Maybe you should go to Hawaii with your girlfriend, whatever gender you are.
“JAKE!” I screamed. “JAKE I FOUND ONE.”
He rushed over. For a moment, we both stood in silence, staring at the phallic fungus. Then he turned to me. “OK, so… I guess you should sniff it,” he said. I nodded. Slowly, I dropped to my knees. I closed my eyes and took a breath. I placed my hands in the soft mulch on either side of the fungus, and let the air out of my lungs. Then, I pushed my face next to its orange stalk and breathed in as deeply as I could.
My physiological reaction was immediate and strong. In less than a heartbeat I was on my feet, staggering backwards, gagging.
“Are you OK?” Jake asked, concerned, as he rushed to my side. The taste was in my mouth. It was in my throat. This disgusting, foul, rottenness—there are no words that adequately describe the vile stench. Tears formed in my eyes. I nearly vomited.
Check this out- all reputable ethno mycologists.
If you type 2014 telluride shroomfest into the google search engine it should pop up.
The panel of ethnomycologests features John Halliday who discuses the orgasmic stink weed, funny stuff.
My wife and several of my female friends are very intrigued by our local stinkhorns.
there is an old Nanabhoozoo story about how Nanabhoozoo told the village women if they sat on this particular mushroom they could get pregnant.
So Nanabhoozoo stripped naked lay down and covered himself with leaves.
Well of coarse you know how these story's go. the wrong group of women showed up! they wer picking mushrooms for dinner.