727. Self-esteem, -image, and -interest: Self-image III

Self-image works continually in background to guide and keep us aligned and consistent with our beliefs and convictions of who and what we are.

More imaginary than real, two examples follow of how self-image governs one woman’s life and prevents her going off her self-defined track:

Chaste Until Married

·        If she can’t imagine it happening this way, it won’t.

·        She dedicates and believes herself quite capable to avoid sex until she has a husband. Through several courtships she succeeds and finally yields when she marries. She neither betrays herself nor demeans her image of Self. She stays on the track that she laid for herself.

·        That’s how self-image guides her. Not to keep her chaste, although it has that effect. But to prevent her deviating from her image of Self that she created for herself.

Screen Men by Cooking

·        She doesn’t cook well but wants to learn. So, she decides to practice as part of her screening process of men. It will be her way or the highway.

·        She commits to this modus operandi: For their third date she cooks for each guy. (She thinks: If he likes my poor cooking, think how he’ll love me after I really learn how.)

·        Because she also practices virtual virginity, she controls the agenda and insists they end the evening early. Not to curtail the fun, but to demo that other things are more important, namely dedication to herself, her plans, her intentions, her independence.

·        Her plans fit the image she has of herself, and she expects to keep it that way. The more committed to her plans and preparations, the more likely she’ll stay within the boundaries of her self-image.

·        Incidentally, the more committed to her own independence, standards, and control of such evenings, the more respect she earns from the guys—provided they are interested in more than sex in the first place. Also, the more she learns about the guys’ intentions.

In everyday affairs, the more numerous her beliefs and convictions about herself and the stronger her commitment to them and herself, the more reliable her self-image guides and helps keep her on the right track she determines for herself.

Self-image concludes tomorrow. Self-interest should follow the next day.

In the hall of the mountain kings I stood high upon a mountaintop, naked to the world.

Some thoughts the song “Spill The Wine” by Eric Burdon and War, featured on the album Eric Burdon Declares “War,” which came out the same year as their other collaborative album, The Black-Man’s Burdon.

When I was a kid, this song only seemed to come on when I was deep in the throes of night, or sleep, or perhaps madness.

Some “interesting” facts about “Spill The Wine” via songfacts:

• This song features a harmonica, flute, and conga drums.

• This is widely believed to be about, or at least heavily influenced by drugs. According to Brown, this song celebrates women: “All ladies are beautiful. You’ve got to look at them. God, I believe, put all of us here and made us all different so we could be like the flowers, you know. Like women. I look at them as beautiful flowers. Even when they get older, the flowers and so on, and that’s what it really boils down to, they can be skinny, big, fat, I’ve seen some fine voluptuous women. And then I’ve seen some that are skinny, and if you look at them, they could be beautiful, depending on personality and stuff.”

• Jimi Hendrix‘ former girlfriend sang backup. Hendrix was managed by Animal’s bass player Chas Chandler.

• The lady speaking Spanish in the background was Eric Burdon’s girlfriend. Says Brown: “We went back there and we put up a little tent, candlelight, and some wine back there. They were behind there, and Eric was doing things to her and making her talk.”

• This was used in the movie Boogie Nights as part of a pool party scene with the porn stars.

• The Isley Brothers covered this in 1971 on their album Givin’ It All Back. 

And that sounds a little something like this:

As a kid, I had the radio on a lot. This was when the radio was better, mind you, and I kept it around like a secret lover or some kind of invisible friend. I’d cheat on it a lot with CDs and tapes and vinyl, a lot, but many a night I spent seized in a radio daze, or I’d listen to it while getting ready for school or for work or a dance or a date or something.

One of the many species classified under the larger phylum “alternarock.”

For most of high school it was the “alternative rock” station for me, but I did flirt a year there with the “alternative rock” station that was slightly harder, which basically meant that I had to put up with a lot of bullshit like “mandatory Metallica” and following up a band like Kittie or Jane’s Addiction with AC/DC. How sad is it that I can’t remember the good songs I got in return from that station? I just remember they played “Bound For The Floor” a lot.

Rewinding the tape back to somewhere in my much younger years when I was a stupid little shit who’d read, daydream, ponder, fascinate, and shit along with the radio, you should probably know I kept floating back and forth between classic rock and Motown. Those were my bag back then.

Hence all of my old school music knowledge/anecdotes being about things like Keith Moon’s addiction to horse tranquilizers or waxing nostalgic about Berry Gordy’s sex habits.

The Who’s “Who Are You?” was about Keith’s tendency to pass on street corners during drug binges only to be discovered by police the next day who assumed he was dead.

Anyway. I remember the Animals’ “House Of The Rising Sun” and I knew War’s “Cisco Kid” and “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” The radio loved those songs. And then I heard this song one night, “Spill The Wine,” and it was late at night as my father were driving around, lost in the Hollywood hills, high above the world. It was a mash up by two artists I liked before I knew what a mash up. I was tired, my eyes were heavy, and this song started dictating images to me as I looked down at the world, and I would get lost in the idylls of walking through the set of a Hollywood movie that was packed with mountain kings and a harem of women and wine spilt all about. And I was easily swept away in the mystical and engimatic nature of the song, which everyone assumes the song refers to drugs, which it does in a way, but you have to remember that the prizely grown native drug of California will always be sex, and the song enthusiastically endorses going after that pearl as many times as you can get it. If I had actually known what a clitoris was back when I was a kid, well…

Back Room Confessions

Today, during band practice, we had to go into the back room one at a time and speak with the Pit Socials.

“Sit in the black chair,” they said. I obeyed, lowering myself nervously into the bucket-shaped plastic. “So, who we fucking?”

“What?” I asked several times, unsure of exactly what they wanted to ask me.

“Who do you like?” they asked, exasperated.

I said, “Not one of you.”

They asked me who. “Are they in band?” A nod. “Are they in pit?” A shake. “Drumline?” A nod. “Bass Drum Kid? Furniture? Dang?” Several shakes, and they believe this because I haven’t turned red yet. “George?”

A nod.

They look at each other and back to me. I’m half afraid I’ll be slapped.

We mess up our hair and walk out the door.

“Must have been good,” says Meghan. “You’re bright red.”

First Attempt

Kimberly and her sister, Jordan. Now, which one of these two little girls is predestined to develop a personality disorder as she gets older?

“But you’re twenty-one!” My sister was appalled.
Fidgeting with my food, I glanced down at the black napkin in my lap. It was not that formal a restaurant.
“Kimmie, I’m only telling you this because you deserve to know the truth: virgins are not attractive people.”
I continued my chewing. “These rolls are delicious.”
Frustrated, she grabbed the bread basket and put it on her side of the table. “Aren’t you seeing someone?”
“Yeah, sort of. But it’s casual.”
“Meaning you’re not exclusive?”
“Um. Well, he’s not.”
Jordan’s eyes closed. “I feel so very sorry for you.”
At once my defenses rose. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that for weeks Rusty Schiestenheimer couldn’t keep his hands off me.”
“Who the hell is Rusty Schiestenheimer?”
“Who is Rusty Schiestenheimer?! Only my best non-imaginary friend growing up, that’s who!”
“That crossed-eyed kid you used to hang out with all the time?” Jordan snorted. “He was legally blind, Kimberly. Not trying to feel you up.”
“Rusty was a gentleman and I loved him very much.”
“Gross.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.” My grumbles had me sounding like that suicidal horse from Winnie-the-Pooh.
Jordan widened her eyes. “No, I’m glad you did! I can help you. When’s the next time you’re seeing him?”
“Who, Rusty? His dad got a new job so they moved to Minneapolis when we were in the third grade.”
“I’m not talking about Rusty, you dumbass. When’s the next time you’ll be with the guy you’ve been seeing?”
Oh Jesus. She was starting to rummage through her Parisian handbag. “Thursday night, but you really don’t have to do that–”
Jordan took out her orange leather wallet and removed two business cards. When my hands remained still, she reached over to force them open and placed the cards inside.
“Park Place Salon?”
“I thought you could call them about a pedicure. And a manicure. But especially a pedicure.”
I flipped over the next card. “Kendra Lipton. Esthetician?”
Strands of spaghetti fell from her mouth. “She’ll wax you.”
My hands went to my lap.
“Relax, spaz,” Jordan reproached, twirling her fork. “You won’t feel a thing.”
I flipped both cards over again and set them on the table. “I don’t really know if Lewis is worth all this. I saw him kick my dog the other day, and I’m pretty sure he’s stealing from me.”
“He’s worth it if he finally screws you.”
“Oh my gawd, you did not just say that!” I looked around, nervous of a sudden audience. “I don’t want to be screwed!”
“But don’t you want to have sex like a hot girl?”
“Jordan, I’m not going to lie to you; I have no idea what that means.”
It seemed my sister had rapidly developed a migraine just then, and her fingers tugged at her platinum blonde hairline as I waited for her to speak. “I think you should probably keep your cell phone nearby so you’ll be able to call me in the event of an emergency and/or when you do something extremely stupid.”
Fraudulence filled my conscience. “This isn’t the way it works though, right? I mean, who goes out on a date only hoping for sex?”
“Um. Men?”
“Oh.”
Jordan sensed my anxiety and, for a moment, attempted an offer. “You’re outgoing enough. To keep things running smoothly, just bring up something trivial that’ll keep his interest for the rest of the night.”
I opened my mouth.
“And not about the supposed death of Rasputin.”
I closed my mouth.

