Saturday, February 27, 2010

Terminology (or, This Isn't Sex), Pt. 2

[trigger warning]

This is a continuation of the sentiments expressed in the other day’s post, Terminology (or, This Isn’t Sex). In it, I describe how when I was younger, I assumed pretty much any sexual media to be “sex-positive” and empowering, as some sort of “take that!” to the social conservative, decidedly sex-negative movement. I conflated objectification and rape apologism with empowerment and sexual freedom and agency, in part because none of the former words were in my vocabulary at the time. I discussed how the lack of feminist terminology in popular discourse, or the misunderstanding of same, leads to the phenomenon of all criticism of pornography, etc. being labeled as prudish and anachronistic, and had I realized that at least some of the criticism was based on ideas I would actually agreed with, I would have come to certain realizations much earlier.

Today, I’m going to discuss more thoughts about sex I had at that age and how they were influenced by popular culture and education, so this is your fair warning to leave if it’s something you’d rather not hear about (Hi, Mommy!).

When I was a teenager, one of the paramount themes in representations and discussions of relationships was sexual intimacy (shocker, I know). I was lucky enough not to be in an area of the country or religion where abstinence-only sex education or purity pledges abound, but the impressions I got were still mixed, at best. In discussions with health teachers, other adults, friends, and of course almost all popular media, the following messages were disseminated:

  • Teenage boys are the horniest creatures on the planet. They are perpetually masturbating, or thinking about it, and this is both completely acceptable and very funny. In almost no situation can a teenage boy control his sex drive, whether this means becoming aroused at an inappropriate times or trying to “get” sexual activity from a hesitant (female) partner.
  • Teenage girls are boy-crazy, but any sexual contact with said boys is a result of peer pressure. The vast majority of girls don’t masturbate, which is why any discussion of it is both rare and considered much more”shocking”. Teenage girls can’t control their emotions and fall hopelessly in love with boys at the drop of a hat, which leaves them vulnerable to being “made” to do something they’d rather not (have sex). This is not a funny thing in the same way that boys humping apple pies is, but the girls aren’t pitied very much either, because as the possessors of a lower libido they are the Designated Kill Switch for any teenage sexual activity, which is universally considered to be bad unless we’re just talking about boys having sex with nameless figures, in which case it’s cool and funny. Any girl who fails to properly control her boy’s sexual urges is to be blamed and shamed; any indication that she might have actually invited or (gasp!) wanted said sexual activity should lead to even more blaming and shaming. The terms “fast”, “loose”, “easy”, “whore”, and “slut” should be employed whenever describing a girl that someone thinks might have wanted sex, or had sex, or been “made” to have sex, and are universally acknowledged as the worst things a girl could ever be.

People were not entirely without sympathy for the female half of the population, though. We also received frequent admonitions and instructions on how and why we should “resist” our potential boyfriends’ inevitable (and inevitably unwelcome) sexual advances. I remember distinct moments in health class, for example, where we all discussed what we would say if our boyfriend told us “you would [have sex] if you loved me” – the proper response was “if you loved me, you wouldn’t make me”. A boy who is trying to have sex with a girl who doesn’t want to (pretty much all sexual activity was assumed to fall into this category) is inconsiderate and not a nice person, and it might even be good for you two to have a Serious Discussion About Your Feelings, but breaking up with a boy who was pressuring you into sex was a last resort (don’t want to be a prude! And all boys are gonna do it anyway, so do you really want to be alone?).

My friends and I internalized these messages to varying degrees; we did endorse the “boys are uncontrollably aroused” idea, and did use the terms “easy” and “slut”, even while we acknowledged that at least some “normal” girls might want sex. I personally never took the “how to resist sex” warnings very seriously, as they seemed to hinge upon girls being universally frigid, which I knew was not the case. It was difficult for me to envision a situation in which a potential boyfriend might want more sex than I did, as I (last warning, Mom!) spent my pubescent years in a state of near-perpetual horniness. If such an unlikely situation did arise, I conceded that it would not be a good thing and might even make me love my boyfriend less, thought dumping him might be a bit much. I mentally condemned and mocked all female characters who complained of being sexually pressured as prudish and uptight. In short, it wasn’t something I envisioned ever having much of a problem with, as it depended on the “fact” that good girls resisted sex. If you want sex, then you can’t be pressured into it – and wouldn’t be likely to anyway, as the reason boys pressured in the first place was having unsatisfied urges. As long as you both have lots of mutually agreed-upon sex, you’d be safe from any messy “if you loved me you wouldn’t make me” awkwardness. Phew!

Just for the record, I was “right” in that respect. No boy ever tried to force me into something I wasn’t interested in, or was anything less than completely considerate of my feelings. This is not one of Those Stories.

I chalked this up to my decidedly sex-positive attitude, as well as the fact that people I went out with were nice boys.  How lucky I was, to find people that cared about me enough not to pressure me into sex! It wasn’t until years later that I really thought about those beliefs, and I came to a shocking revelation: Someone who “makes” you have sex is not just inconsiderate, or unable to control their impulses. Those things are completely true, but no one ever mentioned that this person was also a rapist.

Let me repeat, in bold face and caps: NO ONE EVER TOLD ME THAT SOMEONE FORCING YOU INTO SEX WAS RAPE.

Not teachers, not parents, not friends, not any of the “young adult” books I so voraciously consumed (even the ones that depicted teenage girls as realistically horny). No one ever said “someone who tries to get you to have sex with them against your will is trying to rape you”. No one ever said “the character in this movie is pregnant because her boyfriend raped her”. Words such as  “sexual assault”, “consent”, and “rape” were completely absent from even my twelfth-grade health class, except for a brief discussion we had on statutory rape laws and the age of consent in our state.

No one ever told me that the calm and amicable (and COMPLETELY THEORETICAL) back-and-forth I had with my boyfriend about what I might do if he tried to make me do things that made me uncomfortable was really a calm and amicable discussion about how I’d behave if he sexually assaulted me.

Just let that one sink in for a minute.

*     *     *

I realize that as epiphanies go, this one’s deceptively simple: the criticism of people conflating sexual assault with sex, maintaining a difference between “coerced sex” and “rape”, and viewing all methods of coercion short of actual restraint as totally fair game are feminist bloggers’ bread and butter. I shouldn’t be surprised, and in a sense I’m not – I’ve done enough reading about rape culture, both for pleasure and for school, to not really be surprised by anything like that anymore. I’ve read how studies about how rape proclivity and incidence of rape need to be measured by asking the perpetrators “Have you ever had sex with someone when you knew they didn’t want to?” rather than “Have you ever raped someone?” because most rapists freely admit to the first; the same false distinction goes for survivors of sexual assault. I’ve read about how people that view rape as just some other kind of sex are more likely to excuse it, and to report that they would consider doing it sometime (you know, just for the hell of it). I know all this, and it used to shock me, but it (usually) doesn’t anymore. I have been so completely disillusioned about our cultural beliefs about sexual assault that most of the time, I’m numb to any new and horrible statistics or revelations.

But this? This revelation doesn’t leave me numb. When I think about how I so easily could have been sexually assaulted and not really known why it made me feel so bad, I feel both terrified and relieved for myself (this post could so easily have been one of Those Stories), and great sorrow for all the people who weren’t as lucky as I was. When I think about all the work I inadvertently did, in my mind and in my actions, to dismiss all instances of “forced sex” as the inevitable result of mismatched libidos, I feel ashamed.

When I think about how blissfully unaware that that unprovoked and detached conversation I had with my boyfriend presented him raping me as a reasonable (though remote) possibility, and that even as I told him I would dump him if he did I thought in my head that I probably wouldn’t, I want to throw up.

And when I think about all the supposedly more knowledgeable and more responsible people that were supposed to be telling me how the world works and how to get through it in the best way possible – all those people that for all their talk about sex, never mentioned rape except in the context of Law and Order: SVU episodes, I feel furious.

How hard would it have been, in the midst of talking about lube and condoms and birth control pills and anal sex, to throw in a one-minute spiel about sexual consent? I realize that because of the rape culture the probability of that was very low (for reasons discussed earlier), and that to condemn any one individual for conforming to it is very unfair. I also realize that because of the same environment, any “lessons” about sexual assault would probably have been of the Esteemed School of Victim Blaming (the same Epically Unhelpful institution to bring “Why doesn’t she just leave?” to every discussion of domestic violence), but at least then the possibility would have crossed my mind.

How much did it cross the grown-ups’ minds? Is it sometimes the case, as I posited in my prior post, that people want to express pro-feminist thoughts but are forced to couch them in more “traditional”, socially conservative terms? Were some of the people talked to actually thinking about rape but unable to articulate it in socially acceptable ways?

