When I was young, I thought Don Quixote was actually ‘donkey hoti.’ It took me a long time to figure that out.
We’re balls deep in the film. I don’t really know why I’m here. There never seems to be anything for me to do, and certainly nothing for me to do that someone else couldn’t easily do. When they’re so concerned about being conservative with the number of people on set, or staying on location, I keep expecting to hear they don’t want me back.
It’s not like anyone else does.
I probably need to raise my standards. Putting out on the first date rarely works as planned and when it pans out ‘for the better,’ it’s usually not someone with whom I want it to pan out anyway. I’m not surprised the communication is scarce. Although, I don’t really understand why it is either.
It’s funny how I can so easily get caught up in someone about whom I was previously ambivalent… The moment they don’t give me the attention I crave, I get upset and withdrawn and depressed. Just please don’t say you’ll email me and then forget to, or choose not to; the truth is I’ll be frantically checking it for years.
Ran across this article on ForeignPolicy.com a few days ago. It’s about the intersection of sex and espionage. I think it’s kinda cool.
Two things jump out at me:
1. ”Honey Trap.” They use it to describe the traps people fall into because of sex. But HONEY TRAP?! Seriously? Is this 70s porn lingo? It just feels so dirty. Don’t believe me? Say it aloud.
Aaand go.
…Now you wish you could wash your brain right? And they keep using that term over and over through the article! It’s a derivation of the term “honey pot” as a euphemism for vagina, which they also use in the article.
This is a honey pot:
Need I say more?
2. Second, much of the article deals w/ people who gave up state secrets or other important information for sex. So here’s the question:Is it trickin?
I’m one of those people who thinks giving up money purely for sex is trickin (even if you got it). I don’t know, for me it’s the principle of it. But if somebody you’re messing with gets you to give up nuclear secrets right after (or before) some head does that count?
On one hand, they’re definitely manipulating you. But on the other hand, how could you possibly know that s/he is trying to take you for your nuclear secrets? When somebody wants your money you kinda know it. It’s hard for it to be unclear. And you know exactly what you’re losing. Giving up nuclear secrets is a little more unclear. Maybe s/he just wants to feel trusted, and it’s perfectly innocuous. But then, maybe it’s a “honey trap” and they wanna steal nukes and blow shit up. Then thousands–even millions–of people could die, and you’re definitely getting fired from your secret nuclear job.
Things to think about right?
Finally, if you’ve ever come out on the bottom (no pun intended) of a sexual experience just be glad you’ve never:
Been lured to a foreign country for a romantic weekend, then gotten arrested and jailed.
Been falsely accused of setting multiple “honey traps” when you were really just kinda…being slutty. Then being executed for it.
Had you career/credibility destroyed by an alleged honey trap that probably never existed. All because the media sensationalized it.
or Been a closeted gay man who got blackmailed into becoming a double agent, became an alcoholic, then died when you fell one day while you were drunk.
I remember watching Love Me, Love My Doll around this time last year when I interned at Vice. I’m not sure why I was told to watch it, but I remember it being interesting and I randomly felt the urge to watch it again. It’s a documentary about men who share their lives with Real Dolls, which are life-sized dolls that look and feel similar to actual women. Everything about them is customizable, including cup size and pubic hair. They cost several thousands of dollars. They’re anatomically correct in the way that no doubt matters most – they have vaginas. That you can fuck. They’re sex dolls, basically. But to the owners featured in this movie, they’re more than that – they’re companions who are often treated with the utmost love and care. A strange yet seemingly genuine emotional bond ties these men to their dolls, kind of like the one depicted in Lars and the Real Girl, although, big surprise, these men are no Ryan Gosling.
Many of them believe they are incapable of meeting human women (for whatever reason, be it their looks or their social awkwardness) and have settled for synthetic versions. As crazy as that seems, this might seem a little crazier – I think I understand these men. I refuse to judge them. Yes, it’s bizarre to watch them shop for skimpy outfits for their dolls, it’s off-putting to view them delicately apply makeup to inanimate eyelids and lips and it’s certainly uncommon to see a grown man admiringly looking into a doll’s eyes and whispering, “I love you.” You will see all that and more in this movie. It’s kind of fascinating.
This is the closest thing to ‘love’ these men have ever experienced. It’s not socially acceptable, but somehow, it’s real. Some of the men realize that a doll could never provide the companionship and affection that a real woman could; others simply don’t care. They communicate with their dolls in their own way and appear to believe it to be reciprocal. They seem to realize that deep down, this is totally weird – but they’re still happy. And more importantly, they aren’t as lonely. One could probably argue that for some, spending a lifetime alone may be more psychologically damaging than having a relationship with a doll that looks exactly like a woman (well, a woman with a perfect, unattainable body).
Here’s a screen grab of a doll’s vagina. It’s OK, I was curious too.
-Melissa
P.S. If I didn’t embed the video properly, which is possible because I’m an idiot, click here. It really is interesting.
I really should name him something else but when we were lying in bed and I told him about it he giggled so it’ll stick cause he usually pisses me off 90% of the time. Man whore couldn’t make it on Friday night for a very legitimate reason, so I had a back up plan. Mr. Jackass. I really didn’t think he would come either. In fact I had just started a movie when he texted and said he was on his way. Bless his heart he even knew if man whore said yes he’d get bumped lol and he still came. I think he was desperate for some sex. Hey I don’t care, so was I lol
We have a 45 minute drive to each other’s houses so it’s a bit of a haul. However it’s always so cute with him. He’s so intimate. Exact opposite of man whore sex. And exactly what I was craving. Every time we see each other there’s a “hi” and then boom, off to make out! He’s a good kisser, I won’t deny him that. Very good. He doesn’t get me all soaking wet with his tongue and knows just the right balance to use. I tried to have a little conversation first but I could tell by the way he walked in there would be none of that lol. It was his first time to my house so I actually wavered a little bit before I decided what to wear. Went with a silky nightie thing that I feel totally absurd in but he said “nice choice” so I must have done well. Next time he comes he gets sweats and a t shirt lmao. When I go to his house he’s always in shorts and a t shirt so I think it’s only fair.
Now the thing with Mr. Jackass that keeps me going back for more is he’s so incredibly in to cuddling and rubbing and making out and just being intimate. Which I do not get in a lot of places. I mean my husband will but not when sex is involved. Mr. Jackass has that kind of sex where he lays right on top of me while he’s in me and holds his arms around me. That is completely hot. That’s enough to make me look past the fact that he doesn’t know how to pick up a phone and say hello until he’s alone lol
The other thing I find completely cute about him is the fact he’s so innocent about sex. He hasn’t done a lot, he hasn’t been around a lot, and he is just so out of his norm by having sex with me that it’s a turn on. In fact I had him use my glass on me and I could instantly tell he didn’t know what he was doing so with some questioning found out he’s never used a dildo or toy of any kind on a woman. I was in shock. And at this point I thought well gosh I hope I don’t freak him out. Here I am handing him my favorite glass dildo, and I’m using a bullet on my clit and he’s probably thinking “holy fuck what do I do?” hahaha it was great. And he gets this little tone when you try and give him guidance that is just adorable. I can’t tell if he’s annoyed I’m bossing him around or if he’s nervous. I asked and he said he doesn’t mind that I tell him what to do and show him so I don’t know what the change in his voice tone is but it’s absolutely adorable. He’s not used to changing things up in bed, he’s just used to routine and so I made sure we had some variety in there for him. Started with a blow job for him to get the quick shot out of the way, then he had to get me off twice (I even told him it had to be twice lol), and then he could have some sex. And he felt awesome during the sex too. I wish he was louder. I always have to kind of guess when he’s coming because he’s so damn quiet but I can usually figure it out. Would be way hot if he would make some noise. He’s started making noise during his blow jobs for me, but it doesn’t seem to carry over to when we’re having sex. And he always hops off so damn fast after he cums it’s like you hit a button and he must. move. now. lol I think he hates having a condom on. Or hell if I know what the immediate rush to remove the condom is all about. He always tries to sneak it in without a condom like I’m not going to notice lol So I don’t think he’s a huge fan of them.
Then we had some fabulous pillow talk and cuddle time and for a change I got to fall asleep in my own bed. He left me nice and sleepy and I slept like a baby and didn’t even wait up to see if he made it all the way home. It was great. He’s invited me to go away with him on a work trip in April and I doubt that it happens but it’d be nice if it did. Spoke with the husband in case and he’d be happy to stay home with the kids while I went so it’d be nice if it did happen. We’ll see.
But finally I got the intimacy that I’ve been needing. Very nice. And I’ll be a little nicer to him for a few weeks now because of it lol well until he acts like a jackass again and starts pissing me off
I love this dessert; it’s very easy and yummy. Even the kids love it!
Caramelized pears and plums
Serves 2
2 pears (Bosc type)
1 plum
a touch of rum (optional)
1/2 T raisins
brown sugar
cinnamon * (1/2 tsp)
touch of ginger* (or as desire)
dash of salt
butter
Cut the pears in half to clean, remove also the stem. Cut in quarters.
Same with the plum.
Preheat a medium saute pan on medium-high.
Throw some butter in. Then the pears and plum. Move around.
Add the rum. Let reduce. Add the raisins, sugar, cinnamon, salt and ginger.
Keep moving around and let caramelize.
Serve with vanilla ice cream.
Kitchen notes:
Ginger is a powerful root, good for luck, healing and sex magick.
Cinnamon has been used to attract the favor of the gods and goddesses. Use it to get money and be successful.
I just ask that one time a man has to sit through a gyno exam… not one where he’s expecting a child or sitting with a sick wife but just a random gyno exam with his girlfriend. Awkward, uncomfortable, unpleasant… just a few words to describe those moments you are sitting on a table with your legs spread, hoisted into said awkward position via stirrups.
Oh what? Don’t even try to tell me turning your head and coughing while having your balls fondled is anywhere near comparable… my boyfriend would have me do that to him everyday if he could. It’s like a dentist appointment except your staring at the ceiling while a pair of latex fingers are inserted inside of you while you try to make small talk…. at least at the dentist you can’t talk. At least at the dentist you don’t have to change your clothes. At least at the dentist it’s THE DENTIST.
Going to the gyno is irritating…. and it’s necessary. In this day and age if you are sexually active and don’t go, you are an idiot. IDIOT. Condoms are not full proof. I’m not even just talking about pregnancy or aids… herpes, genital warts- all can be passed by skin contact outside of the rubber.
Alright… enough of my PSA. I just don’t think men will ever comprehend or relate to a trip to the gyno.
Maybe a prostate exam but that doesn’t happen until they are 50+. Try dealing with that at least once every year since you were 18-20
Charity must begin at home, because one cannot count on it beginning at church. Perhaps I should say, one cannot count on charity beginning at the Roman Catholic Church. Not if one is gay. You may recall that, in November 2009, the city of Washington D.C. passed a law recognizing gay marriages, a law that was opposed immediately by the city’s Catholic Archdiocese. An objection raised at the time was this:
Under the bill…religious organizations would not be required to perform or make space available for same-sex weddings. But they would have to obey city laws prohibiting discrimination against gay men and lesbians.
Fearful that they could be forced, among other things, to extend employee benefits to same-sex married couples, church officials said they would have no choice but to abandon their contracts with the city.
