Am I brilliant or what? With this photo, I can (A) do some Random Flickr Blogging, (B) segue into my Smart Bitches Day post, and (C) show three hot Asian babes and one Asian guy who is even more sexually non-threatening than yours truly. Booyah!
Back to SBD in a moment. I had a great writing day yesterday: nearly 4000 words, well over that if you count blog posts and my Tangent Online review of Helix SF Issue #1. (I’ll post a link to the review once Eugie puts it up on site.) And the words they did flow. Among other things, I wrote a scene that had been percolating in my mind since the first conception of this novel, namely, Barb teaching Lori how to give the world’s best blow job. Y’all are gonna love it, I hope I hope I hope.
On to the subject of today’s Smart Bitches Day post: opposite-sex-best-buddies in romance.
In the comment thread to this post, Vanessa writes:
CAN GIRL’s GET BLUE BALLS OR IN OTHER WORDS †BLUE OVARIES�? I HAVE HEARD OF IT BUT I DONT KNOW IF ITS A PROVEN FACT…
I know you can “knock” an ovary by rough-housing it during a pelvic exam. Supposedly, the effect is equivalent to getting kicked in the nads. But will prolonged arousal sans orgasm result in the femme equivalent of blue balls?
My first thought: how the hell should I know?
My second thought: you may not know, but some of your XX readers might.
Comments?
D.
No, that not be th’real title. However, this is…
Cap’n Dyke and Th’Frog Combine Psychic Forces t’Bring Ye, Direct from th’Past…
[Note: Clitatia Vaginus was a contemporary of Sappho, the first ‘lesbian’ noted in the historical record. While we don’t know Clitatia’s sexual orientation, we do know she knew about what to eat to prime the heat.]
‘The ancient Greeks and Romans were a randy little lot. Wanting to swell their armies—as well as their libidos, they searched the world far and wide for foods that would enhance sexual performance and pleasure.
According to these past powerhouses of history, one of the most powerful sexual potions was ‘made from the pith taken from the branch of the pomegranate which was then ground together with the testicles of bulls and rams.’ Pliny the Elder remarked, however, that as much as this mixture might have been popular “it was good neither for the heart or the kidneys”. Well, Clitatia is here to tell you that Pliny the E. is right!
The Roman poet Marcus Valerius Martialis favored more ordinary foods as aphrodisiacs. He suggested that sexual appetite could be stimulated in old men if they dined on spring onions and shallots. For “young men suffering from impotency and not-so-young women suffering from lack of desire”, he said that pepper, cabbage, asparagus, eggs, pineapples and snails (eaten uncooked and without sauce) would be effective stimulators.
Between the forth and first centuries B.C.E. many medical doctors, including Galen and Hippocrates, agreed that chomping garlic would contribute to one’s sexual potency and, at the same time it kept vampires away, so it had did double-duty as a desirable plant.
Get yourself a recipe for mussels cooked with onions, garlic and saffron cooked in a buttery, white wine sauce and this former vestal virgin promises that if it doesn’t kill you, it will stoke those fires hotter than Rome when it was burnt by the Huns. Your guide, Clitatia Vaginus, found out that butter and garlic can cause your sweat — and other secretions — extra slick.
Lettuce was considered a boost for sexual potency by the Greeks, the Romans and the Egyptians (a sexual romping trifecta if I’ve ever seen one).
Other foods to fuel your fire include: Aniseed, artichokes, skink flesh (it’s a lizard, small, unpalatable), carrots, rabbits, sweet peas, parsnips and—that all time favorites of favorites—sparrow’s brains. There was some squabbling about what member of the animal kingdom was the sexiest. Romans found the rabbit to be particularly lustful, while the Greeks felt sparrows were the real ‘beasts’ in the pursuit of sexual pleasure. Skinks (those little lizards) are slim and long…well, you take the connotation from there, darlings. Ergo, you ate them to transfer their power to yourself.
As a tribute to our illustrious host, the proprietor of ‘Balls and Walnuts’, our Dear Douglas, let’s discuss walnuts. Walnuts have been cultivated for at least 2,000 years and they have been linked to love and fertility throughout history. According to an ancient myth, Jupiter, the king of the gods who was also known as Jove, lived on walnuts when he lived on earth. Therefore Romans called walnuts Jovis glans, meaning “the glans of Jupiter.†(Glans is the rounded tip of the penis or the erectile tissue of the clitoris.) Romans also called the walnut nux Gallica, meaning “the French nut.†Juglans regia, the botanical name of the Persian walnut (also called the English walnut), translates as the “regal nut of Jupiter.â€
A recipe for your pleasure (hopefully):
Roasted Beet, Goat Feta and Walnut Salad on Radicchio Leaves
3 medium-size beets
1/3 cup goat feta, diced into small pieces
1/2 cup walnut pieces, dry-roasted in a cast iron pan
2 tsps walnut oil
1 tsp (5 ml) balsamic vinegar
1 tsp (5 ml) orange juice
2 tsps (10 ml) oregano, tarragon or other fresh herbs, finely chopped
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
Radicchio leaves (or Belgian endive leaves), washed and dried.Preheat the oven to 425 degree F. Place a baking sheet or a sheet of aluminum foil on the lower oven rack to catch beet drippings. Place whole beets on the upper oven rack and bake for 1-1/2 to 2 hours. Remove from oven and allow them to cool. Peel off the beet skins and discard. Dice the beets into small pieces and place in a bowl. Add the walnuts and goat feta. Combine the walnut oil, vinegar, orange juice, chopped herbs and black pepper. Pour over the salad mixture and toss to combine. Spoon a tablespoon of the mixture onto each radicchio or endive leaf and arrange decoratively on a large platter and enjoy your hot n’ steamy evening.
