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I was sitting at my desk a few weeks ago, when it hit me: What's the world record for semen ejaculation distance? I don't mean that a load of baby gravy literally hit me in the face from a distance, but the idea came to me. It spurted into my brain. This seemed like the sort of thing a red-blooded heterosexual male should know. According to Yahoo Answers, the record is 18 feet and 9 inches. In other words, nearly as far as my penis is long. My curiosity was satisfied, but now my manliness seemed lacking. 18'9"? I'm not sure what my personal best is, but my socks are only 13 inches long, if you know what I mean. Am I really a man if I can't shoot a load 18 feet?
To restore my sense of manliness would require the skills of an Olympic athlete: Specifically, cheating. I looked online for supplements to give my boys some spunk, so to speak, before settling on Ropex. The Ropex Web site said, "As seen in Penthouse" so I knew it was high quality. They don't specifically advertise distance, but I assume more volume is equivalent to more distance. Besides, I was intrigued by their "ropes" effect. I'm not 100% sure what ropes have to do with ejaculate, but I went to Home Depot to research it and decided it suited me.
When the Ropex arrived, I was nervous. Did I really want to take a drug to improve my ejaculation? The answer, of course, was yes. But shouldn't I check with my doctor first? The answer, of course, was no. Was it safe? The answer, of course: no idea.
I was somewhat nervous that the bottle said "statements on this label have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration," but then I remembered that I live in Canada, where the FDA has no jurisdiction. I'm sure Health Canada has thoroughly vetted Ropex's claims. I was also concerned that the initial "loading" phase involved taking six pills per day. There's a big difference between taking a small dose of a supplement ordered over the Internet, and taking a large dose of that same supplement. But then I remembered that "loading" is a hilarious word when it comes to male ejaculation. My biggest concern, however, was that the pills smelled exactly like my feet.
I tried to think of excuses not to take the pills, but, alas, by this point I was committed, foot-smell notwithstanding. It's not like my semen was going to replenish itself somehow. However, just in case the Ropex tasted like feet too, I decided to wash it down with a nice glass of milk.
I didn't immediately die, which was good, but I spent the rest of the day occasionally gripping my testicles to make sure they hadn't swollen into freakish beach balls. Would the product be a complete dud? Or would I soon be grabbing items from shelves eighteen feet away, a la Spiderman? Or would I die in a semen-related accident so hilarious and horrible that major newspapers would be forced to use the phrase "love juice" on their front page? Only time would tell.
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