilot radioed ahead to the nearest airport, where the couple were taken to, um, a hospital. Right. Because flashing is a disease. — Carrie Hill Wilner

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