You can't make a hoe a housewife

THE WOMAN WHO CAN'T STOP ORGASMINGGUARANTEE: This is a good one.

I had my first orgasm at the age of 17. I was sitting at my desk at school when all of a sudden, I felt a warm, pulsing feeling in my genital area. My vagina flared up and I couldn't think straight. It was like someone had squeegeed my thoughts away. I was like, whoa, what's that? It felt really erotic and good, but I was also freaked out, scared, and confused. After that, it started happening a few times a day. I searched online for spontaneous orgasms, but all I found was weird porn.

It kept getting worse. During my second semester of senior year, I counted orgasms on a sheet of paper. I was having 100 and 200 a day. I ran to hide in the bathroom between classes to relieve the pressure.

By the time I started college, the orgasms became even more intense and disruptive, and I was having trouble concentrating. I became really depressed. I didn't know what was wrong with me, and I wasn't getting any better. I cried a lot. I hid in the bathroom. I became violently protective of my privacy. In the beginning, I told everyone I trusted about my condition. People said things like: "You're so lucky!" and "Dude, I'd love to date you." They didn't understand why I wanted it to go away, and labeled me a drama queen. The school psychiatrist thought I was crazy. After my sophomore year, I bought a bunch of vibrators and took medical leave.

One day in 2003, a friend sent me an article in the Boston Globe about a newly discovered condition called Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome*. When I read it, I started crying hysterically — it described exactly what I was going through. I immediately made an appointment at the institute the article linked to, and after hours of tests, I was diagnosed with PSAS. My engorged genitalia and hypersensitivity made me a textbook case. Every other doctor had thought I was just a delusional hypochondriac.

So this chick thinks she has Persistent Sexual Arousal Disorder? I don't know what quacks she went to that told her that, but this is the easiest fucking diagnosis in the history of medicine. This is like the first lesson on Day 1 of med. school. Hmmm your pussy drips like a New Orleans basement and you cum 200 times a day? Wammo! You're a horny slut. Luckily for you it is treatable with a daily dose of dick, dick, and some more dick. Instead of making up some bullshit about an Arousal Disorder, the doctors should've told her to embrace her magical pussy and start her own website or something. Problem solved.

This slut goes on to say:

PSAS feels like having a second heartbeat. No, it's more than that. It's alive — it has its own life force, a mind of its own. I often wonder if this is how teenage boys feel about their erections.

Funny you should ask, because that's exactly how teenage boys feel about their erections. Teenage boys and every other member of the male species between the ages of 11 and dead. And we all know that a random boner is like a scab. If you pick at it, it will only get worse. If you leave it alone, it will eventually go away.

Back in the day I used to get boners on the school bus every goddamn morning. And you know why? Me neither. No clue. There was no fucking rhyme or reason to it. But I didn't cry about it or hide in the bathroom or buy a bunch of dildos and go on medical leave. I tucked that young whippersnapper up into my waistband and rattled off as many state capitals in my head as possible. Done and done.

VERDICT:
this is the prime difference between chicks and guys. if a chick tallies up her 200 orgasms a day on a piece of paper, she's a fucking legend. if a guy tallies up all his orgasms a day, he's just a retarded creep with a sticky piece of paper