Penis Pasta Feast

If Saturday proved anything, it's that I will go to the ends of the earth to make sure that my friends have the necessary accoutrements for what is essentially a penis-themed party. And by the 'ends of the earth,' I mean all the way to West Hollywood. Not to dis WeHo, which is like Gay Disneyland, but it's just in the middle of the city, miles away from any convenient freeway and always takes forever to get to no matter what time of day it is.

How much do I love dirty puns? THIS MUCH!!!!

Since I had waited to the last minute, as I am wont to do, I was scrambling to locate the primary ingredient for my potluck assignment: penis pasta. Having had no luck in the Valley, I was forced to search over the hill at the one place I knew would carry it: The Pleasure Chest on Santa Monica Blvd. I had been there once before and was very impressed by its selection and friendly, helpful staff. I called ahead, just to make sure the pasta was in stock. They said they had two left, and that if I could be there that night, they would hold them for me.

According to the clerk, this is the classiest kind of penis pasta.

I scurried to get ready and on the road to make the trek down to WeHo. Traffic was actually in my favor and I made it there in record time. But then I waited the same amount of time in the store just to get my damn pasta. This chick was taking forever to buy, well I probably shouldn't tell you what she was buying, but if you've suffered through a particularly disturbing scene from "Requiem for a Dream," then you can imagine how uncomfortable I was whilst waiting my turn. I'm pretty nonjudgmental when it comes to that sort of thing, but I had to stop myself from physically cringing. Stupid Darren Aronofsky.

That bastard. Shudder.

The clerk ended up not being able to find those last two boxes of Mama Peckeroni. Luckily, they did have Macaweenie and Cheese. "The only pasta with a hard-on." It was glorious. Even the directions were dirty. "Do not rinse pasta, as Macaweenie will become flaccid." Tee hee. I also bought a similarly shaped sucker for the bride-to-be and dirty Mad Libs. Because Mad Libs are the Business. As are pot lucks with delicious pot roast, cocktail weenies in a penis-shaped blanket, and my now World Famous Macaweenie and Cheese. And karaoke bars. And hanging with your girls, celebrating an impending marriage, and yelling "WOOOOOO!" a lot.

Penis Pasta Famine

There is a famine in the Valley, one that we never saw coming. In this fertile land of porn stars both legitimate and aspiring, and adult bookstores that litter the land like Starbucks and CVS, you cannot find a single box of pasta shaped like a man's junk. What the hell is this world coming to? (I really really really wanted to hide a dirty pun in that last sentence, but I refrained because I'm classy like that. But I think you can probably figure it out anyway...) I've never actually purchased penis pasta before, or seen it for sale in my limited sex shop experience. But I always thought that it was a major adult novelty item. Not so, as it turns out.

Tee hee. Penis.

I'm kicking myself for waiting until the night before my dear friend and fellow Tomato, Tiffany's bachelorette pot luck and karaoke shindig to purchase what I was so excited to bring: phallic-shaped carbs, hopefully whole wheat if possible so I could actually eat it. I had planned to order it online three weeks ago, but it just kept getting pushed back and neglected until it was too late and overnight shipping was too expensive. Time just flies by when you're avoiding something. I can't believe I even procrastinated this arguably enjoyable task.

What kind of self-respecting adult-oriented establishment doesn't carry penis pasta???

But anyway, here we are, less than 24 hours to go, and no stores within a five mile radius carry penis pasta. (I know five miles isn't very big, but it's late and I have to work tomorrow). One of the stores I called, I could barely understand the guy who answered the phone. I made him repeat the name of the store like five times just to make sure I hadn't misdialed and very awkwardly asked an Old Folks Home if they sold genitalia-themed pasta. But even after I was convinced that it was indeed a sex shop located in Studio City, the answer was no. Not cool, Valley. Not cool.

I also find this vaguely dirty.

I guess I'll just have to settle for Penne Pasta with White Sauce and make the argument that 'penne' is as close to 'penis' as pasta gets. In fact I wonder if 'penne' actually means 'penis' in Italian. Excuse me whilst I Google (insert Jeopardy theme song here)... Damn. It's actually derived from the Latin for 'feather' or 'quill.' That's not really dirty or funny. Sad. Oh well. Happy early bachelorette party, Tiffany!!!!! (Though I doubt she's actually reading this...)