Matters of Size Is the Only Penis Exercise Motivation You Need

Occasionally, the blogging gods will look down on you and smile. Last week was one of those times as I got a notification of a new Twitter follower. Although @MoSNetwork meant little to me at first glance, I then saw the name attached, Matters of Size. I then saw the profile, and my interest was officially piqued when I read the following:

A BROTHERHOOD of over 150,000 men exploring men's issues & natural male enhancement exercises on the world famous MOS Forums.

I thought for sure that would be the best part, but then I saw the profile picture, and I nearly spit all over myself.

That is just...that's amazing. The overly gelled hair, the earring, the chain, and that extra thick t-shirt. And that's before we go to the face where he is making a face I didn't know really existed, but without words, he seems to be saying "Hey, are you going to eat that earwax?"

And the tweets? The tweets are all incredible. Like, this man puts out more gold in a week than the best accounts do in a month. Here are the best tweets from a quick scroll down the timeline.

NBA Finals- who's your team?

— Matters of Size (@MoSNetwork) June 1, 2017

This is important, because you can only talk about penis size so much. Occasionally, the MoSNetwork needs to show that they're just some regular guys, paling around, talking about the big game. Just normal fella stuff.

Sometimes you don't feel motivated. Keep grinding.

— Matters of Size (@MoSNetwork) June 6, 2017

When it comes to matters involving the penis, I would say that some of the worst advice possible is keep grinding. Rubbing, sure. Caressing? Oh yeah. Find a partner and have some fun? Well, that one sounds great in theory, but a little harder to pull off in practice. Still, though. Sometimes I don't feel motivated, and I am really doubting that grinding my dick is the answer.

Every day in every way I am growing and becoming more.

— Matters of Size (@MoSNetwork) June 3, 2017

Because it's all about getting a bigger penis, get it?

Father's Day is coming up. Give your dad the gift of GAINS! https://t.co/hZva9QPqfp https://t.co/BuLEiXURiU

— Matters of Size (@MoSNetwork) June 10, 2017

Best Father's Day gift ever! I seriously can't stop laughing about this tweet. I have been trying to come up with a situation where a son would give this as a gift to his father. Like, first, the son has to have had something happen to lead him to the MoSNetwork. But then, on top of that, their father must be so mentally unstable that he talks to his son about how badly he wishes his penis was bigger. Like, this conversation would have had to have happened at some point.

Son: Great news, Dad. I got you a new pitching wedge.
Dad (stares off into the distance): That's great, son.
Son: What's wrong?
Dad: A pitching wedge? It just reminds me of how sad it is when I pitch a pants tent, and it's driving a wedge between me and potential mates.
Son: Wait, what?
Dad: I wish I had a bigger penis. If only there was a way...
Son: There is.
(Dad gives shocked expression with single tear of joy rolling down his face)

Well, I guess when you put it like that, it's pretty beautiful.

Thank you, Matters of Size. Without even going to your website, you have already given me plenty of content. Out of all of the penis exercise motivation websites that I've come across, I rank yours number one (out of one). Keep grinding.

The Greatest Post That Never Was

I have a draft in my folder that has no title, but it contains a quote that I overheard. That's the only thing I really know, because I faintly remember hearing it, and I put quotations around it. I put in no context, so I have no idea where I heard it, or who the person who said it was, although I suspect that she was a female. It's a magical quote, so I'd still like to do my best to salvage what happened here and share it with the world. Without further adieu:

He was a sweet boy, but I need some mayonnaise. I'm a hot grandma.

Where do you go from here? "He was a sweet boy," seems like a friendly way to start any sentence. I have been called a sweet boy before, and it was endearing.

But then things take an ominous turn. "But I need some mayonnaise." I shutter every time I read that sentence. It could mean a variety of things, like maybe the boy liked sweets, hence he was a sweet boy, while her snacks included the use of mayonnaise, but we all know that's not it. We all know that this is sexual, and still mayonnaise could mean a variety of things. you could go with the obvious and say that mayonnaise is a euphemism for ejaculate, but I'm not totally on board with that. Instead, I think she's saying that this sweet boy was all stroke but no poke.

What really brings things together is that final sentence, "I'm a hot grandma." This is where I wish I had more notes. Was she a hot grandma? I don't know. But I do know that hot grandmas need some mayonnaise, and sweet boys just can't give it to them.