It didn’t take long for Catholic Charities to devise a solution to this dilemma (and keep government funds flowing their way): as of March 2, 2010, employees of Catholic Charities are not allowed to add spouses to their health insurance plans. This applies to the spouses of straight and gay employees alike. Since the charitable organization can’t blatantly provide benefits to one group (straights) and deny said benefits to the other (gays), it will simply deny said benefits to all of them. Equal opportunity exclusion. Because that’s what Jesus would do.
The policy applies to new employees enrolling for benefits after March 2; spouses covered before that date will retain their benefits. The group explained its decision in a memo:
We sincerely regret that we have to make this change, but it is necessary to allow Catholic Charities to continue to provide essential services to the clients we serve in partnership with the District of Columbia while remaining consistent with the tenets of our religious faith.
The tenets of their religious faith. Those include tenets allowing the Church to shelter priests who rape children and shuffle those rapacious predators from one traumatized diocese to another unsuspecting diocese, to another, and another ad infinitum. They include tenets allowing the Church to purchase abuse victims’ silence, or, when that fails, pay them large financial sums in legal settlements. They include tenets allowing Church leaders to lie to millions of African AIDS victims about the efficacy of condoms in reducing the spread of that dreadful disease. And they also include tenets that oppose the rights of men and women to control their reproduction via contraception and abortion. Do you look at those tenets and see anything worth preserving? I sure as hell don’t. If you agree with me and you want to donate some time or money to a charity, you may want to consider giving to a secular charitable group. Contrary to the myth that many fundogelicals are peddling (along with the rest of their bullshit), churches are not the only charitable organizations in town, and Christians are not the only people who give time and money to their communities.
For this atheist, charity must begin at home because religious charity often comes with strings attached. And if those strings can’t be attached, then some groups (like Catholic Charities) cut off both the strings and the gifts. Their thinking seems to be that ’tis far better that no one get anything at all than that some of the wrong people get a little bit of something from them. That may be the Catholic Charities way; it certainly is not my way.
I have too many blogs to write and I’m a cranky pile of insomnia currently so my storytelling skills may be lacking. Not falling asleep til 6 am every day is getting old like Burt Reynolds.
Here’s to giving it a shot…..Oh maybe you should all take shots before you read this. I might be funnier that way. Go ahead, go get drunk. I’ll wait………………………………………………………………………….
Okay.
Last Friday Lucy asked me to come out for ONE drink after work. One drink somehow turned into closing down Bye and Bye up on Alberta. It’s such a rare thing for us to go out on a Friday night. Generally, a full bar terrifies me and brings out my most wicked anxiety. I prefer going out on Sundays when it’s empty out and then I bitch about how there’s no hot men for me to look at it. Oh yeah, I rule at life.
We found ourselves sitting at the only available seats in the bar which happened to be two stools at the corner of the L shaped bar. Little did we know that being in this position made us prime candidates to be hit on since people had to come up next to us to order drinks.
Let me pause to say that Lucy had just gotten off work and was wearing a long sleeved black T shirt and a below the knee black skirt. She looked a little like she was in mourning in a religious sect. This just further proves how retardedly attractive she is, she still got hit on way more than me. I’m okay with forever being second choice girl. It’s better than searching out fat friends.
Several entertaining things happened. In list form:
1. I have had drinks bought for me before but never by someone who I hadn’t already been speaking to. As Lucy and I chatted away and downed cheap beer, she kept glancing over my shoulder.
“Shit, shit….that guy keeps staring at us. Like he won’t stop.”
I casually turned and saw a man with Prince Charles ears, a blazer, sweater vest AND a tie eagle eyeing us from three people over.
“Ah fuck, ” Lucy whispered. “He just bought us drinks.”
“What?” I squealed.
Sure enough the bartender put two fresh tall boys in front of us. We peeked down at Prince Charles and tipped out cans in thanks. Several seconds later he slid up behind us, placing a hand on the small of my back.
“Hello ladies, I’m Peter.”
We shook Peter’s hand and introduced ourselves then quick as he came he slipped off into the crowded bar. I have to hand it to Peter. It takes a lot of balls to come to a Portland hipster bar dressed like a prep school escapee and buy drinks for two girls that you’ve been eye drilling. I wouldn’t fuck the guy with someone else’s vagina but I do have to give him credit. (He ended up coming back later and was actually kind of a dick. I may or may not have said something offensive to get him to leave. I saw him getting a girl’s number later though so everyone won.)
2. Some guy who liked like a handsome version of Screech from Saved by the Bell asked for my number. So I gave him my business card.
3. I was totally drooling over the bartender all night. A compact, fedora wearing man with an appealing nose. He seemed to be making eye contact with everyone in the bar but me which I took to mean I am a hideous troll. Lucy, however, told me that it was a good thing. Her logic is questionable sometimes. Nonetheless, at the end of the night I awkwardly told him we should get a drink sometime. He had one of my flyers from work and a business card of mine. Due to the fact that I asked him out with the force of a baby turtle, I do not expect a phone call.
4. Out of nowhere I turned to see Lucy talking to a moderately handsome older guy who was hitting on her like he wanted to marry her. He and his friend turned out to be the most entertaining people we had met in a bar in a long time. 40 minutes into him trying to win Lucy’s affections I finally told him that she’s a very taken lady. So predictably he started hitting on me. And I quite liked it. We avoided the what-do-you-do-where-you-from chit chat that I had been enduring all night and instead verbally bantered about bicycles, ass hair and woodworking. He took my card in the hopes of shaving some time off his back races by not having leg or ass hair. We hugged at the end of the night and I promptly told Lucy that I would totally fuck him if she hadn’t been his first choice.
What do you know though, he texted me the next day and I fell into it and went out with him. God I suck at sticking to my guns.
This week we’re going to be doing something a little different. Today’s Wanna Know Wednesday is going to actually lead into an upcoming discussion that will be up no later than Friday.
The topic is focused on the infamous Friends with Benefits!!!
If I had to guess, I would say that most of you are aware of what Friends with Benefits are. If you are not familiar with the term then you will definitely want to stop back by later this week to read the discussion on the subject. The discussion will explain the term and it should also enlighten you.
Before we jump right into the poll question I would just like to ask you to spread the word about Up 4 Discussion. If you enjoy the posts here on the blog tell your friends, family & e-buddies about Up4Dsn. It would be great if we could reach more people and have them be a part of our discussions as well. This isn’t a plea, just a suggestion. Thank you in advance for stopping by & for spreading the word about Up 4 Discussion!
1. Homeschooling Christian family gets asylum in the U.S. – They fled Germany because they didn’t like the schools there and Germany was smart enough to outlaw home-schooling. Sadly, the U.S. hasn’t gotten there yet.
“It’s our fundamental right to decide how we want to teach our children,” says Uwe Romeike, an Evangelical Christian and a concert pianist who sold his treasured Steinway to help pay for the move.
It’s your fundamental nothing. Children have a fundamental right to a REAL education. I have no objection to carefully regulated home-schooling conducted by people who are properly qualified to teach but if all you’re going to do is brainwash your kids, that should not be tolerated in modern society. I say send The Romeikes packing. They don’t got to go home but they can’t stay here and brainwash their kids into morons. We’ve got too much undereducated morons in this country already.
2. Supreme Court rules that D.C. can issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples - Congratulations to the District of Columbia for standing up for Marriage Equality!
The city has said Wednesday probably will be the first day same-sex couples can apply for marriage licenses. Couples still will have to wait three full business days for their licenses before exchanging vows.
Sounds great. I think they can handle waiting the three days.
3. Humanists in India arrested for distributing book critical of Islam – The Center for Inquiry’s New Delhi President Innaiah Narisetti and two other individuals, Subba Rao and author Macha Laxmaiah, were arrested for distributing a book:
The book, Crescent over the World , is a compilation of articles including submissions by Salman Rushdie and Tasleema Nasreen, along with one of the “blasphemous” cartoons published in the Danish press in 2005 (some of which were republished in Free Inquiry magazine)
From a Feb. 26 Thaindian News report:
“The arrests followed massive protests by Muslims in Khammam, around 250 km from Hyderabad. They took out a rally, demanding action against the author and those who helped him.
“Police said they seized 380 books of the first volume and 410 books of the second volume of the publication in different parts of Khammam district.”
The above quote by Hitchhiker’s Guide writer Douglas Adams brings me to an article in today’s Metro newspaper.
Looking at the relationship between religion and intelligence, a study conducted by evolutionary psychologist Dr. Satoshi Kanazawa of the London School of Economics claims that teenagers that didn’t believe in God had an average IQ of 106, while those with deep religious convictions had an average IQ of 95, the reasoning being that people who were more open to new ideas – such as questioning religion – were naturally more intelligent.
No more church for me.
Looking at relationships and intelligence, Dr. Kanazawa’s study goes on to report that men who are unfaithful to their partners are likely to have lower IQs than men that are faithful. I’d just like to say at this point to my partner Jane – Jane, if you read this, my lower IQ has nothing at all to do with me being unfaithful, I’m just naturally dim.
According to Dr. Kanazawa “…more intelligent men are more likely to value sexual exclusivity than less intelligent men”. This theory has of course been born out recently by Chelsea footballers John Terry and Ashley Cole, both hitting the headlines for their extra-marital activities. Footballers have never exactly been known for their brains, and John Terry knocking off fellow footballer Wayne Bridge’s ex-girlfriend is not going to earn him a medal position at Mensa.
"I, John, take you, Toni, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until I knock off Wayne Bridge’s ex-girlfriend Vanessa."
What does Chastity mean?
by Father Gerard Monaghan
Most people believe that being chaste means that one is not sexually active. WRONG!!!
There are many people living good chaste lives who have healthy and vibrant sex lives. It should be noted that they are married. That’s right, even married people are called to be chaste. As a matter of fact, chastity has more to do with fidelity than it does with foregoing sexual experiences. The essence of chastity is being faithful to one’s state in life. Therefore, for a married couple, it means saving their physical expression of love for their spouse, exclusively.
What does chastity mean for the single person?
For the single person it means the same thing. If you think this is crazy, stick with the tour and see for yourself. Sexual intercourse, despite what the media would indicate, is not an indoor sport. It is the ULTIMATE expression of love between a husband and wife. Sexual intercourse, despite what the media would indicate, is not merely a physical act.
It is the total self-giving of one person to another. It is so intimate that it is an emotional, intellectual, spiritual, and physical experience.
It is so profound that it strengthens and completes the bond of marriage.
“I love the Bible. I’m in awe of it.” “But my quest for a new kind of Christianity has required me to ask some hard questions about the Bible I love.”
“We’ve gotten ourselves in a mess with the Bible.”
“First, we are in a scientific mess. Fundamentalism…again and again paints itself into a corner by requiring that the Bible be treated as a divinely dictated science textbook.” “This approach has set up Christians on the wrong side of truth again and again.” “Many pious people deny our envirenmental crises by quoting Bible verses and mocking science. Just as they were the last to acknowledge the rotation of the earth and its revelution around the sun, they’ll be the last to acquiesce to what science is telling us about our growing ecological crises.”
“Second, we are in trouble in relation to ethics.” “…we are stuck now:…largely obsessed with narrow hot-button feuds (eg. abortion, sexual orientation, nationalism, genetic engineering) that end up being little more than litmus tests for political affiliation.”
“In the United States, white Evangelical Christians are the most fervent advocates of government-sanctioned torture and that frequent churchgoing is a statistical indicator of support for torture.”
“Third, we are in deep trouble relating to peace.” “When careless preachers use the Bible as a club or sword to dominate or wound, they discredit the Bible in a way that no skeptic can.”