In particular, this makes me think of a well-worn expression: “He’s only after one thing”. This phrase, and its variants, are ubiquitous when discussing teenage boys, the implicit assumption that the “one thing” they want is sex. It’s frequently said by older men, when recollecting their youthful heyday. Sitcom Dad: “I remember when I was his age! They only want one thing, and NO DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE HAVING THE SEX!” (then Sitcom Dad jokes with Sitcom Male Teenager about his latest “scores”). It’s sometimes said in the funny yet rueful manner people use when talking about teenage boys’ inevitable masturbation, but I’ve heard it more often as a cautionary: “You don’t want to go out with that boy. He’s only after one thing.” Unsurprisingly, teenage TRN didn’t really understand why this was such a bad thing (a horny dude who wants do fool around? Sign me up!) and attributed it to most people’s implicit assumption that girls weren’t interested in sex. A boy wanting sex couldn’t be anything other than unwelcome, because girls are pure as the driven snow. And in a lot of cases, I’m sure I was right. A lot of people, for all their progressiveness, still get super-freaked at the idea of their little girl being sexually active in a way that doesn’t apply to their little boys, and that has nothing to do with her sexual agency.

But how many people actually mean the more sinister implication? Sure, it’s a problem if two people get in a relationship and find their sexual desires are incompatible, doubly so if one person misled the other about their intentions, but someone who’s only after one thing sounds like they’d go to great lengths to get it. Someone who only wants sex and doesn’t care about your feelings probably isn’t going to be honest about their intentions if it’ll impede their attainment of said sex. Someone who only thinks of women as the means to a very specific end (I refrained from writing what I really wanted to) is going to treat them like crap. Someone who’s after sexual congress above all else, including actual consent, is a rapist.

I understand that allegations of sexual assault are taken very seriously, and that in most people’s minds accusing someone of rape without sufficient evidence (or sometimes even with it) is a far worse crime than actually raping someone. So your aunt is not at all likely to say, “Don’t go out with that boy, he might try to rape you. He’s done it to four other girls”. But is that what she meant? I think the way in which the phrase is used indicates that at least for some people, it is meant to protect women from a threat that they can’t actually admit. Of course, this means that some men who say “I remember when I was his age! I was only after one thing, just like him!” are tacitly admitting to sexual assault, which…yeah*.

I may have strayed a wee bit from my original point, which was that the way we talk about sex is important. Forced sex is not sex. Sex, or sexual consent, that is “obtained” or  “gotten” is not sex. Trying to “make someone have sex with you” by any means other than politely asking, and being willing to hear a response of “no”,  is not sex. Viewing people as sexual objects without feelings, or being completely willing to ignore these feelings for the sake of “getting some”, is not the inevitable conclusion to sexual arousal, and it is not sex. Someone who pressures you into sex is not having sex with you. The inability or refusal of people to use feminist terminology when talking about sensitive subjects such as sex has very real consequences. I know that I’m not one of the main casualties of the rape culture, as I have so far managed to go through life unassaulted. But when I realize how much I’ve been forced to dispassionately contemplate the possibility of my own sexual assault? That little frisson of fear is all too familiar, and it affects all of us.

*This is actually not a shocking idea – many pro-feminist men have written about retrospectively realizing that they had coerced women into sex (what they don’t say is that it was “accidental”, just that they didn’t think about it as sexual coercion).

[Via http://theradicalnotion.wordpress.com]

Much ado about sex

So I received a direct message the other day on Twitter in response to my tweet asking people to give me some blogging topics. The most hits I’ve had on my blog were due to my sexual frustration post, so I thought I might find a way to continue that by having people ask me questions about sex. Whether it be personal questions they’d like answered about their own life/issues, or questions directed towards curiosities about mine. Honestly? I’m open for anything. I’m a bluntly honest person, so if you want to know – just ask.

As of now, I have not requested permission to use this person’s name or Twitter handle, so I’ll refrain from doing so until I receive an answer. Now, on to the questions.

1.     What sexual activity would you never do?

I can honestly say there are not a lot of activities I would never do, I’m a pretty open person when it comes to that three letter word sex. Well, I guess there’s the obvious things like, I probably would never perform a Rusty Trombone or participate in a Hot Carl. Sorry kids, but I’m not a porn star. I’m not completely shut off to trying new things though. People fear what they do not know. I cannot count how many people I’ve talked to that you mention the slightest thing, like anal sex, and they become completely turned off and disgusted. But yet, they’ve never actually tried it. I love trying new things. But there are also rules that I have about doing so.

Obviously, I’m not going to want to do things that are harmful to myself or others. Second, I typically only try new things with people who I’ve been with sexually for a decent amount of time and have grown comfortable with. Sex is sex. There are lots of embarrassing things that can happen. Especially when you are doing something you’ve never done before. God knows, no one wants to try anal sex for the first time with a stranger and then accidentally fart or worse… It makes for a really awkward situation. Whereas, if you know the person, you can just laugh it off. Our bodies are unpredictable, therefore comfort is essential.

That is what is fun about sex though! It’s always unpredictable. It leaves room for exploration and all sorts of fun things that may turn out disastrous and be cause for several laughs later, or you just may have the best orgasm of your life. I’m a firm believer in being open to trying new things for that reason. When I was younger, I was terrified of sexual exploration – but once I started, I couldn’t stop.

You’re goal: try something new with your partner tonight. Perhaps anal sex for the first time, just make sure you have some sort of lubricant, new position, some role-playing, etc. Or maybe even try something as simple as slipping some “lube cubes” (basically like ice cubes, except for it is lube instead of water) in your vagina before intercourse. Just have an open mind, have fun, and be safe!

2.     What’s your biggest turn-on?

Oooh. That is a hard question – pun intended. I don’t really have one specific thing that really just gets me going. It’s been different with each partner I’ve had, just depending on their level of experience or comfort. It also depends on what kind of ”randy” mood I’m in. There are a few good ol’ standby’s though! I’m definitely an ear and neck person. If you breathe lightly or bite my ear or kiss my neck, it will make my hair stand on end. I’m also one of those crazy girls that likes to get a bit rough. I like getting man handled, I’m not going to lie. I also like assuming control so I can do a bit of man handling myself, haha.

Now here is an odd one for you. Odd and completely 100% honest! I’m a big fan of blow jobs. I never used to be. In fact, I used to hate them. I would DREAD the times I would have to give one. But within the last few years, I actually found myself starting to like them. I like having all the power. I like being able to tease and control the rate at which my partner orgasms. Perhaps it’s because I’m a bit of a control freak at heart. Or perhaps I’m just weird. What I do know, is that fans of giving blow jobs are rarities. All the same, it actually turns me on. The whole process, start to finish, turns me on. Knowing that my partner is enjoying something I’m doing solely for their benefit and hearing them confirm that enjoyment seriously gets me going. Call me odd, call me weird, but it’s the honest to god truth – I get horny over blow jobs.

Well, that is all for now my friends. I hope that I was able to entertain you with my sexual honesty and brash answers. If you have any sex related issues/questions/advice you would like me to blog about, please feel free to DM or tweet me on Twitter, message me on Facebook, or email me at kristina.h.martin@gmail.com

Ta-ta for now!

k.

[Via http://doodleannie.wordpress.com]

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Tentacle Monsters and the women who love them.

Ann, age 26 –

Jerry did not corner me in a dark alley and rape me on our first date; that’s such a negative stereotype. I mean, I know a lot of tentacle monsters meet women that way, but not Jerry. He’s so sweet. He asked me out to coffee, first, and then he serenaded me from the fire escape window. That Nat King Cole song, Mona Lisa. But I’d say the thing that most drew me to him was his eyes. Jerry has the most beautiful eyes at the end of glistening penile-shaped groinal appendages.

Jane, age 40 –

Belpheyrgotep and I have been married for six years, and it’s been…difficult. Good, but difficult, at times. I mean, how many twittering school girls do you need menace before it just gets old? Don’t get me wrong, Bel’s been nothing but faithful…but on the weekends he does like to go out with his buddies and lurk a little. Just harmless lurking. I mean, it’s just a hobby, it’s just jumping out the bushes and startling kids on their way back from the anime fan club, what’s the harm in that? Somedays I just don’t understand why he keeps getting arrested.

Sue, age 64 –

Ah, Marvin. Even after all these years, he still fills my every orifice.

[Via http://sexsceneswithmonsters.wordpress.com]

Stop In The Name Of Love. Please Stop.

