Rain isn't sexy. Rain is nature's sleeping aide. It makes flowers pretty and pretty flowers make bumblees horny. But it isn't sexy, not to me at least. The movies want you to believe it's sexy, what with everyone always kissing during a downpour. Music videos sell rain as being a turn-on. But as a rule, wet testicles aren't sexy. I was caught in a rainstorm the other day and when I got home, did I peel my soaked clothes off in slow motion and then gently bark "Here's your first class ticket to bonertown, all aboard," at my girlfriend? No. I whined about wrinkled toes and made a cup o' noodles.

You know what else isn't sexy? Candlelight dinners. There's a reason the light bulb is the universal symbol for a good idea. Because it was a good idea. You can't see anything by candlelight. Light bulbs became popular because when you turn them on, you see stuff. They used candles in the past because that's all they had. They didn't really know any better. Eating dinner and barely being able to see your food was normal. In the past, they used candles, stunk like thigh grease and performed root canals without anesthesia. Dinner by candlelight has only one purpose: to obscure raging herpes sores. Sex by candle is only sexy if you're a vampire and only then if you're a vampire who lives in an underground crypt. Rigging a crypt with electrical wiring is difficult and expensive. Sex should happen in the dark, or with the lights on. There are reasons to use candles, but must you go drilling for crude during a hurricane?  

Strawberries aren't sexy, so don't feed them to me. I know how to eat. I've been doing it my whole life. If, for some terrible reason, a gorilla throws a barrel at my head and I'm incapable of feeding myself, then by all means shove a strawberry in my mouth. Am I the only person who thinks strawberries look like tiny alien insect sacs? They taste good, sure, but I prefer them in powdered form. Strawberry milk is liquid victory. I wish it rained strawberry milk. That still wouldn't be sexy. But I'd walk slower in the strawberry milk rain, then come home and dry myself off with a couple of warm toaster waffles. If you want to eat strawberries, that's fine. Eat away. Stuff your mouth with them. Give me strawberry kisses, which for your information sounds like a depraved sex act. I will kiss your fruit mouth, but don't think I will suck your tongue. Just don't grab them by their green little toupee and dangle them in front of my face. I can see them sitting there in that bowl.  I haven't had an aneurism. I can even brush my own teeth.

Clown noses are definitely not sexy, so stop wearing them to bed. The same goes for pith helmets. One time, a woman I knew wore a rubber Bill Clinton mask to bed. That's fine if it's me. Is that a double-standard? Fine. Then I won't wear your panties and stretch them out with my fat wings. I know some men find it sexy, but when you jump into the sack with me, kindly remove your horseshoes. I have a hoof fetish. Coffins are not sexy (I can put up with the candles, and the crypt, but Holy Nosferatu, buy an inflatable bed.) Dumpsters filled with pillows are not sexy. The same goes for human hair hammocks, large slices of Swiss cheese, and giant bean bags filled with smaller bean bags. Not. Sexy.

I recently read in a women's magazine that the big thing this season are pocket chickens. All I have to say to that is: keep those trendy cluckers out of my flying saucer. If you have to choose between two noses and glow-in-the-dark teeth... don't pick either. Opt for whistling elbows. The first two? You guessed it - about as sexy as a threesome with a hot chick and her plastic bag puppet "Plasty The Baggo." They say confidence is sexy, and that's true. But juggling teacups is sexier. My nipples are not car ignitions, so don't twist them. Don't whisper sweet nothings into my bellybutton. Bikini waxing the tops of your feet isn't sexy. I love the natural hobbit look. If you have an Insane Clown Posse tattoo on the inside of your lower lip, don't always be "Check it out!" Once is enough. You know what else isn't sexy? Bras made out of butterfly wings. Custom-made bald caps. Actual dynamite in the bedroom. Bears. Bear suits. Care bears. Care bear suits. Licorice trapezes. Steampunk vibrators. Competitive cupcake shot put (do I force you to attend my biweekly frown offs? No). Having sex in the bathtub is also not sexy. It's human broth, a skin flake pond, rain taking a nap. Rain isn't sexy.