Yum
That last post was too much of a downer, or too self-indulgent, or too something. No way I’m leaving it at the top of the blog.
These are amazing.
On that website, those soft drinks look great, too, but I can’t see paying $16 for a $9 product. I think I’ll whine at my local supermarkets first.
D.
Tuesday Morning Fanfare
Kris Starr has a contest. She’s offering all kinds of wonderful prizes, including Aussie man-candy, this thing that looks like a Dildo Family-Pak, some sort of S&M paddle, and that numbing cream guys use so that they can last to ease your sore back. At least, that’s what it looks like. I didn’t read the fine print.
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Monica re-posts an article on twenty ways to break writer’s block. I suppose I could link to the original article, but I like looking at Monica’s photo too much 🙂
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I sent off seven query packages in the last two days. Wish me luck.
I’ll have more for y’all later; I need to eat my lunch.
D.
Smart Bitches Day: Who says it ain’t still Summer?
My first thought on Summer Devon‘s new erotica novel, Revealing Skills: damn, that cover model looks like Geena Davis. My second thought, experienced while trying to find an image to prove the first thought: damn, there are a lot of topless photos of Geena Davis on the Intertubes!
Here’s the review. Revealing Skills? Loved it. Cue William S. Burroughs’s voice: “I give it five out of five erect penises.” Actually, Burroughs wouldn’t have given it any erect penises, but he could surely have drawled that line with all the gravitas it deserves.
Gilrohan’s a shape-shifter spying for his king. In fesslerat-form, he’s captured by one scullery maid and saved by another — Tabica, a comely slave with the odd ability to understand his squeaks. And that isn’t her only power. Her touch transforms him back into a man, which is convenient, really, since human-fesslerat sex would be an entirely different kind of erotica.
Tabica has all kinds of power, much of it centered in her womb. She’s the vagina dentata of female love interests. Gilrohan recognizes her for what she is: the rarest and most powerful of magicians, an ereshkigal. Her abilities are wild from a lack of childhood training, possibly as dangerous to her as they are to any man foolish enough to bed her. Can Gilrohan rescue Tabica — and himself — from Lord Lerae’s castle, and can he survive the charms of her warm, wet, and fuzzy?
She again lightly stroked his penis, which twitched, delighted by her smallest attention.
Thank God it’s a penis and not a member or a man-shaft or whatever else some of you erotica writers call it.
Gray Anatomy
Grief, originally uploaded by poppinsgarden.
From the GW Hatchet:
Senior James Daley woke up one morning naked and drunk in an unfamiliar apartment with condoms strewn about the room. A girl next to him rolled over and introduced herself.
“My first thought was, where am I?” Daley said. “My second was that I have to get out of here as fast as possible.”
A friend filled Daley in about how he met the girl later that day.
“I guess she bought me a lot of drinks that night,” Daley said. “And then when a friend tried to take me home she said ‘no, I think I’ll take him home.'”
Daley said he felt taken advantage of and would not have hooked up with her if he had not been so drunk.
Was this rape? Sexual assault?
. . . . (snip) . . . .Yet many students such as Daley consider such encounters a part of college life, however unfortunate they may sometimes be. Advocacy groups have begun calling situations where consent or denial is unclear “gray rape.” Students say it occurs every weekend in places including dorm rooms, bars and fraternity houses.
I’m not so naive as to think this didn’t happen when I was in college. But does gray rape really exist, and if it does, is it becoming more prevalent? Drug abuse and alcoholic binges are on the rise, and the resultant impaired judgment is likely a key factor in rape, gray or otherwise. That’s not the whole story, however.
I’m not sure I want to live in a world without Prairie Muffins.
Look what happened to PrairieMuffins.com.
At first I thought these Dominionist anti-feminists had gone all commercial. See, I wanted to find a link to their clothing retailers (Fugliest. Dresses. And. Swimwear. ANYWHERE.) and what do I see? Links to Frederick’s of Hollywood and Victoria’s Secret. I call this poetic justice.
Fortunately, the Prairie Muffin Manifesto is still online. My favorite commandments?
9) Prairie Muffins do not reflect badly on their husbands by neglecting their appearance; they work with the clay God has given, molding it into an attractive package for the pleasure of their husbands.
All women should aspire to be attractive packages. And,
18) Prairie Muffins are fiercely submissive to God and to their husbands.
How does one submit fiercely? Is fierce submission something like timid domination? This confuses me. I am such a Pharisee.
TODAY’S TOP SEARCH TERMS: Heather Graham, cleansing colon, Lopez butt photo, and spank your balls for me.
By the way: no Prairie Muffin, not even the consummate Prairie Muffin Michelle Duggar, would be cruel enough to make ferret loaf.
Live blogging tonight, starting some time around 7 or 8ish. Can you tell I got nothing?
D.
GallimauFriday II: Lost in Translation
This store-bought apple pie I’m eating? Sucks ass. And not in the pleasurable ass-sucking sense, but in the high school bully forcing you to lick his hairy cheeks sense. Not that I would know anything about that.
I have to learn how to make a decent apple pie.
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It was bound to happen: a wingnut found my 9/11 post:
Featured Flickr artist: McNeney
Ode to Magritte, originally uploaded by McNeney.
Another of McNeney’s homages to Magritte: Not for Reproduction.
When it comes to bondage, I’m a pushover.
This scares me, but hmm . . . might be fodder for a future blog post.
D.
Thirteen Things I Learned From Cosmo: the Jessica Alba Edition
I don’t have a normal life. No doctor does. Ours is a calling that balances sacrifice with privilege, and it is for each physician to decide, at the end of the day or at the end of a career, if it has all been worthwhile. I’m not a regretful man (much), but like any doctor, I’m so distant from the mainstream of humanity that I sometimes forget the things that are truly important.
And that’s why I always return to Cosmo — to keep me grounded.
This month’s teasers include:
- His #1 SEX Fantasy. His. Not mine. Although I wouldn’t toss this sex fantasy out of bed for laying refried bean farts.
- Could Your Man Be Gay? That totally ripped plumber you found him in bed with last week might be a clue!
- “My Boyfriend Didn’t Change His Boxers for 3 Months!” Stop writing letters to Cosmo, Mom. And . . .
- JESSICA FRICKIN’ ALBA. Maybe we’ll find out if she has a thing for married, middle-aged, balding hobbits.
You know you’re old when . . .
. . . the supermarket plays a muzacked version of the stuff you liked in college. I thought it was bad the first time I heard Yes’s “Roundabout,” the Muzack Edition. But The Clash, “Rock the Casbah”? So depressing.
When I hear a muzacked version of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer,” I hope someone will put me out of my misery. And quickly.
More. Later. Gotta work on the Thirteen.
D.