“It’s an old and tired game: quoting sacred texts to strengthen an us-versus-them mentality.” “In case after case in the past, there is a kind of Bible-quoting intoxication under the influence of which we religious people lose the ability to distinguish between what God says and what we say God says.“
Taken from “A New Kind Of Christianity” by Brian McLaren. Buy it HERE.
————-
“There are two ways to read the Bible, frontwards and backwards. If we locate Jesus primarily in light of the story that has unfolded since his time on earth, we will understand him in one way. But if we see him emerging from within a story that had been unfolding through his ancestors, and if we primarily locate him in that story, we might understand him in a very different way.”
“…nobody in the Hebrew Scriptures ever talked about original sin, total depravity, “the Fall,” or eternal conscious torment in hell.” “It’s the shape of the Greek philosophical narrative that Plato taught!”
Taken from “A New Kind Of Christianity” by Brian McLaren. Buy it HERE.
In our increasingly scattered and diverse digital world, in which everybody marches to their own drummer, the Tiger Wood’s apology last Friday morning was one of those exceedingly rare TV events that turned into a communal experience shared by billions of people around the country and the world. Every major network ran it live like it was the President of the United States announcing a major international incident.
If you really think about it, it was theatre of the absurd. People across America gathered in their offices paying rapt and occasionally mocking attention to this: a golfer saying he was sorry for failing to control his sexual impulses. Yeah, I know it wasn’t just a golfer. Every time I think of Tiger’s infidelities I flash on that Nike commercial of kids saying, “I am Tiger Woods.” He actually did set himself up as a role model. And he happens to be the greatest athlete of our time. But it was still a golfer apologizing for screwing around. Considering the massive televison audience alone, we have definitely plowed new ground here.
Tiger seemed quite sincere and appropriately chastened. But the props were strange. Mom sitting in the front row. Business associates and friends gathered somberly as if they were at a funeral. The tough-love hugs at the end.
I liked the part where Tiger came home again to his Buddhist upbringing. I took this as a direct slap at Brit Hume of Fox News who suggested recently that if Tiger converted to Christianity all would be forgiven. This is going to be very educational for Brit. What if it turns out people can forgive a Buddhist? Yikes.
And really, really…Erin didn’t take an 8-iron to the SUV?
Dan rubbed her feet, but Fabio was Roseanne's leading man.
Dear Yenta,
I’m living with a boyfriend but can’t stop thinking about another man. How do I stop thinking about the other man? This would be especially helpful during sex.
-Wandering Eye
Dear WE,
There was an episode of the L-Word that debated whether fantasizing is cheating. According to their rubrix, one said acting on fantasy is cheating, but doing it isn’t, while the other said when you start wanting something besides that which you have, it is time to go because you are cheating.
If you are wishing for someone else, it means you aren’t able to be present with the dude in front of you. This psychological exit means something, and it is up to you to determine why it is you can’t mentally remain in the room in the arms of your man.
What is driving your fantasy? Desiring another while being with a committed lover can mean a million things. It can mean you don’t like your homeslice anymore, or that you feel trapped and suffocated and this fantasy is a way of exiting and expressing, quietly, your freedom. Maybe he is terrible in bed and you can’t stand it.
You could be totally in love and totally scared and this fantasy is a lifeline to life beyond, keeping you grounded. Or, still, you could be curious and lusting for more, maybe even for an open relationship. (See PiggyBack Dating)
Only you know if you love one, and not the other, if your relationship is dead, if you need to be testing the waters right now. Roseanne loved her husband Dan, but she always fantasized about Fabio when sleeping with him. Dan had Fabio’s head and that’s how she did it. It didn’t, however, mean she was set to leave her husband: she loved him.
But you aren’t Roseanne, and this isn’t the L-Word, and fantasizing about someone else besides the one you are with might be a very simple sign that it is time to move on. It means that something is fishy, and needs to be scoped out. The way to make it stop is to determine what is missing and then remedy the situation so you can be present, enjoying the lover you actually have. Go live your fantasy.
Being a strong and independent woman, I probably shouldn’t be admitting this, but I can sense his desire to control me and it turns me on immensely.
The funny thing is that I’m the kind of personality you just don’t control. I am fearless and outspoken and will stop at nothing to make sure justice prevails, even when it means telling the bosses off. I just don’t put up with anyone running over me. I was teased throughout my whole childhood so my way of handling that has been to become a fighter and a defender of not only myself but of anyone else I see being wronged.
So why does it turn me on that I sense in him, a need to control me? And I say “sense” because even though he is my superior, he doesn’t boss me around or act dominating. On the contrary he’s a very fair and flexible person to work with. But it’s the little things and the look in his eye which my intuition reads as a yearning and pining to have me under his control. It mirrors raw and primitive sex where the male takes the female and does what he likes with her. He is the predator and I am the prey. I love to be dominated in bed and play the helpless female, so maybe that’s why this glimmer in his eye is so sexy to me. I can imagine he is -that- kind of man when having sex. I wonder if he can read me in the same way, that despite my bold and strong exterior, I would surrender to him totally.
Men are by primitive instinct, hunters. I wonder if it’s deeply rooted in them to “hunt” females as well and tame them. The more she bites and claws, huffs and growls, the more he wants to subdue her. Maybe his cock is the secret weapon, the final tool to reversing her behavior with the pleasure it brings. It disturbs me to think that this is very close to something they call rape. I’d prefer to think of it as a game, a dance, a process. Just like when you watch documentaries about animals mating and usually the female acts disinterested and runs away with the male going after her. And upon penetration she gives in. That’s exactly what I’m talking about here.
The Pixies have a song called “Tame” which goes like this:
Got hips like cinderella
Must be having a good shame
Talking sweet about nothing
Cookie i think you’re
Tame
I’m making good friends with you
When you’re shaking your good frame
Fall on your face in those bad shoes
Lying there like you’re tame
Uh huh huh
Tame
Then the Toadies have a song called Heel:
Long neck, short leash
Sweet lips are black, black, black, black
You walk, I Lead
Little tricks, stagger and fall
Heel
You’re crying, well listen
This time you really were bad, burn, burn , bad
I will show you some discipline
Yes, you will learn some respect, respect, respect
Heel
God I love you
You’re so pretty
Love you, love you
Pretty, pretty
Heel
Although not directly, I think both of these songs are referring ever so slightly to the thing I’m talking about.
This Sunday marks the time honored national “sex for candy” day. Originally the holiday was based off of the Christian saint Valentine’s day, involving significantly less sex. Thankfully in the last few decades the holiday has gotten what analysts are call “hotter”.
“It’s definately one of my favorite holidays” said local man “if I just give my wife candy or flowers and I get to have sex! That never happens on Christmas, let me tell you”. Apparently this trend carries over to non-married couples as well. “Yeah I plan on having sex with my boyfriend today.” said one woman “I mean he bought me candy and dinner and I didn’t get him anything so I guess its the least I can do”
The holiday also seems to be a bonanza for lonely people. “Yeah I could pick up most any semi attractive girl out tonight” said a homely man “I gotta tell you, loneliness plus alcohol is a powerful aphrodisiac”. Studies show that most lonely people spend the day either getting inebriated, having a casual hook-up, or a mixture of both.
When asked for comment Saint Valentine is quoted to having said “I can’t believe I died a martyrs death to sell candy”
If your marriage is starting to sink, toss out a flirtation device. That’s right, I’m talking anything from teeny-bopper, cutsie wootsie to make your momma blush flirtin’! Toss it on out there and pull your marriage to safety.
Think about it, what was the first thing that brought you and your man together? I bet it was flirting. I know it was for me and Jared. A little eyes, a little smooth (or not-so smooth) talkin’, maybe an “accidental” brush of the arm. The things that made you want to smile, laugh, & spin around all at once because he’s into you, he’s really in to you!
Eventually, though, flirting takes a back seat as you work to get to know each other deeper and share real life with one another. It’s hard to flirt between bills and baby spit up (so I’ve heard on the latter).
But flirting is a fun way to bring the focus back to each other. It’s low pressure and doesn’t take much time at all. Try one of these flirtation devices each day this week.
Send your man a text message with a sweet or sexy message. Pictures optional (but be careful if someone else might see it)!
Walk up behind your husband while he’s doing something mundane, like paying bills or brushing his teeth, and hug him and tell him you love him or thank him for taking care of the finances.
Sit on his lap or curl up close to him on the couch or in bed. I blogged about snuggle benefits on Day Six.
Wear something slightly revealing around the house. It doesn’t have to be dressy. Even sweat pants paired with a low-cut tee or a cami can be sexy.
Compliment him. Don’t just say you look nice, we’re talking flirting here. Try “Check out your booty in those pants!” or “I love it when you wear that shirt. It reminds me of our vacation to Rome.”
Write a message for him in the mirror or the shower steam. (Jared does this for me a lot and I love it. The latest message says, “Hello Beautiful.” (It gives me an excuse not to clean the shower, too!)
Speaking of the shower, hop in there while your husband’s showering. You can probably forget all of the other stuff if you surprise him in there.
Laugh at things he says that are funny or tell him something funny that happened to you today.
Lean toward him and listen when he’s talking to you. Simply engaging him and making eye connection can be flirtatious.
Give him “the eyes” at the dinner table or out in public. Don’t avoid flirting when the kids are around–they may act grossed out, but it’s one of the healthiest things they can observe their parents doing.
Use your gifts and your imagination and have fun with it!
Just a word to the sensitive souls (like me): set your expectations low, especially if you haven’t flirted in awhile. Sometimes I think I’m flirting and Jared has no idea that was supposed to be flirtatious. Try not to be upset if you don’t get the reaction you were hoping for and keep trying. If he’s just not observant enough to realize what you’re doing, try being more direct, maybe even tell him that you’re trying. However, I’ve been in a relationship where my passes where intentionally ignored–that’s not okay–and if you’re dealing with that, you may need something heftier than a flirtation device to bring the spark back.
Have fun and report back to let us know how it works.
Also, I heard this today and thought it was brilliant, “You can’t recreate on Valentine’s Day something that hasn’t been there all year.” Flirting is one of those things you can do every day that takes the pressure off of days like Valentine’s Day. If you “practice” giving affection to each other throughout the year, it’s so much easier to express it on days like Valentine’s. I think that’s why I’m finally ready to celebrate it this year.
The movie hall seemed strangely quiet except for the low buzz inside my head, like the drone of an ancient biplane hidden in the clouds somewhere far above in the sky. I tried to concentrate on the large screen before me. Through the tears, the picture looked blurred and hazy. I didn’t know why I was crying. The biplane was coming closer with each passing second, gradually drowning me in an violent uprising of a now shapeless noise.
I sat erect and immobile, my back pressed against the plush leather seat, my mind sinking into a fathomless quagmire of random thoughts. I could taste Vicky on my still parted lips. My mouth felt dry. I was breathing through it, I realised. I want to close my mouth and then forget about it. I feel all alone huddled in an infant dark. A bluish white lustre hangs like morning fog tracing rows of chairs immediately before me. Silhouettes of the occasionally bobbing heads in them remind me that I am not alone. The familiar smell of a room-freshner colludes at my nose tip to give the stale air a touch of newness – spring flowers, I gather.