Unfortunately, that's all I know. You've heard of people turning coal into diamonds. Well, I did the opposite, I had a true diamond of a quote, but I let it sit, and it turned into a lump of coal. My only goal is that I salvaged this enough to be a cubic zirconia; it may not be a diamond, but it can fool the untrained eye.

Sorry Ladies, I'm Engaged

Ladies, I have terrible news. I know that your parents said that if you dream big and work hard enough, anything is possible. Well, unfortunately, that is no longer the case. I am engaged, so you will have to settle for second best. Here is my story.

My biggest goal was to have the ring for as little time as possible. It was supposed to be ready by 4:00 on Wednesday. My jeweler was going to let me know when it was done. The problem is that I work 45 minutes away from the jewelry store, so I had to leave without totally knowing if everything had gone smoothly.

I arrived, and the ring looked great. I felt like a boss. Also, free champagne (there was a bunch of other stuff in the bag, but I got distracted by the free champagne and tuned her out after that). Then she required me to pay for the balance of the ring. I confidently handed her my card, ready to get home to start making dinner. My card was denied. Aw, crap. I knew I had enough money in my account, but I forgot to see what my limit was because I do not think ahead, and I am not used to making extravagant purchases. I mean, I frequently spend over $100 on groceries, so it's not like that card doesn't get a good workout. I look up the number to my bank and see if they can approve the charge. I chat with a banker, and he tells me that he can, but he will have to call someone else and give me a call back. No problem. As I wait, my jeweler assures me that this happens all the time, and I confidently wait. 

I get a call back, and the banker tells me that he cannot get the charges approved for 24-48 hours. Sweet. But I can go in and get a Cashier's Check to take care of everything (Oh yeah, I also don't have checks, because checks are for old people and I'm a Toys R Us Kid or something). Okay, just wasted some time and now I need to get to the bank and take care of everything. This is not ideal, but I needed to stop by the grocery store anyway, so it's not the end of the world.

I drop by the bank, and the banker I talked to greeted me to get things taken care of as quickly as possible. He asked me where the check should be made out to, and I told him the jewelry store. He congratulated me, which was nice. But then he told me that had he known that, he could have just approved it over the phone as an emergency. I WISH I WOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT OPTION. Anyway, no big deal, I walked away with a large cashier's check (it was actually a regular sized check, but it had a big number on it) and headed to the grocery store.

My girlfriend had made it very clear to me that she wanted something simple. In fact, she flat out told me that if I proposed in any sort of public place, she would not only say no, but we would immediately break up. So, I kept it simple and planned a nice dinner of steak, asparagus, and grilled peppers. With me being able to throw everything on the grill, it was also a fairly easy meal for me to make. I speed-walked through the store and picked up all of the necessary items and got in the shortest line I could find. Just one lady in front of me, so it shouldn't take that long. Of course, the lady I was in front of brought in recyclable bags and a bunch of coupons. I slowly deflated as I saw every line move faster than the one I was in. This probably robbed me of, at worst, three minutes, but I wanted to headbutt that lady into submission.

Back to the jewelry store to finalize everything. I give her the check and take my ring, champagne and other stuff back home to prepare my night of romancing. I get home, let the dog out and start gathering wood, because we have a fireplace that we have never used, and what better night than this one to get started. I was never a boy scout, but I have been to many bonfires, and I am building what I believe is a pretty bomb ass fire structure. Then I get a knock at the door. I have gotten an unexpected knock at the door maybe twice at the house I have lived at for over a year. Some clown is trying to sell me a roof. "I do not have time for this, and I am renting, so get out of here, clown" is what I'm thinking, but I politely decline his offer and get back to fire making.

I didn't get lighter fluid, because I've watched enough Workaholics to be an honorary Beagle Scout. So, I get the fire going a little. There was definitely more smoke than fire, but a little fire is a good thing, that fire is going to catch any second now. But man, it was really producing a lot of smoke. Still, I'm not giving up. I have to turn my head away as the smoke burns my eyes, but I think I am almost there. Still nothing. My dog starts barking, and I look back to realize that the house is beginning to fill with smoke, and my dog is warning me to get out of there. Operation fireplace romance is cancelled, as I shut the doors to the fireplace and open up doors and windows to try to get all of the smoke out of there. I look back at the fireplace and realize that the doors don't close perfectly, and there is a crack right at the top letting a consistent stream of smoke out. I lean a chair against the doors to solve the problem. Things are not going as I had planned. 

