Time for your Thursday edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Find more of Drew's stuff at KSK or on Twitter. Today, we're covering porn, yawning, Cakesters, poop, blowjobs, boners, road trips, and more.

Big funbag today. Here we go. Your letters.

Jesus Q:

You know how when you're jacking it to web video porn, and you think you've settled on the perfect clip, but then you decide to look around just a little bit more to find one that's even BETTER, you settle on that, but then you can't help but look around just a LITTLE bit more, and then you find one that's absolutely perfect, but then ... you get the idea. It cycles until you just can't afford to hunt around anymore. But it's not because you found the best one, it's just because you ran out of time. It's the search for the perfect jack clip, and it'll never end. You know what I'm talking about.

The question is, isn't that pretty much what Tiger Woods was doing, except his wealth and fame allowed him to do it with real people?

Yup. That about sums it up. Oh, how I've long yearned to masturbate with REAL PEOPLE at my disposal.

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Jesus is right about being picky while jacking it. (If I had a nickel for every time I wrote that sentence…) I don't know why men are so picky when they jack it. You're jacking it. Why do YOU have to be picky about right now? But no, it's always, "Yes, that's very sexy. But surely there is something MORE SEXY to look at before I blow this geyser." And then you come across something less sexy, then you want to go back to the old sexy thing you were looking at, then you get mad at yourself for going back to the same well for your pleasuring needs over and over again. WHERE IS THE AMBITION?!

When I was a kid, I used to rent (or steal) pornos, then hold out my nut for that one real MONEY scene. Sure, this scene is good. But I bet the next one is even better! Then I'd fast forward to the next scene, and it wouldn't be good enough, then the next, and then the next, and then the damn move would be over. SHIT! Compounding the problem is that I then had left myself with no new scenes to jack off to on the NEXT go round. Masturbation makes me stupid.

Dave:

So. My wife just blew me about 20 minutes ago. Which was awesome, but my problem is that she just blew me two days ago, and my mind has started racing. I've been married 13 years, so WTF kind of bombshell is she about to drop on me?

I've already decided to not ask her what the deal is and take as many abnormally frequent bj's as she thinks I need to be numbed. If it's her idea to blow me twice more in the next four days, what are the chances that she didn't cheat? I say zero, but I'm a little excited. About the extra blow jobs.

Well, she could also want something. Like a new dinette set. Or maybe she's doing it because she loves you. Maybe after 13 years, she's taken a new and more active attitude toward sex to help keep you, your loving husband, happy.

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Just kidding. She's totally boinking the milkman. But hey, if that means extra blowjobs and fee dairy for you, who can say no?!

Boner:

My last name is Boner. This was the last name I was born with and 23 years later, here I stand today (erectly, of course). There are no bullshit pronunciations or any ways of misconstruing the derivation. The name is Boner.

New teachers always tried to find alternate pronunciations to avoid having to state the obvious. All of this is/was fucking hilarious and has never really bothered me. However, discrimination through voided magazine subscriptions and not being able to personalize jerseys is kind of a bummer.

Would you leave your children with such a last name? My buddy claims that the name is probably an Ellis Island bet gone wrong, in which my immigrant ancestor was paid cash to assume the last name. Any merit to this?

Well, first of all, BONER, you are not alone in having boner as a last name. A quick Google search reveals that there is a woman named Dottie Boner, who says of her last name: "Yes, it's a funny last name, but God is good and we laugh with it!"

God is good, indeed. Whitepages.com lists over 1,300 people in US with the last name Boner, including William Boner, Tom E. Boner, Howard Boner, STORMY Boner (love that one), Otis Boner (blues singer?), Larry Boner, Amanda Boner (we can always use Amanda Boner), and the requisite Richard (Dick) Boner. So you Boners keep some pretty solid company.

Is it worth seeing your children razzed for having such a goofy last name? The answer, of course, is YES. It's a fine last name, and chances are going through life with the last name Boner means you won't end up taking yourself too seriously. I think it's a fine, upstanding last name. I'd be proud to welcome a Boner into my home and shake hands with a Boner.

Keep the name.

Brendan:

I'm 25 and a friend of mine and his wife are supposed to have their first kid in a couple of months. I've never had to deal with a "friend having a wanted child" situation before. Me and this guy were good friends in high school but drifted apart in college, though we still see each other once in a while and when he got married I was invited to the bachelor party and wedding and all that other crap. Am I obligated to celebrate this childbirth in any way? Like, should I go see them and their kid? Buy the kid a present? I'm clueless here.