Suddenly Vicky turns and looks at me. In the darkness, I can feel his calm, steady eyes bore into my face. Once again I sense that feeling inside of me. The same feeling that I have carried within for as long as I remember. A feeling that I had, unknowingly, reserved for Vicky. I never asked myself what it was or why. I had accepted it unquestioningly. I grip the arm rest of my seat firmly to subdue a shudder that threatens to rack my body. An uncontrollable desire to run outside into the world of light takes over me. My hands are shaking as I tear them off the arm rest to wipe off the beads of perspiration running down my forehead. I feel feverish and weak.
Far from me, stands two exit signs on either side of the growing darkness, glowing eerily like warning signs of the things that wait outside for me. I felt fear etch ominous messages on my heart, which I didn’t know how to read. The massive doors, which let me in, now seemed like invisible prison gates to a dark padded cell without a key in which I was to spend the rest of my life.
I turned to look at Vicky. Without taking his eyes from the screen, he squeezes my arm as if to reassure me. ‘I am beyond reassurance, my dear cousin,’ I tell him, silently. He won’t understand, I know. He comes from a different world than mine. Every year, he visits with his family from beyond that wonderful, magical world I dream of. Seven seas and centuries separate our worlds. People in my world don’t do or say things that you do, Vicky. We don’t even think the things you do. That would be blasphemy. Our desire has made me an outcast already, do you know that?
Darkness is a curse because it gives birth to everything that light refuses to conceive. I have been removed from light so that all that was to be will be. My mind has fought with the inevitability. In horror, I accept it now. Ironically, it wasn’t the light but the dark that made the answers so clear. I now know what people meant when they said I was ’strange.’ I now see the meaning of the look in their eyes. I have hated it. I have hated the light that made them see what they did. Yet was not a part of me waiting for the dark to fall? Was this not the shy child’s unspoken desire? Well, the dark has fallen now, for once and all.
In flashes I see the last two minutes of my life come alive before my eyes. Vicky’s fingers gingerly moving on my thighs; the bursting open of a nameless feeling from the seat of my spine, rising like a pleasurable ache through the muscles of my back into my head, into my eyes, onto my lips; my head titled toward his in the dark, his lips on mine, our tongues promising each other fantasies of the unnamed kind, my body throbbing to discover and deny at the same time; his hands inside my unbuttoned jeans, stroking my adolescent pride, the rising emptiness in the pit of my stomach, my arching hips against the pressure of his soft palm, his lips on mine, interlocked in naked desire, lost in time. I close my eyes tightly in terror against a future that is waiting to happen. I shudder at the thought of stepping outside into the world of light where I will, for the rest of my life, will live as a ‘gay.’
So one of the most frequently asked questions I get from chaps is ‘how can I last longer before I come?’ Men often want sex to last longer but the average time it takes to orgasm or ejaculate (not exactly the same thing, I’ll explain another time) is just 3 minutes. If you jiggle your penis inside someone really quickly you are going to come, especially if you are a young man. (I’m sure some women have this problem too. Discuss.)
Most guys don’t have, what a doctor would call, premature ejaculation: some guys come before putting their penis inside someone and sometimes even before that. (Other guys have the opposite condition called retarded ejaculation, which can cause sweatiness, blue balls and bad backs.) Try some of these things below, if that doesn’t help I’d contact your local GUM clinic and talk to them about seeing a psycho-sexual counsellor who can really help.
So here are some tips for lasting longer: after that I’ll have a bit of a rant about how you should change up your ideas about what sex involves and avoiding boring heterosexual scripts.
1. Pre-emptive ejaculation
If you masturbate and ejaculate an hour or two before you plan on having sex then it means that you will last longer when you have sex. As seen in the film ‘There’s Something About Mary’.
2. Use a condom
Condoms can reduce the sensation of sex a little bit, this should help you last longer. Try thicker condoms or condoms with a delaying action (see here for more)
3. Give it a squeeze
If you start having penetrative sex and feel like you are going to come really early you can pull your penis out and give it a quick squeeze just under the bell end
This should give you a few more seconds or minutes of fun.
4. Tense up your pelvic floor muscles
You know when you go for a pee and you need to stop for some reason, the muscles that you use to do that (they kind of feel like they are up your arse), are the same ones you can use to prevent you from coming. So try it during sex and see if that works.
5. Start Stop Technique
This involves masturbating in your spare time (in fact frequent masturbating generally can help) in order to train your brain into working out when you are really turned on and about to come. Practice doing this when solo and it might work when you are with someone.
You should masturbate until you get very near that point when you normally come, then stop, think about something that turns you off, (like cricket). Once you feel that your orgasm / ejaculation is receding then start up again and repeat the process. It’s lots of fun.
6. Practice and intimacy helps
Sex is better in relationships and the more you do it the better it gets. It also means that you’ll be more comfortable with your body and with each other and less likely to freak out about it.
7. Good sex is not simply about a man putting his penis inside someone till he comes (warning rant alert)
Here’s the best tip for you: penetration is only a small part of sex! Either do loads of other stuff, or use your hands, and remember sex doesn’t stop when one of you has an orgasm (and great sex doesn’t have to include orgasms at all). Keep playing and pleasuring your partner until you’re feeling it again.
Guys, you might go soft after coming (that is the refractory period, which almost all men have, it’s normal and lasts for 10 to 30 minutes) but after a few minutes of kissing or pleasuring your partner or a great cup of tea, you can get hard again.
So change it up, switch the order around, don’t do it like they do in porn and enjoy it. Don’t focus on your performance, focus on how much you and your partner are enjoying it.
HERE’S A BRIEF REPORT in The Scotsman explaining that Chinese authorities are concerned that never have so many ever had so few opportunities to transmit their precious bodily fluids:
Guangdong, China’s export powerhouse, is home to about 30 million migrant workers, the most in the country. Many leave wives, husbands or children in their native villages to seek the higher wages factories pay compared with agricultural work.
That’s not counting the millions of randy young men who don’t have wives, girlfriends, or a reasonable facsimile thereof because of the demographic overhang created by those authorities.
Dreams are fine, you don’t ask for them – humans never asked to dream in the first place. We’ve never learnt how to properly anyhow, and don’t know what a proper dream is, as opposed to an improper one. When we sleep we just get them, that’s a given. They take us to fantastic places and, in equal or lesser measures, dark places. Most of the time they’re mundane; we can’t even be bothered to talk about them the moment we wake up.
Occasionally we’ll dream of each other, and (if applicable) may mention it in passing, so long as the plot is palpable and clean. If an acquaintance appears in what could only be described as a dream rated 18 due to a sexual nature, then our reluctance to cause offence or an uncomfortable situation means we, and rightfully so, keep it to ourselves. In reality our heads move slightly to the left or right or, if it’s a restless night, maybe slightly off the pillow.
Awake, we’re more dangerous. Our imagination is raw and nowhere near as real in feelings as they are when we’re asleep. Instead our thoughts run wild as we manoeuvre them in any direction; conversations, aspirations, conflicts, success stories, failures, death, life… it’s up to us!
Awake, we choose the scenario first, and then work out a route to get there. A dream though, well we have no choice; we get an opening scene and proceed to take things from there.
It’d be good to order off a menu of sorts before we hit the sack right?
After a month of reasonable quiet on the Critical Masculinities front, I’m getting it all out now. Getting it all out segues nicely to the very new blog I’ve been reading: Feminism. Art. Porn. Sex.
This blog is by my actual real life friend Nio, who is a talented arty type and general all round nice person. She’s new to this type of blogging but what is up there so far ticks all the right boxes for me.
What if someone who had never seen a film before decided to direct a movie?
Well, if it was explained to them how a camera works, how scenes should more or less look together, how to edit, and how certain cinematic devices can be used, then what would that movie it look like? What could we truly expect? The answer is probably crappy, but there would certainly be a fresh approach. They would not be aping the latest hit film, or referencing their favorite directors. They would think about something in their life ore experience they would want to capture it as if it had been capture for the first time. And that has innate value.
Now let us then suppose that that person is an artist, even someone who is truly familiar with the notion of image, texture, textile, and movement. What would that film be like?
It would be something like A SINGLE MAN, the new film by fashion icon Tom Ford. Oh of course Tom Ford has seen movies, but there is a clear and palpable innocence to his approach. He’s not trying to do any discernable impersonation of a film, which is often the cardinal sin of first time directors. It is simply as if the man who’s been designing fashion lines and photo shoots for the last eternity is finally free to explore a new plane of existence. It’s all a new palette to him. He constantly plays with color, time, framing, slow-motion, and contrast editing. He has incredible appreciation for his new ability to “sculp in time” (tarkovsky’s phrase) and construct a fully-realized story. In that regard, it’s really like he’s never seen a film before and delights in the popular cinematic devices as if they’re the first time they’ve ever been done. The result is often tangential and possibly amateurish (picture a roomful of film school students rolling their eyes “doesn’t he know that he DOESN’T have to do a whole slow mo shot of the little girl’s dress??!!”), but it’s it all feels so impossibly genuine.
It’s also a startlingly good film.
Do not assume this is a movie of vignettes or passing fancy of a director obessessed with doing camera tricks. It is a completely coherent and concentrated story; a single day in the life of a middle aged man who lost the love of his life. Sure the fact that the relationship is a homosexual one is somehow the conversation piece of the film, but that’s completely off-base to me. Even if it sometimes touches on the plight of being an unspeakable, “invisible minority” in the 60’s, that could hardly be less of the central focus. It is a-political. This is a film wholly about the universal nature of profound loss.
I know the novel was deeply personal, but speculation on the personal nature to ford is both obvious and inconsequential. What’s important is that it completely feels personal. That one can immerse themselves into Ford’s beautiful perspective and Colin firth’s broken spirit. Because it’s so wonderfully written, Colin Firth is gives the best performance I’ve ever seen from him. He cracks with wounded resolve (the phrase makes sense when his plans become apparent) and there is a crystalline focus of his world. While it’s stylistically tangentially the reveals in story and character If movies are about drawing you into a character, than this film succeeds unquestionably.
But if you’re someone who believes that films should follow certain rules, or that any good film has the sense to cut A, B, and C (and I often am on both counts) than you might find A SINGLE MAN to be a annoying bore. You’d be angry with it’s cinematic dalliances (the same way lots of folks are annoyed by the brilliant film THE NEW WORLD). But I think the movie transcends the limitations of it’s own innocence.
In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what makes it great.
Satan uses sex as a weapon in two ways. First he makes sex such a repulsive thing in the minds of some Christians that the divinely-intended beauty and blessing of the marriage union is seriously damaged. Secondly, he makes lust and sex outside of marriage (extra-marital sex) the accepted thing. In either case, particularly if a Christian is involved, Satan wins a great victory.
The Bible is very outspoken about sex. God is neither shy nor embarrassed about it because He created us as sexual beings, as male and female (Gen. 1:27-28). However, we need God’s perspective on sex because much of today’s media – music, TV, magazines, billboards, newspapers, and the Internet – present the worst of unsaved man’s (and consequently Satan’s) perspective. It so surrounds us that we need to be on guard at all times.
Positive Side
God’s Word says there is nothing wrong, nothing dirty, nothing to feel guilty about when sex is fully enjoyed within God’s framework for enjoyment – marriage! God says that the “sexual intercourse” bed within marriage is and should remain undefiled (Heb. 13:4). God even gave a new Israeli groom a year-long honeymoon: “For one year he is to … bring happiness to the wife he has married” (Dt. 24:5 NIV).
