Sunday, January 30, 2011

Regress # 54: Imhotep Implores Mubarak To Resign

After staying entombed in the Saharan hinterlands for almost 5,000 years, musty Egyptian oligarch Imhotep has suddenly thrown his hat in the geo-political ring, boldly suggesting today that President Hosni Mubarak should step down as Egypt's leader, possibly allowing the erstwhile high priest of the Sun God Ra to slowly shuffle back to his well worn seat at the right hand of the Pharaoh.

"Many of us on the Cairo political sidelines are hoping against hope that our leader will yield to both the polity and Babi, the Baboon God of Death and Virility, by abdicating his high station and. . . well, whatever the hell comes next. I'm not exactly motherfucking Hemsut, am I?  But I'd heed the people's call if need be," said the still decomposing, power-famished Cannibal of the Sands.

Although Imhotep had privately suggested to opposition leaders that a forced embalming and fire-fueled burnt offering to Anubus--the jackal deity of death and the underworld--might fit the bill, the bandage-addled Carapace of the Dead has toned down his rhetoric to a place where a simple Mubarak resignation on a half-pension would be sufficient to satiate the undead beast's preternatural bloodlust.

Brendan Fraser, believed to be on the set of his new Sanford & Son reboot, was unable to be reached for a comment as of press time.

Hard Hitting,
Denny DelVecchio

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Regress #53: Where Has My Sweet Gone?

You go to bed one early morning after a corpulent night of boxed wine, gouda and genital darts with the Kenosha County Junior College Drill Team thinking you'll have forever to tell those closest to you how they make you sweat.  How you've sized them up to potentially fill the sacred role of baby mama #2. How they move your bowels (in a good way).

And then, suddenly, you realize it was but a wild, wet, gorgeous filament of your vivid, NC-17 imagination.

Denny wants you back. Denny wants you back right the fuck now.

And I will hold my breath.

Denny DelVecchio

Monday, January 24, 2011

Winner, Winner Braised Prime Rib And New Potatoes Dinner: An Upset!

A meaty man-thanks to all of you who tried your hand at fashioning Denny Dance a once-in-a-lifetime carnal calling card. It was humbling, to say the least. Actually, I don't know what humility feels like. I'm just saying it because Aaron Rodgers muttered something about it after the Bears game.

To feel certain that I made a fair ruling, I posted each of your offerings to the online dating section of the Kenosha News (except one, due to tardiness...but I still rubbed one out to it so prodigiously that Moses would have been proud) and assessed the results objectively--in terms of responses.

After a weekend each, the tops was none other than Just Ask Rod's cocksure "blow me now, ho" maelstrom of crotch-thumping goodness.


Yo girls, what’s good? Prepare yourselves for the inspiration of perspiration. Denny’s ready to commit. For one or, more realistically, several lucky lady(ies) I am prepared to bestow upon you all that is me and make your world shine like the 1 and a half carot cubic zirconia you so richly deserve. I’m a modest man of intrigue, blessed with a vibrant mane in which to entwine your fingers and a robust stache that screams, Ride Me. While I hate to put limits on my love I must insist you possess the following qualities. 

1. You are possessed with stunning ovaries, milky thighs, angel eyes and a body made taut from years of Jazzercize.
2. You have a healthy love and adoration of Whitesnake. (No exceptions)
3. You are practiced in the art of Honduran Prostate Massage. ( I can talk you through it)
4. The heady scent of Aqua Velva and the sight of a man in Bugle Boys makes your front naughty moist.
5. You don’t mind going half on a pack of Kools.
If you think you measure up, hit my pager. I’ll pick you up in my whip and we’ll drink a bottle of Goldschlager behind the burned out Shoney’s and I’ll thoroughly service your saucebox with my porksword. In the morning I’ll crap you a Promise Ring to make our union official.
No, that isn’t a sock in my pants and yes, I am happy to see you.