***

Despite his alleged kleptomania, Lewis had an enigmatic nature to his persona that I found myself attracted to not long after our initial meeting. And while such mysteriousness was appealing, it also had me at a loss as to what kind of man Lewis actually was. We’d been on multiple dates and yet, I still didn’t know him all that well. Perhaps that was why, when he kissed me so hard upon my opening the front door, I started to giggle. Instead of pulling away, the chortle appeared only to encourage him, and Lewis began to embrace me even more with that very curious, very aggressive mouth of his. His gesture pushed me backwards, causing me to lose balance in the high heels I had little experience in ever wearing.
“Lewis!” I inhaled, grasping the wall for poise. “We’re not even in my apartment yet!”
“So?” His reply did not deter his kiss.
“Alright there, Quagmire.” I backed into my living room and closed the door once he had followed. Purposely, I left it unlocked. “Let’s just slow down a bit.” My feet felt frozen. I couldn’t do this with someone I didn’t love, let alone, someone I scarcely knew. While I’ve never possessed a shy bone in my body, I was aware I couldn’t feign that kind of nerve. Leaving Lewis in the foyer, I stepped out of my heels and went to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for a prop of distraction. “What can I get you to drink? I have skim milk, prune juice, a V8, Ensure…”
“How about this?” At once, he was leaning over me and reached downwards, pulling out by its neck a bottle of champagne- a gift from Ashley on the day my orthodontist informed me I no longer had to wear my retainer.
Unsure of myself, I opted for silency as I watched him pour the drink, then hand me my glass.
“I have a secret,” Lewis whispered, inching closer.
“Oh?” I hoped he might sense the indifference in my tone. He definitely did not.
“I get so hot thinking about you.” The lids of his eyes were dropping with alarming speed, from inebriation or a sorry stature for seduction, I wasn’t sure of which. “What about you, Miss McDole? What are your secrets?”
“Uh.” My own eyes were scanning my apartment’s entirety for a whistle, noisemaker, or gong of some kind. Nothing. I was doomed.
“Yes?” His breath smelled like alcohol and Axe body spray when he went in to kiss my ear.
“Well,” I began, bringing my shoulders up to my neck to ward off those insatiable lips. “I don’t seem to be able to jump on a trampoline without losing control of my bladder and peeing all over the place. I don’t know what it is; something about the repeated jumping- that kind of physicality- along with the adrenaline rush. No matter what, I just urinate. Everywhere. Seriously. Everywhere. On myself, on the trampoline, on anyone else within four feet of me. I’m telling you, it’s crazy.”

***

“What, were you raised by wolves?” My sister asked over lunch the following day, her voice escalating with every word. “The hell is wrong with you; get your ass back over there and seduce him!”
“Well, it’s too late now, stupid. He’s long gone.”
“Call him!”
“It’s not right! I don’t love Lewis. I don’t even think I like him.” The look of absolute horror on her face let me know Jordan was left unconvinced. “It just doesn’t feel right,” I repeated, somehow bashful at the words.
“Next time, just imagine that you’re with the man of your dreams. Close your eyes and picture that ideal guy in his place. Doing that always makes for better sex.”
“But Conan O’Brien is married, so that’s just as bad, if not worse.”

Jordan and me now....Still trying to copy her twenty years later.

Jordan’s expression portrayed both amusement and a pity I knew I would never see through. She gathered up her things and placed a twenty on the table. “I gotta get back to work.” Slowly my sister bent to kiss me on the cheek before walking out the diner’s door. I pushed away my plate and sat watching her go, silent and missing Rusty.

Mariana Musings (10-27-09)

Because global warming, war, the economic crisis, our crumbling infrastructure, and nuclear proliferation are not serious enough issues to occupy our elected officials, Rhode Island lawmakers recently attended to the very important business of ensuring that sex does not cost money in their state. Up until lately Rhode Island was one of the few states whose citizens enjoyed the freedom to, if they so chose, do business with prostitutes.

Life? Liberty? Happiness? Fuck that shit, I'm moralizin'!

Critics of the move might point out that it goes against everything the USA allegedly stands for, namely the right to live freely in a way that makes them happy. Of course people who fret over things like that are chicken little alarmists; Rhode Islanders are perfectly free… to live by the standards set by the meddlesome moralizers they apparently elected.

Besides, only evil degenerates would ever have sex with prostitutes. I know this because a man in a suit told me he read about it in an anthology of the edited and translated writings of prescientific desert barbarians which was dictated to them by an invisible man who lives in the sky! And you don’t want to make the invisible man who lives in the sky angry, do you?

Conversation

Me: Hi. How are you?

Bobby: Good , how are you?

Me: I’m great. are you going to suite 69 tomorrow night?

Bobby: ?

Me: Adolfo is DJing there tomorrow night. He’s the opening dj.

Me: Y/n?

Bobby: M

Me: Uh…huh?

Bobby: Maybe, lol. Its a school night.

Me: Ha ha. Okay. Well he’s on at 8:30 so you wouldn’t have to be out late if you wanted to be there for his set.

Bobby: Thats awesome actually, im down

Me: K cool. He didn’t tell you about it?

Bobby: No, lol, that fruit

Me: Ha ha. Awe thats cold. What are you up to tonight?

Bobby: Nothin, hanging at home, need sleep catch up

Me: Me to

Bobby: Maybe we can hang out on the weekend?

Me: Possibly. Probably.

Me: Would you mind if i caught a ride with you tomorrow?

Bobby: I might not have wheels. We’ll see, talk tomorrow?

Me: For sure. Have a good night. sleep well.

Bobby: good night

Forandring fryder ikke særlig mye .. på kort sikt

Greit.
Kortene har prøvd å fortelle meg det lenge, men jeg har ikke villet høre på det øret. Uansett hva jeg har lagt og tenkt og prøvd meg på, så har svarene vært entydig. Om jeg har lagt dem selv, eller andre har gjort det, tradisjonelle kort eller andre kort. Svaret har blitt det samme, og jeg har ikke likt det.
I natt ringte Baker´n. Det har på sett og vis blitt en vane at han ringer i helgene og vil ha meg på besøk, men med tanke på at det er den kontakten vi har så er det ikke mest aktuelt. Så jeg registrerte det hele før jeg snudde meg rundt og sov videre, og i dag tidlig våknet jeg hardt og brutalt opp av selvinnsikt, så noe godt førte den nattlige telefonen altså med seg. Jeg bråvåknet rett og slett av at jeg satt meg opp i sengen med et klarsyn om et mønster som har vært der helt siden jeg begynte å interessere meg for gutter i tidlig alder. Og jeg likte det ikke.

Uten å gå i detalj om hva det handler om, så kom jeg kjapt frem til to hypoteser, og i kveld kalte jeg inn forsterkninger for å finne ut av det en gang for alle. Tålmodighet er ikke min sterkeste side, og spesielt ikke når det kommer til slike ting.
Mr_Nova stilte selvfølgelig opp med en gang, som den gode vennen han er, og vi trengte vel knapt ti minutter sammen før det hele var oppe i lyset og helt forståelig. En ganske vanlig greie når to personer som kan å stille de kjipe spørsmålene stikker hodene sammen
Det ble ikke så mange kjipe spørsmål i dag siden alt lå helt fremme i pannebrasken på meg, men når jeg så ble bevisst på det, var det jeg kom frem til desto kjipere Og jeg likte det ikke. Dette er jo noe helt annet enn jeg har trodd at jeg holdt på med og ville og ønsker o.s.v. Det er faktisk ikke bare noe helt annet, det er omtrent det helt motsatte, og det er jo ikke så rart om ting går til helvete hvis jeg gjør en ting og tror jeg gjør noe helt annet! Så det må forandringer til, over hele linja, og jeg liker det ikke.

Så det er mye jeg ikke har likt i dag. Egentlig ingenting, rent bortsett fra det flotte kortet som kom frem til slutt. Det er håp i hengende snøre. Selv for en raring som meg

Part-9 "The Pink Cadillac"

Part-9

 

Anna and Morgan followed the Sargent back to an area of mostly desks, and sat down with him at his own.

“Now how can I help you Young ladies today?” He said as he looked down at his paperwork.

“Well sir, we were wondering if you knew anything about April Worthen?” Anna said. The Sargent gave a bit of a crooked squint, as his eyes rose from the papers to young Anna’s face.

“What’s that name you said?”

“April Worthen..” Morgan said, backing up Anna.

“Now why on earth would the two of you be in here askin’ me ’bout that girl? Surely the two of you know better than to come in here and try to prank me?”

“No sir! I mean, we wouldn’t prank you sir.” Anna said.

“We think we bought that chicks car is all. How could we find out if it is?” Morgan said. Anna elbowed her. She didn’t want him knowing about the car, not really, but too late now, she thought.

“Well she owned a pink Cadillac, but it was destroyed when she went over that bridge at Shaw Lake. No body was real sure how it happened, but her father had found out what she’d been up to with murdering those college boys. Five of ‘em to be exact.”

“Why did she do it?” Morgan asked?

“Nobody really knows, she was troubled that’s all. Darn shame too, she was an honer role student from an upstanding family. She just snapped, not sure why, maybe a schizo. Strange thing is…” he leaned in, and spoke at a whisper. “These new killings are so similar, but that girls long gone. It’s gotta be a copy cat. But you girls be careful out there, most of these folks are young men, so don’t you trust anybody.”

“Why would those jocks get into a car with a dude?” Morgan asked.

“Well, I don’t know, but you just never know.” the Sargent replied. “Could be female copycat.”

“What makes you so sure it’s a copycat?”

Anna asked.

“Same carvings, just new numbers. That Worthen girl went to an all Catholic girl school, Saint Michaels, you know the one over off of Wexler? Well, she carved numbers into her victims, labeling them, number one, two, three, and so on, all the way up to fifth and final one, only it was in Latin.”

“And she learned it from the Catholic school!” announced Morgan, happy that she got it.

“You bet she did.” said the Sargent.

“Sargent Finney, who were her parents?”

Anna asked.

“Old Tom Worth is her daddy, and I forget her mothers name, but she’s a real sweet gal, quiet, stays to herself mostly. They have a boy too, he’s a senior this year. I see ‘em now and again. He drives a sweet car, a black, 2006, Chevrolet, Monte Carlo SS.”

“That’s quite a mouthful.” Morgan said as she slouched back into the chair a bit more.

“That’s alright, now you girls really should get on outta here, I’ve got a ton of paperwork to get done and not much time left to do it in, that means working over, and I hate that. Besides that, nobody ’round here gets any overtime lately anyway.” And a few detectives close enough to hear the Sargent laughed.

“Just a minute, now Sargent about the car, you said that it was destroyed when she went over the bridge. So she was in the car, and it fell, and went down into the lake, and she drowned?” Anna said.

“Yes, that’s correct.” the Sargent replied.

“And as far as you know the car was trashed after that?” Anna asked him as he popped to pieces of hard candy into his over sized mouth.

“Yep, I think so. Now I really do have to get back to work girls.” he juggled the candy and the words carefully.

The two left the building, and back into the pink Cadillac, yep, (that they now know for a fact that someone died in), they went. They were uneasy to get in but they knew that April wasn’t trying to hurt them.

Anna tried to put the thoughts that she might be the new copycat killer out of her mind for now. She had to concentrate on figuring out why April really killed those young college sports jocks, and what it had to do with her, and the rest of the town.

 

To Be Continued…

 

 

 

What Are You Up To?

It’s hard to imagine the college life without text messaging, nevermind without cell phones.  Can you imagine having to make PLANS to meet up in advance?  No wonder people used to go on dates.