Proverbs 5:18-20 tells a young man to rejoice with the wife of his youth, to let her breasts satisfy him at all times, and to be captivated always with her love – a very sexual statement. God intends married sex to be fun! Let’s not twist our thinking to turn something wonderful into something “bad.”
It’s as though God says, “I’ve given husband and wife a beautiful way to have physical and mental pleasure, enjoyment and closeness together – the ultimate emotional experience – and I want them to enjoy it with My fullest approval. I’ve given it to them on a far higher plane than mere animals. I have further purposed that out of this love-union of husband and wife, children will be born to be loved and nurtured in My things.”
Negative Side
God knows our strong sexual urges, and how Satan will use them to damage our testimony, or worse. Therefore, He carefully spells out the other side of sex so we will continue to have right thinking about it. Sex outside of marriage may be exciting for the moment and provide a certain intrigue, but the pleasures of sin last only a short time (Heb. 11:25). The same verse that blesses the sexual bed in marriage goes on to say that God will judge adulterers and the sexually immoral (Heb. 13:4).
Immorality is not to be named among God’s people (Eph. 5:3). We Christians should always be obeying God’s will, and “it is God’s will that you should avoid sexual immorality, that each of you should learn to control his (or her) own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the heathen” (1 Th. 4:3-5). Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord.” Therefore, “flee from sexual immorality … he (or she) who sins sexually sins against his (or her) own body” (1 Cor. 6:13,18). In the Old Testament, Joseph is an example of one who fled from extreme sexual temptation (Gen. 39:1-18).
The effect of sexual sin on one’s own body can take several forms. There is a chance of pregnancy, resulting in either an unwanted child to care for, or for strong pressure to murder (abort) the unborn child. In the case of a Christian, since he (or she) is grieving the Holy Spirit (Eph. 4:30), God will see to it that he (or she) has a guilty conscience with the resulting emotional problems.
Very serious communicable diseases are sexually transmitted. God is not mocked; a person reaps what he (or she) sows (Gal. 6:7-8). The common sexually transmitted diseases (STPs) are: herpes (incurable); syphilis (destructive but curable); gonorrhea (destructive but curable) and AIDS (incurable and slowly and painfully fatal).
As in the case of David and Bathsheba (2 Sam. 11), most sexual sin begins with sinful thinking. The Bible says that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart (Mt. 5:28). That goes both ways, and also pertains to looking at pictures as well as actual people.
That’s why we need to “take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5). Job said, “I have made a covenant with my eyes not to look lustfully at a girl” (Job 31:1). God says, “You were bought with a price. Therefore, honor God with your body” (1 Cor. 6:20). The idea is not to see how close you can come to an illicit sexual affair without actually doing it, but to maintain relationships that you would not be embarrassed for God to see. Remember, He does see.
I’ve Already Sinned. What About Me?
“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn. 1:9). That’s how great and loving our Savior is, even though our sin has saddened Him. However, there may still be life-long consequences of our disobedience, such as disease or an unexpected, unwanted child. Further, there will be loss of reward (2 Jn. 8). At best, sexual sin is “straw” (1 Cor. 3:12) which will be burned up quickly at the judgment seat of Christ where rewards are given out according to our faithfulness to Christ.
Consider the immoral man, in 1 Corinthians 5, who was having a continuing sexual relationship with his stepmother. He had to be excommunicated (put out) of the local church as a wicked man. But he finally forsook and confessed his sin, and was received back by the assembly about a year later (2 Cor. 2:5-11). God is so gracious with us because He loves us so much. Let us also forgive the sexual sin of others when that sin is forsaken and confessed.
What About Homosexuality?
Homosexuality, whether man with man or woman with woman, is not an acceptable alternative lifestyle in God’s sight. It is a great sin. It is truly sinning against one’s own body! Romans 1:26-32 says that homosexuals “receive in themselves the due penalty for their perversion” (v. 27) and in God’s sight “deserve death” (v. 32).
Sodom’s major sin was homosexuality (Gen. 19:1-11). Sodom has even given its name, sodomy, to homosexuality. God destroyed the city and its inhabitants because they were so sinful. There is nothing “gay” about homosexuality. Homosexuals need the Lord Jesus as their Savior, as we all do, and then they must forsake their sinful life style, as we all must.
Conclusion
You will never regret taking God’s perspective and living sexually pure before God, whether as a single or as a married person. Don’t let Satan trick you as he has so many others of all ages.
END NOTE: The author, Roger Daniel, has written two books on this subject. They are: Man + Woman = God’s Design and Dating, Marriage, Sex: Vital Topics For Christian Youth. Both are published by and available from Believers Bookshelf, PO Box 261, Sunbury, PA, 17801, USA.
With permission to publish by: Sam Hadley, Grace & Truth, 210 Chestnut St., Danville, IL., USA.
I’m going to jump right in with some Cosmo headlines, and some suggestions I have for their improvement. Before any of you get all incredulous and start asking if I’m serious, YES, all of these are ACTUAL headlines from the Cosmo website.
“How to Handle Office Romance”
… don’t fucking bother. You’ll probably eventually get bored, then you’ll probably eventually get fired. It could potentially work out, I guess, but is it really worth taking the chance?
“One Night Stand Etiquette”
… you met someone at a bar. You followed them back to their house. You fucked them. You think there’s any ‘etiquette’ involved here? Just try not to steal any family heirlooms on the way out.
“How To Spot A Love Rat”
… have some common sense. Sounds simple, but most women don’t have this. Who hasn’t sat there, bored out of their arse, listening to a friend trying to justify some total prick’s behaviour? He’s a love rat: you know it, they know it, but at the end of the day they want to keep boning him so they need to either get out, or put up and shut up.
“What He Says vs. What He Means”
… he’s a man, and men generally do actually say what they mean. It’s just us women who lie and manipulate and play word games. Listen to what he’s saying and guess what? That’s what he’s saying.
“15 Ways To Get Him Going”
… 1: take off your bra. 2: take off your bra. 3: take off your bra. 4: I think you see where I’m going with this. Men like tits. It’s not rocket science.
“Find out how to lose twice as much weight as with dieting alone!”
… um, exercise too? I’m sick of all this shit all over the internet about how to lose weight. I’m going to level with you people: BACK AWAY FROM THE CAKE, AND GO TO THE GYM. It is that easy. Eat better, exercise more. You can spend as much money as you like on pills and potions and plans but the only thing that loses weight will be your wallet.
“He Doesn’t Want to Use a Condom”
… oh really? Well he obviously doesn’t want to use your vagina too badly either, then. Anyone faced with a man offering this opinion needs to master the use of the words “jog on”.
“He Keeps Pushing Your Head Down But You’re Not Interested”
… are the readers of Cosmo dating 16 year old boys? Because from what I remember of being a 16 year old girl, this was a particular speciality of theirs.
In the course of my research into shitty magazine articles nobody needs I did, however, discover my new favourite phrase – “whore’s bath” – which apparently is the practice of running off to the bathroom after sex to wash your armpits, crotch, and face, but not in that order. Frankly if you are uncomfortable enough with someone that a teensy bit of sweat and sex juices are enough to send you hurtling into the shower, you probably shouldn’t be shagging them anyway.
MEN who do more housework get more sex. It’s official. And women who do more housework get more sex, too. A new US study reported in the Sydney Morning Herald of almost 7000 married couples shows that couples who work hard, play hard.
It seems a select group of “go-getter” couples balance paid work, chores and still manage to make sex a priority, according to the research, which shows the couples made love 1.6 times a week.
And while the women still did almost twice as much housework as the men, there was only a small difference in total hours worked when paid employment was added.
Less housework, less sex
The study found if slothful women and men – those who did housework for only 16 hours and two hours a week, respectively – increased their effort to match the high performers (women who did 68 hours and men 45 hours a week) they could expect to have sex 15 more times a year.
As well, men and women who spent more time in paid work reported more sex, leading the researchers to conclude that ”individuals may be achievers across multiple spheres”.
The US researchers say their findings debunk the theory that time spent on some pursuits, such as jobs or housework, must be stolen from other areas, such as sex. ”The much-lamented speed-up of everyday life … does not appear to have adverse effects on sexual frequency,” they say.
Vacumn Cleaner ‘Best Sex Aid’
The findings contradict an Australian study which showed working women found resentment over housework killed libido.
”If the resentment factor was high that’s when their sex life was not great. The best sex aid a man could use was a vacuum cleaner,” says Barbara Pocock, the director of the Centre for Work and Life at the University of South Australia,
She also wondered about the sex lives of those women – about one-third – who say they feel ”almost always rushed and pressed for time”, especially mothers who did more than 20 hours a week of paid work.
Have Your Say
So what is your experience? Have you got the balance right and is your sex life sizzling? Or are you feeling like sex is just another chore you’re expected to do to keep the household functioning? Let us know what your experience is…
I really need a snog but as I am at a kids soccer party have settled for a cuppa and my book x x
I press the send button knowing that my text won’t be read until tomorrow night. I read my book resisting the temptation to check my phone, I know it will stay silent.
Later, much later I am online, I have just finished a post on my blog. I see him sign onto msn but before I can think of saying ‘hi’ he has gone again. I’m feeling low. I check my stats on my blog see someone has linked to me from an unknown blog, click on this to take a peek at who it is. Wow this is a very hardcore site much more so than mine. I begin to feel flushed. While I am checking out this site and others linked to it I see one of my admirers keeps signing in. We have not chatted for weeks. I ask him if he is playing yoyo. We chat for a while, he is getting turned on so am I. I run upstairs and throw off my jeans and t-shirt returning downstairs in my mauve satin chemise. We continue to chat as I begin to play with myself as he is wanking at his end of the line. He says he wishes he could see me but I decline to install the webcam. He says that ok we both agree that imagination can be just as good if not better. I am getting quite wet.
Damn the doorbell who the fuck is that at 11.55pm….. must be son who is meant to be sleeping over at a party, coming home early and finding the door locked. I straighten my chemise don’t want teenage son seeing more than he should. I get to the door the security light shows me that the figure outside is too tall to be my son as lanky as he is. The bell rings again while I am deciding what to do. Who could it be at this time of night? Cautiously I open the door a crack to see who it is and what they want. Before I can take in who it is I am grabbed and pulled into an embrace. His mouth on mine before I can protest. He uses his superior height and strength to push me back into the hallway as he steps through the door which he closes behind him. I am still in his arms with his mouth glued to mine as I feel him guiding me into the living room and onto my sofa where we sink into the soft folds of gold material.
After an age he disengages and tells me
You wanted a snog! Was that good enough for you?
He slips out of his leather jacket and takes me in his arms again only this time his hand is already inside my chemise finding me wet. Behind my shoulder I can hear my pc going crazy with nudges. But I don’t care. I am more than happy, now I know who my visitor is. But I leave his side to re-lock the front door. Two of my boys are out for the night, the other two went to bed at about 10pm and I have heard nothing from them since. I return to the sofa and my lover. I have missed him so much and it is so good to have him here.
If I was wet before he arrived I am dripping now. My lover has this effect on me. He told me weeks ago that if our first encounter in private was anything to go by if I happened to be sat on him his balls would certainly get a wash as he makes me cum. I adore this sexy man who I have only recently allowed into my real life. His glasses are placed in a safe place away from arms and legs. His t-shirt and jeans soon discarded as is my chemise. My stepper placed by the door to prevent sleepy boys from intruding. Quickly I tell my admirer that I am suddenly sleepy and going to bed. I close down the pc for the night.
