Boy Sauce

I LOVE the French — cheese, wine, cheese, Charlotte Gainsbourg, cheese, buttery pastries, cheese, tongue-kissing, etc. But the following has rocked my world. I may never watch a Catherine Deneuve movie again. Not even "Belle De Jour." Yeah, it's THAT bad.

Courtesy of Les 400 Culs comes this eBay France listing for "15 ml de jus de maillots de bain homme."

Know what that is? "15 milliliters of Male Bathing-Suit Juice."


The seller collected the "jus" from a public swimming pool in Paris. I'm wondering how the "precious nectar" (his words, not mine) was in fact collected. Is there such a collection device? I imagine the object would look something like the biting shark on the end of a stick you get in the concession stands of amusement parks. Like this:

Gotcha!

Things get even creepier with the description of the odor as "delicate" owing to the fact it was collected in such a "convivial" and "virile" environment as the changing room of a public pool.

That's so many kinds of weird-nasty I can't even count. It's infinitively weird-nasty. It's the pi of weird-nasty!

This would all be a 5-euro joke we could put behind us if it weren't for the fact 4 freakin' people (or escaped zoo gorillas) have bid on it. WTFF?! Le gross.