Now that I’ve been back in the states for a few months, I’ve been re-introduced to a five-letter text message that does not exist in England:

What are you up to

The English boys were too daft to ever ask a girl directly what she was doing in such an obviously sexual way.  And don’t try to tell me this text isn’t overtly sexual…or at least doesn’t overtly say “I’M INTERESTED.”  Anyone in college knows what this text means.

What is so magical about this text?

1. It’s not too direct.  It doesn’t ask exactly what the receiver is doing.
2. But it’s still a question that elicits a response.
3. It implies that there’s a “for the night” suffix.
4. It’s a code that means I’M INTERESTED.

Usually when I get this text I roll my eyes.  So formulaic. Not again.  But because this text is so normal, we must analyze it in terms of when it’s sent.  A 9:00 PM “What are you up to” is a lot different from a 2:24 AM “What are you up to,” which is what I received last night.

In fact, what I received last night was so interesting because it came from a Frenchman.  The last time he wanted to meet up he texted “Where are you.”  Now that two weeks have passed and he’s become A MAN SLUT proficient in American courting rituals, he’s graduated to a 2:24 AM “What are you up to”

You want to know what I’m “up to” at 2:24 in the morning?

Excuse me, “what are YOU up to?” is the real question.

Oh wait, I already know!

Part-6 "The Pink Cadillac"

Part-6

 

Morgan and Anna decided that they would spend the weekend together. First Morgan would stay the night with Anna, and then Anna would stay over at Morgan’s. They would try to get each other through it. Billy agreed to spend as much of the weekend watching over Anna as he could. Anna felt like it was she who should be watching over him, after all it was the male population that seamed to be targeted. Although none of that mattered to her parents. They insisted that the two girls were together at all times, when ever they went out_ they agreed.

After school, Friday night, the girls went out to rent movies, and grab some burgers from the local burger joint. Root beer floats, and double cheeseburgers with extra pickles, and extra ketchup. It was the Friday night ritual, either a large sausage and pepperoni pizza, and a Two liter of cola, or the burgers and floats. They went straight home this time though, no foolin’ around, no sir. There was a killer out there, and everyone was talking about it. Kids were scared, and parents were mortified. It was happening all right, right there on their streets, in there town, at their schools, in their lives, and not a soul could believe it was happening to them. No on ever thinks that it will happen to them, and then it does.

The girls went home, and watched too much TV, and ate too many burgers, and drank far to much their root beer floats, but in the end they had, for the most part, kept themselves occupied enough to actually not think about the murders all evening long. Then Molly called down to the girls that it was time to hit the sack. It was 12:02am and the girls agreed they’d had enough for one night.

Teeth brushed and night gowns on, they slipped into bed. Anna had a queen sized bed, so whenever Morgan stayed over she would just bunk with Anna. Morgan was usually a heavy sleeper, but tonight would be different somehow.

Morgan asked Anna if she wanted to talk about “it” and she said that she didn’t. She prayed for the boys that had been killed, and Morgan concurred at the end with a “Uh, huh” and an “Amen to that!” once or twice. Still Anna felt uneasy about the whole thing, but she decided that she would take Morgan’s approach and “let it go” The two were out like a flame in the wind.

Then…the dreams, exactly as they were before the same girl, the same events, over and over. Then 1:21am, and Anna’s body arose once more as if she were entranced. She put on her makeup, and got herself dressed all the while barely within herself, and then she slipped out the window, never once waking Morgan.

As soon as she got into the car, whatever was left of Anna was gone, and the spirit was in charge again. She rolled out of the driveway as she did before. Then she turned over the engine, it didn’t make the noise that it would normally make as it ignited. It was quiet. It was impossible actually, but there it was happening, and she was on her way.

She went straight towards the same hangouts from before. Tonight was game night, and she had no trouble finding her next victims. She would find two perfectly good specimens at the parking lot of the South circuit Sea Hawks game. Another team in the district. Showered and iced, the two football stars came out of the building next to the main entrance of the school.

“Need a ride boys?” she said, and that’s all she wrote. As soon as they got in that car, whether they knew it or not, they were toast. She took them out to a different part of the park, that was still near Shaw Lake. She hated that lake but it was the only way. She would have sex with them this time, wild animal sex, the kind that made you think you fucked a meat cleaver the day after.

When she was finished having her fun, she was kissing one of them, and called the other to her to kiss him as well. She then pushed them together, and they began to kiss one another. A clear fluid began to drain from her mouth and then from the two boys also.

They were laughing hysterically, not unafraid like the others had been, no, they were somehow entranced by having sex with her. She had them under her spell, and they weren’t afraid at all. But then, the water kept coming, then more came_ gallons of it, and then the blackened lake grass, and they choked and coughed and riled around on the ground. She went to the car for the pocket knife she’d swiped from the work bench in the garage. She went up to the both of them as they began to seem aware of what was going on now, and were extremely afraid of what they were experiencing.

Suddenly, she began slapping them, one at a time across the face. First with her left hand then the right, over and over, several times each.

“You fucking pigs!” she screamed again and again. “I hate you!” She stood back and weeped, as much as she could as out of breath as she was. “Your gonna die…” she said in a childlike voice. “Your gonna die..”

They were both on the ground nearly gone now, but not quite, and she began to pull out the knife and carve into the first boy’s leg the letters o-c-t-o and then she forced the knife into the boy’s lower stomach. She then went to the other boy and began to carve the letters n-o-v-e-m and then she leaned down over him and whispered to him as she slid the knife over his neck, slicing it like a warm pear.

“Shh…You have to be quiet now sweetheart.” she whispered.

To Be Continued… 

30 Day Sex Challenge: Day 18 (Singles Guide)

Everyday, I’ll be posting the 30 day sex challenge guides, both married and singles. Here is day 18:

In our current culture, how many dates before sex is average? How about for you?

What expectations do you bring to a date? Do you clean the apartment hoping to return with company?

Read James 1:13 – 15.

Journal your answers to these questions, any thoughts from the passage and what you are praying for.

Broken Angels

First, let me say that I am sorry. I slept all of an hour and a half last night, had an extremely stressful day and just got home. I can not guarantee that the remainder of this post will be coherent, much less well thought out.

I collect broken angels. There are many reasons for this. I listen. I read people very well. I help and quite frankly, I often recognize myself in the ones I hold dear. I am a pragmatic woman. I understand that I am broken in several ways. For me, this venture is a way for me to get back the things that were taken from me. You see, when I chose to let go, to give over the same things that were taken from me, it becomes about choice, my choice. When I choose it, the power is mine, even in the letting go. I’m not sure that makes sense or not, but it is where I am. My desire to please, to submit has always been there. This is my way of reconciling both my past and my future.

I have spent a significant amount of time with several men over the last few weeks. Some have been one timers. Some have been more. If you have been reading for awhile, you know that I desire one man to own me body and soul. Emotion is difficult for me because if I care about someone, I rely on them. If I rely on people, I get hurt.  Tonight I made my decision about who I want to be with. All that remains is telling the others. I find it extremely difficult to say no in general.  This will be a good exercise for me. Will I be able to follow through on my decision, let go of other potential in order to live in the freedom of my ultimate release? I’ll let you know.

Objektivně o manželské posteli

1.Den skončí a manželé ulehnou do manželské postele, mladí manželé brzo po ulehnutí mají spolu sex a staří manželé si zase povídají o tom co je jim blízké a co je trápí.
2.Někdy se sleduje v posteli televize nebo internet, jindy je zde; pes, dítě, knížka, většinou nejčastější je zde mluvení kdy se většinou manželka v posteli může vypovídat a ví, že jí manžel poslouchá.
3.No konečně že už jsem v posteli, jsem dneska nějak moc utahaný to byl den pořád jenom starosti a práce připadám si jako tažný vůl co to tady všechno táhne.
4.A bude dneska sex, včera nic nebylo tak bys to mohl dneska dohnat, třeba ti to zlepší náladu.
5.Tak už tam toho mého macka máš, jsi spokojená.
6.Sex není jenom mi to strkat do díry je to taky o citlivém pohlazení a laskání, vím, že jsi utahaný ale skus to nějak překonat a dát do toho více lásky.
7.Tak a jsem totálně vyždímaný, dones mi pivo z ledničky.
8.Tak si tam pro něj dojdi, zas tak slabý, nejsi, abys nedošel do kuchyně, a když už tam budeš tak mi dones kafe je v termosce.
9.Tady je to kafe a pes na mě moc skákal, nikdo s ním nebyl venku, měla bys jej jít vyvenčit, je tam venku hezky.
10.Podívej, to pivo si můžeš vzít sebou ven, posadíš se na lavičku a v klidu si tam to pivo vychutnáš, ode mě to nechtěj, já jsme si vzpomněla, že musím vyřídit nějaké telefony.
11.No tak já jdu se psem ven a doufám, že až budu zpátky, že už bude konečně klid a budu se moc natáhnout a spát.
12.Jo, a když už budeš venku tak se stav v krámě pro vajíčka a olej, aspoň se pes proběhne.

Tirsdag....

Hei blogg!

I dag er det tirsdag. Var tidlig oppe for å sette i gang med jobb som er ganske morsomt om dagen. Av og til får jeg bare et skikkelig kick av å jobbe. En annen ting som jeg gleder meg til er å treffe en venninne i kveld. Neida, hun er ikke et koneemne: vi treffer hverandre av og til og koser oss sammen.
Jadda: i 2009 så kan vi jo kalle en spade for en spade. Kan vi ikke? Knullevenninne. Hun kaller meg “knullekompis”, så da så. Det var “Lene” (som jeg kan kalle henne) som var på meg første gangen. Vi traff hverandre i jobbsammenheng og så var vi i gang. Merkelig det egentlig, hvordan en i enkelte sammenhenger kan “klikke” fullstenedig og så bare vet begge 2 hva som er next step og hva den andre tenker. Synd egentlig, Lene er fin og snill og god, men vi vet nok begge to at det ikke er noe annet enn “lust” mellom oss. Tror jeg blir litt skuffa den dagen hun treffer en annen som hun vil gifte seg med og få barn sammen med. På den annen side: Tipper det er gjensidig.

Jaja. Kjør på. I kveld blir sikkert like uforglemmelig som alle de foregående med Lene.

Kos deg!

Karstenbassen

714. ‘Gender Differences’ Revisited — Group F

Differences in the sexes continue. Curious about the total, I number them.

