Volume 2, Issue 18 August 17 - August 30, 2000

Think size doesn't matter? Stephanie Glenn will set you straight in Siren Chat. Stephanie also has her own website at www.sirenonline.com. E-mail her at sirenchat@aol.com, and ask her anything you want.

Dear Stephanie,
Last weekend while out on a drinking binge I met this woman I thought was a Goddess. She said all the right things, had all the right moves and gave me one hell of a night of animalistic pleasures. Then I woke up the next morning with this thing in my bed that resembled an animal.

AAAGGGHHHHH! I freaked! She was no Goddess, in fact, I was wondering if she was a real woman at all. I tried to slip her out without my roommate seeing her, but he and his girlfriend were right there in the living room. Now I am getting nothing but shit from him. To make matters worse, she keeps stopping by my house. I don't want the neighbors to think I'm running a fat farm out of my place. What should I do?

- Beer Goggles

decided to do a little research on the matter. The question begged ... just how much gross will be over looked by a man in need?

A few hours later, myself and two beautiful friends entered the bar, armed with one of the fiercest weapons of man repellent around: Billy Bob Teeth. Mine were big, yellow and spaced like farmhouses. Kellee's were huge with shiny, silver braces and Lauren's had a lovely green gum line. Teeth strategically hidden in our bras, we would wait until a man approached to put them on. It was becoming increasingly apparent which ones had already installed their bar-noculars. We decided to have a contest to see who could get the most guys to agree to go home by the end of the night. The difficult part was figuring out which ones were drunk and targeting them.

I spotted four guys at the pool table with a slew of empty bottles around. I casually approach, dropped my quarters and stood there, mouth closed. One of them was incessantly lurking in my direction, apparently unaware of the bulging mouth. I waited until all of his friends were watching and I flashed him a smile of my pearly corn. One of them nearly spit his beer, while the others just smiled back.

One eight ball shot later for me and four tequila shots later for them, I had two of them agreeing to go home and fulfill my two man fantasy. Too bad they were the kind of guys who, upon hearing "Mony Mony" by Billy Idol would yell, "Hey Mother Fucker, get laid get fucked!"

I caught up with Kellee and Lauren who both had several offers themselves and I asked of their progress.

"This one asked me if I loved oral sex!" "Yeah, and this one actually kissed me." Did none of these guys really care about our hideous teeth? Or did they, perhaps, know that it was a joke and like us even more because of our sense of humor? One thing was clear ... a woman, regardless of what she looks like, can pretty much get laid any time she likes. And it appears it's the man with all the regrets and embarrassment the following day. So, the only real advice I can offer to Beer Goggles and all others in this predicament is when you go out drinking, along with having a designated driver, try bringing along a designated scoper.

Can four shots of tequila really turn the top picture into the bottom one?