Why did he win? No idea, because he would be relegated to the caboose in the Denny Meat Train right after Matt Brand if things ever got orgified between all of you who submitted entries. But five lucky ladies, one couple in their 60s and a cross-dressing dental hygienist all seemed to fancy it.

A sincere DelVecchian word up to all who entered. Some of the best shit ever posted here.

Rod, forward me a P.O. Box and I'll send you something that will help effortlessly gain the lurid attentions of the fairer sex--just like Denny does.

Flattered and Satiated,
Denny DelVecchio

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Advance #67: My Sweet Ice Princes

Late last week as I scanned the outer reaches of my 10% of a neighbor's spliced Comcast (thanks, Shep!), I was treated for the very first time to the brutal, yet surprisingly sensual, game of what Wisconsin locals are apparently calling "Ice Hockey."

Yes, up around Channel 6000, in between a telenovella and racy Brazillian threesome sat a most curious offering: the Columbus Blue Jackets "hockey" squad tangling with something called the Florida Panthers.

At first, I was awestruck by the sheer complexity of following a small black orb around a spacious ice surface in what strongly resembled a broken loop from the watershed, ahead-of-its-time Chris Klein/JJ Cool J masterpiece Rollerball.

But as I looked closer, I saw a regal, majestic bloodsport of the highest order--one that made MMA look like a tea party. (No, the more cerebral kind.)

I witnessed testosterone-fueled duels featuring odd curved fiberlass mallets in place of swords. I gazed upon figure skaters in bulky blue and red separates plowing each other as if possessed by the Prince of Lies himself. And I was treated to comely 20 year old college students in clingy spandex shoveling white residue away once every 10 minutes. Which, coincidentally, factors in some manner into fully 1/3 of my conscious thoughts.

Where has this game been all of my life?

In the end, the Blue Jackets triumphed when a kid who looked a lot like my paperboy back in Phoenix flicked the black rubber into a netting. It was beautiful, and inspired me to resolve to watch all future Columbus Blue Jackets games. A quick scan assures me that they'll be on at least two more times before 2014. I'll even try and catch one live if I ever get down to Georgia.

And if I do Denny will be there, standing proudly alongside the most awesome mascot in the history of American sport.

#1 Fan,
Denny DelVecchio

Monday, January 17, 2011

Advance #66: A Chance For You To "Give Back" By Writing Denny A Sweet, Tender Personal Ad

I know
For too many DelVecchians, it's been all "Me, Me, Me" lately as we become humiliatingly self-absorbent in our "I may not be Denny but I still think I'm awesome" lives. We forget sometimes that this is really still all about Denny.

Well, that said, Denny Dance is offering a unique opportunity to make you feel as good about yourself as you did the morning Dylan Vanderwessens awkwardly gobbled up your virginity in a darkened band room after 3rd period Calculus late in your senior year--just as his father had with your mother 23 years earlier.

I want you to write me a personal ad to end all other personal ads. Literally. I want all other men to see mine and give up.

Why, Denny?, you ask.

Perhaps I've grown weary of fecklessly sleeping my way through Kenosha County's modest reserves of sexable females.

Maybe I'm tired of waking up next to three or four different women each morn, especially when roughly half of them are on the run from a local prison/group home.

Perchance I've had enough of casting my magical, viscous seed into the Southern Wisconsin wind. Especially with the wind chills as they are.

Or it could simply be that I can no longer chance that I'll be juggling vagina-support vessels from two different generations of the same family.

Said another way--Denny wants to settle down with the Wisconsinite of his Dreams, and is relying on you to make it happen. You're the pimp that's going to score me my hooker, but instead of a hooker she's going to be a non-hooker.

So, in the comment space provided below, write your holy one a personal advertisement befitting his out of this world looks and sky-high lovemaking standards. Or simply send it to

The winner will win a real prize, but I don't want to commit to anything of value until I confirm that I'm not losing my job for offering free bikini waxing in the womens' bathroom last week (with nary a drop of wax in sight).