Do NOT go see them and their kid. New parents don't know this yet, but people visiting to see the kid is always a complete pain in the ass, especially if the person coming to visit is staying at your house overnight. Let them disappear into their little parenting spider hole before emerging a decade from now a pair of defeated human beings.

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But DO send a gift. Just ask your boy where he's registered. And don't buy them breastfeeding shit. It's a weird thing to buy someone, and that shit can't be returned.

Anthony:

What is your favorite Fuck Yeah moment in all of film (also known as the Crowning Moment of Awesome)? I gotta go with this exchange from the Princess Bride:

"Offer me money."

"Yes!"

"Power, too, promise me that."

"All that I have and more! Please!..."

"Offer me anything I ask for."

"Anything you want!..."

"I want my father back, you son of a bitch!"

It's awfully hard to top that. That's the kind of scene where people in the theater will give a standing O. That's always a cool moment at the movies, when everyone is literally cheering. Everyone. Not just Pete Hammond. I remember that happening when I saw The Fugitive and Harrison Ford got the police to tackle Tommy Lee Jones by telling them there's a man around the corner waving a gun and screaming, and also in Pulp Fiction when Butch goes back into Zed's room with the sword to save Marcellus from being assraped. Also, the two times the Death Star is destroyed. And when Ness throws Nitti off the roof in The Untouchables. All those scenes got wild cheers in the theater.

But the best, at least to me, remains this one:

Never gets old.

Rob:

I'm going on a 10 hour road trip next week with 3 other guys for a bachelor party. Any thoughts on how to pass the time in the car?

Well, let's assume you're all sharing driving duties, which negates the possibility of drinking in the car (OR DOES IT?!). I'm going on a 6-hour road trip next week for a bachelor party with a guy I haven't met yet. I assume we'll just play some music and shoot the shit. I think I'd be a dick if I whipped out a laptop and watched a movie while he drives. That's a cock move, isn't it? I don't feel comfortable doing that.

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When I was a kid, we took our fair share of road trips. We drove to Montreal once. We drove to summer camp in northern Wisconsin. This was before DVD players in the headrest, so there wasn't jack shit to do in the car. I always listened to a Walkman and fucked around with these invisible ink books they used to sell at the drug store. They had quizzes and drawings and all kinds of shit in there, and you'd get the answer by rubbing the marker on the blank spot and seeing the answer appear in invisible ink. FANCY. We never bought enough of them. My mom would buy five and I'd be through them in about 20 minutes. Then it's window starin' time! We also played that game where you name a band and then the next person has to name another band that starts with the last letter of that band. This game dies after three minutes. What band starts with X? We used XTC already? FUCK.

I did lots of long trips for sports and crap when I was a kid in Minnesota. Riding with 30 other retarded 12-year-olds is a blast. You do dirty Mad Libs (then the professor took his PECKER! HA HA PECKER!). You dare some kid to eat a bug off the bus aisle. You figure out who's fingerbanging who in class. That's fun shit.

I guess what I'm saying is that I have no useful suggestions. Except to take three separate cars and make a gumball rally out of it.

Manual Hung's Meat Party:

What is the appropriate protocol with people I refer to as "Familiar Strangers"? On my stroll into work I frequently encounter the same people, not necessarily every day, but just often enough for me to say, "Here comes that old lady and her schizo dog she can't control…" or "oh hey, it's that guy that runs with a look on his face like he's being declawed with a pair of pliers."

The reason I ask, a woman that I have either nodded to or exchanged a mumbled, "Morning" with just outright stonewalled me this morning. The awkwardness was compounded by me looking right at her, ready to give her a nod, and she purposely looked up and to the right at absolutely nothing. She initiated the first "Hello" exchange, now she's treating me like vagrant.

Well, that is some heavy bullshit. Who does she think she is?

I see people like this all the time, especially at the gym. I don't talk to fucking anyone when I go to the gym, but there are the same 45 assholes there every time I go. And it's totally weird to see them pop up in settings that are NOT the gym. Like, I'll see someone I always see at the gym at the bank, and they'll be in regular clothes, and that will fuck with my brain. SHOULDN'T YOU BE IN SPORTS BRA RIGHT NOW, MISSY? WHO SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE GYM?

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It's even worse if you're a college student. You see the same people on the path, or in the dining hall, or even in a large class. But you don't KNOW them. You may not even know their names. But you have to see them again and again and again, and it just gets more awkward each time. I used to let out a low grunt when those people walked by. Or maybe just a quick nod. That's always a weird move: the quick nod. It acknowledges that you see the person, and that's really about it. I don't even bother to do that anymore. I just keep my mouth shut.

HALFTIME!