Note that the Roman physician Galen wrote that foods worked as aphrodisiacs if they were “warm and moist”. However, remember, my lusty students, that the Roman poet Ovid wrote in The Art of Love, after giving a litany of aphrodisiacs, “Prescribe no more my muse, nor medicines give / Beauty and youth need no provocative.â€
Alas and alack! What a nothing is man! We all shall be bones at the end of life’s span, so let us be jolly for as long as we can.–Gaius Pompeius Trimalchio
Well, you want to know what Clitacia Vaginus thinks about fusty Ovid? Pah! Hera’s handmaidens, bring on the skink flesh and the sparrow’s brains with a side order of buttered saffron and garlic flavoured mussels and DON’T FORGET THE WALNUTS FOR DESSERT!’
Can’t . . . resist . . . power . . . of Thirteen.
And I’m just the guy to do it.
Before getting down to business, let me say a few things. Sis, don’t read this one. There are some things you don’t want or need to know about your little brother. This goes for anyone in my family, although I think the rest of you gave up on me a long time ago.
Let’s see — patients, hospital employees, my employees, persons under the age of eighteen, psychopaths, stalkers, my SON (just in case you don’t realize you’re under eighteen) — all of you can just click away right now. Here, you want a fun place to click to? Read Waiter Rant. That guy is freaking hilarious.
Y’all gone? Good. That should leave my usual crowd, who are more than welcome to chime in. The topic: rug cleaning and door knob polishing. You know what I mean.
From the Outhouse Rag, get a load of this Slovenian Durex Condom commercial.
I particularly enjoy the look of terror on the girl’s face when the li’l white buggers charged her.
D.
As promised.
1. Women need help shaving their pubes into dumb designs.
Guy tip #1: shave it all off. That’s what we really want, not furry “landing strips.”
2. Bronze eye shadow is “in.”
Guy tip #2: Bronze eye shadow is only “in” if your guy is “into” heroin chic.
3.“Damp, chilled tea bags work wonders for sleepy, puffy eyes.”
Guy tip #3: Surprise your guy with teabagging and he won’t give a damn about your sleepy, puffy eyes.
4. “Plan Two Hot Dates With Him. Instead of orchestrating a perfect evening you’ll both love, make a deal that you’ll do whatever he wants one night as long as he does the same for you the other night.”
Guy tip #4: I like this advice. I can’t think of a better way to assess incompatibility. Two dates, and you’ll either be engaged or broken up.
5. Don’t leave your contact lenses in at night, says Monica L. Monica, MD.
Guy tip #5: Monica L. Monica? I’m going back to my old name, Doug E. Fresh.
6. Astroglide has massage lotion!
Guy tip #6: I learned about Astroglide from a gay Bay Area psychiatrist. Instinctively, I realized this guy knew more about lubricants than a score of Pep Boys employees. I’ve never gone back to KY.
7. Brighten up your hair color by adding Kool-Aid powder to your shampoo.
Guy tip #7: Guys dig cherry Kool-Aid powder. We’ll lick it off anything. Anything.
8. According to actor Owen Wilson, “When girls put lipstick beyond their lip line to make their mouth look voluptuous — that’s no bueno.”
Guy tip #8: When guys throw dippy Spanish expressions into their conversations, that’s muy estupido.
9. To make her feel sexy naked, compliment her sexy parts.
Guy tip #9: It really doesn’t work to say, “Honey, your clitoris looks just like a wee penis!”
10. He says: “My buddies really like you.” He means: “Okay, we’re officially dating now.”
Guy tip #10: Be sure he doesn’t mean, “I hope you’re into bukkake.”
11. 57% of guys have accidentally zipped part of their member.
Guy tip #11: If your man does this, DON’T blurt out, “Frank and beans! Frank and beans!” or else he might offer you some of his style gel.
12. Big, fake eyelashes are sexy, but big, fake boobs are not.
Guy tip #12: Oh yeah? Says who?
13. If you cheat, don’t tell. You’ll be doing more damage to the relationship if you come clean.
Guy tip #13: Don’t cheat in the first place, dumbass! Jeez. If you care that little about a relationship, leave the relationship. Unless it’s one of those open relationships. Yeah. That would be cool.