There is no fire, but you bet your ass I can do candles. I bought 50 small candles and a few big ones to pimp out the house. I was going to do candles along the path from the door to the dining room, but I realized that my dog is too stupid to not knock them over, and there would be wax all over the place. My girlfriend would have been pissed about the mess, and it would not have set the ideal mood. So, I got two strips of aluminum foil, set them down in a couple locations and started doing some candle drawings. On our buffet, I designed a heart, and my art work was rather impressive. On the table, I wrote "ILY" which was not a poor homage to T.I.'s song, "I'm Illy" but stood for I Love You. Trust me, I know that this sounds very douchey, but I promise that it is more of a joke than anything we take seriously.

As I get everything set up, my girlfriend calls me to let me know that she will be heading home. That's basically my 15 minute warning to get my ass moving. It still definitely smells like smoke, but it's also March in Iowa, so I need to shut the door so she is not shivering through dinner. It's not nearly as smoky as before, but I can still smell smoke, which probably means that it smells pretty strongly of smoke, since I am nearly smell-blind. Blame it on the candles, I think to myself, which reminds me that I need to get like 60 candles lit up. I scramble around and get everything lit, but instead of admiring my masterpiece, I need to get the grill started and all the food prepared. I quickly season up everything and get it on the grill before she walks in the door.

I greet my lady with a kiss and a hug. She immediately asks me if I was burning incense and not in a good way. I explain the fireplace issue. But I apparently did a good enough job of clearing the house of smoke that she does not bring it up again. We sit down for our meal, and everything was going well until she looks over and notices that wax is dripping off my aluminum foil and onto the buffet. Our heart of love had to be extinguished. Not a good sign.

She then talks about her day and how things are going at work. And she just keeps talking. It was mostly interesting, but I was only half paying attention, because I just wanted to get rid of this damn ring. I kept looking for any opportunity to butt in, but she was like the Energizer Bunny and kept going and going and going. I felt like she was trying to filibuster this proposal. Not gonna happen, lady. She got up to clean off her plate (should I have probably done that? Yes, but I had a lot going on in my head, so give me a break), and this gave me my opportunity. As she was at the sink, I grabbed my expertly placed ring from a drawer and walked over, dropped down to a knee, told her a bunch of lovey dovey, mushy stuff about how much I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with her, and boom, popped the question, got the yes, and put the ring on her finger. 

So I got my main squeeze locked down,which is good, because she's actually successful, and I have enough time to write a blog, so clearly things aren't looking up for me any time soon. Obviously, that is number one from this experience. But number two ain't bad either. My lady didn't feel like champagne that night. Champagne-drunk St. Patty's Weekend? Don't mind if I do.

Diamonds Are Expensive

So I went to the diamond store this weekend, and I found out that tiny diamonds carry a big price tag. Like, I knew that diamonds were expensive, but holy shit, I will not be icing out my grill anytime soon at those prices. I might CZ my grill, because those are dirt cheap and look exactly like diamonds. Basically, I don't understand diamonds. This is an evil ploy by De Beers; that's for sure. The diamonds I was looking at didn't even have children's blood on it, and you best believe I want me a blood diamond (I never saw that movie, so I'm just assuming it involved children's blood).

Diamonds? More like Dumbonds. AMIRITE?

Someone Broke Into My Car Last Night

So I went out to my car at 5:30 this morning to hit the gym before work. When I got out there, I saw that my door was slightly ajar. I opened the door and saw that my glove compartment was open. Anyone who has been robbed knows that sinking feeling they get in their stomach when they realize they have been robbed and have to figure out what they lost.

My reaction? Laughter. Uproarious laughter. I have nothing of value in my car. Literally the most valuable thing in there is probably the ice scraper that is in the back, followed closely by an individual bag of peanuts. Let's imagine how that asshole must have felt as he went through the process.

Man, I gotta get me some nice stolen shit tonight. 

(Looks around before finding his target) 

Aw, fuck yeah. A 1998 Ford Escort, and it's GOLD. Man, I better get my crowbar ready, because I know that the owner must keep a bunch of very expensive stuff in there so he makes sure to lock it all the time. 

(Goes to door)

No way. It is unlocked. It is my lucky night. Time to collect my millions in expensive jewels. 

(Opens door)

Well, that's odd. No diamonds on the steering wheel. Maybe he is a cautious owner. Let me check the glove box for all the diamonds. 

