face mouth!

Je parlais a Jay mon amie de l’Alberta ce soir, pour vous faire une histoire courte je la connais depuis que j’ai 5 ans, les pires niaiseries d’ado en chaleur que vous pouvez imaginez ben c’est avec elle que je les ai fait. Je rentrerai pas dans les détails tout de suite… ah pis why not!

Jay c’est une salope cochonne rare! J’ai jamais vue quelqu’un qui dégage autant de sexualité dans ma vie. La fille est ben normal, mais elle “spot” un homme c’est garanti que le soir même elle a son pénis dans la bouche. Moi étant curieuse de nature ben je l’accompagnais par sécurité et parce que je suis extrêmement voyeuse aussi, je n’ai participer qu’a quelques rares occasion mais jamais jusqu’à la pénétration. Honnêtement vu la quantité astronomique de “Alpha male” qu’elle a eu dans la tuyauterie  je préférais m’abstenir. Bref c’était comme ma porno live, esti que j’en ai appris de elle dans ma vie. Mais autant qu’elle se mettais en danger constamment par ses mensonges a ses parents, par la drogue, par tout les hommes qu’elle chevauchait comme une chatte en chaleur, elle a toujours été ultra maternelle avec moi, des fois ça me gossait royalement mais “we had each others back”  je pouvais et je peux toujours compter sur elle même si elle est à l’autre bout du Canada. Il n’y a aucun sujet que nous ne pouvons aborder, il n’y a jamais eu de sujet tabou.

Après plusieurs années de calme, de maturité et d’avoir trouver son match parfait avec qui elle a partager les 8 dernières années, il est parti avec une autre fille il y a 2 mois environ, parce qu’elle avait “sautée la clôture”, il y a quelques années et le mottons n’avait toujours pas passer de son côté. Bref voilà que je reviens a notre conversation de ce soir. Les derniers mois ont été difficile pour elle, mais elle commence a voir la lumière au bout du tunnel, surtout grâce a son sex appeal hors du commun, tellement que son ex la visite souvent et fait exactement ce qu’il la laissé  pour, il a une blonde, Anyway!!! Ce soir un homme  x la texte elle l’invite chez elle, ils baisent comme des mongoles et il viens deux fois à l’intérieur d’elle, il quite. L’ex la texte pour venir faire son tour, l’autre viens a peine de partir,il dit je peux etre la dans 10 minutes alors il rentre gros french, paf il veut la manger, elle est un peu réticente vu qu’elle a pas pris sa douche, finalement son côté Evil la remporté. En fin de compte vous comprenez que l’ex a surement bouffer une bonne quantité de sperme, a mon avis c’est vraiment juste trop hilarant. A vos yeux c’est peut-être une salope, mais esti que je trouve que c’est juste payback bitch HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Pis ca s’arrête pas la… en fin de semaine passée elle était dans un bar elle était vraiment trop chaude et elle dance et se frotte après un gars commence a le frencher , le bar ferme les lumières se rallument…. c’est le meilleur ami de son ex. Les deux sont sur le choc un peu, mais vu leurs état d’ébriété avancé il se sont ramasser les deux tous nu dans son char et ca la fini en doggy style accoté sur le hood du char, ils ont eu le temps de finir juste avant que le chauffeur de taxi caller 20 minutes au paravent de pointe la face….

Morale de cette histoire 3 queues J vs 0 moi, my sex life sucks

[Kirsten Law, a fantastic writer and also reasonably tolerable person*, sent me this review of the DVD package of My Year Without Sax about 2 weeks ago. Just putting it up today - that's how fast i'm doing things. I've been too busy learning wind instruments. Oh and we previously reviewed this when it was on at the cinemas]. *or is it the other way round?

“I was interested in how we get through our days and whether they are any better or worse for having been examined. About whether our perception of control – or lack of it – makes any difference to our actual control. I was interested in whether we earn our good or bad luck, or whether it’s random. We’ve been told for many years that we earn it, and if we earn it, then we deserve everything, from luxury cars, and upgrades of everything, to complete and constant happiness.” Director’s Statement.

Sarah Watt’s My Year Without Sex subtly explores what it means to be ‘good’. Addressing the inherent problems of nuclear family life, the central narrative event is Natalie (Sacha Horler)’s aneurism. Banned from orgasming lest her brain explode, Natalie and her husband, Ross (Matt Day), take a right hook to their once-active sex life.

