Monday, December 27, 2010

Guest Post: On Being Chosen For A Threesome

Today's guest post is from Confessions of a Recovering Cynic, a ballsy, hilarious blog in which heroine, self-described "train wreck," Tricia* writes about hideous dates, having to move back in with her parents and sending her brother to the post office to mail a butt plug to a reader/contest winner.

In the following post, Guest Star, Tricia--who clearly has an especially alluring Blogger profile--has been propositioned by a married couple for a threesome. Instead of just writing about that, which would certainly be fine enough, Tricia takes it a step further and imagines the couple's conversation as they look at her profile, deciding if she is the one to share their marital bed. Note the subtle manuevering between the husband and wife as they try to work the situation to their own advantage.

So behold, Guest Star (text and artwork courtesy of Confessions of a Recovering Cynic):


Guest Star

So, I've already told you that my online profile is quite titillating to the geriatric set. I get swamped with emails from silver not-so-foxys suggesting that I look like I'd be a hoot.

Cuz mama taught you to share...
Today I was surprised to find out that apparently I am attractive to someone who doesn't bear an AARP card.

More specifically, two people who don't bear AARP cards.

That's right...I'm being propositioned as a guest star.

Now, I'm no fool.

I know how this conversation went down as they perused the profiles.


Hubs (clicking on picture of blonde could-be Playmate):
     She looks pretty good, honey.

Wife (thinking over my dead body):
     Um, I prefer brunettes...

Hubs (clicking on Megan Fox look-alike):
     Here's a brunette!

Wife (still thinking over my dead body):
     Hmm...she looks like she might have herpes.
(Shuffles profiles, lands on mine. EUREKA!)  
     How about her? She looks...nice.
(Nice = not so ugly that hubs will heave his lunch, but not as pretty as wife, naturally.)

Hubs (considering):
     She's a little...chubby - don't you think?

Wife (speaking soothingly):
     Nah, I think she's...sensual looking. Just think, hon - big tits!

Hubs (realizing with alarm this might be his only shot, and that a mediocre threesome is still better than no threesome):
     You're right, babe! Let's email her.


*And yes, overly attentive stalker  astute reader, this is indeed the same Tricia who "won" last week's contest on Most Stupid-Ass Thing Done for Love. She was the one who, among other things, paid for her own engagement ring.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Blog That Rewards You For Your Failings

Today's contest asks you the inappropriately personal question: What Stupid-Ass Thing Have You Done for Love (or, if you prefer, "Love-Resembling Emotion That Cruelly Disguised Itself As Actual Love")? Did you write bad poetry? (Check.*) Feign an interest in the intricate fretwork of guitarist Adrian Belew? (Check.) Subjugate your personality until only faintly recognizable? And even then only observable during the vernal equinox with the use of special goggles? (Sigh. Check.)

Don't worry, no one will judge. Really, it was all so long ago. Why, it's difficult to even remember the white-hot burn of shame of not being true to your own bad-ass self. Besides you're, like, a million times smarter now -- right?
That's why the prize for this contest is the It's All About Me Kit from eco-friendly, girl-power-promotin', dildo-sellin' sex toy company Good Vibrations. The kit (a $32 value) includes:


It's all the better for your New and Improved Lover (or yourself, also a decent lay) to minister to your needs.

To win, confess your stupid-ass love moment in a comment below (or send an email if you're a big pussy). I'll choose a winner according to the vagaries of my whims. On Tuesday. So think of something fast. Good luck!

*Oh, god, I did write a poem. Yes, a fucking poem. Worse, I gave it to the guy. Rather, I presented it to him somewhat ceremoniously like, "Behold this precious gift" (in my defense, I used to be quite a drinker). The shame of it still burns today. In fact, so preoccupied have I been with my own shame that it's only today--writing this--that I realize how horrible it must have been for the poor guy to have to receive the hideous poem. He had to read the frickin' poem--in front of me--and act like he was touched, or at least like he liked it. And that, my friends, would surely qualify him for top honors in Stupid-Ass Things Done for "Love".

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Our Forefathers...So Embarrassing

Credit: Peter Zetterlund, 
Swedish National Heritage Board
Oh, I get the best mail around here.* Like this:  Reader Leslie of Long Beach, California, sent in an article about this ancient Stone Age tool (shown left) which--and I think we can all agree on this--most decidedly does not look like an axe or bowl or, really, any other non-dildo-related object. Says the caption below the photo:
This bone carving from Stone Age Sweden could be an ancient dildo, scientists say. Then again, it might just be a carving tool.
Right. There is no damn way that is a carving tool. (Though if it were, I am certain Stone Age fifth graders giggled away as the hapless Auk cluelessly carved with his cool-looking, self-designed carving tool. "What's so damn funny about me carving?" he grunted, waving the penis-shaped tool in annoyance, yet again.)

And lest you think In Bed With Married Women is a big perv that thinks everything looks like a penis, rest assured, we're not the only ones who see it. A real scientist thinks so too:
"Your mind and my mind wanders away to make this interpretation about what it looks like – for you and me, it signals this erected-penis-like shape," said archaeologist Göran Gruber of the National Heritage Board in Sweden, who worked on the excavation.
The archaeologist's language is oddly poetic. "Your mind and my mind wanders away...." Um, is this dude hitting on us? But I do like how Gruber just boldly notes the "erected-penis-like shape." In Sweden, you see, they are more open-minded. The "erected-penis-like shape" is one of the basic shapes taught to all Swedish kindergardeners.

