Obscure Rulings Inside The Baseball Sexual Metaphor

Posted: September 15, 2010 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , ,

Everyone knows the “bases” metaphor for sex, especially if you’re above the age where you just start growing hair and feeling weird and unfamiliar emotions while peering at the blue-checked-dress-clad ass of the substitute science teacher whose pretty blond hair and winning smile make you tilt your desk without using your hands. By this, we mean she gave you an erection. Anyhow, for those of you who still exist in this world as cave-dwelling sub-humanoids whose only encounter with sexuality has been lightly grazing up against the carcass of the elk you slaughtered and groaning at the contact, we’re going to explain – before the article – the five basic bases. Yes, our scale is a bit different than the usual one but it’s more thorough.

Okay. So here’s how it goes:

First Base: Your basic making-out stance. You play tongue-war with the lady of your choice and maybe – MAYBE – get the chance to feel around with her fruits – above the shirt or at very best, the bra, of course.

Second Base: Bra’s gone, thrown to the winds or potentially the windowsill, and you’re attacking the released natives with gusto, your mouth, your hands and your pants tighter than an emo boy’s. You are still firmly ensconced in the “Sexually innocent if a bit naughty” stage so…yay to you, maybe?

Shortstop: You have progressed past the balancing point between “This is just playful sexuality that we can end at any time” and “Okay, boys, let’s get ready for action”. In the best scenario, she’s got her hand (tiny and delicate or NFL wide-receiver size, we don’t judge) wrapped around Sir Mix-A-Lot while you have The Pointer Sisters jammed up into her Bay of Tonkin. Ejaculation may result at this point, but only if you’re a total fucking wimp or haven’t been touched intimately in, oh, let’s say two years.

Third Base: Either she or you slide in head-first, you spelling the alphabet, her all acting like you’re a hell of a bratwurst. You can hold at this threshold if you have to but it’s an uneasy truce. One that can get broken. Especially if you don’t warn her about Old Faithful blowin’ his top, in which case all-out war ensues.

Home: You get to fuckin’. Simple as that.

Now that those are settled, here is our attempt to further expand this metaphor into wildly inappropriate realms.
Hitting the Backstop: Well, it’s when your pitch misses home plate and strikes the area behind it. You know, the area located directely behind home plate. BEHIND it. We’ll leave that to you to figure out. It’s anal, by the way.

Infield Fly Rule: You’d need to be in a threesome where person B is making out with person A in first base and person C is groping person A. Person D enters the room to get in on the action but has no luck. The infield fly rule would keep the threesome going without person D having ruined it for everyone else, Pred3000.

Ground Rule Double: Where you’re making out and accidentally grab her chest and think you’re “out” but she just shrugs and keeps going. It’s not as good as a homer but damn near as exciting. Plus, it gives you a tentative greenlight for further baserunning, which is always a plus.

Triple Play: C’mon. C’mon. We’re not even going to explain this one.

Caught Stealing: The opposite of the Ground Rule Double. You’re trying to go all Rickey Henderson and snag a base or even two further than you were expecting and she, with anger and a little bit of being offended, pushes your octopus hands off of her, refastens her bonnet and goes back to her MORMON FUCKING ENCLAVE like a BITCH who doesn’t give two fucks if you’re BLUE-BALLING the SHIT out of LIFE.

Corked Bats: Well, let’s be realistic here. We’re probably all young dudes here. However, that doesn’t mean that The Horror of Horrors can’t wreak havoc on Mr. Mister, especially in the light of getting twisted on Mssrs. Cuervo and Jagermeister. That’s where a little blue pill, a large pump and plenty of prayer comes into effect, “corking” your Louisville Slugger.

PEDs: The spiritual yin to the Corked Bat yang. Or vice versa. In any case, these aren’t being taken because there are problems with the old operating system. No, there are done to ENHANCE the performance. Try horking down some Oxycontin or ecstasy. Whatever you do, though, don’t rub coke into your dick. That way priapism lies.

Pine Tar: Sometimes you just can’t get a good enough grip on things. That’s where this comes in. Leather works pretty well. So do edible panties, although if you’re going with the kind that is basically like fucking wearing Froot Roll-ups, you are going to have some serious problems in the future. I don’t want to get too far into it since it hasn’t been technically proven yet but it’s called…well…think of like what happens to non-self-stick envelopes. It’s that.

Pinch Hitters/Runners: We understand. We really do. Sometimes you just can’t get things going the way you want them to. The spirit is very very willing but the flesh is so fat and out of shape and weak. That’s when you call in Juantonio, the chiseled Colombian day laborer, to come in and sex up the lady while you sit and watch, stroking your useless do-gooder and drinking a scotch and soda.

Fielder’s Indifference: The last one is, yet again, a counterpart, this time to the Pinch Hitter/Runner. This is when The Honda Pilot is raring to go but…you just don’t want it. You want to sit back, crack a brew and watch the Bengals ass up another game. There is a compromise here. Your upper and lower halves can operate independently of each other. You can still slam into her like Marmaduke and watch the game and beer it up. Do her a favor though. Reach down during commercials and play with her tits a bit. It makes it seem like you’re paying attention.
(This is one of the most sociopathic things I’ve read in a while. – ed.)

You love it.

(Compared to last week? Rubbing your balls on a piece of paper until it became translucent would be like the Mona Lisa. – ed.)

That can be arranged. Deuces!

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