What unfolds over the following year is a tragi-comic chain of events that includes the near-death of the family dog, a $25,000 pokies win and a predatory older male propositioning the couple’s son, Louis. Ruby, Natalie and Ross’s daughter, is an 8-year-old ingénue, obsessed with fashion and the spoils of her increasingly gappy gums. Natalie’s friend Margaret (Maude Davey of Summer Heights High fame) is a lovelorn Anglican priest with a drug-addled history. The characters, particularly Ruby and Margaret, are exciting and well-drawn. Watt has a gift for a heightening that adds pith to her adeptly realised narratives.

In the DVD’s accompanying behind-the-scenes documentary, Watt says the film expresses an ‘anti-redemptive’ stance: that beating ourselves up for inconsistent displays of ‘goodness’ is a futile exercise. Far from being a sleight on humanity, Sex celebrates the sufficiency of our mere humanness.

As Matt Day acknowledges, it is Watt’s attention-to-detail that makes the film – there’s some brilliant dialogue and design. The interior of Ross and Natalie’s home is charming: there’s a swear jar and a gallery of colourful children’s artwork.

Perhaps the result of Watt’s background in animation, the film contains some distracting graphics – inter-titles, like chapters, at the beginning of each ‘month’ that the narrative covers. Though these have amusing titles like ‘Doggy Style’ and ‘Missionary Position’, they make the film unnecessarily kitschy. It’s not a masterpiece and, through moments of laughter and tears, the ultimate feeling is one of quiet contemplation instead of enticement to transform. It’s a cute and clever film and better than most recent local – and several recent international – offerings nonetheless.

STOP PRESS! THE DVD INCLUDES A BONUS ATOM STUDY GUIDE CD-ROM. OH, YEAH.

—> Interview with actor Sacha Horler {Here}

—> Interview with Matt Day and director Sarah Watt {Here}

She lays on her side, facing the wall, and he pulls her top leg back over his hip while he enters her. There is something gentle about the rhythm, the shallow penetration. With his other hand, he pushes her hair off of the back of her neck and out of his face.

After a few minutes, he becomes aware that her shoulders are convulsing to a rhythm agnostic to his thrusting. She has ducked her face into the pillow and when he pauses, he can hear her sniffling back tears.

“No, it’s okay,” she quavers. “Keep going.”

Afterwards, he pulls out of her and wraps his arms around her from behind until she has stopped crying.

Sex-Stellungen: Darum lieben Männer die Forscherperspektive

One thing that makes the 21^st century such a good time to be alive is that there’s no sanctioned authority telling you to limit your time doing the horizontal mambo.

In this day and age, you can meet someone of the opposite sex (or even the same sex) at a bar, coffee shop, restaurant, whatever … and a few hours later you both can be lie-down dancing. There’s no medieval ruler over your shoulder threatening your castration if you take a possible mate away from him.

Nowadays if a woman wants to enjoy the company of a man, she can very well go out and enjoy the company of a man … or another woman … or a man and a woman … or four men and five women … or even 12 men and 8 women all at once inside a rainbow-colored Mini Cooper – anything goes – no government approval needed.

Nowadays, if a man wants to go out and hit that stick, he can hit that stick. And people don’t really care any which way from Tuesday whether his preference is for the “stick” or the “gash”.

That’s the beauty of the age in which we live … when it comes to sexual things we hold dear, we’re free to do what we please, because we’re human and we have needs.

For most, sexual needs are life’s Energizer battery. Without sex, much of the inspiration we have to move forward through life would be gone.

Why do people strive to be richer? Why do people strive to mob deep in an Escalade as opposed to an Escort? Because it is way more fun to jackhammer away on supple Cadillac leather than on itchy econo-car mouse-fir cloth.

Why do people strive to vacation in the French Riviera as opposed to “Mosquito Swamp” State Park? Because nobody in their right mind wants critters up their crotch … plus nothing kisses the ass better than the Mediterranean Sun.

Sex is such a vital part of human life, not just for its ability to bring new life into the world, but because it brings new life within us. Sex makes us happy.

So when I see people and organizations that try to get people to turn off their sexual urges, I scratch my head in confusion. Sometimes that confusion leads to my wanting to scratch off my scalp in pure anger.

