I never knew what type of man I liked. Hollywood has been confusing my lady parts with sexual imagery for years. Does Daffy Duck have genitals? Is Tweety a girl or a boy bird? Were Minnie and Mickey living in sin? How is a woman supposed to understand her sexuality with so many confusing characters? And if you don’t know what you want, how are you supposed to go get it? That was until Joe Pytka’s 1996 “Space Jam” catalyzed my sexual awakening. Now I know. I want a Nerdluck in the streets and a space jamming Monstar in the sheets.

After a long day of feeling like a wussy woman at work, I need a Nerdluck to take me out and spend his hard earned Warner Brothers Bucks on all the Hanes products that I demand. I need someone predictable, drawing from a cartoon canon of over 86 years.  The connection between us won’t be love, because he is a cartoon and I am not. Nay! I will instill the fear of the almighty Swackhammer in him to do my bidding, which of course includes performing a three part harmony of “I Believe I Can Fly” every morning to inspire my day.


But I have multitudes. As much as I need someone tender to love me, I want a savage Monstar to ride me all the way to Moron Mountain. I want my animated  lover to strum my lady parts with a space tune so jammin’ that neighbors hear my pleasured cries and scream “Whoop dere it is, Whoop dere it is!”.  I want him to harness the hip thrusting power of Charles Barkley, Shawn Bradley, Patrick Ewing, Larry Johnson, Muggsy Bogues, and Michael Jordan combined.

I want my little Nerdluck peon to transform into a 10 foot tall, animated beast that tears my vag up. I want to shout “Sufferin’ Succotash” as we transcend into climactic Acme heaven. I need confetti, flashing lights, and jock jams to fill my bedroom with retro 90s ambiance. Is that too much to ask for? I just want a space jamming Monstar to take me to my sexually graphic happy place. If wanting to fuck a Monstar makes me wrong, then call me Lola Bunny and let me have it. I’m pleased to have found exactly what I want in a cartoon– someone with emotional sensitivity and sexual prowess.  I hope all the ladies out these can one day find the space jamming Monstar that completes them.

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