Not all boners are the same. The medical experts at Fanboy Report have identified 21 unique types of stiffies, and we feel as if it’s our responsibility to share with our readers these important findings. It’s imperative that all guys understand what each type means.
Okay, that’s all bull. It’s just hilarious to talk about our junk.
The First Boner
You’re going to hate us for telling you this, and it might make you want to stop reading the rest of our list.
When you were a baby you got erections… in front of your mother or father or whoever happened to be bathing you or changing your diaper. Your parents have seen and possibly touched, your erection.
Just let that sink in, digest what you’re feeling, and move on.
The Pee Boner
Not really an erection at all, when some guys have to urinate really bad they get what’s called a peerection. If you just barely had to go it’s not likely to happen, but if you’ve held off for a long time chances are you’re sporting a little chub at least.
The Awkward Moment Boner
This is that erection you get when you really shouldn’t, like hugging your mother-in-law or your kind of attractive cousin. You are totally not consciously turned on, but somewhere your brain is going, “Female contact! Get the penis going, bro.”
The Called up to the Blackboard Boner
This is perhaps the most (in)famous boner that has ever existed. It happens in your 7th grade math class. You’re sitting there, completely ignoring whatever lesson is happening in the background and things start to stir, and BAM!, the teacher calls on you to do something on the board.
Chances are if you’re reading this you’re past the age when this applies, but know this: You have an obligation to future generations to warn them and to offer advice on how to deal with it. Our favorite solution is simple — put a book in front of it.
The Morning Glory Boner
Everyone knows this boner. It’s a good, reliable boner.
The Gone with the Wind Boner
This is the boner that comes out of nowhere really suddenly. It feels nice and refreshing, but then it’s gone just as quickly. Why these happen cannot be explained. They’re completely mysterious.
The Confusing Boner
These are the erections you get when you really wouldn’t expect to get one, like when you’re watching the Golden Girls or Judge Joe Brown. Is your subconscious trying to say something about your attraction to old ladies or intimidating men? Probably not, but we’ll never know for sure.
The Bored Boner
The reasons for the bored boner are usually pretty obvious — you have nothing to do so your hands are down your pants and not even thinking about what’s going. It’s cool. We all do it. Nothing to see here.
The Hopeful Boner
You’re on a date and it’s going really well. She (or he, we aren’t judging) is laughing at all your jokes, making good eye contact, and all signs point to the date being a winner. Of course, this means you’re hopeful there might be some sort of after date activities. *wink wink*
The Disappointed Boner
These stiffies arrive when that really great date ends in a goodnight kiss on her (or his) doorstep with promises of another date, and your Hopeful Boner needs to be reclassified. This means taking matters into your own hand(s).
The Any Physical Contact is Good Contact Boner
The younger you are the more likely these are to happen, and they really, really suck. Maybe you’re roughhousing with a mate, wrestling, or something like that, and you get a woody… and it’s cringe worthy. Look, guys, it doesn’t mean anything. It happens all the time. Just move on and pretend nothing ever happened. Ever.
The Gym Shorts Boner
These fun fatties happen when you’re out in public wearing gym shorts, and knowing full well that you’ll never be able to hide them, they pop up. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing the tightest underwear in the world, people will notice. Own it. Flaunt it. Show that stiffy who’s boss.
The Everlasting Gobstopper Boner
Ugh, this one just won’t go away. It was fun for a little while, but after a bit, you just want to be left alone. It’s like that annoying person at a party who just doesn’t know when to leave. It’s like, dude, the party is over, gtfo.
The Next Man Up Boner
This is the stiffy that arrives as soon as the other one is gone. It’s like, “Yo, my turn. What can I do to help?” Forget that the circumstance that made the first one arrive is gone or done. This one doesn’t care. He’s here for you, dude.
The Insomniac Boner
It’s time for bed. You turn the lights out, lie down and close your eyes. You’re ready for sleep, but your lil’ buddy doesn’t want any of that and springs to life. It’s like he doesn’t know he’s 8 hours early for the Morning Glory Boner.
There is only one way to handle this annoying problem — choke him until he throws up and subsides.
