How Ron Jeremy Changed My LIfe And Made Me Whole Again

I’d like to start of this testimonial by saying that the whole point of this is for all of you  to email Ron Jeremy with our burning questions so that he may respond, and have his video answer posted right here on College Humor.
Let the saga begin…

So, the other day I said to my sherpa, “ My silly little Tenzing II, I think you’re so fucking wrong on two counts. One: I do think it’s wise to continue up through ˜Crag-Country’ as you call it, whiteout or no whiteout. And two: it just doesn’t make sense to keep drinking water, when it’s positively freezing out here, so here’s your Garfield canteen back, my friend, I won’t be needing that anymore.”

Guess what happened? Tenzing II, on his 64 mile solo trek back to base-camp, was obviously torn asunder by a bloodthirsty pack of high altitude mountain wolves consisting of all alphas, while I went forth towards a remarkable discovery.

“I’m so thirsty”, I cried out as I internally cursed Tenzing II for his insistence on getting me hooked on water. “Bastard Tenzing II!” was the last thing I said before I decided against my will to fall backwards, shut my eyes and stop breathing.

I awoke. My eyes were ruined from forty-seven straight hours of snowfall accumulation on my lids, but I was alive. I couldn’t make out my surroundings. I could smell pineapple, vanilla, and cheese steak. What little sensation my dead lenses provided allowed me to, like a dullard, become fixated on the flecks of shimmering light that danced across the walls of a cave. As I lay there, blind, drooling, naked, with a chub, he spoke to me.

“I see you’re awake.”

“Who’s there goddamn it?! Tenzing II?! Come here you bastard, I’m going to fucking kill you till your dead!”

“Child, your wrath will need to go unsatisfied. I’ve been told by the jeweled snow lark that you’re friend has already perished.”

Completely blown away, I blurted, “Sweet Jesus… you can talk to snow larks?”

“Yes”

“Who the hell are you, what is this place”

“This is Shambala, and I am The Hedgehog”

“The Hedgehog… The Hedgehog, from the Hedgehog Porks Houston… Ron Jeremy?”

“Yes, Ron Jeremy.”

“Oh my God, we all thought you were dead”

“Spiritually, I was, corporeally, I have been alive since birth”

“No shit, so listen, can you unfasten these restraints you’ve got around all my nooks and crannies, and maybe help me get outta here”.

“Sure, let me just get some bolt cutters”

“Man, Ron Jeremy, wow, this is really shocking.”

“Here we go, there’s are a little rusty, as you can see from all the skeletons shackled to the wall, I don’t usually let people go, cause nobody really asks, but let’s just give these a try and…”

“Watch the chub, dude”

“Been.”

“Yuck it up”

“Anyway, so what were you doing trekking blind in a Himalayan whiteout?”

“ Looking for Spanish galleons”

“Makes sense, listen these bolt-cutters aren’t going to cut the mustard, I’m going to have to gnaw through your chains with my teeth”

“Oh God, this is going to take forever”

“I know, I’m sorry”

It did in fact, “take forever”, but I’m glad it did. Because it was during the ensuing conversation that I realized that Ron Jeremy was like a hundred times smarter than that stupid and didactic ape Ishmael.

“All done, just a little bleeding, you should be fine”

“Thanks Ronald, do you mind if I call you Ronald, or should I call you the Hedgehog, or what?”

“Ronald is fine”

“Fucking yes!”

After an awkward silence, I turned to him, and asked if I could explore his face with my fingers, just to make sure it really was Ron Jeremy. He seemed to hint that if I really wanted to verify if it was him that I should take hold of his dong”

“Ronald!”

“Okay, old habits die hard”

“Great fucking movie”

After another awkward silence which ended with me using a sani-nap on my palms, I said, “So Ronald, Shambabla, huh? How’d you find this place?”

“A colleague of mine, Tits Ahoy, used to sublet this place, she’s long since withered up, so I decided I’d take over her vigil.”

“Tits Ahoy, great cookies”

“And it’s been about a thousand years since I’ve been here.”

“Wow, a thousand years… Tits Ahoy, great fucking cookies, man”

“Listen, before you steer us into another awkward silence, I’d like to offer you any sagely advice that you might be seeking.”

“I’d have to think about that, Ron, this is all so new, so strange, please put your healthy hog away”

“Sure thing”

“Thanks, so, yeah, I guess I’ve got a question for, would you rather have shitty blood, or bloody shit?”

“That’s disgusting, but bloody shit, for sure”

“Fuck, why?!”

“Because you’re going to die if you’ve got shitty blood”

“Shit, shit”

“Any more questions”

“Yes, is it really scummy to sleep with a girl on the first date?”
…
Many hours later, I was exhausted from the spiritual tempest he unleashed on me. He completely drained my balls, and completely gave the best advice I’ve ever heard, ever. My life is completely changed. No longer do I think that my penis is average sized, I know now that it’s below average. No longer do I think that cribbage is for babies, no longer am I scared of the wailing banshies that inhabit my mind when I shut my eyes, no longer, do I put ketchup on hamburgers, no longer I smoke contact lenses. No, he gave me the all the knowledge I need to live a full and complete life.
And guess what fellas, he’s willing to do the same for you. He’s got internet in Shambala, and he checks that shit daily, so if you’ve got any questions that you need answered regarding love, live, death, cribbage, he’ll gladly dole out some wisdom.

Email Ron Jeremy here.