My family, my elders jumped in head first. I was the baby of the family and they couldn’t wait to teach me things; how to read, how to count to ten, how to tie my shoe laces. How to make paper planes and paper guns, how to throw a spiral and how to banana kick. Life was a veritable how-to experience with aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings and parents jockeying for position, trying to be the first one to teach me how to parallel park or cook rice and peas.

However, nobody volunteered to teach me how to kiss, love or f***. At least not explicitly so. But like most members of my species I also learned by example. I didn’t necessarily need aunt so-and-so or uncle what’s-his-name to spell everything out. There are some things I learned just by watching, listening and interpreting. For example, observing my Uncle Allen taught me this:

Liquid courage is also stupid juice…

Here’s the thing about alcohol: It is not just a liquid panty remover; it separates us from our mental faculties faster than you can say “are you even wearing panties”. Alcohol is liquid lobotomy. We all know about beer goggles but it goes further than that. Yes, inhibitions may be lowered and tongues tend to loosen. But condoms are also more likely to get “misplaced” under the spell of Satan’s swill. Nothing good comes from misplaced condoms.

I learned this lesson at 15. Not because I was drinking. Oh no, nothing like that. No, I showed up in Jamaica for the bi-annual family reunion to be greeted by some strange baby sitting on my grandmother’s veranda. With Inspector Gadget like precision I inquired about this kid’s origins only to be informed that the drooling mess was my newest cousin. Apparently good old Uncle Allen played a game of adult twister with Ms. Mildred from down the street.

Big deal you say, this could happen to anyone. Sure. But not to be a superficial prick here but my uncle Allen was the handsomest man I’ve ever known. He was well and pretty, not girly, girly kind of soft Doogie Howser like pretty. I’m talking women falling down in the road and throwing their children into oncoming traffic to get closer to him pretty. And Ms. Mildred? Well to say she was homely, hairy, and rotund would be generous. Really, really, really generous. Plus they didn’t really like each other.

No one had to ask how it could have happened. We all knew. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knew how much Uncle Allen enjoyed to drink. We’d all seen and heard his drunkenness. Uncle Allen’s indiscretion made me swear to never drink alcohol. Then I realized this wasn’t realistic for me so I swore never to drink in excess in the company of a woman. I soon realized this was just as untenable and made the more practical decision to always, always, always, always practice safe sex. Especially while drinking.

Let this be a lesson to you all. Drink and sex responsibly. Or else you might end up like Uncle Allen, sharing a child with a person you loathe. Or you might end up like this woman:

First, an apology. This was supposed to be a podcast. Skye, Elizabeth and I had recorded a hilarious and irreverent conversation in which we, among other things, discussed my ideal bra size, had me professing my undying love and respect for intelligent women and had us each list our Freebie Five. But I must have had a cord loose. Or there’s something wrong with my microphone. Or God is punishing me for comparing Jesus to Spiderman. Oh the blasphemy.

So, instead of hearing our cheery voices you’ll have to settle for the following; a collection of my favourite video clips related to some of the lessons I learned as a child about gender, dating, mating and sex. Enjoy.

Sam.

1. NEVER Hit a woman: My mother drilled this into me as a child. But six year old me couldn’t quite understand. See, in my school girls were in the habit of kicking boys in the nuts and running away. And while some of my classmates chased the girls and shoved them to the ground I stood firm. Well, as firm as I could while holding my balls in my hands and fighting back the tears.

2. Earrings are for girls. Though she is pretty hip for someone of her vintage, my mother, like most Jamaican mothers, promotes clearly delineated gender roles. Boys don’t wear pink. Boys should always open doors. Boys should never wear hats indoors. And boys should never, ever, ever, ever pierce their ears.

3. Sex is for adults: This one’s self explanatory. But it kind of goes hand in hand with number two. Don’t get it? Let me explain. I’m aging myself here but I remember watching the 25th Grammy awards way back in 1983. The evening stood out for me for a couple of reasons. First, it was just a couple of days before my birthday and at that young age birthdays mean everything. Second, Marvin Gaye won the R&B Grammy for best vocal performance, male. And third, he performed his Grammy winning hit, ‘Sexual Healing’, live during the telecast.

Marvin Gaye changed my world. He was the first man I can remember seeing wearing an earring. I couldn’t help but wonder what that signified; I mean, only girls wore earrings right? Well, his name was Gaye, did that mean something? I was confused. Plus, I wasn’t quite sure what this Sexual Healing thing was about. I knew it was meant for adults. I knew it had something to do with kissing. I knew it made me feel something inside. And most of all, I knew I was going to want some of it someday. Badly. I just didn’t know I would end up wanting it so much.

4. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye or has sex….with a mule?: Well. This really has nothing to do with me. This is about Neal Horsley. Don’t know Neal Horsley? Well, as far as I can tell he’s crazy. But that’s just my opinion. Watch the video. Google him. Decide for yourself.

I was 21. She was almost 30. I was a younger, much more callow version of myself who only sought pleasures of the flesh. She was a Filipina, a devout Catholic who was saving it for the right person. I was filled with youthful vigor. She had legs like whoa and a mouth that promised to do bad things. I was in between relationships and looking to sow my oats. She was busy preserving her virginity while maintaining her relationship with Jesus. Goddamn she was fine and I did everything in my power to get her out of her panties. Jesus didn’t stand a chance.

Through her faith she could achieve many things; she could live a moral and upstanding life, she could avoid eternal damnation and in its stead take her rightful place in heaven. But her faith couldn’t bring her to orgasm, at least not without external stimulation. I was that external stimulation. Though our experiences were good, very good actually, she was wracked with guilt. And this wasn’t the good kind of guilt, the kind that leads to role-play and multiple orgasms. No, this guilt led to tears, pointed fingers and arguments. No amount of transcendent sex is worth that. I worked hard to get her to loosen up and to loosen her drawstrings. I might have been able to take Jesus down myself but the holy trinity? Naw son, the holy trinity wasn’t having it. I didn’t stand a chance.

Fact of the matter is religion is a powerful force in the lives of the devout. You may or may not believe and there are arguments to be made about the negative impact of organized religion but to be fair religion can be a force for good in this world. But if you’re a heathen like me you probably don’t put too much stock in it either way. But here’s what fascinates me; religions and the religious, particularly those of Christian faiths, seem to be obsessed with sex.

Here’s my proof. What does it mean when the holier-than-thou crowd says, “oh, Sam, Elizabeth Rose and Skye are swell people but they’re all living in sin?” Does it mean I’m a compulsive liar, a cheat and a thief? Does it mean Skye is prone to violent rages? Does it mean Elizabeth Rose has denied the existence of God? No. Living in sin means one thing and one thing alone: They’re unmarried and they be f**kin’.**

**This is in my imaginary world where Skye, Elizabeth and I live in a sprawling estate on Jamaica’s south coast or on the Cote d’Azur fully equipped with servants a games room and a “recreational” area where we….recreate….Anyway, back to regularly scheduled programming.**

Sins of the flesh trump everything else. Jeffrey Dahmer: psychopath and cannibal? Yes. Living in sin? Nope. Charles Manson: psychopath, false prophet and killer? Yes. Living in sin? Naaaw. Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn? Yup, sinners. Angelina Jolie? Jezebel. Tiger Woods? He’s a fornicator. Pastor Ted Haggard? Okay, well that’s a bad example. But I think you get what I’m saying. There’s just something about people getting hot, naked and sweaty that just f**ks with the devout.

Anyway, I was thinking about all of this, about the many ways in which religion f**ks with our f**kin’ when I came across the work of British writer and philosopher Alan Wilson Watts. Can’t believe I hadn’t heard of him before. Mr. Watts wrote extensively about religion and helped make Eastern Philosophy de-rigueur for western audiences. Check out the following clips to get a taste of Watts’ work. Each clip is about 10 minutes long but worth the investment. If you have the time check out the rest of the clips in this series (there are six).

Ladies, a treat for you and your…

BOOBS.

After reading my post about the wonderful experience I had in their Covent Garden store, the lovely people at Bravissimo contacted us and asked if we’d be interested in posting their video on how to make sure your bra is a perfect fit. Since we here at MetAnotherFrog.com feel it is important that all breasts are treated right and it is estimated that 70% of women are wearing the wrong size bra (for the love of boobs people, WTF is going on?) we jumped at the chance.

For those of you who’ve never been professionally fit for a bra this video will make your puppies stand at attention should be quite informative, uplifting even; and for those of you who have, it may be a refresher on what you already knew. Either way…

Here’s to health, happiness and proper support of breasts everywhere.

Enjoy!

S

So without further ado, Met Another Frog presents Babbzy talks Sex In Public.

Enjoy!

Skye, Sam Sharpe and Elizabeth Rose

P.S. For those of you who are new to our blog, contrary to what our dear friend Babbzy says at the end of the video, we here at metanotherfrog.com post six days a week, Monday to Saturday. So, be sure to come back often so you don’t miss any of the fun.

Enjoy!

This is our first “instructional” video explaining how to put into action our tips on spotting a VSD (very small dick).

Part 1- “On First Meeting”

There are some tell tale signs for VSD, in this installment we investigate the initial clues on first meeting a guy.