The Gamer Boner
These are kind of creepy because they come around when you’re gaming and playing a character that is kind of obviously meant to be physically attractive (Lara Croft) and your dick agrees. Yeah, you’re sporting wood over a computer animation, dude. It happens, but I wouldn’t brag about it. A lot of us have been there, but we don’t really like talking about it in case we get a real girlfriend one day.
The Inappropriately Timed Boner
Imagine you’re at a funeral and it’s your turn to add the the eulogy. Some random person you’re close to croaks and you’re expected to say something nice, but then you go boing and need to get up in church full of mourning people. You’re undoubtedly wearing some kind of slacks or dress pants, and you know those won’t help hide anything. This also applies to work presentations, wedding toasts, etc.
The Perfectly Timed Boner
It’s like the stars have aligned and everything is right in the world because you’re sporting wood at the exact right time, just when you need it. It’s like God is looking down on you and blessing whatever you’re doing at that exact moment.
We can hear the angels singing as we write this. It’s glorious. Hallelujah.
The WTF Boner
This is like when your Mini Me comes to life while using a public restroom. It’s disgusting and you have no idea what the heck is going on. Seriously, like wtf?
The Exposure Boner
This is the boner that comes around only when you’re naked/semi-naked in a public setting, like a locker room or when you’re skinny dipping with friends. It’s like it wants to be seen because it can be seen.
The Disappointing Boner
Not to be confused with the Disappointed Boner, this one is all about not meeting it’s full potential. You feel like lecturing it the way your parents did when you got your first C. It could be so much more, if only it would apply itself a little bit. Definitely not its best work.
The Disappointing Boner might also be called The Cold Water Shrinkage Boner.
The Epic Boner
The final and most impressive woody on our list — The Epic Boner. It’s a thing of beauty, perfect in every way. It’s solid like a rock, as big as it can possibly be and awe-inspiring to anyone who sees it. The Epic Boner only appears a few times in your lifetime, but those moments are legendary and go down in history.
If you’ve got an Epic Boner, savor the moment.
Donald Trump as Seen by Google’s Deep Dream
THIS CONTENT WAS REPUBLISHED FROM AN EARLIER DATE.
Last Summer, Google unleashed Deep Dream, their neural network that takes pictures and tries to identify patterns and overwrite them, on an unsuspecting public. When you put an image into Deep Dream, what you get when it “wakes up” is often nightmarish. Dogs, birds, insects, pagodas are inserted at random places in the image, giving it a surreal and sometimes beautiful–if terrifying–aspect.
So, since this election season is already off-the-charts surreal, I thought to myself, “What would it look like if we ran some candidates through Deep Dream?” Well, now I know. I started with Donald Trump, who is already deeply weird and unsettling. The results are spectacular.
From the MRA Evidence Archives: The Journal of a Normal, Average Feminist
Awoke and whispered to my boobs, Bea Arthur and Jackie O, “It’s Tuesday. You know what that means, ladies? Time to oppress some dudes.”
THIS CONTENT WAS REPUBLISHED FROM AN EARLIER DATE.
Tuesday July 5, 2016
Walked to work wearing my plunging crop top that says, “This is what a feminist looks like,” hot pants, and six-inch heels. Tossed my hair a lot and sexily chewed my lower lip. Dropped change so I could slowly bend over and pick it up. It took me about an hour to walk five blocks, which is standard.
Exceeded my catcall goal by seven, a personal best. Super flattering, of course, but will pretend to be terrified and make men feel bad about it with a bunch of tweets. That’ll show them.
Some dowdy librarian tried to help me with the change I kept dropping, and she got catcalled too! No one invades my catcalling turf. Slapped the books right out of her hands. Mostly by Hemingway, whom I both hate and would totally do if he were alive.
Arrived late per usual, but the boss didn’t say anything, just stared at my tits and gave me a pass. I had buttressed Bea Arthur and Jackie O in a push-up bra stuffed with the hard-earned cash of some beta male I cheated on. Good thinking.
