So, yeah, I tuned in to the premiering of the new "Real World" in San Diego. One of the characters, Brad, is a tough-talkin', presumably street smart Chicago native described as the frat boy of the seven strangers. He looks the jock part -- built guy, prototypically attractive. He's boozing up with the roomies, and for some reason, he starts talking about his dick size. "Eight inches, stacked!" he yells out, and calls up his girlfriend back home for verification.
She sighs audibly over the line and reiterates his length. "What kinda eight inches, baby?" he hollers into the phone, and he says that he's really thick too...
Dumbass.
I'm sorry. I ended up snickering and muttering to myself, "...and you're still an inch shy of me, bro."
But this brings up a pretty good question... um, Brad knew his roomies all for a few hours and he just blurts out something like that. Granted, it's almost unavoidable to live with six other people and not to get some nudity exposure. Dicks, vaginas, whatever -- we're gonna see each other. At the same time, I feel like I wouldn't have just come right out and volunteered something like that for no apparent reason.
She sighs audibly over the line and reiterates his length. "What kinda eight inches, baby?" he hollers into the phone, and he says that he's really thick too...
Dumbass.
I'm sorry. I ended up snickering and muttering to myself, "...and you're still an inch shy of me, bro."
But this brings up a pretty good question... um, Brad knew his roomies all for a few hours and he just blurts out something like that. Granted, it's almost unavoidable to live with six other people and not to get some nudity exposure. Dicks, vaginas, whatever -- we're gonna see each other. At the same time, I feel like I wouldn't have just come right out and volunteered something like that for no apparent reason.