Well…..we can call it unique….

Have a look at these photos and get inspired. All you need is a little ingenuity, condoms, drinking straws, and polyurethane foam. This should please any girl on this most special day of the year.

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Unique St. Valentine’s Day Gift (13 pics)

Errr, thanks.

from http://visboo.com/unique-st-valentine’s-day-gift.html#more-1842

[Via http://melissadesa.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Sex Drugs And Rock N Roll?

Not so much recently, I’ve been behaving and that results in absolute boredom. Sorry I’ve been slacking a bit this week with updates maybe due to this little funk I’m in. A good friend is moving to the city and she will be missed,one less interesting person to interact with. I read something on my little old facebook news feed that kind of irritated me..some girl talking about how the normal kids in highschool now seek her out on said social network and how annoying it is to her…I was never normal in high school, but i never felt as though i was above anyone just because i knew I saw things differently than most of the people i knew/know.I understand a bit of her frustration but it was such a turn off to read that and see other people agree. Here’s an option, if you don’t feel they are worthy of your friendship then simply ignore them like they ignored you in school. Or you can just delete them at first signs of the stupidity you knew was there… like I do. I hate when I innocently open up my fb account to find a status that begins with ” ALL THESE FUCKING BITCHES FROM NAUGY/ ALL THESE FUCKING HOES FROM NAUGY ” Or Any other construction of this sentence with the same intended message and terrible grammar, that apparently are directed to me, a gal form little old Naugatuck. Sorry dolls but this does not apply and I don’t need to read through all your laughable, self righteous generalizations  of why I apparently Suck. So yeah that’s my facebook rant. I am however excited to show my lovely soul mate L’via and our pal Ricky around the not so sucky parts of Ct when they come visit me in March.

Any suggestions of must see tourist attractions? (Are those Crickets I hear?) Well anyway I’ve come to the realization that on top of my poor spending habits, due to our consumer based society, well that’s my excuse anyway….I spend too much money at Bars, so feel free to come buy me some drinks at the Webster this Saturday, more info on that later. But really be there or be square. Later Boys and gals.

xoxooxx

P.s. Go see Shutter Island If you haven’t already. Also: http://www.formspring.me/Carmensyta make it interesting or I’m deleting that shit.

[Via http://wewereyoungdarlin.wordpress.com]

Sex, shopping and bargains:lessons

there are bargains and bargains

In a previous post – Sex shopping and bargains – I told you how I purchased a value pack of magazines, including Cosmopolitan,  for my wife.

Nothing wrong with that. Except she had asked me to buy either The Tatler, Good Housekeeping or Woman and Home.

So what have I learnt from our subsequent discussions of my behaviour?

To look harder when shopping.

She took me back to the shop.  She showed me that her chosen magazines were on the shelves. (My wife believes in evidence based management.)

To listen better to the customer.

She wanted particular magazines, rather than any magazine.

Price is not the same as value.

A value pack has no value if you don’t want the content.

And, when in a hole stop digging.

I gave the magazine to my adult children. They assumed that I had bought them especially for them. Until my wife told them otherwise.

Picture by Pink Moose

[Via http://mikebarnato.wordpress.com]

Sunday, February 21, 2010

"Stuck in the Middle With You..." and Other Love Songs

Sex is arguably the most popular recreational activity for mankind. It is propagated throughout our society; one can’t walk anywhere without seeing an advertisement steeped in sex appeal.  Individuals, especially males, pursue sex with reckless abandon and often come up unsuccessful for one reason or another, often a canned and trite response from the pursued. Sex, as a result, is such a confusing and polarized topic. It is sought after by all and is saturated in society through the media, but it is incredibly hard to obtain, and when one doesn’t have sex, it becomes a reason for ridicule. Relationships, can be ruined by one partner pursuing sex outside of the relationship, or bolstered as a result of the intimacy and pleasure that sex provides.

…Enter the Oankali, a race of genetic engineers with a neuter third gender, the ooloi,  whose sole purpose is to aid in the creation of offspring. They cannot reproduce themselves, but mix the gametes and genes of the male and female “parents” as part of the mating process. They also provide the intense pleasure that sex is known for. Without the ooloi, there is no pleasure from mating.

I think the existence of this third neuter gender is a direct response on Butler’s part to address the complicated and contradictory nature of sex in our society. Firstly, the male and female cannot enjoy any kind of intimate touching without the ooloi. The pleasure dependency prevents the promiscuity that can drive families apart.  Secondly, the presence of this third gender relegates the constant seeking of sex (that lovable male behavior) to the past tense.

Most profoundly though, I see the ooloi as the antithesis to cold war masculinity; they represent the divorce of sex and reproduction. The male in the relationship no “longer” has power over the reproduction process. The ooloi facilitates conception and the growing offspring is carried in the female. The male, while still a necessary part of progeny production, isn’t a Henry (Created He Them). He is rendered relatively impotent, stuck between the organism carrying the offspring and the one who mixes the DNA and provides sexual pleasure.

A typical male in the Oankali reproduction model

The humans who do not subscribe to this method of reproduction are made sterile. I think Butler uses the Oankali and ooloi as a commentary and critique of the overzealous sexual nature of society in modern times (1987 [when Dawn was written]-present).  In order to prevent societal downfall and destruction, sex and its surrounding culture needs to become less stigmatized.  Perhaps Butler is saying the sex needs to become a less individualistic endeavor. The success and progenesis of the Oankali is derived from their ability to control sex, pleasure, and reproduction. Certainly Butler is critiquing the male role and dominance in sex, as evidenced by their impotence in the Oankali model.

[Via http://saberman.wordpress.com]

Voyeurism Part II

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Notes on a tiger and its stripes . . .

This posting will present my analysis of, and my comments on, the path that Tiger Wood has followed over the past few years, leaving behind a trail strewn with prostitutes, broken hearts and broken promises—if one can believe the prostitutes that claim their hearts have been broken.

I have my opinion regarding Tiger’s so-called sex addiction, his stint at a rehabilitation center, and his recent apology to his legions of admirers and to the rest of the world’s population, admirers as well as non-admirers—and in my opinion there are far more non-admirers than admirers. I do not believe his apology was sincere, and I don’t believe the sex addiction clinic will work any miracles, even though it is in the sovereign state of Mississippi.

Many of the non-admirers are envious, however, both for his dalliances with hookers and his ability to place a little ball, less than two inches in diameter, atop a large ball some twenty-five thousand miles in circumference and hit the little ball without touching the larger one. They admire his golfing skills, but they do not admire his lack of restraint in sexual matters.

I want to share my opinion with my viewers, limited in number though they may be, and in that endeavor I will invoke the words of some of the wisest men that ever lived. That will include conjuring up long-passed notables such as Henry David Thoreau, Omar Khayyam, Jimmie Carter, Red Foxx and Sir Walter Scott. Note that I have lined out Jimmie Carter, not only because he has not passed as of this writing, but because I do not believe he qualifies for membership in this group of thinkers—I will still quote him, regardless.

As for the remorse voiced by Tiger Wood, the greatest golfer in the world, one of the world’s most prolific seekers of sex for sale and the purchaser thereof—in my opinion the remorse rings hollow. Tiger is not sorry he committed an outstanding, perhaps record setting, string of indiscretions. He’s just sorry that his wife finally got fed up with them and with him, and announced her displeasure with the help of a #9 golf club. She would have to be blind and deaf with no knowledge of Braille to not have known that something was rotten in Denmark (with apologizes to Denmark).

If she did not know, or at least had strong suspicions that Tiger was, and is a serial philanderer, she would have to be the ultimate victim of ADD, the attention deficit disorder that has become so prevalent in recent years. In my opinion, she is not ADD.

I refuse to believe that legions of his admirers believe the story that his wife shattered the windows of his Cadillac Escalade in order to rescue and administer to his injuries, if any. I believe that she truly meant to minister to him, but not to care for any injuries he may have suffered in the crash. I believe she had it in her heart to inflict some deadly serious injuries on him, up to and including a death blow.

Tiger’s wife says she found Tiger inert, apparently unconscious after his vehicle took out a fire hydrant and smashed into a tree near his home. I believe that Tiger was simply and wisely playing possum, a feint that may have saved his life, or at least lessened the possibility of a death blow from the #9 iron.

This just in: GM has recalled all its Cadillac Escalades for demagnatization. The company has concluded that the vehicles are overmagnatized, as evidenced by the recent malfunction of Tiger Wood’s Cadillac SUV at his home—drawn by the magnetism in his Escalade, a metal golf club flew out a window of Tiger’s home and shattered the Escalade’s windows.