By Friday I hope to a) screw my way to executive assistant, b) replace some poor slob who works really hard, or c) file a sexual harassment lawsuit. We’ll just see what the week brings, like whether or not the boss is a lesbian. Fingers crossed!
Spent the rest of the workday playing Candy Crush and convincing Dale from accounting to do everything for me. Stringing Dale along is why I keep coming in. It makes all the pretending to work worth it. I might boink him someday, but I want to see how low he’ll stoop for a bit of action.
I don’t get off on it per se, in so much that I don’t get off. Ever. At all. But I pretend that I could, just to make all the guys I’ve ever been with feel like losers. Watching them fumble and feel emasculated without pants is like Christmas – if I were to sleep with Santa and watch him fumble and feel emasculated without pants.
Went to happy hour after work and didn’t pay a dime. Cosmos just appeared in front of me. Dumb guys just handed me cash for being hot, and I filled my bra until Bea Arthur and Jackie O ballooned up like the boobs of evil women on TV. My role models, natch.
Some dude wearing a huge, purple hat came up to me and said I looked like an uglier Angelina Jolie. He lifted his shirt to show that his torso was hard, rippling, and embroidered with diamonds so he had every right to tell me that. I hooked up with him in the men’s room. That’ll show him.
Went home and let loose a series of drunken, liar tweets about how hard my life is and how I want equality. Even inebriated, it’s important to keep my stilettoed foot on the neck of men everywhere. Those tweets and opinion pieces just skewer them. More powerful than the laws of God or man are the messages I hastily type with my thumbs.
A good Tuesday over all, but did not receive free coffee by sexily slow jamming my order. The barista must’ve taken the red pill.
Woman begs city council to bring back McRib
The McRib Shortage of ’15. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.” #mcrib #sheslovinit
Well over a year ago a tragic event occurred: In the fall of 2015, the executives of McDonald’s made a grave decision, the consequences of which are still felt to this day. They decided that when the McRib was released that year it would… it would allow the regional managers to decide whether or not they would offer the McRib. As a result, a staggering 45 percent of McDonald’s locations elected not to offer the McRib. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.”
First off, shout out to Reader James from Lake Elsinore, CA for alerting us to the tale of hardship and heroism. You see, when Xanthe Pajarillo, a “McRib activist,” realized that none of the ten McDonald’s locations in her hometown of Santa Clarita would be offering the McRib, she did what any reasonable red-blooded American citizen would do. She brought the issue before the city council.
Now it is no secret that the McRib Shortage of ’15 nearly brought the nation to a standstill. In fact, if it weren’t for the release of a special McRib locator app, experts speculate that America would have ceased to exist as it does today. But amidst all of the rolling blackouts, the deaths, and the riots, we overlooked all of the smaller, personal tragedies that took place because of the cruel decision made by nearly half of McDonald’s regional managers.
In her impassioned plea to the Santa Clarita city council, Pajarillo explained just why the McRib meant so much to her and her family, and why the city council had to act in order to bring it back.
“The removal of the McRib from the menu has affected my family, because every Thanksgiving, my family would, like, order a 50-piece chicken McNugget and like, 10 McRibs. It was like, a tradition in our family, and now it’s like—well, like my family’s holiday spirit is kind of messed up and broken.”
Recently Pajarillo heroic speech before the city council has gone viral, gaining attention at the national stage across social media. Since that dramatic event, Pajarillo has continued to fight for the return of the McRib, even going so far as to release a song dubbed “The McRib Blues.” In it, she lays bare her soul and the souls of those like her to whom the McRib is more than just a barbecue pork sandwich, but is instead, a way of life.
There are those out there, deplorables who hardly deserve mention, that call her bravery nothing more than a stunt. Performance art holding up a mirror to America’s consumerism and obsession. However, others stand by the truth. Pajarillo is a hero, fighting for both a sandwich, but also for something more. Something ephemeral. That little piece of Americana that brings us all together. The McRib.
Fight on, brave warrior, fight on.
♪ Cause we have right to eat what we like, McRib is worth the fight ♪
Still can’t get enough of the McRib? Learn how a McRib is made, courtesy of BuzzFeed.
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