Here we are living in the era of 21^st century sexual freedom, and then I see books trying to take us back to the 13^th century. I was visiting a friend in Pennsylvania a couple of weeks back and I was quite disturbed by a book I saw on her counter.

There are few things in this world that disturb me, but this book really took the cake – it was entitled, “Every Young Man’s Battle: Strategies for Victory in the Real World of Sexual Temptation (The Every Man Series)”.

With sex being such an integral part of the human experience, I cannot imagine there are people out there encouraging the blockage of sexual feelings and thoughts. It’s as bad as someone writing a book discouraging exhalation, with a bonus section on how to avoid urination.

I just don’t understand how keeping the mind “pure” makes anyone happier. If anything, it would cause psychological damage just like plugging the penis tip during ejaculation causes urinary tract damage. Isn’t it possible that a book like this could cause a level of angst that would make men dangerous to women? There’s also an “Every Woman Series”. I worry that series could cause more young women to get pregnant.

There are not many things in this world that make me red hot, but when you tell the ice cube it’s not allowed to exist in a solid state, you’re just wasting your breath.

Books that say masturbation and sexual thoughts will send you straight to hell are creating an unnecessary a fear in young men and women. When I see people suffering it kills me, especially when the suffering is manufactured from the fundamentalist views of 13^th century-minded authors.

I further question these books’ effectiveness when I read their customer reviews. One Amazon.com customer commenting on Every Young man’s Battle reported the book delves into gritty details of sexual discovery. While that’s enough for me to want to buy a copy and make the pages stick together, I feel sorry for the innocent minds to which this book is targeted. Imagine the look on poor little Bobby’s face when he finds out “doggy style” has nothing to do with Scooby Doo. I’m not saying that’s what’s in the book, but it is a gritty sexual detail.

What it all boils down to is another instance where the peddling of family values backfires in the face of those who are so hell-bent on forcing their beliefs on others. To all you pushy, overbearing, hypocritical bastards: I dedicate my next hard-on to you, and I spooge in your general direction.

Have you ever had someone in your life that seemed to know exactly what you needed even when you didn’t? Not material items, like shoes, even though shoes are always a wonderful gift, but rather the emotional needs that you have; R has become this person in my life. Our connection emotionally, spiritually, and physically runs deep and cannot be denied. We have both tried to deny it at one time or another, tried to hold back our feelings, our wants, our desires for the other, but we couldn’t do it. Now we just are letting life happen to us. Allowing our connection to grow. The result has been has been amazing and translates into powerful emotions, meaningful conversations, and transcendent sex.

Following one of the most difficult days in my life that left me sobbing until my eyes were swollen and my face looked like a punching bag I reached out to R who was a great support through texts, phone calls, and chatting. But I longed for his arms around me, embracing me, as he told me everything would be alright. I didn’t have to wait long for this need to be met and very soon I was in his arms.

He held me as we talked and I vented about the difficulties I was facing. Then he asked me what I wanted to do. I wanted to be alone with him, to be naked with him, to communicate with him using my body. He did not resist. And upon entering the private space he began undressing me as I undressed him.

During the week I had been craving the feel of his cock in my mouth. I could not stop thinking about it and I had texted him a few messages that hinted at this. As a result, HE could not stop thinking about my mouth on this cock either. So before anything else could be done, I dropped to my knees and took his already hard and throbbing cock deep into my mouth. He moaned, closed his eyes, and put his head back as I took his member deep into my mouth again and again. The position of me on my knees in front of him while he stood allowed his cock to hang at the perfect angle so my hands were free to explore other areas of his body.

I cupped his cute ass cheeks giving me great control over his thrusting and we worked in a good rhythm together as his hips thrust against my mouth. He was gentle most of the time with an occasional thrust that allowed his cock to go deeper into my throat. He enjoyed fucking my mouth and throat until he could enjoy no more. He had to make me stop or he would cum and he was not ready to cum just yet. I was happy with this decision as I wanted him to cum inside of me.

He moved me to the counter and dropped to his knees as he buried his face between my legs in my wet, aching pussy. I had not realized how badly I needed this contact. It was not that I didn’t want sex, I ALWAYS want R, always. I just didn’t realize that I had NEEDED it too. This is what he knew I needed.