1. A man wants his hut or castle outfitted for physical comfort. A woman wants her nest lined with emotional comfort.
2. The male nature competes first and cooperates when necessary. The female nature cooperates first and competes when necessary.  
3. A man thrives on a woman’s support and gratefulness for what he does, because he thinks he deserves it. A woman thrives on her man’s devoted attentions, because it confirms her value and self-love.
4. A man’s desire for his woman to maintain their home is much, much stronger than her natural objections. (But not her feminist objections or female-ego opposition.)
5. A man will call his hut a castle, if he’s treated as the king. A woman’s ego resists treating him that way, because she’s naturally driven to dominate her nest and their home.
6. When a woman wants comfort and understanding, she discloses to a specific man. When a man wants comfort and understanding, he does not disclose but turns to a woman.
7. Men have distinct missions in life. Women have life as their mission. 
8. Women want comfort and companionship in needy times and the future. Men want comfort daily after a hard day’s work.
9. A woman craves to associate closely with at least one strong, highly masculine figure. A man craves freedom, often temporarily from his woman.  
10. Love and sex are fine to a husband, but they are fillers rather than glue. Because it works for them, wives mistakenly think love and sex make relationship glue.

More to come.

Saturday Night Mind Dump...

• Tonight was interesting
• I’m not really sure how to describe it
• At times it was hard to preach through it, but it is something that people need to hear from a Biblical perspective
• It was one of those nights that was a no holds barred talk about what I believe every married couple wonders, struggles with and the only place they get answers is in magazines when the Bible is chalk full of answers to these questions
• Got to do Q & A tonight
• Some very honest and eye opening questions
• You will have to listen to the podcast
• We almost ran out of emotional needs questionnaires
• If you wanted one and didn’t get one, you can get it here
• I would highly recommend you take this with your spouse and talk through it
• I am blown away by how few churches talk about sex, intimacy, some of the problems couples run into
• People want to know what the Bible has to say about this
• Words you heard in a row tonight that you won’t hear many places, “Climax, variety and position”
• Awesome
• Tonight was the first night ever geared towards married couples
• Not something we do a lot, but needed to happen tonight
• The band nailed the song “Lucky” by Jason Mraz
• Awesome to have Jennifer up there singing with Paul
• If tonight struck a chord with you, here are some resources to check out
• In case you missed Katie’s posts on understanding your husband’s sexual addiction, check them out here
• Just finished up a series of blog posts to go along with tonight’s talk, so be on the lookout for that this week
• Tomorrow, we are doing our mission project as a small group, really pumped about this
• In case you don’t know this, all of our small groups at Revolution do one mission project each semester (which is 12 weeks) as a way to share the love of Jesus with our city
• I am loving our small group this semester, amazing how God brings people together in community
• Hallowiin is only 2 weeks away!
• Jennifer and her team has done an incredible job in putting together this huge event
• Have you become a fan yet on our facebook page?
• I am loving my coaching network, getting so much out of it
• This past week’s was incredibly eye opening as to how we can make things run more smoothly at Revolution and how to challenge people in certain areas
• More on that later
• Here are some pictures of Gavin’s halloween costume that Katie made if you are curious
• Next week we are going to get into what a man is and what a woman is, what God calls us to be and how that plays out everyday
• It is going to be a great way to end the series
• If you have started coming to Revolution recently, after the service next week we are going to have a short time to answer any questions you have about Revolution and how to get better connected
• I’m spent, so now I’m going to bed

Picking up Women at the Gas Station

People freak out about meeting other people on the internet. They could be serial rapists or serial killers. I would have to say you have the same chance of meeting them on the internet as you do in real life.

Jessie was driving her shitty little Saturn. I was sitting in the back seat. A big red truck drove along side of us and honked. They were honking because they approved of our rainbow sticker. We pulled into a gas station and the truck pulled into the gas station across the street. Before we left, the red truck drove over to our side. A short little Mexican woman jumped out. Somehow Jessie arranged a date between me and this woman, Esme.

It was almost a blind date. I didn’t know her. We danced at Diversions, and I brought her home. And then she didn’t leave for 2 months. Esme lived on 16th street in an olive green house with her mother and the 8 year-old son she had when she was only 13. The kitchen walls and ceiling were brown with grease. There had been a fire. Tester noodles were crusted on the backsplash.

Her mother wore oxygen and was too fat to tie her own shoes. She couldn’t move very fast, but her voice carried and she scared me a little. I met many of her friends and family that commented on my light eyes. I only ever caught half the conversation, because it was always in Spanish. Esme drove a gold Camero with naked women silhouettes. It didn’t run very well and spent most of the time parked in her backyard. I didn’t really think anything about her not working, because I was a college student. A lot of us didn’t work or didn’t work that often. But I think she was dealing. And that was why she was on probation. Only I didn’t understand this until later.

I was 21. I believed what people told me. It only lasted 2 months, and I would have ended it sooner, but I was scared how she would react. I caught her in lies. Was it an overdose or a brain tumor or multiple personality disorder? Esme wasn’t educated enough to keep the lies believable. Instead of picking one lie, she would combine and overlap them where they didn’t make sense. I wasn’t stupid, only new to liars and manipulators.

She stole my chocolate one day. I think it was intended to be funny. But I’m serious about my chocolate. I tried to get it back, and she was rather rough about it. I realized while we wrestled on the floor that she could hurt me and wouldn’t care if she did. 

There was something mean about her. She had this kitten for a while, but as soon as she saw another kitten that she liked better she threw the old kitten out. She said it was ugly.

Esme had been looking forward to going to the graduation dance with me. She had just bought a new outfit. A couple of days before the dance, I broke up with her via letter. Jessie delivered it. The next day there was a box of things on the porch, pictures of us together with her face cut out and everything I ever gave her. She requested I return everything that she ever gave to me. I didn’t. I still have my broken hematite ring, the glass fang with a bubble of mercury and some pesos from Mexico. I don’t have a single picture of her though.

 Jessie said she saw her drive by the house a few times in her red truck (really her fiancés red truck, the fiancé she had the entire time) But we moved. I didn’t see her again until Tulip Time. She acted like we were real close, called me some endearing term. I kept on walking. 

I heard about her later through the lesbian grapevine. Sylvia shook her head in amazement, “You dated Horse Hair?” “Why do you call her that?” I asked. “Because she had a fucking mullet.” Sylvia said that Horse Hair had dated her girlfriend Erica. At one point she came to D&W with a loaded gun and waved it around. And another friend of mine had dated her sometime later and got a disease. Esme might have had bad hair, but she got around.

Skin Deep

Me and my new boobies are getting along verrry well. I love how I look naked and clothed and how they feel in my hands and oh just everything about them but I had in a way expected to feel this way or rather before the surgery I had hoped that I would feel this way and I am ecstatic that I do! The part that is surprising in a pleasant way is that Luke *loves* them. I mean I, of course, didn’t think he would hate them but  he really didn’t want me to have the surgery and maintained that I looked beautiful already (the sweetie) and even said he didn’t like large breasts so the best I expected from him was enthusiasm for my happiness… he, however, has developed his own enthusiasm for the girls. *g*
And… I am SO turned on by how turned on he is becoming by them. You know that look of sheer appreciation and lust you get from your lover when you put on some new sexy lingerie? And the lust in their eyes makes you feel oh s0 sexy and so turned on? Every time he looks at me these days, it’s just like that! I know that part of the novelty will wear off as we both get used to my new body but it’s just so good to know that he loves them just as much as I do and the way he looks at them and touches them drives me positively wild.
As a matter of fact, considering it’s only been 3 weeks since my surgery and I still have another 3 weeks during which I have to make sure not to strain anything, we both are becoming positively carried away. If my nipples weren’t so incredibly sensitive (which might be from nerve recovery or the fact that it’s just before my period, I mean a mere breath of air can cause agonizing pain), we might have done some damage indeed!
You know… I know this sounds incredibly sappy but Luke has always had a way of looking at me like I am the most beautiful creature on earth. And it’s amazing to have someone like that in your life… someone who will look at you like that even when you feel fat and ugly and even if you don’t even believe at the moment that he truly thinks you are that beautiful… it’s still a wonderful feeling.
For example, yesterday I was dressed for gym and since I am still supposed to be taking it easy and need extra support, I was only wearing a grey v-neck shirt over an industrial strength bra as opposed to my usual Lulu wear which *I* consider more sexy. I called downstairs to Luke to remind him of something and he looked up and gave me that look which made me smile because as I said it’s just before my period and I feel compelled to eat anything and everything and I just feel kind of gross right now. He then ran upstairs to give me a hug and while I was in his arms he says, “You know I loved you when you were “softer”… but you look sooo good now!” *laughing* Of course by “soft” he meant fat which is the sweetest way I have ever heard it stated.
One thing about being overweight was that I didn’t feel good enough about myself to ever be fully naked. It’s not a unique experience by any means and it’s something that made me very unhappy. Back then, once in a while Luke would say he wanted to feel my skin against his and that he missed it which at the time usually made me feel worse. Since I’ve been feeling good enough about myself to be naked again, he’s been ecstatic. So yesterday, while he was still holding me, he said that it always made him sad that I felt uncomfortable about being naked and that he was hurt that I may be covering up because I thought he would find me unattractive. He had never really said that before to me and it made me smile. I am also kind of sad I got so upset at him back then for bring up a “touchy” subject.
Like I said, it’s wonderful to have someone love and appreciate you like that. And this is one of many of his good sides and one the many reasons I love him.

So here’s me about a week after the surgery. The bra is too low in this picture because the implants still felt too firm for the bra to settle in.

I’ll put up a picture after 6 weeks is done for comparison.
I don’t think anyone should have any plastic surgery because they feel like they “should” or for someone else’s approval and pleasure… but if it’s for you and only for you, if it’s something that will make you happy, by all means go for it. Of course, do your research and read as much as you can about the procedure, the surgeon, the results and the pros and cons. Read about the risks and the after care. If you can, find a good holistic nutritionist or a homeopath to prep you before and help improve your healing after. For example, my surgeon is very happy with my healing and said I had healed better than most. Right after surgery I had no sensation in one nipple but I took a remedy and I recovered feeling within hours. According to my surgeon, it could take up to 2 years for sensation to return so I certainly appreciate that I have homeopathy at my disposal. 
Part of the reason I am so happy is that I knew from my research what I could and could not expect from the procedure. A lot of people with whom I spoke that were unhappy felt that way because they expected miracles which is beyond surgery.
Right now, as per instructions, I am rubbing the incisions with Bio-oil since apparently my skin type makes for killer scars which we are trying to minimize. I am not worried. The incisions are practically invisible anyhow.
Oh in other news: Blue came home today from his vacation with his breeder family. He was there because it’s always good for a dog to reconnect with his pack and our breeder always has a dozen of her own Danes plus any number of guest doggies so it’s great fun. Also with him out of the house we could maintain a better level of hygiene for my after-surgery sanitary care. Those big paws can drag un quite a bit of street dirt even after they get wiped! He looks worn out and thin from all the exercise he got at the farm and was verrrry happy to see his mommy and daddy. The cats, who had thought they were rid of him, are not so happy. Oh well!
All is once more well in Chloe Land!

