The Six-Inch Sirloin
Bethany will pay for saying I eat like a pig. Let's talk sirloin, shall we?
(Okay, but first I have to give credit where credit is due. Bethany has been my best friend since we were high school girls with bad hair and vaguely trashy fashion sense and is probably one of the few reasons I even survived high school. Plus she wrote epic 3000-page vampire novels at the age of 16 and inspired me to think, "Hey, maybe I don't need to wait until I'm 50 to become a writer. Maybe I could do it, like, now!" She will soon be appearing on major bestseller lists, I'm sure, based on her more recent, less-epic literary efforts.)
But let's get back to this sirloin thing, now that we all know who Bethany is. Funny as it would be to have an in depth Freudian discussion about why she might slip up and order a "six-inch sirloin" instead of a "six-OUNCE" one, while her well-endowed waiter is hovering penis-at-table-level next to her, the phrase six-inch sirloin actually makes me want to have a discussion of all the silly euphemisms writers use to describe body parts in fiction.
Throbbing staff of manhood, anyone? Rigid spear of pleasure? Tunnel of womanhood? Or maybe "her velvety flower?" Bleh. I actually get nauseous typing that flower one.
What's the worst sexual euphemism you've read or heard? Which ones are like nails on a chalkboard for you? Which ones do you actually, secretly, like (if you dare to admit it)?
I really prefer to call a cock a cock and a pussy a pussy (oh boy I'm going to get some good blog spam for that line) and all those sexual acts by what they are really called in everyday life, but that doesn't work for everyone. Some people are, surprise, surprise, offended by such talk! Imagine that. Heh.
Shakespeare, I believe, once called sex "making the beast with two backs." Wow, if that doesn't make it sound un-sexy, I don't know what does.
I try to keep it simple, because unless the scene is intentionally funny, I don't want anyone giggling through my sex scenes. I think I'm going to HAVE to throw in that rather brilliant six-inch-sirloin line in my next book though.