Manny Mo:

How come baseball is the only sport where they let you keep the ball as a souvenir when it goes into the stands? Not only that, the ballboys are just aching to give them away to little kids and such even if they don't make it all the way out.

Why not basketball, or soccer or even football? Presumably these fans (if they are not corporate douchebags) paid a lot of money for their seats - why not give them a little thrill? Tennis has to be the worst for that. How much are those little tennis balls worth? A few dollars? Yet every time some guy tries to keep one everyone gets all pissy and acts like he tried to rob their grandma.

Yeah, I don't get that. God forbid you get some added value after paying fifty billion dollars for your seat and a goddamn soda. Although I thought you got to keep a football if the kicker got one over or around the net. If a player scores a TD and hucks the ball into the stands, you definitely get to keep it, especially if you're a little crippled kid. So I dunno why a rare football missing the net would have to be returned.

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They have 12 specially marked K-balls set aside for every NFL game (36 balls total for outdoor games, less for dome games), so I guess they want to make sure they always have enough on hand. But you could probably set aside 20 of them and never be in danger of too many being lost to the stands.

I assume the NBA also has a set amount of basketballs ready for each game, balls that have to be prepared and distressed and rubbed with sandpaper and doused with rubber cement or whatever. But FUCK IT. I still say you should be able to keep it if an errant pass hits you in the face.

And tennis has no excuse at all. It's a fucking dog toy. It's worth three cents. Let it go. You have six full ball hoppers off to the side with fresh Wilsons, USTA. Let the fans have the tennis ball. Ever smell a fresh tennis ball? Love that smell.

Torgo's Exec Powder:

Fact: It is impossible to squeeze all the soap out of a sponge or loofah.

This is true, which is why I don't even bother to squeeze out my shower poof when I'm done. I just leave that lather sitting there on it. That the next day, the thing's already halfway soaped up, which means I don't have to add as much body wash to it. THAT'S GOOD VALUE.

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I have found that some soap simply never rinses away. For example, let's say there are no clean glasses in the house. So I take a dirty one from the sink to wash it (because I'm married. If I were single, washing would be totally unnecessary). I soap up the sponge and I wash the glass. Then I rinse the glass by filling it with water. Only every time I fill the glass, I keep getting soap bubbles. I could do it 70 times and still get a soap bubble or two. Eventually, I have to stop rinsing the goddamn thing and just drink out of it. But how much soap did I leave in there? AM I DRINKING STRAIGHT LYE? It's a pickle.

Noyamg:

Not sure if you've had Oreo Cakesters yet, but holy COW those are good! I filling is creamier and the cake is delicious and moist. My God!

I have not tried Oreo Cakesters yet, which is insane because I love Oreos and I love cake. The fact that someone merged them into an unholy whoopee pie makes my dick hard. And yet, I will pass the box in the store (the golden ones look especially tempting), and then refuse to pull the trigger. Because I know I'd eat the whole goddamn box and begin a torrid love affair with them. That's such an obvious fat person food right there. If you buy it, you're fat. Same with giant tubes of Jimmy Dean sausage. Those are fat people foods. Even the FONT on the Cakesters package is fat.

That's the same font they used in the trailer for THE FATTIES. It's like it's screaming at me YOU ARE A 300 POUND SLOTH AND YOU WILL EAT THIS BECAUSE YOU ARE FUCKING FAT AND GROSS.

God damn, I really want a Cakester now.

JDB:

Just came back from a trip to the UK and the EU. Each time I presented my passport, or hopped on a train, or walked into a new restaurant, I was acting out scenes from the Bourne movies, sizing up the room and potential threats. Even though I can't speak another language and wouldn't last three seconds in a Paul Greengrass-style fight, I WAS Jason Bourne every day of my three-week trip. I am the best spy in the world.

The European train stations get me every time. They're all so big and elegant looking. You just want to take a hostage and start shooting everyone in your path.

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The passport is also a nice touch, because everyone's passport photo looks like a mug shot taken at 4AM. Then they give you those stamps and it's like the path of a known fugitive. LOOK! HE'S BEEN TO INSTANBUL! IS THAT WHERE HE MET THE RUSSIANS?

When I am disgustingly rich (I have many plans for when I am rich), I will purchase dozens of fake passports and ID's and convert thousands of dollars into various foreign currencies. Then, I will buy a safety deposit box in a bank. Then I will place the passports and ID's and money and a gun in the box and leave it there. Then, when I die, I will leave my son the key to that box. Then he will open it up and be fucking DAZZLED. Dad was goddamn BADASS.

Vic Shamone:

Everytime somebody loses their helmet in the middle of a play, I stop exhaling and I immediately assume that the helmetless player will get crushed and his skull will fracture surpassing the Theismann as the sports high water mark for terrifying injury moments. Am I the only one?

