My Dick Discusses Avatar 3D: The Nexus of Religion, Spiritualism and Boinking Aliens

Today's guest blogger is a frequent contributor of insightful posts and unsightly stains, my dick.

About halfway through Avatar (that's 18 months in dog years), I got to thinking, would I rather bang Sigourney Weaver the human or Sigourney Weaver the 9 ft. tall blue alien?

Not as obvious an answer as you might think. Sure, Dr. Sigourney Weaver, the chain-smoking, xeno-botanist in Avatar, looked haggard and worn, droopy and old, and wrinkled and musty, but we're talking the same long, delicious drink of prune juice that battled the mother of all space monsters with nothing but a wife beater, a pair of skimpy panties and a really big laser rifle. I was fantasing about Ms. Weaver back when I was still latched on me mudda's teat. (Not a pleasant visual so let's both stop thinking about it.)

Then I realized how I could probably kill the chubby Indian dude, attach all those wires to myself, climb into her high tech coffin, and boink the real Sigourney Weaver while SIMULTANEOUSLY boinking the 9 ft. tall blue Sigourney Weaver.

Because while the blue alien females were all uniformly hot, they were also uniformly 9 ft. tall. That's when I got to thinking how a skinny-ass, white boy would go about fornicating with a hot, 9 ft. tall chick. The tallest woman I have successfully mounted on Earth was about 6'1". What position would be suitable for a mate 3 feet taller?

Doggy style would be impossible without a step ladder, and a step ladder is inclined to wobble. I possess lightning hips. A wobbly step ladder would seriously cramp my style.

Missionary would be pathetic. Would I even be able to get the necessary leverage if my feet never touched the ground?

Cowgirl? Painful. Nine feet of muscle bouncing up and down on you with those grasshopper thighs. My hip bones would be crushed into flour. (There's a Shrek joke there somewhere but I can't seem to locate it.)

That's when I noticed that there was an action sequence taking place on the big, 3D screen. Oh no, what intricate plot twists did I miss while I was fantasizing about me and Big Blue? Oh right, there ain't no plot.

That's when the crippled avatar and the Lieutenant Uhura alien started bedding down under Mama tree. This was going to be good! Hot alien on alien action. Ho hum, a couple of kisses, a dreamy look and surprise, it's morning. Reminded me of every other not-allowed-to-see coupling since Edison invented popcorn.

That got me thinking about how I would make love to Zoe Saldana if we were both big, blue aliens. Granted, I have been thinking about how I would make love to Zoe Saldana if we were both humans, stranded on a desert island, with Zoe rendered temporarily blind by a near death experience, during our narrow escape, when I risked my life to save her, leaving her filled with gratitude and desire for me, ever since Star Trek -- but this was different. Now, we were both big and blue.

I got to thinking about those ultra-cool pink tendrils that I have hidden in my ponytail. They're excellent for horseback riding and pterodactyl riding, but can you imagine what it would be like to attach that thing to one of Zoe's turgid, little nipples? Dozen's of those corally-polypy-like appendages wrapping around her, each one more sensitive than the tip of my tongue...

That's when I started thinking about what Zoe could do with her ultra-cool pink tendrils hidden in her ponytail.

That's when I noticed the movie was over and the guy with the broom and the garbage can on wheels was asking me politely to get out.

Quick Endnote: My dick also thinks that the blue alien religion is better than Christianity, Judaism and Islam but not as good as Zen Buddhism. But to be honest, he hasn't put that much thought into it.

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