Making Love Like Gorillas
I’m not a huge fan of Bruno Mars. In truth, listening to his music sort of makes me want to shoot myself in the face. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to read about my suicidal tendencies. You came here to learn about the important and relevant issues of the day…like gorilla sex.
A few weeks ago, a little show aired on MTV called the VMAs, otherwise known as the Video Music Awards. You might have heard of them. Billy Ray Cyrus’s daughter was bumping uglies with the son of that dad from Growing Pains and Lady Gaga was, well, being Lady Gaga. In the midst of all this bump and grind, Bruno Mars performed Gorilla. And I liked it. So much so, that I immediately downloaded the song so I could listen to it on repeat over and over and over.
To make a long story short, I really liked the song. The performance itself was a little cheesy, what with the ginormous roaring gorilla head popping up every time Mr. Mars would get to the chorus but I didn’t care – he was singing about passionate animal sex. I thought the song was sexy and I imagined that were me and Will Smith (who appeared to also appreciate the song) to get together we would most certainly be making love like gorillas. We’d be high on coke and full of liquor with my legs up in the sky and the devil in my eye. We’d be in a jungle and I’d be banging on his chest – I’m sure you can see where this is going.
Anywho, I digress.
After that, everything about gorilla mating seemed hot. I wanted to be with someone (Will Smith) in the same raw and wild way that Bruno had been singing about. Then my sister went and ruined everything.
“A gorilla’s penis is only about 1 ½” erect.”
Suddenly, gorilla sex wasn’t so sexy.
”And they eat their own poop.”
And neither were gorillas. The song clearly hadn’t had the same affect on her as it did me.
“That’s a dumb song.”
See, I told you.
So, I did what any self-respecting women would do – I looked up gorillas having sex on YouTube. It was rather disappointing, to say the least, and there wasn’t an 8 ball to be found.
I can certainly appreciate the range of positions but I was hoping for something a little more animalistic and chaotic and a little less Paris Hilton.
Then this happened:
Jack Baruth: Have you seen bonobos having sex?
Me: No, I haven’t googled that yet.
JB: Our zoo had a bonobo exhibit. Basically, they had to shut it down because the bonobos would blow each other all day in front of children.
Naturally, I googled bonobos having sex because at this point, should my computer ever be taken as evidence, all my credibility as a normal functioning adult had long been obliterated. And, if Bruno Mars had done his homework, he would have noticed that bonobos have a far more exciting and adventurous sex life than any gorilla I have found. But I guess “making love like bonobos” just doesn’t have quite the same ring.
Clearly, I have way too much time on my hands.
And I still think the song is hot.
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Here’s how I know that The Fireman and I will not be sustaining a long and fulfilling relationship: Five minutes after arriving, he began telling me of his “Latina” phase.