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Wednesday, March 31, 2004

WHITE: hilarious porn 

Porn on the internet is just altogether too funny to really ever be a turn-on for me. I have yet to understand people who actually take it quite seriously (there must be many out there). Apart from the hard and fast, in-out, engorged bits-thrust-into-holes in close up, which really, I think just looks too mechanical to be sexy, the hyperlinks in porn sites themselves are just so hilarious, it distracts from the main objective of being turned on.

Take these hyperlinks for example:
-Cunt stuffed by a huge cock
-Two babes receive hot facial
-Teen ass sex and bum leaks cum
-Latina amateur gobbles knob
-Final vaginal spray in orgy
-Warm Cum Fiesta

What an original use of the word 'gobbles'! Compliments to whoever came up with it - I love it babe, it's almost poetic. Oh! think of the potential success of 'Poetry from porn' - it could kickstart a whole new genre of 21st century literature. (I sincerely hope nobody is actually getting horny from those six droll phrases. It would just be too tragic and too funny all at the same time).

On the other hand, I fail to see how or why anyone might get excited reading something like 'bum leaks cum'. Also, extra words like 'stuffed' and 'warm' just make all this sex talk sound like a nice, warm, cosy meal, not hardcore banging. But then again, I suppose the ones who take this stuff seriously aren't looking for nuances in the choice of words. Porn kings of the world, please enlighten me on the titillating effects of such choice words. ooh, I feel like such a novice to the big bad world of "sizzling doggy fucks" and "gooey cumshots" (HAHAHA!) I really should start thinking with my groin instead of my head.

I've been scouring the web for good porn but usually end up in a fit of giggles and have to resort to the moving pictures in my head instead. Recommendations would be much appreciated, though preferably the kind that is actually sexy and not comic or deeply poetic. Thanks and kisses, wherever you want them xxx
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Tuesday, March 30, 2004

ORANGE: worms, cute and slimey 

The boy introduced me to a computer game called Worms. Now, not being the biggest fan of computer games - they are best left to boys with good spatial skills and clever fingerwork - it is saying a lot that I started to play this game religiously. It's wonderful - worms with rocket launchers, worms with dynamite, worms with jetpacks to fly across islands. There is no bloodshed, and no angry demonic zombies to kill; the weapons are in nice friendly bright colours, moulded into user-friendly shapes like cartoony things should be. ooh ah! Worms suddenly became the cute things du jour - worms talk, and make noises and frown when they're thinking; they're cuddly with big wide faces and eyebrows that move. And I could play the game competently without the boy getting exasperated and irritated at my lack of coordination.

Then one day, I chanced upon a real worm - there it was in all its pinky, fleshy glory, wriggling on the ground in its limpid slimey way. It's a bit worrying when you are so stuck in a fake computery world, and then get a a big bloody rude shock when you see the real thing and realise it's actually ghastly. It brought me straight back to a time when worms were never cute, and were in the same family as things that crawled into rotten fruit or out of babies' bottoms. Suddenly, the idea of these same worms wrecking havoc and blasting each other to bits with grenades isn't quite as endearing anymore - it would just be a big red, slimey mess, not pretty little tombstones that pop up after the demise of cuddly 3D animated worms called Biggles and Dave.
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Monday, March 29, 2004

PINK: chick lit 

I'm very excited that I get to review a chick lit book. Ho ho! Off with the literary pretentions, I am now languishing contentedly among slim volumes with pastel covers and fiction that is about as deep as the insole of a kitten heel.

I used to be an artsy student, who took quickly to literary discussions in tight-knit intensive little groups because it fed an angst ridden-starving soul (hah!). Rushdie spoke to me through his crazy prose and I was as passionate as the tormented poets who gassed themselves in frenzied depression. How wonderfully sad!

Oh! but now, I just want to read salacious, ridiculous fiction which features handsome boy and dizzy girls who deliberate over what shade of umbrella to take out for the day. I want all things unrealistic and cringeworthy - holidaying in Paris, martinis in New York, air-kisses, chocolates wrapped divinely in rose coloured satiny foil, beautiful men called Trey and Damien.

In 50 years' time, another little group will huddle over Helen Fielding and Muriel Spark and write PhD's over the nuances of literature in the noughties (if they're not already). After all, all great writers were trashy in their time - writing heroines like the Brontes had their work dimssed as shallow (blasphemous! scandalous!) chick lit rubbish of the late 1800s and now look where they are! Elevated to a shrine of literary queenliness in every rah-rah literary journal and well-revered dusty tome in libraries. Yes yes, me darlings, it is time to partake in the literature couture of the day - it is candycoloured fun for now and, as a bonus, we'll be able to auction off first editions of Bridgette Jones for plenty of gold when it becomes a literary classic (or be able to say that we were well and truly part of the cultural chicklit revolution when it took off for real - how very intellectual!)
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Sunday, March 28, 2004

BROWN & WHITE: chocolate 

can't write much as am being trundled off to a meat-filled dinner (yuck) but am currently guzzling down some very divine Some people say that certain things are better than sex and though any right-thinking-mind would say it couldn't possibly be true (ON NO!), you sometimes find that it actually is, especially if it's got to do with chocolate. I don't know what that says about what I'm doing (or not doing) in the bedroom, but seeing as there's a bit of a dry spell going on here at the moment (the boy is too far away and toys are never ever quite like the real thing), the chocolate will do for now as a teaser to take me to new heights of oblivion. Ooh yes! Pass the chocolate box, more! MORE!

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Saturday, March 27, 2004

the whole bag 

I jumped on the blogging bandwagon for a week, decided that nothing I was writing made much sense so hopped off for a bit of a think before jumping back on. Was also alerted to the fact that the other one I started was a bit too ranty, and I sounded like I had too many issues. HAH!

Actually, have realised that I am far too simple to write about proper stuff anyway, so will get off my high horse and just talk about stuff that is usually deemed silly. It's less angst-ridden that way and I can shed a little of the pretentiousness.

Things like sex, food and bald men are always more interesting than grown up stuff anyway - and it throws up more surprises than a running commentary on the state of the world (which is what I was doing before I realised I was starting to sound like an angry bitter 21st version of Emily Dickenson and her death poems).

The thing about dolly mixtures is that even though they actually all kind of taste the same, there's always one that you'll find you like more than the others, just because it's pink/green/yellow&white etc. The fun of eating them finding out which one you've picked out of the bag. And that's kind of what it's like everyday - there'll be something silly that you'll pick out everyday that is the real-life version of a pink&white dolly mixture sweetie. It's just a square of sugar and has no real value, but it's ooh! it's just extra bit of fun.

(it works the other way too though - sometimes there are none of the ones that you like left in the bag, at which point things could get nasty and you could become grumpy and sad).
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