Chelsea Handler - My Horizontal Life - A Collection of One-Night Stands

I told Ross to get lost. It was clearly his cue to leave. He kept apologizing and apologizing, but it didn't help. He just looked ridiculous standing there naked.

I had to calm Dumb Dumb down. Of course, her first interaction with a penis had to be really up close with urine coming out of it. Not a dream come true. It took me a couple months after my first time having sex to even look at a penis. They're just so silly.

Innocently, I asked her where Ed was, and she said she had the best night of her life, but he didn't even kiss her good night. That bastard! If only Ed had been there, he could've knocked Ross out, and no one would be the wiser. Plus, I'd have had my bed all to myself.

I apologized profusely and told her how sorry I was about Ross. I assured her I'd get rid of him. Then I helped her change her sheets and wash the pee out of her curly red hair. But I knew, from that moment on, our relationship would never be the same.

When she finally calmed down enough so that she could sleep, I went back to my room. Ross was passed out on the bed. He must have really felt terrible about pissing on my roommate's face.

"Ross. Ross. Rossss!" I yelled, slapping his face.

"That's not even my fucking name," he groaned.

"What?"

"That's not even my name." Now be was mad. Puhlease.

"You told me that was your name."

"No, you said that was gonna be my name because my other two friends were named Ross. You thought it would be funny if you called me Ross too."

"Whatever," I said. "Listen, there's street cleaning at six. You need to move your car."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes," I said, "unfortunately." Then he asked if he could come back in afterward. Why, so you can urinate on me this time? I thought. "Sorry, I have to go to church very early," I said.

"But it's Saturday," he reminded me-again.

" Temple," I said. I think he got the message. If not, he definitely got the message when he realized our street didn't have any street cleaning. I decided that potty training, which had fallen off my list of prerequisites years earlier, would have to make a comeback.

It turns out that Ed even found Dumb Dumb too stupid. He apologized profusely but couldn't bear to break her heart, and also couldn't bear to listen to her for another second. He told me there was only so much he could hear about the The Lion King.

The next day I went out and bought Dumb Dumb a karaoke machine and told her it would be a great way to jump-start her singing career.

"Really?" she asked. "Has anyone ever done that?"

"Uh duh!" I told her. "How do you think Yanni got started?"

Ed felt pretty bad about the whole thing. He had never not fulfilled his job requirements before. So we both agreed it would be best if we slept together. Talk about fulfilling a requirement.

MOST WOMEN I know prefer female gynecologists, masseuses, and therapists. I prefer men. I've always felt that men have a better grasp of the female body, and I've always felt more comfortable naked with a man in the room. Their hands are usually stronger, they're usually more confident when performing the task at hand, and most men have penises. I love penises.

Ivory had just been referred to a new gynecologist. Apparently her last gynecologist started to give her attitude after seeing her three times in one month. She thought that maybe Ivory was a vaginal hypochondriac.

She was right. After any sexual contact or her period, Ivory would schedule an appointment with her OB GYN to make sure everything was still intact. She tried to assure me these visits were driven purely by her desire to maintain maximum sexual enjoyment at all times. Knowing Ivory as well as I did, I was aware of the real reason: terror. She was constantly afraid of picking up a disease. This is someone who worried that her clitoris could catch unwanted UV rays from a maxipad that had been sitting in the sun too long. As if maxipads just decided to get up in the middle of the day and walk outside for a tan. She once asked me if I thought you could get crabs from giving someone a blow job. Knowing that crabs are attracted to hairy areas, I told her, "Yes, but only if you have a mustache."

After her first visit with Dr. Luke, Ivory came directly over to my apartment. She was beaming.

"You are never going to believe how sexy my new doctor is," she said. Ivory has excellent taste in men. I knew if she thought someone was sexy, he was. "He's funny, sexy, smart, and he's not married!" she cried.

"Great," I said. "Go out with him."

"I can't," she said. "I've been seeing Jackson for two months. We've decided to become exclusive."

Jackson and Ivory. Jackson was the lead singer of some band I can't remember the name of. He was pretty sexy, but his hair was longer than Ivory's and it always looked like he was hiding something in it. Ivory came from a lot of money; her Cuban parents had started a lucrative pet-grooming business that now occupied fourteen different locations. She usually dated rich men. She also wasn't one of those girls who went crazy for musicians, so I was surprised at their pairing. Other than seeing his band perform twice, I didn't know much about Jackson other than the fact that he loved going down on Ivory.

"Well, too bad," I said. "You'll have to wait until you break up, then. I'm sure you'll get to know Dr. Luke in the meantime."

"You go out with him," she said.

The thought of going steady with someone who knew his way around a vagina seemed like a great idea. "Okay," I said. "But first, I'm making an appointment. I have to make sure he's good with a speculum."

"You're the best! I knew you'd do it. You have to sleep with him too, though. I need to live vicariously through you."

"Well, let me see what I can do."

Ivory had never asked me for a favor before. I had done small favors for her, of course, bringing her medicine when she was sick or driving her to the airport, but nothing of this magnitude. I was honored that she trusted me enough to take on this task. She was in need, and luckily she had someone like me to depend on.

I called that afternoon to make my appointment with Dr. Luke. His first availability was in two weeks. Due to my lack of employment, my schedule was wide open and nothing conflicted on my end. And I couldn't think of a better way to spend my afternoon.

I immediately scheduled a bikini wax with my aesthetician. When I got there I asked her if she could wax a special message for the doctor. Like, "What's up, Doc?" She said my vagina face wasn't big enough for so many words. I loved the term "vagina face" and couldn't wait to use it in a sentence.

We agreed on the basic Brazilian-right after I downed a Vicodin. I don't know who thought up waxing, but it was clearly the same person who invented Vicodin.

Finally, the Tuesday of my appointment rolled around. I decided on a business suit to give the illusion of being a professional. The thought that I would be lying there naked escaped me.

When I got to the office, I was nervous. What if he didn't like my vagina? What if I had some weird vagina that made him laugh? I usually wasn't this insecure, but I needed him to like me. I could not let Ivory down. Having someone depend on me really made me want to pull through. I filled out some paperwork and took a couple deep breaths.

When my name was called I went into the examining room and was given one of those cloth robes that doesn't close and has a bottom the size of a napkin, so if I was to sit up, my ass crack would be facing the door when Dr. Luke came in. This was not the first impression I wanted to make. I drew the robe shut and lay down.

Dr. Luke walked in. He was older, in his late thirties, and Ivory was right-very sexy. He reminded me of a friendly Richard Gere. Really warm. He flashed me a wide, genuine smile revealing a good bedside manner. I hoped this led to a good bedroom manner.