(searches for diamonds in glove box) 

What the fuck is going on? This isn't just a 1998 Ford Escort. It's a GOLD 1998 Ford Escort, with a sssiiiiiick ass rear spoiler. This bro probably wipes his ass with diamond-encrusted toilet paper; I can't believe he doesn't at least have a few diamonds up in here. Oh well, at least I can steal the CD deck and get $10 from a pawn...oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me. Who the hell keeps the factory tape deck in there? This may be the last tape deck known to mankind. I would steal it, but clearly, the man who owns this is a straight up G who is not to be trifled with. I better get out of here, as I might be dead already.

(skips away from his life of crime to dedicate himself to children's charities)

So, yeah, I am guessing that is how it went down. And he was right, I am not a man to be trifled with. 

I Should Be An Engagement Planner

Since I am such a great guy, I have already told everyone ways to make sure their wedding is the best wedding in wedding history (Also, I am still available for most dates to be your wedding planner).  Today, I have decided to take a step back and show you how to properly take that first step towards marriage with your engagement.  If you follow these steps, not only will you find yourself with a broad beaming with joy, but you'll be sleeping easy as you laugh at all the suckers who didn't take my advice.

1.  No Flowers - As I mentioned in my wedding post, flowers are a waste of cash.  Their shelf life is so short that there is no reason to lighten your wallet just to set the mood.  If you feel like finishing off the romancing at home, use edible decorations.  Instead of having to vacuum up a thousand rose petals, the only cleanup you'll need is wiping your ass when you shit out some chocolate covered strawberries.

2.  Get A Good Meal - This is more for your satisfaction, but you can pass it off like you give a shit that she eats. Although I would not recommend rushing it, if you propose before the meal is served, you can try to pull off a maneuver that is high-risk, high-reward.  It works best on girls that have low self-esteem, so it should work on most girls.  After she says yes to your proposal, tell her that she's looking a little chunky.  She'll definitely lose her appetite, and you know what that means?  Two steaks for you.

Two...Steaks, my mouth is watering just thinking about it.  The risk is that she breaks up with you on the spot, but that's a risk that is probably worth taking.

3.  Get Her Drunk - Say you've got one of those ladies with high self-esteem (sorry brah), the risk of her turning you down is much greater.  As many of you know, people often refer to me as LL Hott J, because Ladies Love Hott Joe.  When girls are trying to get after me, they're always feeding me booze so they can attempt to take advantage of me. I'll admit, the alcohol increases their chances of getting a kiss goodnight, so I'm sure it can only help in the engagement process.  A hidden benefit of getting her good and drunk is that women want to tell their mother and best friend immediately after getting engaged.  If you get her shit-faced, she'll be slurring her words too bad to want to tell people about her engagement.  That means you can skip the stupid calls and get straight to the celebratory love-making.

4.  The Ring - The best part about my engagement plan is the ring.  Why is this the best part?  Because you're not going to get her a ring, you dumbass. Rings are completely useless unless you happen to have a Captain Planet ring.  Assuming that you don't live in Imaginationland, rings are worthless.  If she needs something shiny, get her a roll of aluminum foil, she'll be entertained for days.  But as much as I'd like to, you can't propose with a roll of aluminum foil.

So how do you propose?  You give her a big screen TV.  Although we'd like to believe differently, not all engagements turn into marriages.  Instead of getting stuck with something worthless when things don't work out, how about you get a giant TV instead?  Although this seems completely selfish at first glance, it is not at all, because much like Ladies Love Hott Joe, ladies also love soap operas and Twilight movies, and there's no better way to enjoy those than on a big screen TV. 

Judging from stupid commercials by Jared, women love to tell their best friend about their engagement in ridiculously stupid ways.  I'm assuming this is because rings are lame, so ladies feel it necessary to be lame by making up crossword puzzles to tell their friends.  With an awesome gift, she could invite her friends over, and then she leads them into the living room where she has her new TV showing a monster truck rally.  Her friends would be SOOOO jealous. 

Plus, you can still go through the classic get on your knee and propose, but you give her a box that has a note in it. A sample note should look something like this, “I just bought you a new big screen plasma, that’s right, I’m going to give you the privilege of spending the rest of your life me. You’re welcome.” Tears will then stream down her face as she realizes what a lucky broad she really is.  There is no doubt she'll be thanking you verbally, and as long as you followed all my steps, she'll be thanking you in other ways as well.

-Joe

P.S. Since everybody is honoring Leslie Nielsen (for good reason), this line is absolutely brilliant:

P.P.S.  Yes, I love Derrick Rose, and you will too after watching this.