I will now invoke the words of Jimmie Carter, a former president of the United States, as told in an interview that appeared in Playboy magazine. The ex-president from Georgia said something on the order of:

Although I have never transgressed, I have lusted in my heart.

Carter is an honest man—not the brightest card in the deck, but honest.

And now for a quote, one that I have badly corrupted, from Sir Walter Scott’s, The Lay of the Last Minstrel (the italicized and bolded words are not Sir Walter’s—they are mine):

Breathes there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land! Hot dang, I’d like to have some of that!
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand! Las Vegas.
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self, A
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, perfect
And, doubly dying, shall go down description
To the vile dust from whence he sprung, of
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. Tiger!

The point I am making, however crude and obtuse, is that no man has ever lived—at least no manly man—that did not lust—perhaps with little more than a twinge of lust, but lust nevertheless—in his heart at the sight of a beautiful woman, whether in magazines, in the movies or on the street, whether fully clothed, scantily clad or nude, whether in a gentleman’s club or pictured in enticing positions in many of our nation’s magazines for men. And in my opinion no man will ever live and not have the same thought in those situations, namely, Hot dang, I’d like to have some of that!

Tiger can be likened to a tomcat, and we are all aware of a tomcat’s activities, mostly nocturnal but no tomcat has ever waited for the cover of darkness if the conquest is available in daylight. And trust me, once a tomcat’s proclivities and his routine are established, nothing will ever change him short of death. His routine will continue even if he is relieved of his ability to sire offspring or even to minister to members of the opposite gender, or the same gender should he be so inclined.

Nope, it will not keep a tomcat at home nights even if he is subjected to a surgical process, the very thought which causes nightmares for the male of the human species, and probably for every tomcat. Be advised, however, that the tomcat will still make his rounds every night. The only difference is that following the surgery he goes out as a consultant.

Now let’s bring Red Foxx into the discussion: Red Foxx, when he was accused of being a dirty old man he replied,Yes, I”m a dirty old man, and I’m gonna stay a dirty old man until I’m a dead old man!

‘Nuff said, Tiger?

A leopard can’t change its spots, nor can a tiger can’t change its stripes. Those spots and stripes will be with those animals as long as they live. No amount of money spent at a sexual addiction treatment center will change Tiger Wood, and no amount of new births, a process offered by the Buddhist religion he professes, will change him. The urge will always be there, and the best thing he can do is to accept its presence and control it.

He shouldn’t waste time trying to extinguish something that burns with a flame so bright and hot that it cannot be extinguished—its flame can only be dampened by the use of free will. Its his flame and it will stay with him. It will still be with him when he departs for that ultimate golf tournament, the one hosted by Saint Peter and the angels—or the one hosted by Lucifer and his minions, whichever is the case.

Had Tiger come to me for advise before staging his return to the media’s bright lights, I would have advised him to decline the opportunity, no matter how well staged—and it was staged, with nary a question permitted. My expert advice for him would have been—and still is—just five words:

Stop talking—shut up and play golf!

And now to support that sage advice, a quote from Khayyam’s Rubaiyat:

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Tiger should pay heed to Omar’s words—he cannot change one iota of the past, so he should shut up and play golf!

An important footnote: I have oft’ quoted and will continue to quote an author that I admire above all others—even above Bill O’Reilly! In Thoreau’s  Walden, or Life in the Woods,  one of the most important works in the history of this country and the world, Henry David Thoreau writes this:

I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience.

‘Nuff said?

[Via http://thekingoftexas.wordpress.com]

Like a Virgin

In the conventional sense of the word, I lost my virginity when I was 16. It wasn’t a big deal, I was with a boy I liked and it was entirely my choice – he was too shy to ask, I had to make all the suggestions but god damnit, I wanted to do it!

Life went on basically the same after I had a cock in my cunt for the very first time. However, I remember one day talking to a friend of mine who was older, played the guitar, had his own apartment and oozed confidence. In my naivety, I thought he was totally cool. Let’s call him Dickwad McGee.

One day I was hanging out with Dickwad McGee and we were discussing a mutual friend. For some reason, Dickwad started to compare my desirability with my friend’s. Dickwad told me that I was hot, but that ultimately my friend was more desirable because she wasn’t “used goods”. She was still a virgin.

Yeah that pissed me off. For one thing, I was convinced (and still am) that experience and skill is a good thing. But more than that, I couldn’t believe that somebody in my part of the universe thought virginity was still a big deal.

To this day, I am still shocked and disgusted by people who think virginity is some sort of holy, sacred, special thing. What’s the big fucking deal? The conventional idea people have about a person losing their virginity is when a penis enters a vagina!  Something going in and out of an orifice? Nobody made a song and dance about the first time a crap left my arse, as far as I can tell!

Argh. To equate virginity to a kind of purity and cleanliness is to make sex something corrupting and dirty. If someone can explain to me why sex is corrupting and dirty without resorting to religious rhetoric, romantic rubbish, or pseudo-scientific codswallop… well, I’m all ears and orifices!

In my ever so humble opinion, purity is a notion used to control women’s sexuality, it fetishizes youth and inexperience and gives us unhealthy attitudes about sex. Besides, it’s just plain unrealistic and the sooner people stop preaching this abstinence based bullshit, the sooner we can evolve as a species.

As a final note… when I typed “evolved” I realised that I’ve probably completely destroyed any chances of making a persuasive argument to the sort of people who believe in this abstinence nonsense so instead I shall quote directly from the Holy Bible;

“My children, thou shalt go forth and fuck. Except for this guy, he’s creepy.” Nio 3:15

Amen.

[Via http://niofaps.wordpress.com]

Thursday, February 18, 2010

What do you want?

There are a lot of things I like when it comes to sex. I like my ears nibbled, my neck kissed, my torso squeezed, my throat choked and hair pulled and ass smacked (these three LIGHTLY)

One thing I do not like is to be asked 2 minutes after getting into bed “What do you like?” I know this seems harsh, an unfair complaint against an attempt to be a pleasing and giving lover. But to me it’s cheating. It’s taking the easy road, which rarely leads anywhere worth going.

It is like skipping to the end of a mystery novel, flipping over the trivia card, giving up your three guesses. It is not fun to have the answer handed to you outright at the start of the game, kids. The good stuff, the sweet stuff, the creamy center is in the finding out. Instead of rushing through the puzzle of my body, try a few potential solutions to your buzzing quandry of what I want. Your answer will come in moans (or lack of) instead of instruction manuel directions or awkward hesitation.

What sort of answer does one expect to this question, anyway? It implies a prolific plethora of possilbe responses. “I’d like to be strapped to the hood of a car, covered in liquid latex, penetrated by a rolling pin, and when we’re all done, could you just hold me?”      (NO judgement if this really is what you like. But then, you are a rare bird to say it the first time in bed, my friend.)

Most of us want similar things. At least, not too drastically different things, in various combinations and with reasonable modifications. Kiss, suck, lick, bite, stroke, rub, touch, tickle, hold, inside, be inside, come inside. Repeat.

What changes most drastically is what feels good with you. Or me. That is, what feels good between us. I once had an affair with boy who was a champion choker, could do it just right, would do it all the time, to my utter delight. After him came a boy who could almost bring me to orgasm by just licking my ear. Choking boy wasn’t bad at ear stimulation, but it wasn’t his forte.  Ear master, however, was not allowed to choke me.

The real question is, what do we like together? And since we’ve just started trying, I DON’T KNOW any better than you do. The great part is, if we take our time and enjoy ourselves, we get to find out together.

[Via http://bottledamory.wordpress.com]

A Box Full of Pennies and a Dream, Part IV: 25 Years Later in Inconclusive Retrospect

Link to Part I; Link to Part II; Link to Part III

.

Lee Murr: Nudged by gravity, erosion, and ice, giant boulders break free from the exposed mountains where highways cut through them. . . . 

Marion the Librarian: When Takkic took off for California, I was heartbroken. We had been dating for two years, yet I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. I just found this letter in the mailbox one morning saying he was leaving town with Lee Murr. He couldn’t even wait until the morning to say goodbye! That’s how he was: impulsive and self-centered.

Almighty Mike: He was in our band at the time. He just quit showing up for practice. We found out later that he had left town. I know he had a lot of problems.  He didn’t have a job and he was living out of his car. But the dude didn’t even call. Man, don’t do us like that! 

Troll-Traig: So they actually did it! They went off to LA! Or so we thought. We were all rooting for them.