Mmmm now to carry on where we left off. I am so turned on by my lover but more so that he has arrived at my door like this. There is no time for chat we cant keep our hands off each other. Our mouths too are busy kissing, licking and sucking. Wow he does things with my nipples I could only dream about before. I am so hungry for this man who is beside me, on me, in me, I don’t think my appetite for him can ever be sated. I just want to devour him so completely. His hands are in my hair, now on my breasts, stroking my inner thigh, feeling inside me. Please don’t stop I want this so much I want to yell out
YES YES YES and Yes, just in case you were not sure YESSSSSSSSSSS
But of course I don’t, there are boys asleep in the room above. Instead I nibble his ear whispering how much I want him. OMG I want him so much, I want him as my friend, my lover, my rock. But more than anything I want him inside me. But he makes me wait.
He uses his fingers and tongue to take me to heights that I didn’t know I could reach.
I play with his rock hard manhood, Using my hands, my tongue I play with him I taste him, mmmm his cock is so lovely.
I want to straddle him, impaling myself on him.
But he won’t allow this. He wants us to get as much pleasure as we can before he slips inside me. He wants me, he wants me to want him more than anything.
I do yes I do, please let us do this now.
But no I must wait, again and again he brings me to incredible orgasm using his tongue and fingers.
I suck his cock bringing him to completion as I swallow every drop.
We relax into each other’s arms, stroking, smiling, I am so happy I feel I could burst.
This time he won’t get away from me before I get to feel his lovely cock inside me.
We kiss and cuddle, his hands wandering over my naked skin just as mine are on his.
As he pulls me closer to him I feel his fingers probing, they are wet from my juice, he finds my ass and gently inserts a finger, ecstasy, I love this, my hand slips down into his lap to begin stroking, teasing, I love it when I feel his length jerk involuntarily as I tease him.
He grows harder and I climb into his lap encouraging him to continue teasing my ass with his finger I slip onto his hard rod.
I am now impaled in the most delicious way.
The more his finger probes the more I ride his cock, my actions getting wilder as his finger slips deeper and deeper inside me.
I clamp my mouth to his to keep me from screaming my pleasure for all to hear.
Besides I need to have his tongue deep inside my mouth as my tongue runs around the inside of his mouth feeling his teeth his tongue as it tangles with mine.
Deeper I draw him into me now. I must make us so close together that we become one.
I need him inside me his hard cock inside my cunt rubbing against my swollen clit as his finger still probes inside my ass rubbing against his cock and his tongue gets sucked deep inside my mouth.
I cum all over him time and time again, I feel as though all conscious thought is slipping from me, all I know is that I am in heaven and I don’t want it to stop any time soon.
Then I feel it for the first time as he shoots his load deep inside me, he shudders and his face creases into that startled look men sometimes have at the moment of release.
I collapse in his lap as we hug, when I am sure the last shuddering is done I ease myself off him as gently as I can.
Wrapping my arms around him kissing him oh so softly. I feel a sudden need for sleep, he covers my face with gentle kisses, my forehead, the tip of my nose my eyelids, everywhere finally planting a lingering kiss on my lips.
He moves away slipping my chemise back over my head and shoulders he pulls on his own clothes and bids me good night. He must go before my children find us. He must also get back home as his own family will be arriving early
Anyone that knows my sister, knows that she is a label obsessed, name chasing groupie. She likes the finer things in life and thankfully her and her husband can afford it. She spends hundreds of dollars on Christian Louboutin shoes, LV hand bags, Gucci, Chanel and Prada shades. Her kids are dressed in head to toe Burberry, Juicy, and every other expensive label there is. My oldest niece wants her own Louis bag, and she’s only 6. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this, I was the same way before I bought my house. But now that I have a mortgage to pay I can’t buy those things as easily and as freely as Iwould like to. Which leads me to the point of this blog.
Yesterday, at my sister’s house, I was in the kitchen keeping her company as she prepared dinner (baked ziti, salad, and garlic bread mmmmmm delicious). I was working on my blog when Johanny arrived from work. He greeted us as he walked in and once he settled in he joined us in the kitchen. We began talking about our day. He gave me some suggestions on my book we basically we’re just catching up.
While Johanny and I were talking Diana was serving dinner. As she begins placing the plates on the table she tells me about this new Louis bag that she wants. My sister needs a new Louis bag like she needs another head and Johanny has no problem telling her so. The problem is that although Johanny tries to keep his hands on the purse strings (no pun intended), Diana always manages to get what she wants. Johanny’s pleas of trying to get Diana to stop spending money don’t often succeed because although he has every intention to sticking to his word he always give in.
For example, take this recent desire for Diana wanting a new purse. Johanny initially told her no she couldn’t buy it. After a couple of “pretty pleases” and a little negotiation he gives in.
Diana: Honey I saw this new Louis bag that I want to get.
Johanny: No, Diana. We already spend too much money and you have enough bags.
Diana: Please honey. It’s a new style and I don’t have this style.
Johanny: No Diana.
Diana: Please honey. I’ll cook dinner for you every day.
Johanny: Hmmmmm. Let me think about it.
Diana: Pretty please.
Johanny: How about you cook every day plus give me “okaaaaaay papiiiiiii” (their term for felatio, it’s a family inside joke) 5 times a week for 10 minutes straight.
Diana: Damnnnn. 5 days a week for 10 minutes?? (She scratches her head and thinks about it for a minute). How about I cook everyday, give you “okay papi” 3 times a week for 7 minutes straight.
Johanny: Ok. That’s a deal.
Now, keep in mind, I’m sitting there at the dinner table while dinner is being served listening to this negotiation going on. I almost wanted to die from hysteria. What can I say, this is normal for this family. But it made me think about marriage and how the dynamics of a relationship change once you’ve said those two magical words “I do”.
What negotiation techniques would you use to get something that you really wanted?
Crawling for her master in the BDSM classic, Secretary.
Dear Yenta,
I have never struck a woman, never even been remotely aggressive. In fact, I might practically be too gentle in bed, and have had complaints from girlfriends who wished I would pump them harder.
On the flip side, I love porn. I not only love porn, I love gruesome porn, like gang-bang porn, close-up on the anal porn, anything that is rough. I am pretty much disgusted sometimes by my own choices, even tend to turn off the videos when I can see that the women in them are numbed out.
Am I a freak? I feel like a bomb waiting to explode.
-Two-Faced Lover
Dear Two-Faced Lover,
On the TV show Six Feet Under there is a whole stretch where all Brenda wants is “normal healthy sex,” which she defines as sex without kinks or tools or whips. She wants a vanilla life in bed so as to somehow prove her sanity.
Brenda, however, was judging herself and her sexual practices by labeling one form of expression “normal.” No one should be judged for what turns them on unless it directly harms the life or health of another, mentally or physically, in an undesirable way. Some women want to be faux-raped, some men want to be tied up and beat up. There is no normal when it comes to sex, it comes in all different kinds of whacked out forms. One thing people make a mistake of doing is judging their sexual choices, attempting to translate “smack my ass” to “wow, I am a real self-inflicted misogynist.”
Sex is its own language, not necessarily an acting out of social order, rather an expression of the subconscious using external props and scenarios as tools. This, in simple terms, means that wanting to bang your girlfriend hard does not mean you hate her and want to kill her (necessarily), rather that that is your source of pleasure. You could exhaust yourself and ruin your sex life by examining your desires, or you could learn to safely integrate them into the bedroom.
In the movie Secretary some crazy things went down between Maggie Gylenhaal and her man including peeing her wedding dress, crawling like a stuffed pig, and more. This seemed messed up to a big chunk of viewers, but it was consenting sex between two partners. Key word, once again, “consenting.”
Do you like the missionary sex you have been having? Is this pornographic roughness something you desire in real life? Or is it just a fantasy? It sounds to me like you are repressed in the bedroom, perhaps terrified of SEEMING like a rapist, an abuser, or some sort of harmful agent. This is the only thing I see as needing examination. Why do you feel that sex must be gentle if you might enjoy it more rough? Are you afraid of emulating some figure that was forceful and abusive to women in your past? Do you see women as fragile puppies? They aren’t.
If you like it in the ass, do it in the ass. If you like it with a rough edge, a pinch, punch or slap, go for it. Just make sure she/he is along for the ride, enjoying it, and not drugged or checked out like some women in the porn you have been watching. (Which, btw, is disturbing to many-a-viewer who likes the idea of roughness, but not the reality. Few trustworthy people want to orgasm while willingly witnessing a teenager being taken actual advantage of.)
As you stepping off the vanilla sex circuit, perhaps take a few hints from the BDSM community. BDSM stands for Bondage Discipline Sado Mashochism. “For most people who engage in sadomasochism, sensations which normally cause pain, actually evoke sexual pleasure” writes Jessica Burge in According to Sexual Sadomasochism: Abuse or Harmless Play. The difference between rape and desirable roughness is the ability to consent to and control the sexual activity. This community has integrated a whole complex set of rules to keep sex, in any form, safe for the participants.
Safe Words are a big part of naughty role play. These are basically new words for “no” and have to do with upping your bedroom communication skills. For other BDSM terms and concepts, click here, but beware, not for the faint of heart.
Communication is the key ingredient to good, safe sex. TALK to your sexual partner; state your needs, your fears, your secret so-called “sick” desires. Listen back. She is also needs to be more honest. If she wants it rough, she should be able to tell you. See if you two can navigate the dirty space you seek on the interweb, bringing all your most intricate fantasies to life. You never know what your partner wants until you begin to ask.
For more on creating a safe space for rough sex, an expert on S&M communities in major cities writes, “I would suggest just finding the BDSM organization based in the person’s city or in the nearest large city. In DC I think the biggest organization (although I’m not certain, I’m not really involved) is Black Rose (http://www.br.org/), and the website has a lot of great resources for beginners. I’d guess that most organizations like that would be the same.” Black Rose hosts free meetings with a tutorial on how to navigate the space of role-play and sexy violence.
Also, check out these books.
Consensual Sadomasochism: How to Talk About and How To Do It Safely by William A. Henkin and Sybil Holiday
SM 101: A Realistic Introduction by Jay Wiseman
Leatherfolk: Radical Sex, People, Politics, and Practice, edited by Mark Thompson
It’s been two months since I left. Time both flies and crawls, as weird as that sounds. I’m so ready to move forward with life, to be happy again, and yet every day I get sucked back into the mud with X because of some detail dealing with the legal situation. We still don’t have a visitation agreement worked out, and finances are a LONG way rom being settled. Note to future self: don’t ever put everything in your name again. X has torpedoed me time and time again when it comes to bills.
I’m also lonely; I’m ready to start flirting and laughing again with some female companionship, but the old-fashioned part of me thinks “I’m still married”. Besides, given the accusations that X has brought forward, it’s probably best that I continue to live like a monk. I gotta tell you though; I’m not cut out to be a monk. It’s really sad when every conversation I have with a woman causes me to wonder what she looks like naked. I even started eyeing the 60+-year-old greeter at Walmart yesterday. I’ve always been a sexual being; I always managed to control those feelings during the dry spells with X by reminding myself that I was a married man. Now that I’m one step closer to being free, those feelings are raging. I just hope the day the day the divorce becomes final that I don’t ravage the first woman I see…
I know that time will open up new possibilities, and I’m excited about the new year, but in the meantime, I’m still figuring out what the hell I’m gonna do.
