Lovers of sex and warmed-over sex advice rejoice, it is time again for the Internet’s foremost source of counsel from misanthropic sexists. This week, in addition to entertaining a bevy of B-Marsh trade inquiries, we address a wee dicked fellow who frets over his girl’s love of her “Purple Penetrator,” non-fug options for those in Oklahoma, a reader with a carte blanche for any sex act he desire, if it’s okay to bed a girl who’s long since dismissed your friend and, shock of shocks, a guy who bucks the tide of the overwhelmingly favorable anal seeking sentiment on the site. Remember, commenters, torch him, not me.

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Brandon Marshall: Aw damn damndamndamndamndamn! These Bob Ley, Josh Barr, Outside the Lines gotcha-reporters are trying to bring the hammer down on me, only cause I maybe roughed up my girlfriend, like, a couple dozen times. Like Larry Fitzgerald and Randy Moss never been accused of this! It’s practically a rite of passage for big play receivers. Plaxico beat on his girl a bunch and it wasn’t until he shot himself in the club that he got in trouble. Even bad receivers be gettin’ breaks. Matt Jones would have to chew off a baby’s head on camera before he gets suspended. And they’d probably only give him a game. Why are they all ganging up on me? Why am I always the victim?

You gotta help me out. How do I kick this? You been going through heat with this for months and you still got a career. Let’s get some advice, man. Anything.

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Brandon Marshall: Look at this shit. All these fans wolfing down their greasy-ass food and I gotta stationary bike like a sucker. Makes a guy wanna put his fist through a giant flatscreen. That’s it, I gotta make a food run after this game.

Jay Cutler: Shit! Looks like Jacksonville is about to take the lead. We gotta come out strong on this drive. There are only about six minutes left. We might not get another shot. Brandon? I’ve noticed your production slipping, B-Marsh. 18 catches in your first game. 10 in the last two. What’s going on? Talk to me. Brandon. Brandon!

Marshall: Hole up. Putting a McD’s takeout order together. What’m I putting you down for? You look like one a’ them fish fillet motherfuckers.

Cutler: Get your head in the game! THIS ISN’T JUST ABOUT YOU! GOTTA HANDLE THE BUSINESS! YOU KNOW, THE BUSINESS AT HAND! I’M JUST TRYING TO RAP AT YOU, MY MAIN MAN! WE GOT TO MOVE IT, MOVE IT! Fuck, I can’t do this, I came from Indiana. Yeah, fish fillet’ll do just fine. How’d you know?

Marshall: All you quarterbacks love your mayonnaise.

Cutler: What’s wrong with mayonnaise?

Andre Hall: A’yo: Did I hear you right? Are you planning on making a food run after the game?

Marshall: Yessir.

Hall: Could I perhaps prevail upon you to go to Sonic?

Marshall: Can’t be hearing that.

Hall: C’mon dog.

Marshall: Can’t be hearing it.

Hall: One time.

Marshall: Can’t do it.

Hall: Dog, I’m on a running back co-mit-tee. That means everything we running backs do, we got to put to a vote. Let me make one executive decision.

Marshall: I feel for you. I really do. This ain’t the situation for taking the flyer.

Hall: How ’bout I throw you five?

Marshall: Keep going.

Hall: More than five? That’s steep.

Marshall: Price of living.

Hall: All right, all right. 10. 10 sound good?

Marshall: Good enough. What they got at Sonic?

Hall: Fuck if I know. Commercials are funny as shit.

Marshall: You’re killing me.

Hall: I know you’ve seen ‘em.

Marshall: Killing me.

Hall: Folks in the car? Making funny talk. The girl who looks like a bird? The dudes from every Comedy Central show?

Marshall: [Feigns choking motion] Dead.

Hall: Fine. ‘Least gimme my 10 back.

Marshall: ‘Nah dude. This covering drinks. Bad suggestion means your cash is forfeit.

Hall: You got my apple pie in there, though, right? ‘CAUSE I REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME! NO! NO IT’S NOT TIME FOR YOU TO TAKE THE FIELD. Goddamn it.