Charu Cockrobin: He and Lee were like that. When they got together, anything could happen. They used to climb on bridges, stay up all night, and do the goofiest shit. And they weren’t on drugs. Those two were crazy together!

Perth Amboy: When I heard they had left, I knew no good could come of it . . .  except for a good laugh, perhaps.

Charu Cockrobin: So I was drinking a brew, floating on a raft in my pool when, to my surprise, up walks Takkic! He was bearded, dirty as hell and smelled like crap. And he had a canteen dangling from his belt on handcuffs. I was like, “Look what the cat dragged in!” I said, “Dude, you’re just in time for a party!”

Marion the Librarian: I got off work one Saturday about a week after Takkic left. Charu’s parents were out-of-town and he was having one of his blowouts. He had some of the wildest parties! Anyway, I walked into the backyard to find Takkic there waiting for me! OMG I was so glad to see him! He had cleaned up since he had arrived, but he left his scruffy beard intact. Can’t say I really cared for it, but it didn’t matter. My baby was back!

Troll-Traig: For some reason, he was wearing a canteen.

Perth Amboy: I asked about Lee. Takkic said he had left him in Colorado. WTF?

Takkic: I was so happy to see Marion. I told her that I couldn’t live without her and came all the way back to be with her, nudge, nudge, wink, wink. It had been a long day . . . a long week for that matter! After a while, I excused myself and went down in Charu’s room in the basement and crashed. I was awaken by a long, lithe naked girl crawling into bed with me and planting an eager tongue into my mouth. It was nice to be home, wherever that happened to be.

Charu Cockrobin:  I was always having parties when my parents were out of town, and this was one of the biggest ever. People were swimming in the pool in their underwear, cars were parked all up and down the streets for blocks and people were in the front yard doing beer bongs. I was hanging out on the roof partying with some of my closer friends, admiring the vast expanse of depravity that was our property. Then the cops pulled up with their cherries twirling.

Smooth Spoon: A helicopter flew over and lit the whole scene with its search light. They sent a friggin’ helicopter, man! People were running in all directions, jumping fences, dragging off coolers or ditching their beer.  It was pure pandemonium.

Perth Amboy: We got out of there. I didn’t like the looks of that scene!

Marion the Librarian: Takkic and I were making love in the basement. I was riding on top of him when all these people came running down the stairs. They said the party was getting busted, then ran into the laundry room and hid. You could hear a helicopter outside and people screaming upstairs. Then the cops stuck their head in the basement door and shined their lights on us. They made a few crude remarks and left. Eventually, all the people in the laundry room left as well. Takk and I hadn’t missed a beat. Like, we hadn’t seen each other for a week. We weren’t about to stop!

And I got him to part with that stupid canteen!

Takkic: Then next day I went to Lee’s folks’ place to drop off his stuff. His mother asked me to just take his guitar directly downstairs – she didn’t want to even look at that ugly thing! She mentioned that she had heard from Lee and he was hanging out with a group of hippies. She expected him home in a few days. NO WAY!!!

Perth Amboy: I got a collect call from Lee saying he was at this hippie convention in southeast Missouri. So we decided to go look for him.

Smooth Spoon: Perth and I got lost and ended up pulling into this compound with a Nazi flag flying in the middle of it. This guy came out in an orange robe, and I decided that I just had to give him a hard time.

Perth Amboy: I didn’t like the looks of the place. I got the hell out of there in a hurry.

Smooth Spoon: Then after we left, we were pulled over by federal agents with machine guns who thought we were Nazi militants. Scared the bejeezus out of me!

Perth Amboy: The agents turned out to be pretty cool, once we convinced them we weren’t Nazis. We hardly fit the bill! They gave us directions to the Rainbow Gathering. We found them alright, but apparently we had missed Lee. And as it turns out, hippies are entirely overrated anyway.

Lee Murr: I was resting on one of these boulders on the shoulder where I-44 meets I-270 when a friend from school picked me up.  He and his buddies hadn’t recognized me, but initially decided to pick me up based on my Jim Morrison t-shirt.  They happily brought me all the way home to my parent’s house where my family was eager to hear of my adventure; after a shower, please. 

Almighty Mike: One day, out of the blue, Takkic just shows up at band practice, as if nothing had happened. We said, “Dude, where the hell have you been?” He was completely unrepentant. It was as if he left because he thought we were holding him back, but now that he had returned, we should be grateful that he still wanted to jam with us. The nerve! We told him to step off.

Lee: My parents were always supportive of me as long as I was making an effort to do something. They listened to my wild story and didn’t admonish me for trying. I suppose they knew I’d be back sooner than later as I hadn’t done the necessary planning for such a move

Takkic: Eventually, I met up with Lee at his folks’ place to compared notes. Strangely, we didn’t really have a whole lot to say to each other. It’s as if we had both come back changed – but in completely different ways.

Lee Murr: Since I hadn’t reached my original destination I considered the trip a failure in that regard;  I really enjoyed playing guitar and could’ve easily immersed myself in the lifestyle of a struggling LA guitarist, but it was not to be if I couldn’t at least get there.

Takkic: I could see myself being just another struggling musician living in LA — in and out of day jobs, mooching off women to survive. Hell, that’s what I ended up doing over the next four years anyway.

Lee Murr: What if we had made it to California?  There are only so many openings for “Hot New Band” and thousands of people trying to fill the positions.

We’ll never know what might’ve been, but my life has been enriched by the experience of trying to get there.  Funny how we change; my current feelings about going to LA are “Not in a million years!”

Charu Cockrobin: That experience had an impact on Takkic. He got his hair cut and got more serious about finding a real job. He worked with my father for a while, but that didn’t last long.

Marion the Librarian: Takkic picked up these strange survival tactics. He would hoard food, and he was always counting things, as if to figure out how long they would last. He started donating blood plasma twice a week for a while. That really scared me.

Takkic: As the result of habitually donating plasma, the crook of both arms became scarred. They still are. When donating plasma, a huge two-way hypodermic needle sits in your arm for more than an hour. I have an “innie” on my right arm and an “outtie” on the left. Most of the time, I was the only white person there. The folks who worked at the donor center didn’t realize how desperate I really was. They thought I was in there for some sick kicks or something. It’s not easy being a white man in a black man’s world.

Lee Murr: Our trip may be the impetus for the survival kit – two canteens, a coat, and a hat – that I carry in the trunk of my car year-round.

Gnau on fb: Hey Dude Whatz up? This is Paula Gnau. Looks like things turned out pretty good for you. Even we who have chosen the hard road have grown up. I read your blog. It is a shame we missed each other in Denver. What a great place to visit, ha ha, but as u found out, theres no place like home. I will always miss it.

Takkic: See, Lee, the Gnaus are real!

Troll-Traig: Gu-NOWWWW!

Lee Murr: Takkic and I were all about overcoming fears. This trip had helped both of us grow in ways we wouldn’t have imagined at the outset.  Yes, it was dangerous and foolish, but until you’ve done something – you haven’t done it.  I hope that I never need to know how to beg for money or gas vouchers, but I learned that it is possible to survive when you have next to nothing. 

Takkic: You read the stories and see the movies about people who make their dreams come true. They are somewhat misleading. Careful planning helps. Resources and contacts help even more. These things are not absolutely necessary, but if you don’t have them, you at least need some saleable skills, resourcefulness or at least a giant dose of street smarts. Success requires more than a boxful of pennies and a dream.

Lee Murr: Life is cumulative; we all are the sum of our experiences. Thanks for the memories, old friend.

Takkic: I have a sneaking suspicion that we’re not finished just yet!

[Via http://takkic.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

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Strange Thinking

Last night I had a dream where I was living in an apartment building on the second to third floor. I only know this because I was looking out the window at the end of the dream. I’m trying very hard to remember other details to it but all I remember was an older man, he was so-so attractive but that’s all, nothing nice about him. He was apparently a powerful man, and a very lecherous one at that. He kept wanting me to have sex with him or else. I remember trying to ignore him and working on God knows what… to try and avoid him. He got on my bed and kept telling me to have sex with him. The whole tone could be best described as perverse and disturbing. Once he realized I wasn’t going to do anything with him, he got up and went on a tyrade. He took all of my clothes and dumped them in the trash, I can even remember the sound of the cans getting things thrown into it. And he stormed off to the building across the street; that’s all I remember from that. I’m glad the dream ended because it might have morphed into something worse, actually a lot of my dreams are like that. Dreams where I wake up and thank God it didn’t continue because then my dream would be classified a nightmare. I haven’t had a nightmare in a long time, where I wake up panting and sweating, and I know that I should thank God for that because my last one was awful, just awful… anyways!