Most Thankful,
Denny DelVecchio

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Correction #2

Just some shirtless actors from web search
The editors marginally regret that last month's Your New Bad Habit expose on the thriving, underground Huntsville, Alabama gay bathhouse scene had a few modest inaccuracies, including that it amounted to something besides a totally straight and faithful husband and father of three taking a 15 minute Epsom Salt dip in his own apartment's bathtub to ease his bunion pain, that the editors of this website had anything but seething contempt for the truth or even the most rawboned journalistic mores and, finally, the piece's suggestion that you're actually allowed to be gay in Alabama.

Besides that, the story was 100% accurate and Your New Bad Habit stands fully behind the balance of its allegations.


Sunday, January 9, 2011

From The Bag Of Tricks: Outlive You (Denny's Bucket List #2)

As I continue with my periodic list of things that I must do before I leave this illuminant, earthlike planet, I can't help but turn a bit competitive.

Because perhaps the most important thing for me to accomplish before I die is dying after you.

That's right, I must insist that you feed from the bitter trough of mortality before I do.

Surely you concede that Denny has an abundance of grand schemes just aching to come to fruition while your modest aspirations--likely to include some combination of taking a commercial airline flight, learning to whistle the love theme from Saw II and finally getting to second base with Maria Lavacelli--suggest a future far less lustrous than my own.

Don't get me wrong, friend: I'm in no hurry to witness your demise, and have no present plans to accelerate it in any fashion, be it a duel, a drizzle of Polonium 210 in your lemonade or unleashing a bloodthirsty she-jackal into your sleeping quarters.

In fact, since I plan to live to the healthy age of 112, you can yet witness several decades worth of glorious sunrises while still managing to return to humble dust well before Denny Dance does.

Fair enough?  Good.

It's settled then.

All Smiles,
Denny DelVecchio

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Advance #65: The Best Thing In The History Of The Internet

Denny will simply step aside and let the magic happen.

Heat and Intensity in my Penis,
Denny DelVecchio

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Advance #64: My New Bad Resolutions

Greetings, my panting DelVecchians. Your favorite party crasher/panty snatcher is back in full effect.

I felt your collective, preternatural yearning across the broad expanse spanning wherever you are and my South Kenosha Garden Efficiency of Carnaility, and felt that I owed it to your trusty loins to put some pants on for the first time in roughly 72 hours and toss a knowing witticism or two your way.

You're welcome.

So, at risk of plowing original ground in any way shape or form, Denny Dance will settle in and man-hump the blog-tested meme of New Year's resolutions. I'm stunned that Mr. Brand hasn't already unleashed his own wispy set of these centering on effetely swilling cherry-lime cosmos and/or tennis-themed self-gratification and/or hatching a plan to woo an unwitting young lass by borrowing his neighbor Les' three legged pygmy German Shepherd for a couple of hours. (Hint: not the dog kind.)

Although my initial, vain instinct would be to leave my quasi-perfection alone, along my ex-wife would waddle and spoil that man-tasy. So I'll come correct.

Denny can better himself. There, I said it. (Put our gentle, resplendent lovemaking sessions of 2010 out of your mind so the list doesn't strain all bounds of believability.)

Here's how I'll do it:

1. Begin working an actual Shake Weight for my seven daily Shake Weight sessions.
2. Start using real names when on the prowl for tocus. Retiring "Bennie DelVecchio" for good.
3. No more sexting with the boss man (except on breaks).
4. Stop being so goddamn good-looking.
5. More headbands (see video, above).
6. Less codpieces.
7. 13 way with Singlegirlie, Vodka, KAP, B Schooled, Jami, Spice, Loon, Blunty, OCD, Good Nurse, Nikki and you. Denny will at long last add "Director" to his acting resume. It's good to be a hyphenate.
8. Two way with Gunther. In a totally straight way.
9. Perhaps dabble a bit in the Dildonic Arts.
10. Continue blowing your mind, rocking you world and dampening your chosen variety of undergarment(s) with murderous aplomb.

Good to have me back,
Denny DelVecchio