Elise talks about neighbors

Dear Lady that lives upstairs,

I am usually entertained when I see the disgusting men you bring around but last night that entertainment came to a screeching halt. I heard you having rather violent sex in the room above me (I’m pretty sure you were with the Mexican guy that drives the old Dodge minivan). At first I thought it was one of your children jumping on the bed. But then I thought to myself, “who jumps on the bed at 2 a.m.? And why are their jumps getting progressively louder and faster?” Then it hit me. Your kids were NOT jumping on the bed. They were asleep and you were having dirty sex with one of your boyfriends!

I’m pretty sure you have somewhere in the range of four to six children. I’ve never been completely sure which ones are yours because they all look completely different. One is fat with brown hair, another skinny with red hair. The oldest and youngest look alike. You told us once that one of your middle kids is retarded. That’s why he stomps all the time. This disproved our ongoing bowling ball theory.

Anyway, I just want to point out how much your sexual intercourse disrupted my night. My plan was to go to bed early but instead all I heard was the pounding and squeaking of your trash tainted bed. My first piece of advice, get a new bed. Yours squeaks uncontrollably. Are you sure the thing isn’t stuffed with corncobs? And speaking of squeaking, get some rhythm. I’m embarrassed for you and your partner—no sense of tempo at all. Save your tips and consider buying a metronome.

Lets wrap this up. You gross me out. OK I get it, I live in “community apartments”—translation: cheap and infested with low-income families that feed their children McDonalds 6 days a week, give them Mountain Dew instead of milk, make them carry cases of beer in from the liquor store, and let them call the Asian neighbors “pussies.” I also understand that perhaps you have yet to pick up on the circle of life. I’m here to help you out. Here’s your social studies lesson for the day: Sex makes babies. Sex with multiple partners makes lots of babies—babies that all look different. Here’s your science lesson for the day: Babies + alcohol = babies with disabilities. Your math lesson: Babies cost money. You want to know what doesn’t cost very much money? Condoms. And finally, your English lesson: “No Thank You” is the proper way to let someone know that you do not wish to have sex with them. Anything else simply results in more babies.

Forever in ear plugs,

The Girl downstairs

Malam Pertama..

Ini adalah entry aku yg pertama disini…Nak kata aku ni terer menulis,tak ar jugek.Tp mencube itu lebih bagus dr tak buat ape2..Btol tak?Oklah..utk yg pertama ni,aku rs bagai nak berkongsi dgn korang semua tentang mlm pertama yg pernah aku lalui.Dinyatakan disini..aku bukanlah lelaki ataupun perempuan tulen.So..korang paham2 jela sendiri ek…

Kejadian ni..berlaku sewaktu aku menuntut disebuah IPTA di Melaka.Aku akui..ms belajar disitu,aku mmg menjadi perhatian krn perwatakkan aku yg lembut.Lgpun..klu nak g class ker..kuar outting ker..aku akan berdandan segala.Harus ler aku menjadi perhatian,tak kira oleh pelajar lelaki ataupun perempuan.So..dipendekkan cite,mlm pertama aku ni adalah pengalaman pertama aku diliwat.Kejadian ni berlaku ms aku semester satu lg. dan cukuplah aku hanya menggelarkan dia sebagai Fuad.Dia adalah rakan sekuliah aku dan juga rakan sebilik aku.Orgnye berkulit gelap..dan orangnye takde ar ensem pun.Tp…batang dia boleh tahan gak.Hehehehe.Aku pun tak tau..sejak bila dia berminat utk meliwat aku…

Kisah mlm pertama aku bermula..bl satu mlm dia tido disebelah aku.Pd ketika tu..lampu dibilik asrama telah dimatikan semua.Jd.suasana pun mmg agak gelap.Hanya diterangi oleh cahaya lampu jalan diluar asrama.Mula2..aku tak syak ape2 bl dia tido disebelah aku krn aku anggap dia sebagai kwn aje.Dlm aku cube melelapkan mata..tiba2 aku rskan tangan Fuad merayap didada aku.Nak kata tetek aku besar..takde pun.Tp aku biarkan aje dia buat cmtu sbb aku rs ghairah sgt ms dia menggentel puting aku.Ms tu..bkn puting aku jer naik,tp batang aku turut sekali mengeras.Ahh..sedap sgt aku rs.Dlm aku rs teransang yg amat…aku pun mula memainkan peranan.Tanagn aku cuba menggapai batang Fuad plak.Ye..aku rasakan batang dia juga sudah mencanak.Keras dan padat sekali.Saiz batang dia pula agak besar…Aku yg tak tahan dgn perlakuannye itu,terus memasukkan tangan aku kedalam boxer dia.Lalu aku mengusap lembut batangnye..Ketika itu,Fuad semakin berani apabila mula menjilat telinga aku dan menghisap tetak aku.Aku hanya mengerang kesedapan.Tak lama selepas itu..Fuad meminta aku untuk menghisap batangnye.Aku hanya menurutkan katanye…Lalu aku melondehkan boxer yg dipakainye pd mlm tu.Pd ketika itu..terlihatlah batang Fuad yg sedang mengeras dan besar.Tanpa membuang ms…aku terus menjilat kepala takok Fuad.Aku jilat dgn penuh nikmat dr hujung ke pangkal batangnye.Selepas itu..aku menghisap batangnye selaju2nye seperti seorang isteri yg telah lama tidak mendapat nafkah batin.Pd ketika itu..Fuad hanya mengerang kesedapan.Aku cuma biarkan saje dia memegang kepala aku dan menolaknye agar batangnye masuk hingga mencecah anak tekak aku.

Setelah itu…Fuad pun bangun.Dia baringkan aku..dan menanggalkan seluar yg aku pakai.Dia minta aku mengereng..dan aku hanya mengikutnya.Pd ms tu..aku dapat rasakan yg dia menggesel2kan batangnye di lubang bontot aku.Dgn perlahan2..dia memasukkan batangnye yg besar itu ke dalam lubang bontot aku.Aku rs sakit sgt ms tu..hampir menitis airmata aku.Fuad dgn romantiknye…mencium aku yg sedang kesakitan itu.Terys hilang rs sakit yg sedang aku alami pd saat itu.Selang beberapa saat..Fuad mula menghayunkan batangnye kedalam bontot aku.Aku mula rs selesa saat itu…Fuaad pula semakin laju menhayunkan batangnye.Aku rs sgt nikmat ms tu…Inilah kali pertama aku rs nikmat apabila sebatang konek masuk kedalam bontot aku.Sebelum ini..tidak pernah aku bayangkan kenikmatan seperti itu.Semakin Fuad menghayun batangnye…dia mengerang kesedapan.Selang beberapa minit…dia mengerang sedikit kuat.Dan aku.merasakan cecair hangat mengalir dlm bontot ku.Akhirnye..Fuad telah mencapai klimaksnye.

Pd sat itu,aku pula fikirkan ia akan terhenti sampai disitu saje.Tp tidak!Selepas itu…Fuad mula memegang batang aku yg masih mengeras.Dia mengusapnye dgn lembut..dan melancapkannye.Aku rs teransang sgt dgn perbuatannye itu…Selama ni,aku hanya pernah melancap sendiri.Tp pd mlm itu..Fuad telah melancapkan aku.Aku cume memerhatikan saje tangan Fuad yg terus melancapkan aku sambil menghisap puting aku.Tak lama selepas itu…aku pun pancutkan air mani yg agak banyak.Sedapnye hinnga tak mampu aku ungkapkan…Dan kami hanya terbaring keletihan selepas adegan itu.

Jadi..itulah kisah mlm pertama aku.Masih ada banyak lg kisah hubungan aku bersama pelajar2 di asrama itu.Tp..biarlah aku ceritakan didalam blog yg akan dtg..

Sexmoral i swingervärlden

Människans sexuella uttryck äro outgrundliga! Jag kan inte riktigt förstå följande två resonemang som jag stött på:

1. I profiler på bodycontact där par söker par kan man ofta läsa “Par söker likasinnat par för lek på fyra med inslag av tjejsex (=sex mellan tjejerna) partnerbyte är INTE aktuellt”

2. Gubben där hemma tycker det är okej att frugan har sex med ett gäng tjejer på egen hand, men så fort det dyker upp några killar så är det inte okej längre….

Varför är viss sorts sex okej men inte annan? Är det inte partnerbyte även när det är tjejer inblandade? Vad är männen rädda för? Är det deras manlighet som kommer i gungning? Eller är det den sexuella ägandetänket som sätter stopp?

Jag förstår faktiskt inte resonemanget… sex som sex! Sen kvittar det väl vilket kön det är frågan om..?

MARRIED BACHELOR OFFICE WIFE

MATRIMONY – A PARADIGM SHIFT

Short Fiction – A Story about Modern Life

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Married Bachelors are proliferating all around me.

Come, walk around with me in my workplace, and I’ll show you what I mean.

Let’s meet the latest entrant to the Married Bachelors’ Club.

“Congratulations,” I say.

“Thank you, Sir,” says the smart upwardly mobile young man standing before me.

“How was the wedding ?”

“Grand – it was really a fantastic wedding.”

“Honeymoon ?”

“In Seychelles.”

“Wow! Come to our place in the evening. We want to meet your brand new wife,” I say.

“Sir, she hasn’t come.”

“Hasn’t come?”

“She is working in Delhi, Sir.”

“Tell her to quit.”

“Quit her job – why should she quit her job ?” he looks at me as if I have said something blasphemous.

“She can take a year or two off, can’t she? Come on, newly married couples like you must stay together; especially in a beautiful place like this. Now is the time, when you are fresh and young.”

“She’s very career conscious, Sir,” he says proudly, “and this a very vital phase for her – she’s on the verge of a promotion, working on an important project.”

And it was the same for the ambitious high flier go-getter standing in front of me. He too had “heights” to scale.

From a true bachelor he had become a married bachelor.

Just like his brand new wife.

Of course, now that they were endorsed with the hallmark of marriage, both of them, husband and wife, married bachelors, were free to focus their entire efforts on climbing their respective separate career ladders to “success” and fulfill their professional ambitions.

She is married to her job; he is married to his job – and, of course, they are married to each other.

Why do people marry ?

For togetherness and companionship, isn’t it ?