I mentioned this in the first post, but I want to reiterate it as I delve into the weirdly premature, mostly bad, token “sexy episode” otherwise known as “The Naked Now:” I was not really “around” for Season One. If I’ve seen any of these episodes it was on reruns SyFy or Spike. So right now I’m not really experiencing too many flickers of recognition, it’s more like watching the baby videos of somebody you knew only knew as an adolescent or adult; you see the first signs of the person she will become, and you also see some diversions from that path. And yes, we know she will learn from them and better herself, but eek, those moments are kind of embarrassing.
*cringe*
So, after ringing in the series with a mostly awesome pilot that was very clear on what issues would be at stake in this galactic jaunt, and was for the most part austere, never stooping to mockery of its predecessor, rarely failing to take itself admirably seriously, we get a big dose of goofy prurience. And we see our crew, breaking their as-yet barely established character as they fall prey to this “disease” which is really more like “excuse to get it on with the crew member you always had the hots for.”
The Enterprise is going to go check out WTF is up with the SS Tsiolkovsky, who are supposed to be monitoring a collapsing star but instead are apparently having a giant orgy, opening the emergency hatch on the bridge, and turning down the thermostat so low that they all freeze to death. I hate when parties end up like that. While inspecting the frozen remains of the debauchery, Geordi accidentally comes in contact with one of the corpses, and is the first to catch what will heretofore be known as Drunkitis. We know he catches it because there is a magical “whoosh” sound telling us so.
Between this episode and the pilot-- was there just a surplus of Frost FX at Paramount that year?
The away team returns to the Enterprise, and everyone’s fine except for Geordi, who starts acting all funny, (he gets the tweaky, sad, existential version of Drunkitis, apparently.) Because you’d only want to chill with Wesley Crusher if you had at least three drinks in you, he goes to check out the kid’s latest nerdy inventions (one is a tiny tractor beam, the other–yeesh– is a device that plays back a pieced-together recording of Picard’s voice ordering “Mr. Crusher” to take the helm; Wes is blossoming into quite the little stalker.) He infects Wesley (whoosh!) before leaving sick bay to go contemplate the stars and shit. When Tasha is sent to go bring him back to sick bay, she catches Drunkitis too (whoosh!) and the fun begins.
The fake-science in this episode is almost criminal, apparently the shifts in gravity coming from the collapsing star resulted in “complex water molecules” that entered the ships atmosphere and “acted on the brain like alcohol,” but never mind how this is somehow a disease only contractible through skin, and that, though it does create a chemical reaction, it doesn’t show up on any tricorder scan.
Of all the sins of this episode (writerly, carnal and otherwise,) the most egregious would have to be the infamous Data and Tasha hookup. C’mon. You have an android character. Shouldn’t you spend at least the better half of a season establishing all that he is impervious to, before exposing what he is vulnerable to, which, apparently includes intoxication and the seduction tactics of Tasha Yar? She seems to have raided Troi’s closet and given herself a little jheri curl, and whatever mechanism in Data that is capable of being turned on is turned on, and Tasha yoinks him into her boudoir as they cue the crazy antics music and Brent Spiner gives us a cockeyed smile of vaudevillian proportions.
Yar and the Real Boy
Oh yeah, so you know how Jordi doesn’t get sexy, only morose? Well, Wesley doesn’t get sexy, he just gets MAD WITH POWER. He infects all of Engineering with Drunkitis, lets Engineer Shimoda take out all the control chips and play Jenga with them, basically rendering the Enterprise immobile, just a few thousand kilometers from a collapsing star. Oh yeah, and he assumes command of the ship, and sets up a force field that prevents anyone from coming in, oh, I don’t know, breaking his little neck.
Other near-couplings include Troi and Riker (who is infected but never actually seems to show symptoms… could it be he’s the only man on the ship capable of holding his liquor?) and Picard and Crusher, though both were big duhs we could see coming a mile away. I have to admit though, as a major Picard-Crusher shipper (I had both their action figures, as well as Wesley’s, because I wanted them to be a family,) I found their struggle to maintain professionalism during a crisis against their baser desires to be both super heroic and super cute. Maybe that’s something that’s more dignified, or at least easier to identify with– as Beverly unzips the top of her uniform, Picard, with Herculean effort, chokes out “Not Now, Doctor! Please!” before tearing himself away. Then their little halfhearted waves goodbye as she gets on the turbolift? Adooooorable.
I took off my medical jacket! Don't you think I'm pretty?
Of course, Drunk Beverly is still able to formulate a cure for Drunkitis (no, it is not coffee,) Engineer MacDougal succeeds in disabling Wesley’s force field, Data replaces all the chips in a ridiculous sequence of sped-up footage, and everyone is innoculated and in their right minds in time to steer the ship out of the way of the exploding star.
Okay, so I’ve bashed around this episode enough, now I want to give it some credit: yes, it may have been the obligatory “cut loose” episode and yes, it may have come way too soon, but Picard’s words to the crew at the end do establish another tenet of TNG: “I think we shall end up with a fine crew. If we avoid temptation.” In other words: this is not going to be a sexy ship, and this is not going to be a sexy show.
Riker smiles at Troi. Tasha glances at Data. Then it’s all back to business. For the time being.
Side Notes
Yay! Troi’s already in the grey tweed! I thought for some reason the minidress lasted longer than it did.
The first interior shot begins on Data, before panning wide on the entire crew as they listen the lusty ladies of the Tsiolkovsky. Does this mean that this entire episode is about Data and his sexual awakening? No, that wasn’t a rhetorical question. And the answer is yes.
MacDougal is TOTALLY PISSED OFF throughout this entire episode. I think she was secretly sad that she remained uninfected and had to clean up after Wesley Crusher instead of say, frolicking in the Holodeck with some young ensign.
Line of the episode goes to Wesley, though: “So you mean I’m drunk! I feel strange, but also good.”
I’ve been blogging since early 2006 when I was working at Fusion and decided I needed to get a few things off my chest. It was even more random than it is now and barely anyone saw it. Then people started telling me they read my blog and it kind of blossomed into the monster it is today.
I did give some thought over Christmas about knocking it on the head as sometimes it’s a right ball-ache to write. I may sack it off at some point this year, I don’t know, but while you lot read it and give me feedback, I’ll plough on.
Don’t forget to check out all the latest Pussycats photos in the gallery at www.djwanker.com and at www.telfordnightlife.co.uk which include ones from New Year’s Eve which, by the way, was an absolute corker at Cats.
The big moment of the festive season was, of course, the sad farewell of David Tennant in Dr Who. I know most of you don’t care so skip down a bit but I want to write something for those who have invested time in what has been a brilliant TV programme.
Now I’m not a science fiction geek and some of things which go on in the show pass me by. I’m not interested in the technical aspects, the explosions, the clever words etc – I like the relationships between the characters, the humour, the emotion, the clever writing.
The return of the Master and the Timelords didn’t float my boat particularly but I accept it was a plot device to lead Tennant to his downfall. A few other bits were just nonsensical flim-flam too and Russell T. Davies, the writer, was clearly self-indulgent. I think he should be allowed that after masterminding the return of a terrific show.
The last 20 minutes of the New Year’s Day episode didn’t make me blub like a baby but – and it’s hard to admit this – I had tears in my eyes and the odd drop did trickle. It was sensational.
With a show like Dr Who, you have to embark on a suspension of disbelief as time travel isn’t actually possible. The uber geeks on forums pick holes in plotlines and question what everything means. They forget it’s meant to be a programme for kids and adults alike to make them laugh and cry and sometimes be scared.
For the uber geeks, there HAS to be something to complain about and, trust me, they whinge about the tiniest thing. It’s entertainment, pure and simple. Some of these sci-fi keyboard warriors probably have little else of note going on in their lives.
That said, here I am writing with such passion about a TV show. The highlight of the Tennant farewell was his interaction with Wilfred, played by Bernard Cribbins. If there’s any justice in the world, Cribbins will win every best supporting TV actor award going in 2010.
We knew the Doctor was leaving and we knew the prophecy: “He will knock four times.” The knocking sent a shiver down my spine. It was Wilfred, unintentionally leading the Doctor to his demise. He sacrificed his life (in the current form) to save the sweet, old man. That bit got me going and it didn’t stop until the end.
I found the bit outside the church particularly moving when the Doctor announced he’d gone back in time to borrow money for a wedding present from Donna’s late father. It was a lovely touch from the writer because the actor who played Geoff Noble died in November 2007. Sylvia’s reaction just about set me off.
Then the book signing was emotional; as was the Ood “singing him to sleep” and, of course, the Doctor’s final words. It was a fitting end for Tennant. You’ve also got to credit the musical score which just added to the drama.
Those of you who like the show will understand all that and those who don’t probably won’t have a clue what I’m on about but it’s my blog and I can indulge as much as I want! Roll on the Spring and Matt Smith taking over Doctor duties. The Weeping Angels and Daleks are coming back, too!
Right, onwards we go and I’ve had a little look back at the blog over the past 12 months and sifted through some of the momentous events to bring you this recap of 2009:
JANUARY
News: Marks & Spencer announced they were to shed over 1000 jobs. It’s not just redundancy; it’s M&S redundancy.
Bad taste: A man went to a fancy dress party as Madeleine McCann. It was, however, a good interpretation of the missing toddler as his mum and dad were nowhere to be seen…
Barack Obama was inaugurated as president of the United States. Some Americans still confuse Obama with Osama. Slight difference.
Slumdog Millionaire was released and went on to win almost every award going.
Random: Iceland’s banking system collapsed and the country installed a lesbian as prime minister. Sadly, she’s not fit.
FEBRUARY
Went to Tenerife with a friend for a few days. Warm and lovely without being serious suntan weather, the pool area was full of ugly, foreign coffin-dodgers. During our nights out, we bumped into footballer Titus Bramble. The highlight was the evening ‘walk of shame’ and my friend’s drunken piano playing. I was crowned pool champion and a female Gok Wan lookalike served us food in the restaurant.
The same friend this month also bashed his face up courtesy of a lot of alcohol and an icy footpath.
Someone messaged me on Facebook and accused me of being no better than ‘a rude Redcoat from Butlins.’
A friend of mine split with his size 20 girlfriend because she objected to the card he gave her on Valentine’s Day. Well it was a gym membership card.
MARCH
Moved into ‘the crib’ in St George’s to give me a weekend base and cut down on the driving from Leicester to Telford. Was told that the policy was “bro’s before hoes” when it came to women. Let’s just say I kept my side of the bargain.
Nearly had a fight with a Derby County supporter at a football match I was covering.
Received a demand from the Inland Revenue for not getting my tax return in on time. They sent me a bill for £0.00. Didn’t hear from them again on the matter.
A survey this month revealed that men who live in Reykjavik have the biggest penises in the world. So that’s why mum’s go to Iceland.
Someone on Facebook said: “DJ Wanker is a completely shit DJ. I hate this bastard and hope he dies.”
Not a vintage month for my best mate Phil. Dumped via a text message and then filled his diesel car with petrol.
John Bishop: “Pouring petrol into a diesel car is like pouring gin into a woman. You know that at some point during the evening she’s going to break down.”
Jade Goody died and thousands of people who didn’t know her set up Facebook pages to say how much they would miss her. One person called Andrea wrote: “You made a difference to the world.” A sad loss so young, yes, but a bit of perspective please.
APRIL
Celebrated my 36th birthday which reminded me of when I bought a girlfriend a vibrator as a present for her birthday. All she did was moan, moan, moan….