This might make me seem weird, but that dream had me thinking about love. I know the dream had nothing to do with love but I thought what would’ve happened if the man in my dream was different and somebody I loved and loved me back (and wasn’t so perverse). Nobody can say that a sex dream made you feel bad (that is if it was with somebody in the dream that you supposedly loved, of course rape dreams and sex dreams with a family member are going to make you feel terrible/disturbed). I love having them *blush* because I always feel wonderful when I wake up, and I just now realized that all of my good sex dreams were with somebody I loved in the dream, and not something raunchy. I always wake up with the immense feeling of love. Right now I’m feeling something I rarely do, and that is wanting to be with somebody. I’m an independent gal, and I whole-heartedly feel that you don’t need a man to complete you. You are your own person, and a significant other just enhances the best in you. But this is the first time in a long time that I sincerely miss being with some one, and wish I had somebody to love and make love with. I just can’t help it. I’m so close to going and flirting with somebody just so I can feel good about myself, but I’m going to stop myself… lol, because I know that’s not the wise way, and so I’m doing this! Writing it to a website and to myself… and I already feel a bit better.

[Via http://anendlessfantasy.wordpress.com]

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

 

Today is Valentine’s Day, or Singles Awareness Day for the more cynical  individuals.  It’s a day  for expressing love and affection towards a special someone.  Millions of bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolate,  and greeting cards  specifically to let your special someone know how important they are.  Jewelers will tell you there is no better way, for you to tell the person you love, how much you love them, than with a gift of really expensive jewelery.

What a bunch of crap.

I am now convinced that there hasn’t been a song written about what love truly is.  I am also convinced that the same goes with greeting cards.  It started with the romantic poets, such as Byron, Keats, Shelley and Browning.  They are wonderfully romantic, but not terribly realistic.  Fast-forward to the late 19th and early 20th centuries – the Tin Pan Alley songwriters are cranking out “June-moon-spoon” lyrics.  Very idealistic.  Then comes the sophisticated composers of the 20’s and 30’s, such as Gershwin, Cole Porter and Jerome Kern, among others.  They’re writing the “standards”: wonderful songs with memorable melodies, but the shows are forgettable.  Those types of songs are carried over into the 40’s and 50’s.  By the 1970’s, the singer-songwriters are writing love songs more personal and introspecitve than anything before, setting the standard for love songs up until now.

What those songs lack, however, is intimacy.  Most love songs are written about those feelings of infatuation, not about a lasting love.  There are singers writing intimate songs.  Sarah McLachlan (sigh) is one of them.  She does take love down to the very bone, revealing a very personal and sensuous perspective.

 Intimacy, not infatuation, is what most people want.  The bonding of spirit and physical, intellect and sexuality.  It’s what really makes a good relationship great.  Not many folks reach that level.  They might believe they have, but most likely they haven’t.  It’s not about sharing a love for Mexican food, county fairs, sunsets at the beach or growing up in the same town.  It goes much deeper.   It the willingness to bare yourself to your partner, laying open your soul and confessing your deepest thoughts, fears, desires and dreams without reprocussion.  No dating service can offer that.

I remember wonderful and intimate moments from the past. It’s sharing a stream-of-consciousness converation that  takes you everywhere and anywhere.  It’s sharing a painful episode fromthe past triggered by an event in the present.  It’s making love and, just before reaching orgasm, opening your eyes to your lover’s face, seeing deep into their soul and knowing that you are in there with her.  It’s laughing, crying, and sharing your life, knowing there is someone who knows you and wants you there.

If there is a song about that, I’d love to hear about it.

The love and intimacy that we all want is out there.  The elements are there, the stars are aligned, and

[Via http://megawfa79.wordpress.com]

Love? Listen....

Peep Game…

Love?

Listen….

You see its no doubt we sorta kinda had some sorta connection
I mean
I’m digging ya feet
and I know your digging mine

Wait….
Rewind

I mean digging ya feat
not ya feet but
ya features
You knew it when I
licked my lips and
looked you up and down on the
Nice To Meet Ya

Tip.

But Anyways

Love?

Listen….

Yea
We spent the days together
You know…
Breakfast
A snack here
Lunch
A snack there

And you know what…
I’ll even admit to the nights
Dinner and a movie
After an appetizer
But before dessert.

We did the whole ya digs
Dig me?
Haha
True.

But anyways

Love?

Listen….

I can’t deny that
we touched thighs
Cyndi Lauper…
Time after Time

On that South

Tip.

From the
Front.
Back.
Sitting Side

Ways.

And I’ve heard you scream
Many a short bursts of words
But…

Love?

Listen….

Fast forward

Now its been a while since
I’ve last seen you
3 months to be exact

You
Looked a little different
Like
something was
weighing you down.
That
Life Binding Contract
That…
“But I thought gravity would preve…”
I mean…
“You were on top that time…”

Wait

This must be some type of mistake
Its
probably just all in your head
Or
maybe its just something you ate

“Look
Just get rid of it…”

“I’m still in school
And doing great”

“Did you ever think about me?”

“I’m too young to be dealt this fate…”

Love?

Listen….

[Via http://likeataxi.wordpress.com]

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Worry keeps me unfocused

If I obsess, I can deflect from being honest with my feelings.  If I let worry take over my mind, I can stay with anxiety rather than admit what is going on for me emotionally.  I leave in less than 10-hours to go out of town with the woman who I’ve known and slept with since June off an on…  We have not talked much in the last two weeks.  I think it is because she is too busy with 2.5 jobs, jockeying for her dream job next week, and probably doing a little cave-like self-protection.  Flights will not be feasible for her, and will only be so about 4 times per year for me.  I still hold that we will remain friends, and that is a hell of a lot more than we were last year.

I like her.  I care about her.  I probably love her.  I’m not “in love” with her, because I don’t get that reciprocal vibe from her.  Some of this stuff (distinctions) comes from how culturally different she and I are fundamentally.  I feel more genetically similar to my Dad who is Italian, and so I feel like a lover.  I’m effusive and nurturing.  Not a caretaker, but someone who likes to make others happy and feel good after some time has passed.

I’m intrigued to see what will be the context of our convos tonight.  It is easy for me to keep my mouth shut, so I don’t think it will be that emotional on my end.  I do wonder how she will approach me.  Will she tell me that I’m dangerous?  Easy to be with?  Or will she fall back on “Don’t fall in love with me.”  If the latter occurs, I’m going to ask her why she feels the need to say that.

[Via http://74tomboy.wordpress.com]

Dear Cosmo

          You really should have interview me about the hooking up with your boss story.  Mine is pretty funny.

          Upon first meeting my boss at work, we started flirting.  Let me explain first that I work a job that involves me dressing as sexy as possible. It is kind of the type of job that most guys I come across, flirt with me in some way.  No, I am not a stripper or anything to do with the sex trade.  Anyways, my boss introducing me as the hot new girl wasn’t a big shocker.

          One night, everyone that worked with me went out drinking.  My boss and I got a little touchy.  Well as two am came around, I suggested we both things back to my place.  There was other people that came too but my boss and I dissappeared to the bedroom for quite a while. 

          At first, we flat out denied this to everyone.  Then it started to become kind of a joke.  Someone would ask if we hooked up and I would say back sarcastically, “Oh yeah, we love hooking up.” Everyone would laugh and say, they knew that would never happen.  Everyone sees me as the sweetest, most innocent girl they know and him as a man whore.  Neither of which are entirely true.

          We hadn’t hooked up in maybe a year or so because we were both dating other people but recently we have started again.  Yes, we are both single so there is zero reason, besides the whole boss and worker thing, that we shouldn’t.  We work at a different place now.  The people that we work with now never heard us deny or be sarcastic.  Yet still, no one takes us seriously.  In front of the other management I straight out said one night, “So ———  are you coming to my apartment to help me finish work tonight.”  Him, “Is that code for sex?”  Me “Of course.”  Him, “Then I will see you after I’m done closing up.”  The other guys just laughed and said, “Like that will happen.”

          Well, at least my work has no policy against dating coworkers or management.  If they do have a problem in the future, we can always say we never tried to cover it up.

[Via http://countingconstellations.wordpress.com]

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Three Certain Influences--Sex, Money and Religion

In my book, The Golden Years…The Florida Legislature, ’70s and ’80s, I include twenty lessons learned from public service and campaigning, in the last chapter of the book.  Lesson #16 is that there are, almost without exception, three factors at the heart of any political issue.  Sex, money and/or religion.  Hard to believe that political disputes can be traced to such few, yet obvious influences.  Test my theory–the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, religion and money.  The Edwards and Sanford stories, sex.  The Dodd loan allegations, money.  As I said in the book, to evaluate a political situation, at a minimum, ask yourself if any or a combination of the three are in play.  It should help you develop a strategy to ameliorate your perspective.