Have you learned anything new today? Leave a comment, and I’ll link to your Thirteen.
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Technorati tag: thursday thirteen
Man-tush over at Darla’s place!
Dusty gives us the latest on the Rove & Leopold show (not a 13, but what the hey)
Thirteen smiles from Pat (With Wallace and Gromit cookies!)
D.
Today, I bought the July issue of Cosmo. For research purposes, not for the
62 SEX MOVES
Guys Share Tons of Totally Original and Mind-Blowing Tips.
Not at all. And good thing, too, because those Totally Original tips included such Mind-Blowing suggestions as, “After climax, a guy’s head can feel overheated and tingly. If you gently pull his hair and massage his scalp, it will quickly relax him.”
I’ll save the What I Learned From Cosmo post for my Thursday Thirteen. For now, I have a question to ask. Why do we in America get this:
while the Brits get this:
Compare the covers. In the Land of Pat Robertson, we get GORGEOUS EYE LOOKS. In England, they get SEXIEST EVER NAKED CENTREFOLDS. Why can’t I get nude Cosmo at my grocery store? I’d even let them spell it CENTREFOLD.
Did you know Cosmo published me? It’s true. Reese Witherspoon was the cover girl. I wanted to talk about the Middle-Aged Balding Jewish Male Sexual Response, but they were only interested in hearing me pontificate on sore throats. They were all hung up about me being an ENT doc — but dammit, I’m an expert in other things, too! I felt so cheap . . . particularly since they bought me off with a complimentary issue.
I have a pretty good idea who writes this stuff. That obsession with swallowing? Guys write those articles. But this 62 SEX MOVES story, I dunno. There’s a guy’s name attached to every move, but what guy calls his dick “my member”? And, “Watching a woman do yoga is the hottest foreplay you could have without touching each other.” Whaaaa?
There’s horrendous advice in this issue. In their Sexy vs. Skanky feature, they list “Sharing clothes with your friends” under Sexy, “Sharing guys with your friends” as Skanky. Not! And they’re telling women not to drink eight glasses of water a day. This is madness! “Eight to ten glasses of non-caffeinated, non-alcoholic beverages,” that’s what I tell everyone.
I think they need me on staff as their resident ear, nose, and throat doc, sniffer-out of bogus things attributed to guys (but really written by women), and test subject for all of their latest sex tips. I think I have a great deal to contribute, and besides, they already know my work.
D.
I’m not hung up about my height, but my subconscious is. Right now, my subconscious is sobbing with laughter at my expense.
In the dream, I’m young, twentyish, and there’s no wife, no girlfriend, nada. I’m in the market, metaphorically speaking. Literally speaking, I’m in some kind of casino. I run into a woman whom I knew from med school — she was my second-year resident in General Surgery. Not a beautiful woman but not homely, either. But she’s big, big-boned big, zaftig-big, six-inches-taller-than-me-big. And is she ever happy to see me.
Soon, the sexual innuendo between us is thick as fog, so silly and graphic that I’m glad no one else is within earshot of our conversation. I can’t be misreading these cues. It’s not possible. She wants me.
We’re talking about camping and she can’t believe I haven’t hiked the local trails. Below the surface, it seems to me she’s speaking in code: she can’t believe I’ve never had sex under the open, star-filled sky.
“Any time,” I tell her.
“How about right now?”
Oh, yeah. I haven’t misread this one. But there is still one problem.
“I don’t have a sleeping bag. I don’t have any gear at all!”
“Don’t worry,” she says, “I have extra.”
I follow her out of the casino, skipping with joy, goofy I’m-gonna-get-some grin plastered on my face. On the way out, I recognize a nurse I know from the hospital, a 5′-0″ firecracker who could probably kick my ass halfway down to Eureka (she wins weight lifting competitions). She’s at a poker table. We exchange a glance. I know that she knows that I just got lucky. Or am about to.
(Thanks to Kate and her family for the apropos frog pic.)
We walk to my zaftig gal’s house. She lives less than a block from the casino. Her parents are home, so she makes me wait outside. I remember something: I’ve been eating a sandwich with onions.
“Grab some toothbrushes and toothpaste,” I call after her.
“I only have one toothbrush!”
“We’ll share,” I say, thinking, hell, we’re about to share a lot more than that.
Then, while she’s scrambling around her house gathering camping supplies, this guy shows up with an enormous backpack slung over his shoulder:
In high school, we called them crackers. They functioned as eye magnets and brain-befuddlers, distracting us from the joys of higher learning. A teenage boy cannot not look at a cameltoe.
No, no, not that.
I almost changed my mind about writing this post. Could I stoop this low? But this very afternoon in the grocery store, I heard a muzak version of the Beach Boys’ Kokomo, which everyone under 35 knows as The Camel Toe Song.
Clearly, a Higher Power was speaking to me.