Whose royal penis is being squeaked clean by squads of adoring fans daily on college campus? Who is sleeping atop the fluffiest bed warmed by the most alluring of flesh blankets this week? We report on the only award that matters in college football, the Thighs-man trophy, the award given to the player most deserving of that most essential of college currencies: sex for good play.
This week's contenders:
Andre Woodson. As if he didn't have enough going for him already: tall, biracial ("They're always the prettiest babies!" says some woman at some Southern PTA meeting,) and quarterback at a school with an extremely comely student population.
No, the rich get filthier this week as Andre Woodson, fresh off a heroic, "what, me need kidney" bludgeoning in a victory against LSU at home, gets monstro Florida in a youth camp year. They can go ahead and play in the road whites just for spite's sake, since Florida's line couldn't pressure Brandon Cox and his mighty womb playing behind an o-line fraught with freshmen--Woodson's uniform would still be sparkling at the end.
Combine that with the daily cleaning of the Bluegrass Bootybanger, and the possibility of a 350-400 yard day only strengthens his claim for ass on tap. Get his jimmy some pads, because it's about to go full-contact daily.
Matt Ryan. Yes, they're all qbs. But dating other football players is downright frightening, and a risky evolutionary choice for young women looking to breed since "big, cuddly teddy bears" sometimes end up crippled, obese concussion cases by the age of 40. Qbs may be crippled, but all that tv time guarantees some pr advantage in getting that primo insurance sales job. (See: Clausen, any.)
Ryan's certainly gets a chance walk pantsless around campus to thunderous applause against Virginia Tech this weekend, particularly because his numbers dipped a bit against an underrated 14th ranked Notre Dame pass defense last week. (Seriously, even with all the losses the secondary's been ND's strength this year. Zbikowski hasn't burst into serious flame yet, though there have been sparks.) Virginia Tech hasn't faced a qb of Ryan's stature or iron sternum yet, so knocking him out of the game is not a viable option. Pray for cluster headaches, acid in the Gatorade, or grand mal seizures--that's the only thing that will stop him from expanding his brainy and perhaps beer-padded harem of Boston College women this weekend.
(Perhaps he's recruiting from nearby community colleges. Yes, that's exactly what's happening.)
Chase Daniel, Missouri. Still only licensed to strut in his boxers--the full nudity and instant service command mandate will be approved by school officials pending his performance through the rest of the schedule. Daniel also already looks fifty and is 5'11" at best, so he's bringing up the rear in this competition. (My, that's an unfortunate choice of words.)
Forced to subside on only three to four women at a time:
John David Booty. Fingers are important on and off the field, especially if you wanna be a pro. Likely down to seven assignations a week with five fine dimes, a condition referred to as "poverty" at USC.
Glenn Dorsey Again, pulling for a big man for the Thighsman is quixotic at best, but putting your money on a lineman is near suicide barring his actual unintentional manslaughter of a qb on the field. Again, probably forced to subside on using only one cell phone to juggle his crew of Cock Commando-ettes.
Ray Rice Still wakes up with the taste of hairspray and covered in the scent of secondhand Exclamation! on a daily basis, sure. But a loss for Rutgers and the New York media's amazing immunity to college football fever keeps him to a local sultan of split-legged-lumber-lay only. Much riding (the potential for double entendre here is just amazing) on tonight's game with USF, which could turn his wang into a tradeable commodity on the NASDAQ with a huge performance.