This is not the first time we've uncovered evidence that our ancestors were a randy lot. In a previous post, we notified you about an object that scientists concluded was an ancient sex toy/firestarter tool--an awkward and bewildering combo that for semi-obvious reasons never quite caught on. I would liken it to today's KFC Chicken & Biscuit Bowl which is some godawful-sounding mishmash of fried chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, three cheeses and a buttermilk biscuit tucked in the side. (The comparison, by the way, is regarding the awkward combo-ness aspect.  I am most decidedly not suggesting that you use the KFC Chicken & Biscuit Bowl as either a firestarter or a sex toy. And especially not as both at the same time.)

The prevalence of these ancient sex toys raises some questions. Was it such a good idea to be fashioning dildos when there were still down comforters, iPhones and toilets to invent? Is this just the beginning of such findings and soon Swedish scientists will be uncovering Stone Age anal bleaching kits, vajazzling rocks and primitive inflatable sex cows made entirely of rock? Did Mrs. Auk claim the object tucked in her nightstand drawer was a "carving tool," much like Modern Woman's "back massager"? And, finally, how embarrassing would it be it future Swedish scientists were measuring, analyzing and photographing the contents of your nightstand drawer? "The object in question is purple and squishy and has the erected penis-like shape..."



* Not always. The other day I got a message from a young woman that read, "You are so going to hell. Have fun with that." What was weird to me about it was the combo of misinterpreted Christianity ("Jesus NEEDS me to send snippy emails to strangers.") with the teenage phrasing. I am not just going to hell, I am SO going to hell, like I am in some extra-special category of hell-goers. Perhaps it's like having your tickets at Hell's Will Call booth or something. And the "Have fun with that"--it's like a Mean Girl from the popular lunch table is banishing me to hell. "Have fun with that. And make sure you wear those geeky pants you have on too, loser."

Monday, December 6, 2010

Bad Sex, Writing, and Inappropriate Speculation on Alan Alda's Sex Life

Today at our morning coffee/de facto literary support group, my gorgeous novelist friend said that it's actually quite difficult to write a good sex scene. You can't just plop in any old bow-chick-a-wow-wow scene and have it work.  Not only does the scene have to propel the story in some way, but the characters have to be having sex in character. "Once you put in sex, it can get tawdry fast," she said. "And there are no good words for body parts."

It's true, even the hottest sex scene would be ruined--for me, at least--if a male character slowly unzipped their pants to reveal their... jade stalk. ("Cockstand," however, would be okay. I have made my peace with cockstand.) Sexual language is so personal and all tied up with the particular brain synapse connections we've made over a lifetime. One person's hot talk is another's desire killer. For example, I can't stand the term "making love" because that's what my parents called it during "the talk" with us, thus rendering the term permanently icky. (Subsequently intolerable 1970s songs: Feel Like Makin' LoveFeel Like Makin' Love, et al...) But to someone like, say, Alan Alda, "make love" is probably a sexually-charged phrase, imbued with all sorts of longings, memories, and images. "Pull off that cowl neck sweater and let's make love, Ellen Burstyn," he perhaps whispers in one of his fantasies, an old favorite. (Alan Alda, if you're reading this, I apologize for speculating on your sexual fantasies. It won't happen again.)

The problem of writing a decent sex scene confounds even the most acclaimed writers, hence the existence of the Literary Review's Bad Sex in Fiction Award.  This year's winner, announced last week, was Rowan Somerville for The Shape of Her. His competition was tough--Jonathan Franzen was among the other nominees--but it was prose such as this that pushed Somerville to the top:
"Like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her." 
That sentence alone would probably be enough to put Somerville on the top of the list (except perhaps to that one weird dude from the Entomology Department who keeps taking The Shape of Her into the bathroom with him) but he kept the bad sex coming. In one passage, he described pubic hair "like desert vegetation following an underground stream" while another read:
"He unbuttoned the front of her shirt and pulled it to the side so that her breast was uncovered, her nipple poking out, upturned like the nose of the loveliest nocturnal animal, sniffing the night. He took it between his lips and sucked the salt from her."
For a man who though it would be a good idea to describe a breast as a salt-dispensing rodent's nose (albeit the "loveliest" one), Somerville gave a surprisingly well-worded acceptance speech. "There is nothing more English than bad sex," said Somerville, upon receiving his award. "So on behalf of the nation, I thank you."

By the way, if you are contemplating writing a sex scene and want to avoid winning such an award, you might eschew the talk of salt-dispensing nipples and go with more generally accepted sexual language. One dude calculated the top penis synonyms used in romance novels and found that most common word in penis references was "hard," followed by "manhood," "erection" and "throbbing." Feel free to mix n' match these words--throbbing manhood! erect hardness!--or borrow something from his frighteningly exhaustive list of bulging, jutting, straining synonyms like "evidence of his arousal," "fullness" and "aching shaft." If Somerville had just replaced his weird-ass insect imagery with an "aching fullness" or two, he wouldn't now be world-renowned for bad sexual writing--an honor I imagine has thinned his dating pool considerably.

In the meantime, I have to ask: what sexual words make you cringe? That is, what is your "making love"?
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