[Via http://bobmcknight.wordpress.com]

Prepare Yourself

Depression.

Depression is anger turned inward.  And goodness, you have a lot to be angry about!

If you are an average lesbian, you’re probably gearing up for a deep depression come Valentine’s Day this Sunday.  You’re probably going feel bad because you are single on Valentines Day, or, because you’re in an unsatisfactory relationship.  Really, you just can’t win.

But let’s set our relationship status or lack thereof aside for a moment and talk about what a wagon-full of donkey doo-doo Valentine’s Day is.  Single or not, the pressure is so extreme to participate in this capitalistic holiday that you might experience increased feelings of self-loathing, or worse yet, try to buy some woman (who won’t give you the time of day) an assorted box of nuts & chews with the last of your food stamps.

Nothing says “I Love You” like a box of candy with aloof, slobbery nibbles on each and every piece.

And I don’t know about you, but something like that makes me pretty angry!  So angry it’s hard to get out my pajamas and face the day!

Consequently, this is a call-to-action to my lesbian sisters, single, coupled, or swinging singles and couples: I want you to turn your depression inside out and GIRLCOTT VALENTINE’S DAY.  There are countless ways to do that, and if you are mentally numb from a lifetime of sexual discrimination, I can suggest several things:

1.  If you are half-way responsible and can at least been able to get a part-time job, go to your local pet shelter and adopt a live animal, rather than buying a Plush Teddy Bear with a big red heart on it’s chest that was assembled by oppressed women and children over-seas.

2.  If you are lucky enough to have access to a sexual partner, cut to the chase and bang the living daylights out of each other rather than spending an excess of money and feeding corporate greed with a ceremonial romantic dinner at the Outback Steakhouse.  (Although the Awesome Blossom is an excellent fried-food choice for emotional eating!)

3.  Spend the day in rigorous self-examination: Why are you only attracted to unavailable women?  Why do you fall in love with every straight female roommate you have?   Why do you care so much about marriage equality when you can’t even get a date?

Personally, I’ve been saving my money to take the red-eye to Irvine California this weekend where I will wait by the stage door at the Bren Events Center.  Eve Ensler will be performing in The Vagina Monologues and I’m determined, once and for all, to pin her down and find out why she won’t interview me about my vagina.  And if I find out it’s because of those stalker allegations, I’m going to have a fit – they just aren’t true!

Sisters, I ask you, if that’s not the spunkiest way to turn depression around, what is?!

Sexy Hugs,

Doris

P.S. Might I note, the very first person to put my blog on their blogroll, was a gay man.  (Bless your heart D Gregory Smith.)  Sometimes I have to wonder, if gay men don’t do it, who will?

P.P.S. Jasper, our Pet of the Week, is still looking for a home.

P.P.P.S.  Check back on Monday for a brand new post where I will unveil a soon-to-be phenomenon that will take the lesbian community by storm:  The Make Out Date.

Sisters, I’m all about looking forward instead of backward during The Century for Lesbian Sex.

[Via http://dorisanderson.wordpress.com]

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Sleeping or Having Sex?

How often do you prefer to sleep rather than have sex with your partner? If you are newly married, you would probably say that you just cannot take your hands off each other all night long. As the time goes by, especially when children appear, the tiredness seem to overwhelm everything else and all you can think of is to get in bed and fall asleep.

We always had high libidos and could have sex like three times a day, but after the birth of my second child, there were often times, when I was continuously sleep deprived and bed was a place to have at least some rest. It was the time when I first faced the problem of choosing between sleep and sex. It was not that I did not want to have sex, but the exhaustion of caring for the child and other work.

How can you return your sex life in this situation? At some point you just have to say to yourself that you will have sex no matter how tired you are. This does not mean that you should force yourself to have sex with your partner, but you just start having sex even if you do not feel like doing anything. That worked for me.

My sex tip of the day is: when you are lying in your bed and think about falling asleep, cuddle with your beloved one and make him feel good, and this may turn you on and sleep won’t be your tiredness won’t be so bad.  , you will have a sound sleep shortly after sex.

[Via http://marriagesextips.wordpress.com]

Leave Jessica Alba Alone!

I heard on the news today that some Chinese woman is getting surgery to look like Jessica Alba! OMG how crazy is that. I guess the story is she wants to get her boyfriend back and she somehow thinks that looking like some celebrity he has a crush on will do that? I don’t know… I think its super creepy! But… it did get me to look at my sexy Jessica Alba pictures. What more could I want than to see hot Jessica Alba in leather and I mean the real Jessica Alba, not the creepy Chinese chick. Check this beauty out!

Jessica Alba in Leather

mmmm after seeing how sexy Jessica looks in these leather pants I might want to consider surgery to look like her too. Well, I guess you have to admit the Chinese chick has good taste… well, her boyfriend does anyway. I mean who wouldnt want to go to bed looking at that gorgeous face and perfect body every night.

Enjoy the pic!

[Via http://sexywomeninleather.wordpress.com]

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Sunday Reflections (2-7-10)

The First Sunday in the month of February…I’ve had a rough couple of weeks but seem to be finding my way.  The realization of an approaching deadline to file a lawsuit which I touched on yesterday in one of my blog posts, will run as of next Monday (2-15-10) and I can let go of the guilty residue that I really couldn’t have saved my mother…it doesn’t make it hurt any less…I can’t bring my mom back, life marches on…such is life.

I’ve been running back and forth to Muskogee tending to my dad, trying to provide some relief for my brother and sister-in-law by visiting in the evenings.  Dad is home, his house is all nice and clean and hopefully, this week, I can get some of my naughty, nasty fun lined up and engage.

One of my BDSM clients brightened my day on Friday…my subbie asked how he could lift my spirits and I popped off that he could bring me money for a shoe shopping splurge.  I’ll be damned if he didn’t take that opportunity to bring me an envelope to my office to personally, hand deliver shoe shopping splurge money.  Of course, he loved having the opportunity to stand there and talk to me…knowing I could say or do anything to him, at any moment…which I didn’t, of course.  I did talk dirty to him which thrilled him to no end…amazing to me how some of these guys will take a risk just to see the woman that sexually torments and tortures them behind closed doors!!

I created a cute little light display for my front yard yesterday.  I have a giant heart made out of No. 9 fencing wire…I had fashioned it last year but half of the lights were old that I put on it, so I unwrapped the old lights and threw them away…yesterday, I put three new strands of lights, red, pink and white on the giant heart.  I placed it on the bare, Rose of Sharon tree bush in the flowerbed in the middle of my front yard.  Then I placed red, pink and white lights on the little round shrubs underneath and to the sides of where the giant heart is hanging…

I got a bright idea to make little yard hearts out of wire clothes hangers yesterday afternoon and took my plyers and formed the hearts, then I took a strand of pink lights and wrapped each heart, three altogether and placed them out with the big heart.  I’m thinking of creating a giant arrow through the giant heart…I’m thinking I can take several wire clothes hangers and form the arrow, then wrap it with lights…yes, I’m a bit out there but I just LOVE creating a seasoned theme to a little yard art!!  Yes, I’ll be coming up with something for St. Patrick’s Day, then there will be Easter…Memorial Day and 4th of July are easy…

I’ve been wrestling with a request from a guy that declared he wants to submit to me.  Normally this wouldn’t be a point of hesitation but this guy seems to be on a mission of some sort that really doesn’t fall into a scene that I’m comfortable engaging in.  He’s here on AFF and in his profile he basically seeks a submissive woman willing to let him fill her various anatomical holes with all manners of toys, fists, cock…to make a long story short, this guy had apparently visited me as a fuck client a couple of years ago…and now, he’s developed a penchant for kink.  While I usually embrace a challenge, I’m not finding this challenge appealing…except for one and that would be to securely bind this guy from the moment he walks through my doorway.  His declaration of physical and mental strength bored me…I could careless how strong you are mentally and physically because a session involves an exchange of sexual power…if you’re willing to open your mind and put your trust in my hands, I can and will take you on quite a sexual adventure…as far as placing you in extreme pain or placing you in a total and complete humiliation role, I don’t know if I want to engage in such a scene.  I know I can, I have done it, I’ve drawn blood before but it isn’t something that I’m comfortable doing…and I don’t like being challenged that the tables will be turned on me at some point during the scene…if I’m not willing to submit to you on a beginning level, then I’m not going to be willing to submit to you in what I refer to as a “flip” scene.  My initial instinct is to bid this guy good luck and tell him I’m not interested…then I doubt myself and think, hey, I can top this guy…but why would I do that?  Why would I take that risk of being injured myself by this guy.  There is a level of violence in his notes that I’m simply not comfortable with…while I can and have administered extreme pain, I don’t like to push a submissive/slave to the point of drawing blood or causing so much pain he can barely make it to the car.  I do like challenges, but only if I’m comfortable with that challenge…I should never doubt my instinct, it’salways right…walk away from this challenge.