No. And it's amazing it hasn't happened yet. I assume that there is a gut reaction in any opposing player to be more cautious when hitting another player who's head is now unprotected. And yet, there's no WAY some prick like Ray Lewis passes up a chance at a fucking killshot to the head. It'll totally happen at some point, and then Mike Lupica will bray like a fucking Jack Russell about it for months on end. That guy is a piece of shit. I hope his skull gets fractured.

Royal Anteater:

Is there any moment in life of greater helplessness and sheer terror than falling backwards in a chair? Furthermore, there is no way to not lose respect for a person after seeing them do this. If video of the Dalai Lama falling backwards in a chair surfaced on YouTube I'm pretty sure Buddhism would immediately crumble.

It's terrible because I rock in chairs all the time (it's actually GOOD for your back. Suck it, politeness!). Only there's that rare occasion where you rock too far back, and you know it the second it happens. And that's just like when you get to the top of the roller coaster. It's that same OH CHRIST I'M ABOUT TO BE BUTTFUCKED feeling. There's just enough time to process all of it before it happens. Then it happens and it's just as shitty and horrible as you pictured it. This used to happen to me in school pretty much every month. Nothing more entertaining than seeing a classmate eat the fucking floor.

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In 4th Grade, I had a teacher at Myrtle Schumann Elementary School in Orono, Minnesota named Mr. Mann. Mr. Mann was known to punish kids by making them rewrite entire passages out of the encyclopedia in longhand. One day, I was rocking in my chair in class and I fell back. Mr. Mann stood over me.

Mr. Mann: Are you all right?

Me: Yes.

Mr. Mann: Good. Five hundred word report.

That night, I copied an entire passage on leprosy with a lump in the back of my head. Mr. Mann was a bastard.

Kenneth:

Am I the only one who becomes completely deaf when yawning? When someone is talking to me and I yawn, I don't hear a single word they say, and they act like a dick when I ask them to repeat what they said.

Well, they're also probably mad because you, you know, YAWNED while they were talking. I guess I understand why people get mad when you yawn during a conversation. But just because I'm fucking tired doesn't mean I find you dull or uninteresting. It just means I'm hungover and I need a fucking nap. I've yawned in meeting, classes, job interviews, you name it. In all instances, I yawned because I spent too much energy trying to NOT yawn, then became tired, then yawned when I let my guard down, then freaked out that I yawned, and then yawned again after being tired from freaking out. People should just fucking chill about other people yawning.

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Also, I have a nasty habit of making an odd croaking sound at the end of any yawn. It always happens at the worst possible time, too. I'll be in a library and then it's AHHHHHHHHHH *croak!!!!*. I don't know how to do anything about it. It's awful.

Anyway, I also become deaf when yawning because all exterior noise gets drowned out the sound of my own yawn. I can't hear someone else talk when there's a big AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH going on inside my skull.

Finally today, A GREAT MOMENT IN FART HISTORY:

Carl:

I recently woke up in the middle of the night with a nasty knot in my stomach. I figured I had to take one of those 3 a.m. dumps we all dread, that the chili and nachos consumed four hours earlier couldn't wait until morning and needed to exit my anus now.

So I assumed the position on the throne and prepared for the worst, but much to my surprise nothing came out. Instead I let an enormous, absolutely humongous house-rattling fart. It was so loud and so long the dog began to bark. My wife said she was surprised the car alarms weren't set off. It must have lasted a good eight seconds, and had a definite baritone pitch. The noxious smell was so bad (stale chili?) my wife wanted me to make a doctor's appointment the following day. She's convinced something very wrong is going on inside my body. To me, the most puzzling thing was that I didn't have to take a dump. Now I'm wondering if my wife is right, and that my failed 3 a.m. deuce is cause for concern?

Cause for PRIDE, is more like it. And now, a GREAT MOMENT IN POOP HISTORY!

Donald

My high school friend (and most intelligent one at that) took the noble profession of teaching inner city youths in one of Louisville's worst schools. He has toiled away trying to help these kids for two years and is now moving to pursue a job in corporate America. It was a thankless job but thought maybe his reward could be publishing this story so I can show him that the past 2 years of his life were not a complete waste. This one is for you, Mr. G.

"One day a girl was telling a story to the whole class (quite loudly in fact) about how a couple years ago she was too lazy to walk out of her room so she took a "doo-doo" in an empty Doritos bag she found on the floor. Unfortunately she forgot about it and a few days later reached down to grab the bag and discovered the forgotten "doo-doo" rotting away in her room."

Mmmm… Nacho Doodoo Doritos.