Then why do they stay separately by choice, especially in the formative exciting passionate early years of marriage ?

I just can’t fathom this paradox.

And here is my colleague – a charming lady – a veteran married bachelor.

I prefer to call her a married bachelor rather than married spinster!

If actresses can be called actors, why not refer to spinsters as bachelors.

She’s not the overly ambitious type. She once told me that given a choice she would give up her monotonous backbreaking job.

Then why doesn’t she do what she wants and quit her job ?

Well, she is caught in the EMI trap.

They’ve bought an exclusive penthouse flat in the classiest posh township in the city and a weekend “farmhouse” bungalow in the hills. And they are so busy earning to pay off their backbreaking and never-ending loan EMIs, she grinding herself off here in her office while he is slogging it out at sea.

Far apart, sometimes wonder whether it was all worth it – sacrificing the best years of their lives for material comforts, fearing that life may pass them by and they may become too old and worn out to enjoy the very comforts they sacrificed the best years of their lives for.

And here is a similar tale.

Poor chap. He bought a house in Pune as he loved the place and comfortably settled down with his family.

And then he got transferred and had to move out.

But the family won’t move out. They love the place, and have embellished their adorable abode with such loving care, that they can’t dream of giving it on rent either. They just don’t want to move out of their comfortable existence.

Well, no one likes to leave one’s comfort zone. Certainly not his well settled family.

So the poor man will have to spend the rest of his working life as a married bachelor.

It is difficult and painful.

Once you have tasted and savored the fruits of family life, it is difficult to live alone – you can take my word for it!

Let’s move on to another married bachelor. Just have a look at him – the man with the forlorn look. Why is he a married bachelor?

“Children’s Education,” he says.

“What’s wrong with the schools here ?”

“I don’t want to disturb them. I want them to get the best.”

So husband and wife sacrifice their marital happiness for the sake of their darling children, who owing to their brilliant academic accomplishments are sure to fly off to better pastures, leaving behind the “married bachelors” [the  sacrificing parents] to endure the remains of their marital lives as strangers in their empty nest.

I wonder why these married bachelors prefer to live miserably in self-imposed desolation and loneliness. Will they never experience the warm glow of the “much-married” feeling that comes after years of togetherness and friendship ?

Ah! At last, I see the lovey-dovey couple I’ve been noticing for weeks now – a truly “made for each other” couple!

“Good to see a lovely married couple at the workplace,” I comment.

“Hah! Married couple ?” pipes up the office jester, “Of course both of them are married, but they are not married to each other.”

“What do you mean?” I ask bewildered, “I see them together everywhere. Can’t you see that distinctive togetherness about them that you can see only in happily married spouses ?”

“Oh yes. You can call them spouses – office spouses – office husband and office wife.”

“Office Spouses ?

“Yes, Office Spouse. Workplace mates. Call them what you like. It’s the in thing, you know, especially among ‘married bachelors’ as you call them – to have an office husband or an office wife.”

Married Bachelors. Office Spouses. What’s the world coming to? I’ve had enough – and just imagine, I thought marriage is being together.

Well, it is time for a paradigm shift, isn’t it ?

MATRIMONY – A PARADIGM SHIFT

Short Fiction – A Story about Modern Life

By

VIKRAM KARVE

Copyright © Vikram Karve 2009

Vikram Karve has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

http://vikramkarve.sulekha.com

http://www.linkedin.com/in/karve

Appetite for a Stroll

vikramkarve@sify.com

Pupaza si Crapul. Episodul 11

CONTINUARE

Atmosfera din pensiune ne-a facut sa uitam de probleme. Camera nu era foarte bine luminata intrucat lumina de afara era oprita de niste stolui vechi de lemn. Nu aveam nici o sursa de caldura insa temperatura din interior era ideala 20-22 grade Celsius. Un pat pregatit pentru odihna ocupa majoritatea spatiului din mica camaruta. Obosit ma intind si deschid televizorul fara sa constientizez vreo ceva. Un sentiment de vinovatie imi da nastere la o stare de stres nemaintalnita pana in acel moment. Inima incepe sa bata cu putere, imi zvacnesc tamplele, o usoara durere de cap ia nastere, simt in stomac cateva crampe si mainile incep sa imi tremure usor.

-Ce s-a intamplat? ma intreba ea cu o privire usor ingrijorata in timp ce se apleca usor catre mine.

-Trebuie sa se termine … aventura asta nu poate continua la nesfarsit. Tu ai familie, probabil ai si copii …trebuie sa te intorci la ai tai.

Se ridica usor, fara sa scoata nici un cuvant si foarte stapana pe situatie rasuceste cheia in usa.

-Acum suntem in siguranta. Calmeaza-te. Odihneste-te si cauta sa te relaxezi.

Intradevar eram incordat ma concentram inutil la tot felul de banalitati, la imagine, la discurs, la ce se va intampla dupa ce fiecare va pleca pe drumul lui. Pentru cateva secunde am inchis ochii… i-am deschis parca din instinct curios sa vad frumusetile lasate de Dumnezeu. Parca o vedeam pentru prima data, parca pana in acel moment fusesem orb, nu imi venea sa cred ceea ce vad, in continuare credeam ca visez. Niciodata nu imcercasem pana atunci sa creez in memorie modelul perfectiunii feminine. In acel moment se identifica clar cu ceea ce vedeam. Angela isi lasase hainele intr-un colt si ramasese doar in lenjeria ei intima. Inchid ochii pentru cateva secunde si deodata ma trezesc cu ea deasupra mea. Cu un talent demn de invidiat imi prinde usor capul intre maini si incepe sa imi maseze tamplele cu degetele mari. Deja ma simteam mai bine … parca nu vroiam ca acel moment sa se mai termine. Ma ridica usor si dintr-o singura miscare imi da jos tricoul apoi lasndu-si trupul sa cada odata cu al meu. Eu nu eram bun de nimic. Nu aveam forta nici macar sa omor o musca, abia daca ma puteam ridica. Ea era precum o felina care isi chinuia prada. Imi desface cureaua si cu acelasi profesionalism imi scoate pantalonii. Asezata deasupra mea reincepe masajul. De aceasta data parca cu mai mult profesionalism odata cu durerea mi-a luat si mintile.

Oricat de obosit as fi fost, ea pentru mine era o sursa inexplicabila de energie care imi reincarca bateriile.

Ceea ce a urmat este foarte greu de reprodus. Va pot garanta totusi ca nu poate fi uitat.

A fost cea mai frumoasa partida de pescuit.

SFARSIT

Best condoms for tasty oral sex!

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Get A Life Sentence For Necrophilla

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What is the 20-something version of a Cougar?

It’s been brought to my attention that recently all my boyfriends/boy crushes have been quite literally…boys.

I’m not talking illegal, obviously, but definitely two or three years younger than me. I’m hoping it’s a phase since I seem to be aging and they are not, as a case in point, I found out last weekend that a manchild I dated last year had lied about his age and is only now 21.

Does it make me a bad person that what upset me the most was the fact he’s stayed the same age while I have gotten a year older and a year closer to needing plastic surgery?

I shouldn’t whine since it’s a two way street and these young-ins are attracted to me but I worry I’m going to become addicted to how complimentary young men are and how refreshing it is to meet a man who isn’t hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

I did try and date a 30 year old guy but he was way too serious and made me feel like at any moment he’d drop down on one knee. I had a panic attack when I went to his house and he’d bought wine that cost over 10 quid. I broke up with him pretty soon after that.

I’m definately a commitment phobe

All this typing has made me ponder my future love life – can you be a commitment phobe while looking for love or is that like being a marine biologist whose afraid of the sea.

‘ I like ‘em new. Not like you’

KIDS

Sex in Inappropriate Places...HIS Perspective.

Due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve been away from this blog for far longer than I’ve wanted to be. But I’m back. With a vengeance.

So you’ve read W’s post, Sex in Inappropriate Places? It’s all true. All of it. But you don’t know what was going through my mind, do you?

Read on to find out.

Usually W is the one that finds places for us to have sex (well, the non-public ones anyway). This time it was me, my suggestion, my idea. My control.

But I was still nervous.

When we were there, the sex was fantastic. We hadn’t had a good fuck in about two weeks or so. We’d gotten each other off since the last fuck, but you know how it is, nothing beats a hot, wet pussy. Or, a hot hard cock (if you’re into that sort of thing, that is).

I got her off many, many times. And, based on our new position (and the furnishings where we were) I think I finally gave her a G-spot orgasm with my cock. We both loved that position, me standing up and her sitting down, wrapping her legs around my ass. Hands on the counter, head arched back in ecstacy. You’ve got to see her when she has a G-spot orgasm. So intense. So fierce. Nothing exists for her except my cock and the pleasure it brings her.

 And yes, we couldn’t find my cum, when I came.

But that’s not the experience that I want to talk about.

I want to talk about what happened after our really good fuck.

We shared a meal, had some great conversation and enjoyed each others’ company. Hiding in plain sight. I think we’ve gotten used to it, so it doesn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking as it might have before.

But in the back of my head, I wanted to cum again. And I had an idea.

You see, I can make her cum multiple times. Generally though, I can cum once and then I’m done for the time we’re together. The idea of cumming again usually doesn’t interest me, not that I don’t want to, it’s just that my brain turns out the light in the sex drive area; I have been fucked into park by W.

So we left the restaraunt and took a walk. To the park. Our park.

I knew what I was doing. I felt sexually selfish. I wanted her to make me cum again. I just hadn’t told her yet.

We found a bench. Somewhat isolated, not completely dark. We sat down. We nuzzled together. I don’t remember what I said to her, but it went something like this:

“Will you please unzip my pants and give me a handjob?”

Of course she complied. In no time the park, silent in the twilight, echoed with a loud “zip” and her hand was in my pants quickly. A half-second later, my stiffening cock met the night air. My shirt was quickly pulled over it, and the stroking began.

I was worried that I wouldn’t cum. I was worried because when I try to have sex for the second time in the evening, I seriously take forever to cum. Yes, I know what you’re thinking– poor, poor you. It’s not because W doesn’t try to get me off, it’s because….well, I don’t know why it is. But it is.

So after a few minutes of her expertly stroking my cock, she mentions something about sucking me off.

“Not here.” I say.

So we put me back in, zip me up and begin walking around, hand in hand. Looking for a place where I can cum in her mouth. Talk about wanting to cum.

We get to where we had sex last weekend and there’s someone there, and like W said, they weren’t going anywhere soon.

So, ironically enough we walk back to the exact same place we just got up from.

Before we sat down, I unzipped my pants. She heard it.