Another factor in being able to session this coming week, is the weather.  We’re supposed to get more wintery weather tonight into tomorrow and through into Tuesday.  Difficult to schedule sessions in the evenings if the roads are going to be bad.  I don’t expect anyone to risk his life to come and session with me…so, I’ll have to play the waiting game to see what old man winter is going to do over the next couple of days.

Oh, yeah, the Super Bowl is tonight.  I honestly don’t know which team I’ll be cheering for…I’ve got several offers to join a couple of Super Bowl parties but I think I might opt to just stay home and enjoy watching without anyone around…okay, so my little dogs will be here…for some reason, taking it easy and taking things at my own pace just sounds so great right now.

I hope everyone has a great second week of February…stay warm and safe.

[Via http://thematuresexgoddess.wordpress.com]

News From Around The Blogosphere 2.6.10

1. Turkish Family buries 16-year-old daughter for talking to boys – Ha! Let’s see her talk to boys now! Way to go! You really showed her. What an incredibly appropriate punishment for your daughter who’s only crime was talking to people of her own age who happened to be of the opposite sex. Praise the Lord! Yes, I’m being ironic.

2. A new film about my less skeptical cousin – That’s right, there’s a new chupacabra “documentary.” This time he’s allegedly in Puerto Rico.

3. Rush Limbaugh touts creationist beliefs and climate change denialism – I know. I know. BIG SURPRISE! But what’s interesting is that he’s tied them together with a thin piece of fabric, proclaiming that “God” simply would not give his creations the power to destroy the world. Ha!  Checkmate scientists!

4. Amnesty International calls for investigation into more institutional Catholic child rape claims in Northern Ireland -

The call comes after the Ryan Report in the Irish Republic which uncovered decades of institutional abuse.

Oh Catholics! If only you could use your power for good instead of pure fuckin’ evil. Again, I’m sure if any other organization like Starbucks or Nike was responsible for the institutionalize rape of thousands of child, people would continue to support them too.

[Via http://skepacabra.wordpress.com]

Saturday, February 6, 2010

MARRIAGE IS NO DISNEYLAND !

Got that for another blog , and absolutely loved its common sense :

There are only two people who know what really goes on in a marriage…so no matter what the “cheater” tells his/her lover they never know the whole truth no matter how much they think they know that their lover is tortured in their marriage, mistreated etc etc etc. In an affair you don’t have to deal with the realities of life like the bills, the kids, illness, taking out the garbage, driving kids around, work, balancing the checkbook, cooking dinner for a family…the real life day to day grind of a marital relationship. In an affair you are living in a cinderella wonderland..possibly the land that you had hoped your marriage would be, but the reality is that marriage is not disneyland.

READ MORE HERE

[Via http://vlikev.wordpress.com]

The big NO.

I have been with the same man for the last 17 years. Which means I’ve had sex with the same person for 17 years. Wow. It’s weird when I actually think about that. That’s really a long time. Other than my a cyber boyfriend (this will be discussed some time in the future) that I will never ever ever never meet I’m faithful to my man. I’m sure if we had readers on this blog I’d get some judgements tossed at me. I actually really wouldn’t mind it as long as I knew someone was reading this. Ok Mimi focus. Back to my love life with my honey. Last night I came to realize what real love was. It’s taken me this long. Even after marriage vows, the birth of our children, ups and downs, and a near death experience, it’s now that I’ve seen what real true love is.

Last night we lucked out. Our 4-year-old son slept in his own bed, at least for part of the night. So that automatically meant SEX! Yeah I was tired from working a long day of waxing college girls vaginas, but I would never say no to sex. So the action started. All was going well. It wasn’t the best mind-blowing sex ever, but we were humpin and it felt good. Then suddenly in mid hump my sweet, wonderfully amazing husband says “I’m really tired” and rolls off of me as I agree with him. As we lay there in the dark I felt closer to him than ever. I didn’t need the toe curling orgasm and neither did he to feel some kind of  intimacy from each other. There was a comfort in being able to say “I don’t feel like doing this anymore” and stop in the middle and not feel like I was a fat disgusting creature, nor did he feel like less of a man. You don’t get this kind of comfort when you’re in a new relationship. This may all sound funny to you, but it was a moment between he and I that I’ve never had. It was special.

XOX Mimi

[Via http://thebroads.wordpress.com]

Thursday, February 4, 2010

DADT

I haven’t gotten too exercised about “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” I’m not gay, I’ve never been in the military, I don’t have big issues about gayness (how can I? I’m a musician.), and I’ve just not much cared. But LabRat made what I thought was a really sensible argument, which I passed on to an older friend of mine. And I got some interesting and response-worthy reaction:

Sounds like this dude is an obvious Fag and has never been in the Military.

Actually, she’s a married heterosexual female and a nuclear physicist. And she shoots. Nothing like leading with an ad hominem. In a firefight, most people save the .22 for when they’re out of ammo for the .308.

Soldiers lives depend on each other and there is no room for a possible sexual relationship between anytwo of them, because if push came to shove and human nature being what it is either of these lovers would sacrafice the mision and their comrades if doing so meant their lover would be safe.

OK, I’m not a big movie guy, but it seems to me that a staple plot line of war movies is the guy who threatens the mission to protect his buddy. In the movies, this usually works out because it’s the movies. I suspect that it works out in real life more often than you’d think, because everyone else (including the enemy) has the same impulse. Indeed, we’re always hearing about troops in Iraq watching out for each other. I’m not sure if that endangers the mission or not, partly because it’s hard to get a clear answer on what the mission is over there. If it helps soldiers survive, it’s ultimately mission-positive, since the mission is generally “Kill their guys, and don’t get your guys killed.”.

Now, the other problem with this argument is that it’s demeaning to heterosexuals, since it assumes that they are less loyal to their comrades than gays would be. Even if we factor in the insanity of emotional infatuation, I find it hard to believe that most men would allow a bunch of women to die to save their wives/girlfriends. One for one, two for one maybe? Sure.  But masses of women? And losing your honor? Not a good trade.  Figure also that bathhouse culture (a significant but not universal subculture of gayness) views sexual partners largely as fungible. So getting a BJ is going to make you massively stupid? Sure, sex does that; it’s made me massively stupid in the past. But not that massively stupid. If one is going to argue that erotic loyalties will make you fight harder for your beloved, then perhaps we should bring back the Sacred Band of Thebes.

It is laughable to think any GI would be worried about being raped or ogled or hit on by a gay man.

So it’s a non issue.

We were trained killers and would not tollerate such shit.

Oh, wait, you WOULD be worried but you’d “deal with it”? What you’re telling me here is that, rather than “making a man out of you”, the services are populated with people with no discipline and no impulse control, and that if a soldier were ogled by another soldier he would of course do what a “trained killer” would do. For a veteran, you don’t think much of our modern military, or of the military justice system.  I’ve heard they aren’t really tough on female rape, but I suspect male rape would be good for some time in Leavenworth.

Well, regardless of the merits of the issue, it isn’t going to change, because it’s Obama. He’s got a committee working on it, so that he can tell the nutroots he’s doing something about it. But, just as in the musical 1776, “If [he's] the one to do it, they’ll run their quill pens through it.” Just as it took a Nixon to go to China, it will take a female evangelical conservative to open the military to gays.

[Via http://jeffreyquick.wordpress.com]

Effects of Twilight

Wife: I am not sexually attracted to my husband. Why can’t he be like this heartthrob?? God I’d love to feel his hands slide over my skin and the uncontrollable passion of his girth…

Kellan Lutz - Lust figure for Desperate Housewives

Kellan Lutz - Lust figure for Desperate Housewives

 

Husband: Jesus Christ my wife is sexually dead. I even tried that bullshit psychologists suggest about trying to talk about it and make her feel wanted in more ways that just that. Oh well, I guess I can just go ahead and develop that beer gut, since being in reasonably good shape isn’t appreciated. Internet porn doesn’t care what you look like…

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[Via http://pseudonyphe.wordpress.com]