The lesbians next door gave me a Rolex for my birthday – although I think they misunderstood when I said I wanna watch.
Tim Westwood came to Pussycats and rocked the place. He wrote on his twitter feed: “DJ Wanker is cool. I liked him. He made me laugh. Big up DJ Wanker.” Westwood, the Big Dawg, genuinely wrote that. Nope – I couldn’t believe it either. But it was true.
A man came into Pussycats saying he wanted to fly me to India to DJ at a gig in Goa. They would pay for flights and hotel plus £2000 for my set. Needless to say I didn’t hear from him again as I expected.
Went to a after-club house party in Lawley where the owner fed their pet Rottweiler raw meat and alcohol… and then suggested I give it a big hug. “He’s an absolute sweetie,” the owner said. Face-to-face with a salivating, drunk beast, I felt like Kerry Katona’s husband and my anus was quivering like a jelly.
Leicester City were promoted as champions in their only season in League One. A bittersweet thing – happiness at the success but gutted we were there in the first place.
Madonna fell off a horse in April. The medics arrived and said the knackered old beast was not worth saving. The horse was fine though…
Did some bulk buying of bargain-priced high-quality toilet roll. Phil walked in and said: “Have you got the shits, Geoff?”
We discovered in April that an odd 47-year-old Scottish woman had an incredible voice but Susan Boyle didn’t win Britain’s Got Talent.
Two dyslexic bank robbers ran into Barclays and shouted: “Air in the hands mother stickers, this is a fuck up.”
MAY
Swine flu hit the headlines. Symptoms included sweating, acting ignorant and rude, excessive body odour and laziness. Judging by that, I thought a lot of people in Telford might be affected…
A psycho woman was dumped by her boyfriend and reacted by chucking a glass in his face causing a massive scar. She defended her behaviour as ‘acceptable’ although I begged to differ. Might have mentioned it once or twice on the blog.
Went on a train journey and asked for a return ticket. The station clerk said: “Where to?” and I said: “Back here of course.”
Pussycats barman Tom thought the Battle of Hastings was in 1966.
Joined a dating site. Put into the search box that I was looking for a woman in Telford aged 18-40 without children. It produced no matches. I tried to use the word ‘penis’ as my password but apparently it wasn’t long enough.
Cheered on Barcelona to victory in the Champions League final, wiping a few smug grins off the faces of plenty of bandwagon-jumping glory-supporting plastic Manchester United fans.
Discovered that printing facts about people doesn’t always go down to well as the truth can be quite hurtful.
Tania Watts messaged me: “It doesn’t matter that some people get offended by what you put in the blog. You just have the balls to say what most people think. People should respect that.”
JUNE
Had my toenails painted pink for a weekend to show support for a dear friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer. Ended up keeping them pink for four months. I loved them!
Pussycats was voted ‘Best Nightclub’ in Shropshire in an online poll. Obviously.
Started my annual summer pilgrimage to Ibiza. Went twice in June and five times in total. The first trip saw my mate get rather drunk, take a tumble and scar his face for the third time in a few months. The alcohol affected his brain because one night he said: “I really love you mate, thanks for being there for me all the time.” He couldn’t remember the next day. A bottle of water in San Antonio superclub Eden raised his temperature. “Eight fucking euros!”
Got mistaken for Judge Jules on a flight to Ibiza and then again in resort.
Michael Jackson died. Even six months on they can’t decide what was to blame… the sunshine? The moonlight. The good times? Okay, you get the idea.
MPs proved how out of touch with reality they were by claiming expenses way beyond the realms of acceptability.
Emma S messaged me: “I’m hooked on your blogs. You are a man of wise words.”
A woman, during an intimate moment, asked me to make her breathless. So I hid her inhaler.
JULY
Jodie Marsh and some blokes from Emmerdale, Shameless and Hollyoaks came to party at Pussycats.
An anonymous email dropped into my inbox: “Congratulations Geoff. You really are a c***.”
Football mourned the loss of Sir Bobby Robson, one of the most wonderful, honest and decent men involved in the game.
Two blokes squared up on a flight to Ibiza as we started our descent into resort. It was like an airborne episode of The Jeremy Kyle Show. The stewards leapt in to keep them apart but it was just about to get very messy.
Felt like a stalker as I drunkenly took loads of photos of Howard Donald from Take That as he was DJ-ing in Eden. Met a lovely girl from Norway with magnificent breasts. Spent 16 euros (about £15) on a single vodka and coke. Kept bumping into the midget from Garlands. He wasn’t happy – so which one of the other six of Snow White’s helpers was he?
Needed expensive surgery on my car. Got pulled over by the Police in Telford while driving a hire car. Wasn’t speeding and hadn’t been drinking. It was a Ford Ka – I probably looked like Mr Bean squashed up in it.
AUGUST
Continued to listen to people who were trying to defend the indefensible. They were still wrong
England’s cricketers beat Australia to regain the Ashes. Real drama and the right result.
Made a bootleg version of ‘Riverside Motherfucker’ which was getting a serious caning in Ibiza. The tune is probably still the most requested in Pussycats five months later.
Was quite amazed that globetrotting superstar DJ Micky Slim knew who I was.
Told a girl she was the double of Cheryl Cole. Didn’t have the heart to say Cheryl was a size 8 and this girl was a 16.
Kerry Katona claimed she wasn’t a drug addict. Okay love…
Ethiopia finished higher than Great Britain in the final medals table at the World Athletics Championships. Bob Geldof… are you happy now?
SEPTEMBER
Flew for the first time with Ryanair. It was my fifth Ibiza trip of the summer. Decided not to read a copy of The Sun on the plane from Liverpool as they bear deep-seated grudges up there.
Bumped into two of the lads from JLS in Ibiza (but didn’t actually know who they were – credibility intact) and also chatted with Simon Webbe from Blue.
Got so drunk one night, I couldn’t actually recall getting from the club back to the hotel room. Even gave the chicken baguette man a swerve. Tequila shots with Danny and Ross was probably to blame.
Bought a painting called ‘Orgasm’. Damn thing turned out to be fake.
Students gained record GCSE and A-level results. So proud of these smart, intelligent, clever kids. Decent spelling, however, is clearly not part of any exam.
While she was doing some History homework, Aaleyah asked me if Louis Armstrong was the first man on the moon.
The world’s premier Beatles tribute band announced they were splitting up. Or, as you may know them… Oasis.
Patrick Swayze, considered one of the nicest people in Hollywood, lost his battle against cancer.
Sophie wrote: “I wish you did a daily blog. Puts a smile on my face every time.”
Made to feel uncomfortable in ‘the crib’ by someone who spent more time there than me, didn’t pay a penny towards rent and acted like they owned the place. The under-the-thumb boyfriend clearly forgot about the “bro’s before hoes” thing.
OCTOBER
Club Crush and Vox Bar finally opened in Telford. Wore a suit to the opening night and was told I looked very smart… or had just come from a court appearance.
Got a brief blink-and-you-miss-it mention in the Daily Mirror.
Reached 4,000 friends on Facebook and 2,500 in the DJ Wanker Appreciation Society.
Got ‘poked’ on Facebook by a woman I didn’t know. She sent me a message saying she was a “bored housewife looking for some action.” Eager to please, I sent her my ironing.
Two clowns called Jedward slipped into the public consciousness. They should’ve won X Factor to piss off the viewers and guarantee the next series would be cancelled.
Stephen Gately from Boyzone died. Didn’t get 20% off my concert ticket.
Saw some scary sights in Telford. This was the week BEFORE Hallowe’en.
Nick Griffin appeared on Question Time and showed the BNP for what they really are… vicious, nasty, racist, vile, bigoted scum.
NOVEMBER
The geekiest of all geeky geeks queued up at midnight for the release of a computer game.
Some bloke from Telford was dubbed ‘The Sperminator’ in the News of the World for (allegedly) getting 12 women pregnant after chatting them up on Facebook. The paper also called him a laptop lust hunter.
Aaleyah came out with this classic line: “It’s wrong that animals are killed to make fur which people like Victoria Beckham wear. But I don’t mind animals being killed because I love bacon.”
Celebrity oxygen thief Jordan went on I’m A Celebrity to “get closure” after her split from Peter Andre. The public displayed their wonderful humour by constantly voting for her to face the Bushtucker Trial. I wish she’d stay in Australia forever.
The Euro Millions lottery saw a €90m prize won by people who looked like they probably deserved the the money.
Tiger Woods, a seemingly clean-cut family man, is outed as a naughty boy. The world’s best golfer proves he can find the hole – on and off the course.
DECEMBER
Despite enjoying a better-than-expected start to the season, Leicester City got thrashed 5-1 by Nottingham Forest. We ended the year in the top six of the Championship. Let’s hope we’re still there in May.
A dull nobody won X Factor and released a dull record. A campaign on Facebook led to the song failing to get the Christmas number one.
Poker Face by Lady Gaga was the biggest selling single of the year. Still questions persist about whether the Madonna wannabe has both male and female genitalia. Personally speaking, I couldn’t care less.
Moved out of ‘the crib’ in St George’s and not a moment too soon. It was an interesting eight months which started well but turned sour. Found out what some people are really like. They won’t be missed. Now much happier with the weekend living arrangements elsewhere in Telford.
Got drunk in Leicester with Phil on Christmas Eve and had a real blast with the party at Pussycats on New Year’s Eve. Good times.
And finally…
HOPES FOR 2010 (in no particular order)
Leicester City to win promotion to the Premier League; England to win the World Cup; the Conservatives to win the General Election; another busy year at Pussycats; to meet the woman of my dreams; continued health and happiness for all the important people in my world… I don’t ask for much.
Cheers for now, Geoff / DJ Wanker
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2. Second, much of the article deals w/ people who gave up state secrets or other important information for sex. So here’s the question:Is it trickin?![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=115c910f-134a-4b9a-b91c-4188a17f166b)
1. Homeschooling Christian family gets asylum in the U.S. – They fled Germany because they didn’t like the schools there and Germany was smart enough to outlaw home-schooling. Sadly, the U.S. hasn’t gotten there yet.
2. Supreme Court rules that D.C. can issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples - Congratulations to the District of Columbia for standing up for Marriage Equality!
3. Humanists in India arrested for distributing book critical of Islam – The Center for Inquiry’s New Delhi President Innaiah Narisetti and two other individuals, Subba Rao and author Macha Laxmaiah, were arrested for distributing a book:
No more church for me.
If your marriage is starting to sink, toss out a flirtation device. That’s right, I’m talking anything from teeny-bopper, cutsie wootsie to make your momma blush flirtin’! Toss it on out there and pull your marriage to safety.
MEN who do more housework get more sex. It’s official. And women who do more housework get more sex, too. A new US study reported in the Sydney Morning Herald of almost 7000 married couples shows that couples who work hard, play hard.
Anyone that knows my sister, knows that she is a label obsessed, name chasing groupie. She likes the finer things in life and thankfully her and her husband can afford it. She spends hundreds of dollars on Christian Louboutin shoes, LV hand bags, Gucci, Chanel and Prada shades. Her kids are dressed in head to toe Burberry, Juicy, and every other expensive label there is. My oldest niece wants her own Louis bag, and she’s only 6. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with this, I was the same way before I bought my house. But now that I have a mortgage to pay I can’t buy those things as easily and as freely as Iwould like to. Which leads me to the point of this blog.