“Did you just unzip your pants?” she asked, half-incredulous, half-proud.

“Yes.” I said. I wanted her to get me off.

You see, usually when I’m in control, behind closed doors I tell her what to do. It’s easy to be in control then, to be the one who demands and orders. In public, the roles are more likely to reverse. Once she gets me going in public, it’s hard for me to say no. Witness last week where all she had to do was pull up her skirt, show me her naked pussy and say “fuck me”. I am powerless in the face of her pussy.

So this was different. Her pussy had been fed; now it was my cock that was hungry. It knew that it would not get to be in her pussy. But I still wanted release.

So, sitting down, she began to stroke me. I kissed her, nuzzled her neck, wanted to bend her over the park bench and fuck her till I came. Hard.

But alas, I could not. I would have to make do with her hand, expertly stroking my cock.

This whole time I was looking around the park, surreptitiously trying to see if anyone was coming. Her hand (and my cock) was covered by my t-shirt. But I wanted more.

She offered again to take me in her mouth when I came. The closer I got, the better it sounded.

The ache began, the hunger, the desire, I was getting ready to cum…it was going to happen.

This time was different. Usually I tell her “I’m going to cum” or “I’m cumming” and quicker than you can imagine, my cock is in her mouth and she is greedily swallowing my cum.

It was different because I don’t think I had to say anything. I think she just knew from my body language. Maybe I did say something, I don’t know if I did or not because I was preoccupied.

Her warm, wet mouth expertly fastened itself to my cock and she sucked down my cum with reckless abandon.

There, on a public park bench with the quickly fading light from the setting sun with my head thrown back in ecstasy and triumph, I came hard in W’s mouth and loved every second of it.

She drank every last drop.

Miss you, W.

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Foals

Foals é uma banda de Indie Rock e Dance-Punk nascida em Oxford, Inglaterra. A banda assina com a Trangressive Records na Europa e com a Sub Pop nos EUA. Lançaram um Live EP dia 26 de Fevereiro de 2007. Seu primeiro álbum chamado Antidotes foi lançado dia 24 de Março de 2008 no Reino Unido e 8 de Abril nos EUA, produzido por Dave Sitek.

Segue o link para download do álbum”antidotes”.

Pregnancy Q&A

Reasons why I would not make a good obstetrician:

Q: Should I have a baby after 35?

A: No, 35 children is enough.

Q: I’m two months pregnant now. When will my baby move?

A: With any luck, right after he finishes college.

Q: What is the most reliable method to determine a baby’s sex?

A: Childbirth.

Q: My wife is five months pregnant and so moody that sometimes she’s borderline irrational.

A: So what’s your question?

Q: My childbirth instructor says it’s not pain I’ll feel during labor, but pressure. Is she right?

A: Yes, in the same way that a tornado might be called an air current.

Q: When is the best time to get an epidural?

A: Right after you find out you’re pregnant.

Q: Is there any reason I have to be in the delivery room while my wife is in labor?

A: Not unless the word “alimony” means anything to you.

Q: Is there anything I should avoid while recovering from childbirth?

A: Yes, pregnancy.

Q: Do I have to have a baby shower?

A: Not if you change the baby’s diaper very quickly.

Q: Our baby was born last week. When will my wife begin to feel and act normal again?

A: When the kids are in college.

File under - 'Silly comments by middle-aged university managers'

“Last week I was walking across the DCU campus when I came upon a frantic young man in a car who, as he told me, had an urgent appointment in the university but couldn’t find anywhere to park. On this occasion I was able to help him, but these days we have constant car parking issues. In his book, The Uses of the University, Clark Kerr, the late chancellor of the University of California at Berkeley, suggested that a university president has three key tasks that the institution’s main stakeholders will expect to see achieved: ’sex for the students, athletics for the alumni, and parking for the faculty’. Only the last of these, Kerr suggested, presented a problem …” (more)

[Ferdinand von Prondzynski, Irish Times, 6 October]

I Hate You... Now, Can We Have Sex?

Dagny’s Entry [October 4, 2009]

Recently, I read a posting on a public site that had the following subject line: “Ladies listen closely, no BJ on the first date = no second date.” The author of this post went on to detail [in quite graphic terms] his feelings about women in general and what it was that he expected in exchange for having “blown hard earned cash and listening to your bullshit” all evening [I would have given you what he wrote, but unfortunately -- or fortunately, if you are a woman in the Washington DC area-- the post was removed].  All I could think as I read this was “Wow, a hostile man who expects oral sex in exchange for dinner?  Why that’s every woman’s dream date!”

Men [and women] can be such morons when it comes to attracting members of the opposite sex.  They will do things that are the antithesis of what it is they want to have happen, and then when it doesn’t happen, they will loudly complain to anyone that will listen that all members of the opposite sex are [fill in the negative stereotype here].  Women tend to do things that are viewed as “playing games.” They will toy with a man’s attention, affection, and, frequently, his genitals and then use emotional blackmail [i.e. tears] to get what they want.  It’s a cruel game, for certain, but for some reason men respond to it, and I think I’ve finally figured out what that reason is — many, many men are just plain stupid.

Now, I know, if you are a man, you’re probably sitting there thinking “WTF?! How can she say men are stupid?  She doesn’t know me!”  And that, my friend, is the root of the problem.  You’ve just jumped into the dangerous waters of ego versus woman.  I say men are stupid and you must immediately prove to me that you are the exception to the rule even though I’ve cast not a single aspersion on your individual character, but I’m going to save that Psych 101 lesson for another post.  Today I want to talk about the men who are haters.  

Haters are the guys that do things that embarrass and shame their fellow man to the point that they will create blogs designed to publicly identify the stupidity of said men and ridicule them in a way that is designed to get them to stop what they’re doing and think [Why Women Hate Men].  Folks, these are the men who not only fail to think about what it actually takes to attract women, they also seem to actively dislike women and, yet, they still want to have sex with them.

What never fails to surprise me about the Haters is that they will openly express their feelings in a way that disparages women. Their insults are used as a means of attracting and seducing a woman, and what amazes me is that they actually believe that a woman might be aroused by this.  A Hater believes that the words “cunt” or a “bitch” are seductive turn-ons and that the liberal use of them will result in a woman falling to her knees as she moans for the privilege of doing nothing more than pleasing him.

These also seem to be the guys who also have a very healthy sense of self. They actually believe that they are the answer to the prayers of every woman on earth [Enough is Enough Ladies].  They have the misguided notion that their own assessment [and over-estimation] of their looks, money and/or sexual prowess will overcome any personality defects and cause women to fall at their feet.  This may work for, oh say, a billionaire, for the average guy, it’s not going to result in a check mark in the “desired qualities” column for any self-respecting woman.

Some Haters will even use reverse psychology to try and attract women.  As if being told that I’ll be a replacement for the ex [or current] girlfriend [who is always a raving lunatic] will be enough to “dare” me into dating or screwing a guy [Single Male Needs Girlfriend].  No dice.

I always wonder what the decent guys think of the Haters.  I did see a response to Mr. No Blow Job, No Second Date, and  I’m fairly certain was another man it was a man who said, “dude, you are a fucktard for so many reasons and you are the reason women are hard to talk to anymore actually i think by reading your post my fucking I.Q. dropped.”  This gives me a small glimmer of hope.

Now, if only I could find a way to address the problem of the women who are attracted to these losers…

What say you?

Basic Instinct, Part 7:

One of the strongest drives taught to men and women early in life is to seek the approval of our peers and masters.  When people fail in this arena, they develop a low self esteem or a hatred for authority, amongst other neurosis.  Knowing how life is supposed to work, and how it was originally designed to work is the basis of ridding oneself of these neuroses.

Torment is not a mental disease, even though it occurs in the brain.  Wild animals are not tormented, but caged animals are tormented.  Animals imprisoned by man, or living amongst man, display various stages of torment.  Yet, domestic animals like dogs and cats freely accept their imprisoned status, as most women also accept their imprisoned status. 

Men, whether women believe it, are also prisoners of society.  Their prison cells might be larger, but that ends any difference between male and female imprisonment and torment.

In the wild, the female chooses which clan’s territory to join.  She is fully aware of enslaving herself to the male in charge of the territory.  She has freely chosen to become a part of that man’s life.  Once her choice is made, she loses all rights to making choices.  Her male dominates her. 

The female instinct allows her to desire this condition.  In fact, she hungers to be dominated by her male.  Without her male’s domination, she is miserable.  Without children, women are confused.  Unless another male overthrows the superiority of her male, she will contently spend her entire life with her male.  This is because wild animals are only using instinct to direct their lives.  If her male is overthrown by another male, she is designed to submit to her new male freely, which behavior is exhibited in modern women on a daily basis, because women are designed to accept the new dominant male, which their instinct perceives is the guy controlling their workplace, the bar, or the gym.  Since the male is designed to fertilize the female whenever she comes into heat, females often stray from the husband due to a new male being on location when they go into heat at another location, other than the home.  

Another natural law is the male is designed to fertilize women many times per day, while the female is not designed for such activity except when she goes into heat, which only occurs sporadically in any given year.  Therefore, we see another natural law.  Men can fertilize ten to twenty women in one day, every day; while a woman will only allow a man to fertilize her during her period of heat, which may only occur once a month. 

This female limitation, imposed upon her by nature, imposes a strain upon her male mate in a monogamist society, because the male can fertilize at least ten to twenty women per day.  Has nature made a mistake?  No!  It seems to be a mistake, but is not a mistake.  It is a purposeful plan imposed upon the lower classes of the human race by the ruling class of a nation in civilization.  Rulers have constructed laws limiting the male to one female.  A nation’s law limiting males to one female is the basis of the male not having the availability of many females to fertilize; and the females not having one male to fertilize many women, when they come into heat.  This causes another problem in civilization.  Many women never get a male to fertilize them, or worse, women wind-up being fertilized by a male that cannot nor will not bear their responsibility to care of that female.  Leaving her to the mercy and scarcity of providing for herself and her children.

Now mathematically speaking, simple logic shows us that if a female only requires the services of her male mate one day per month, then the number of females that will require the same male’s services during that month would be at least thirty females; and they would solely belong to him.  This logic is based upon the thirty females coming into heat on different days during the same month, but many females in one herd can come into heat on the same day; and many other females can come into heat on different days of the month.   Now if the male can service ten to twenty different women each day, every day, then we can multiply the minimum ten women a day by the thirty days of a month culminating in a harem of at least three hundred women for one male.  Then it is necessary to figure in the supplies needed by the one male to provide for his females, and you can begin to see why a male would have to be a king, like King Solomon in the Bible, to provide for his 300 wives and 700 concubines.  Showing us that a normal number of females owned by one male should be a minimum of 300 females.  Not to mention the joy of a female, who does not have to perform sexually everyday for her monogamist male as the sole female trying to satisfy his sexual appetite: which sexual appetite’s demands on the sole wife are considered as another form of enslavement; and not to mention the fact that women desire the company of other women and do never desire the company of men, but only need men for fertilization.  Now you can see why monogamy (one man and one woman cannot work, even though some people are die-hards and remain married for a lifetime).

