The Devil Made Me Do It (Or, the night I ate a bull penis)

16 Jan

Yesterday morning, after a night of carousing with a former roommate I shall call Party Monster* and his circuit kid retinue, there was one phrase I couldn’t get out of my head: “It tastes like a knuckle.”

But before I get into that, I’d like to take a moment to reflect on how out of touch with my own existence I am. I know the “scary things” I’ve attempted so far–making a lasagna, visiting a Hobby Lobby, pouring lube on snow in public–haven’t actually been so frightening. That’s why I was so excited about my Friday night plan, which was to get a $600, 2-hour facial at the Mandarin Oriental (a perk of my editing job) that was going to use high frequency wands and spinning brushes and sundry other mid-century Psych Ward-looking instruments of torture to make me look younger. Then, with my sensitive skin (I sometimes look like a tomato after a long run) looking positively unloaded upon, I was going to go to a lil Kim show at the gay party Rockit, and be seen by people who were liable to judge me for my pinkness.

I legitimately thought that was going to be the scariest thing I did last night.

I was wrong.

The facial itself was remarkably pleasant.  By the time I met Party Monster and co. at Kenka in the East Village, I was not only not red, but even presentable. But then I sat down at the table of 8, and THIS was sitting in the center of it.

I ate this 😦

“Who’s eating the bull penis? I need five people,” says the Devil*.

The Adorable gay Couple* across the table from me volunteers, as does (inexplicably) the Vegetarian.* Not a single woman rises to the occasion.

“One Bad,* you are going to eat this and blog about it.”

“I…” I stand up to look at the gelatinous thing. I frown.

“Yeah, you’re gonna eat it. It’s gonna be great. Here, have some of this.”

He pours small cups of sake for everyone and we cheers to the penis in our midst. He then saws the thing into 5 pieces.

“I’ll eat the head, since I’m making everyone else do it,” he says, and we are all impressed by his bravery. That is, until we realize the most difficult part about eating bull penis, which is this:  Inside the squishy, mochi-textured exterior, penis contains a hard, cartilage rod, which is alarmingly crunchy and impossible to chew in less than three minutes. I assume this is the same rod that mysteriously appears in some porn stars when they are shot from underneath. The only part of the penis that doesn’t have it is the head. I will remember this for next time, Devil.

The Adorable Couple take theirs first. We look on in anticipation. Their eyes start watering.  They cough a little.  There is much rolling of eyes. Finally they swallow.

“What…what does it taste like?” I ask, envisioning the horror of next five minutes.

“It tastes like cardboard,” says one.

“It tastes like… you know what? It tastes like a knuckle,” says the other.

Terror descends upon me. A “knuckle?” The best thing you can say about what you just ate is that it tastes like another unappetizing body part?!?

I don't want to eat THIS either.

Next comes the vegetarian, who gags so hard I think there’s going to be a situation, but he finishes.

“We still need a fifth. Party Monster? Come on, Party Monster. You and One Bad can do it together.”

The devil hands a meatball-sized piece to the Monster and myself.

“Feed each other! Do it wedding-style!”

Now the devil is just getting cocky.

We feed each other. My first bite catches the edge of the cartilage and I am immediately afraid that I’m going to vomit all over the table. The Monster is waving his hands around as if he can fan the penis away like a fart. The next bite is bad. The third bite is worse. I spit the thing into a napkin.

“I can’t do it. I *gag* Jesus Christ,” I say. All eyes turn to the Monster, who tearfully chews for another minute, and swallows.

I am mortified. The Devil starts pointing around the table:

“swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, SPIT!” (he points at me).

“Ok, yeah, I know. I suck.”

“But you don’t even finish!” says the Devil. He takes away my sake cup and covers it with a napkin. “You can have this back when you finish it.”

“I can’t believe all these guys did it and YOU couldn’t!” says the Monster.

“I need alcohol,” I say.

The Devil pours me a beer. “You can have as many of these as you want, but no sake, and you have to swear to me you will eat that before we leave.”

He stands up and extends a handshake.

Finally, my ego (and love of sake) wins. I stuff the half-eaten mess into a packet of rice wrapped in seaweed, and chew as if my life depends on it.

“One Bad! One Bad! One Bad! One Bad!”

It just so happens that cheering has the miraculous effect of making me completely ignorant of future consequences. If people start chanting my name, I’ll pretty much do anything. (See: New Orleans Girls Gone Wild video, the time I let the Devil take off my shirt in a fancy restaurant in the Standard Hotel).

Cheering claims another victim.

Even before it’s over, someone has poured me the first of many cups of sake and is giving a toast to my perseverance in the face of “hard” work.”

I spend the rest of the night gazing into the Marianus Trench that is Lil Kim’s three-inch camel-toe, wondering why the Christmas ham-assed woman ten feet from me looks nothing like the lil Kim of my childhood, and trying not to vomit. Next time, I’m eating the head.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

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5 Responses to “The Devil Made Me Do It (Or, the night I ate a bull penis)”

  1. Bee January 18, 2011 at 5:01 am #

    Yeah, see, my blog is never going to have a bull penis in it. What a sad, pathetic, penis-free existence I lead. Sigh.

    • One Bad Yam Pajama January 21, 2011 at 2:12 am #

      Oh, come on! You don’t know that. I bet there are tons of animal penises in your future…..(!)….(?)

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

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    […] few you might recognize as my former roommates (The Party Monster had a hand in that time I ate a bull penis… ). I rarely see the Naughty Nurse as he is busy being a fabulous gay former model and nurse […]

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