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| I have a Very Special gift for you both. |
I was looking though the Amazon list of stuff y'all weirdos bought and someone ordered a copy of "Snowballin': I Fucked Frosty" a book whose title is its own spoiler. This snowballed (sans fuckery, alas) into me trudging around through the ancient backwaters of the blog. It's weird to read myself of the past, maybe it will be for you too. I do hope that this post marked my personal max for using the word "clit," a word I fervently wish had an alternative.
Anyway, step into my time machine with me into 2012. Might want to wear a helmet. There are a lot of loose clits flying about. (And PS, it gets pretty fucking gross in here today.)
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Random detritus from the IBWMW inbox.
--That is Some Good Lookin' Labia
Caitlin Grace, a Wellbeing Coach in New Zealand, sent in this documentary called The Perfect Vagina, about chicks getting plastic surgery on their "fannies," as they call them overseas. As you may recall, I am against the
cutting of one's sexual organs--up to and including fannies--in order
to look like all of the other Sneetches, and this vid let me stay comfortably
within my cozy worldview.
Go have a look if you'd like--it's free. A caveat: cover your eyes during the highly graphic
surgery scene. Slabs of skin cut off! Slabs! Which not only burned a permanent discomforting image into my brain, but also led to the following Unproductive Thought Spiral (which seems to be happening more frequently now that I've had to switch from expensive "name brand" Lexapro to a generic made in a foreign land and sold at Costco for $6.99.)
To wit:
1. Became concerned with how said vag slabs are disposed of. You can't just toss 'em in the trash, right? Compost pile? Surely it's not e-waste. Which reminded me of...
2. The Mystery of the Possibly Missing Clit and @jeannehospod's snarky Twitter answer: "check jeans pocket" which gave me the unsettling image of a linty clit in a jeans pocket. Making it even worse, she continued, "Cleaning the lint catcher on the dryer should prevent that. 'Oh there's a dime, foil gum wrapper, and...ooh! there it is!'" Which made me think of...
3. All the moles dermatologists cut off and how there is someone working at a lab somewhere who walks into work and is confronted with a bunch of little packets containing tiny little moles that they must cheerfully examine. But I digress.
Anyway, today when I was looking at the Perfect Vagina site, I learned that the reasons for labioplasty include this:
some women complain that...riding a bike is uncomfortable
Which
just makes me curious how fucking big, labia-wise, we're talking. I
mean, to be uncomfortable on a bike, they'd have to be...what?...like
getting caught in the wheels? So big you don't need any padding on your seat? I mean, if they're "can you tie 'em in a
knot, can you tie 'em in a bow" size, hell, maybe I am supportive of a
little nip and tuck.
Now unclear on my labial worldview. Leave me alone.
--Oh, Santa. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, SSssssssssaaaaaantaaaaa, oh God, yes!
The holiday season is coming up which means it's time to start thinking about Santa, particularly how sexy it would be to have him pull down his velvety red pants then slowly slide his snowy white pubes against your throbbing center. Because, yes, a Santa fetish is a real thing.
A Santa fetish can involve being fucked by Santa, or alternately, being Santa and fucking others. Today, for example, on porn site xnxx there are 287 videos tagged with the word "Santa." (If you have a spare moment and an easily erasable search history, I would urge you to look the sheer crazy-ass variety of specialty tags there representing a wide variety of human sexual expression* including "mother-in-law," "poltergeist," uh-oh--hold the phone on that labioplasty-- a stunning 1178 videos for "mega pussy lips." And I presume they mean the still-attached kind. Though at this point I'm pretty sure that someone somewhere is probably jerking off to the thought of a medical waste bin chockful of removed, oh god, never mind, I'm not even going to finish that sentence.)
In case you're thinking it's just porn-obsessed dirty pervs with the Santa fetish, sensitive literate folk get hot for Santa fuckery as well. Here's a selection from the story Sara's Santa Fetish--it's Santarotica, a word I hope I just made up.
"I know what you've been thinking, I know for what you long, and
tonight's a special night indeed, because Santa isn't wrong," he spoke,
rhyming the words as if singing a verse from Santa Claus is Coming to Town.
"I know when you lay in bed at night, your body longs for me, and
tonight I'll make your dreams come true, Sara I'll set you free."
Oh there's more. Plenty more.
The fantasies flashed in her mind like movie trailers of the
oft-repeated nights she lay in bed at night, thighs wide, fingering her
clit while rubbing a wig or other such prop against her inner legs as if
to replicate the feel of facial hair, a beard... Santa's beard. She'd
thought of the things he'd do to her, of the pleasure he would bring,
but - but -
"It's happening, Sara," he promised with a soft, belly-shaking chuckle. "Lean back and enjoy this very special gift."
I don't why I love this so much. Maybe it has something to do with the usual erotica tropes--the straining nipples, bucking hips and the like coupled with the Santa-y references to jolliness, his "silky soft beard," and that "soft, belly-shaking chuckle."
"Enjoy this very special gift" indeed. "Gee, Santa, is it your cock? Seriously? Again?"
--Sex Advice from 2000 Years Ago.
Maybe it's the overseas "Lexapro" talking, but I'm reading a recent translation of the Kama Sutra
You already knew that one? Okay then, here's one for the gentlemen.
xoxox
jill
*none of them, unfortunately, with the tag "Marc Maron."