FIFA 2010

Reprezentanţii Electronic Arts au declarat că elementele noi introduse în FIFA 10 au fost analizate şi sunt rezultatul feedback-ului primit de la jucători după 275 de milioane de sesiuni de joc FIFA 09.

Cateva dintre elementele cu care producătorii lui FIFA 10 se laudă că au fost îmbunătăţite în noul joc sunt: pasele lungi, inteligenţa artificială a portarilor şi mecanica şuturilor.

Sursa: Realitatea.net

HBO Documentary Films: <i>Outrage: Do Ask. Do Tell</i>

Posted by Audiegrl

Outrage: Do Ask. Do Tell

An official selection of the 2009 Tribeca Film Festival, OUTRAGE investigates the hidden lives of some of the country’s most powerful policymakers – from now-retired Idaho Senator Larry Craig, to former New Jersey Governor Jim McGreevy – and examines how these and other politicians have inflicted damage on millions of Americans by opposing gay rights. Equally disturbing, the film explores the mainstream media’s complicity in keeping those secrets, despite the growing efforts to “out” them by gay rights organizations and bloggers.

Congressman Barney Frank (D-Massachusetts)

Through a combination of archival news footage and exclusive interviews with politicians and members of the media, OUTRAGE probes the psychology of a double lifestyle, the ethics of outing closeted politicians, and the double standards that the media upholds in its coverage of the sex lives of gay public figures. As Barney Frank, perhaps the best-known openly gay member of Congress explains, “There is a right to privacy, but not a right to hypocrisy. It is very important that the people who make the law be subject to the law.”
The film also spotlights Michael Rogers, a gay activist and founder of blogACTIVE, a Washington, D.C.-based website dedicated to outing closeted public figures. Rogers feels it is necessary to expose the hypocrisy of those who may live one way in public and another way in private, explaining that his work is not about outing people who are gay, but rather about “reporting on individuals who are working against the community that they then expect to protect them.”
OUTRAGE was written and directed by Kirby Dick; producer, Amy Ziering; executive producers, Tom Quinn, Jason Janego, Ted Sarandos, Chad Griffin, Kimball Stroud, Bruce Brothers and Tectonic Theater Project; co-producer, Tanner Barklow; editors, Doug Blush and Matt Clarke; music, Peter Golub. For HBO: senior producer, Nancy Abraham; executive producer, Sheila Nevins.
Outrage: Do Ask. Do Tell is premiering Monday, October 5 at 9pm only on HBO. For more information, visit HBO.com.

Tufts University BANS SEX in your dorm room while your roommate is there...

Quit being so selective and I am sure you will find someone who will help butter your biscuits....Maybe it's the sour look on your face that prevents someone coming up to you and wanting to make out with you....

Really?  They have to make a rule about it?  What if I am just going to hit it softly and not bother anyone?

This reminds me of a local rap group that helped Tupac get some shine early in his career, Digital Underground and their song, “Freaks of the Industry”

The main part of the song that reminds me of college is this one. It is also the reason that I never lived in the dorms.  Ever.  Period.  Gotta become my own man.

Say you’re G’in’ [G'in'?]
Nobody else is seein’
And the freak that you’re wit’ is in front of you,
Bendin’ over naked, and she’s leanin’ on the dresser [Ooh yeah]
You’re lookin’ at her from the rear [Yeah]
She looks just like Vanessa [The right stuff]

Wow, and she really got better with age if that is possible.

Uh uh, not Vanessa with the singer career,
But the X-rated video queen,
Know what I mean? [Uh huh] A’ight, here’s the scene:

She probably will be anything goes....which is why the song mentions her and not Vanessa Williams

You’re lying on you’re back with your head on the edge of the bed,
The booty’s two feet from your head:
Should you: A, take the time to find a condom,

Don't worry, they are already pregnant!

B, you walk right over and you pound ‘em,

Call me Morimoto of the box! Plus, I need this on a shirt and it might become my new avitar...

C, tell her that you want her love,

Well the answer is D, [D], all of the above.
So you’re freakin’ [freakin'], the furniture’s squeakin’ [squeakin']
She’s tweakin’, sayin’ that she’s weak in the knees.
Cheek to cheek, and pound for pound,
You’re taxin’ it and waxin’ it and workin’ it around,
‘Til the booty starts makin’ that clappin’ sound,
Which is cool, but your friends are chillin’ in the other room.
The clappin’s getting louder, you don’t want them to clown you,
In this situation, what do you do: [What?]
A, you, plain and simply, back up off her
B, you hit it just a little bit softer,
C, you take it out and put it in het butt,
Well, D is what I do, so, yo, listen up:
I put a towel on the floor by the two inch gap under the door
Now they can’t see me any more.
Check the locks so they can’t clock, but they can listen.
There’ll be no bargin’ in and there’ll be no dissin’ [Dissin']
Gettin’ back to my mission, break out the whipped cream and the cherries,
Then I go through all the fly positions:
My head under her leg under my arm under her toe.
She says, ‘I like it when you scream, baby let yourself go.’
I hit it and split it, lick it and quit it.
After the ride, put my clothes on and walk outside,
And before anybody gets a chance to speak,
I say, ‘Yo, don’t say nuttin’, I guess I’m just a freak!’

What more is it to say?  We have all been in that position (with some notable exceptions… I would imagine we can all think of some people who this might not be true for.)

From Laura Batchelor
CNN

(CNN) — A new policy at Tufts University prohibits students in dorms from having sex while their roommate is in the room, according to the university’s 2009-2010 student handbook.

A school spokeswoman says students have expressed concerns over roommate having sex in the dorms.

The Massachusetts university’s formal rule also bars so-called “sexiling” — exiling a roommate from the room so the other roommate can engage in sexual activity.

The new policy “is really about consideration and respect for others and the need for students to be mindful of their roommates’ need for privacy, study and sleep,” university spokeswoman Kim Thurler told CNN.

She said while she did not have an exact number of complaints from students about their roommates’ behavior, “over the last few years, the Office of Residential Life and Learning received approximately a dozen expressions of concern about this issue.”

Callie Morton, a freshman at Tufts, told CNN affiliate WHDH-TV, “If someone is going to go and have sex while their roommate is in the room, I mean I think that’s kind of gross. I think it’s kind of funny that they would have to make a rule about it.” Watch Tufts students talk about policy »

The new guidelines for students hosting overnight guests say, “You may not engage in sexual activity while your roommate is present in the room. And sexual activity within your assigned room should not ever deprive your roommate(s) of privacy, study, or sleep time.”

Other students agree that the new rule is going to be difficult to implement.

“I don’t think it’s something that can really be enforced per se,” an unidentified Tufts University student told WHDH. “I don’t understand how that’s going to work.”

Thurler explained that if a problem is identified and brought to the attention of residence officials, the university will help the affected student have a conversation with his/her roommate to address the situation.

“In some cases, we might intervene on behalf of the student,” Thurler said, “and speak with their roommate directly and explain what is expected of them while they live in the residence halls.”

Thurler wouldn’t comment on possible disciplinary action by the university if a student breaks the rules.

Reading this, (Thanks B for the heads up) made me think of another funny time of when I was in college.

One of our non-posting crew members tells a hilarious story about being in the dorms and it totally applies here.  He was working at the Berkeley Debate Camp and living with a friend, who we will call “Tom” to protect the innocent.   Tom was fortunate in that he had his girlfriend there that summer working.   One night, they thought NCP was alseep and they starting going at it.  NCP rolled over, and acted like he was alseep once he heard, in hopes it would just end quickly.

Sometime during the act, Tom’s girlfriend asked Tom, “Do you think that I am smart?”  This is not a question that I would ask during the act, but who knows what was racing through her mind.  NCP tells this part with a little chuckle, and finishes with the punchline “Yes…. NOW TURN OVER!” and he went back to work.

He could have really believed in her intelligence. But, in that order, I think that he was concerned with something else.

just finishing.....that is what he was after...

By definition, That’s the shit that would get me mad…..

Roman Polanski... was it rape?

So now we hear that it’s ok to have sex with a thirteen year old as long she doesn’t say no.

There’s rape and there’s rape… and well, he IS Roman Rolanski. So he was actually doing her a favor by supposedly getting her so drugged up on champagne and ‘Ludes’ she had NO idea of what was going on.

Quaaludes by themselves are ENOUGH to do that. Trust me on my knowing this… i just made it into my mid-fifties… do the math… ’nuff said?

Anyway, so Roman Polanski supposedly gets this girl doped up and then allegedly proceeds to rape her. Oh yeah, HE says she agreed… i would think he would say that. Who is going to question the Great Roman Polanski? And just why is he so revered?

Be—cause he is one of the greatest directors of all time. Puh-leeze, Chinatown was good… well Faye Dunaway was good, but i kinda think her and Candice Bergen… i’ll stop there.

But the fact remains: anyone else other than the Great Roman Polanski does something like this and they are vilified and the crowds are screaming for their heads on a stake.

Oh, if it wasn’t rape, why did he run off to Europe, always making sure never to enter a country from which he might extradited back to the States from? Hmmmm…?

A forced sexual act whether the person is cognizant of the act or not is RAPE!

Yes RAPE! One, she was WELL under 18. Under the law, she is not capable of giving her consent. Two, she was in NO condition, even if she had been FIVE YEARS OLDER to give her consent. Under either of these conditions she is unable to enter into a contract. And allowing someone to perform a sex act with her constitutes a verbal contract. She was neither old enough or clear-headed enough to enter into said verbal contract.

I’m seeing an unintended consequence here also: if this holds up…
getting a thirteen year old drugged up and taking advantage of her sexually doesn’t qualify as RAPE… the precedent this may set could set womens advocacy, rape prevention and prosecutions back fifty years.

“Well, yer honor… yeah, i knowd she was thirteen, and after a bottle a’ Jim Beam… why hell, neither ov us knew what we was a’doin’. But she was ok with it. I mean she nodded when i asked her ’bout doin’ it.”

Well, if your name is Roman Polanski… it just might work.