His tongue licked and caressed my clit again and again until I began to cum. He was fierce in his delivery of this act and I watched as his head moved quickly back and forth. Occasionally he would look up and we would make eye contact, a fierce desire in his eyes. The combination of his tongue and lips on my clit and his fingers deep inside of me, sent me spiralling into additional orgasms until I asked for his cock. He did not make me wait as he thrust inside of me.

Almost immediately the desire to cum overtook me. About this time is when I lost the sense of reality. I began to exist only in the moment. The only sensations I recognized where those that came to me through his touch. I moved my hips to meet his hips, I reached for his face so we could kiss, I started into his eyes that were always watching mine.

We changed positions so that I was leaning over the table and rubbing my clit while he fucked me from behind, again his thrusts and the sensation of his cock combined sent me whirling into orgasm. Every thrust filled me and every inch of my body shook with the pleasure. I moaned loudly, telling him to keep fucking me and how good his cock felt.

He had me climb onto the table so I laid flat on my stomach as he continued to fuck me from behind. The table itself supplied the pressure against my clit and I reached up and grabbed the edge so that my body was stretched out and my legs splayed to the side as he held my thighs. Still completely in the moment as only he and I existed, I moved my ass and hips to match his thrusting and he must have liked how I moved my ass because he commented on it several times encouraging me to keep fucking his cock and to cum.

I flipped over after a while still lying flat on the table, this time holding the edge down near my ass so that he could pound me hard as I placed my legs up onto his shoulders. Then I moved back and he climbed on top of me and fucked me hard on the table. His moaning and pace quickened and I thought for sure he had cum but when he climbed off it was only to change positions again.

I was spent at this point. My body was covered in sweat and my breathing was heavy. The orgasms that I had had were deep, they were so much more than a surface physical orgasm, but a transcendent experience, a way for me to release all of the negative emotions as well as enjoy the positive feelings. I was exhausted and ready for him to come. I got down on my knees and sucked his cock for a while getting him ready to cum once again, then lay on the floor so that he could climb on top of me.

This position, typical missionary, with me wrapping my legs around his ass, tends to break his resolve, and he comes quickly. We had been fucking for probably an hour at this point, so it was time for him to have release as well. I clenched his cock with my tight pussy and urged him to come. He did and the relief and pleasure it gave to him as he exploded deep into my body was evident.

We lay side by side on the floor as we recovered our breathing and his cum dripped out of me. I marveled at this experience as I did not think I would have an orgasm this time, especially not as many (I totally lost count as they continued on and on) as he gave me. Nor did I expect to have transcended into such a marvelous place, a place where I did not remember or think of where we were or my life. The only thing I was aware of was him. The only thing I cared about was him. The only thing I wanted was him. He gave me everything I needed in the moment. It truly was a transcendent experience. I have relived it almost everyday since then and have become wet and aroused each time. Writing about it alone has caused me to soak my underwear and long for our next time together.

My Roots of Feminism class recently read The Myth of Vaginal Orgasm by Anne Koedt, an essay from 1970 that talks about the idealization of vaginal orgasms when the main source of sexual pleasure for women has been proven to be the clitoris. (She goes much more into depth in her essay about how the “myth of vaginal orgasm” came about, if you want to read it.)

In 2009, we seem to have finally recognized the clitoris as the important sexual organ it is. Any Cosmo article will tell you that many women don’t have vaginal orgasms and clitoral stimulation is an important part of sex.  But despite recognizing the important of the clitoris, our basic, standard sex position remains missionary, one of the worst positions for clitoral stimulation!

Perhaps this is why 75% of women have never had an orgasm from sex; they’re going about it all wrong!

Well, people, it’s time to move past missionary and into the land of pleasure. Out with the boring and in with the orgasmic! Below are some new positions to try out that are sure to bring both you and your partner some serious pleasure.

You can thank me later.

69
Oral sex is by far the best source of clitoral stimulation for women, and with 69, both partners (of any gender) are enjoying themselves.

CAT
A modified version of missionary position, the Coital Alignment Technique (CAT) is a position specifically designed to give women clitoral stimulation during sex. From Wikipedia: “The penetrating partner lies above the receiving partner as in the missionary position, but moves upward along the woman’s body, so that the base of the male’s penis provides stimulation to her clitoris. The receiving partner may also wrap her legs around his. Sexual movement is focused in the pelvises, without leverage from the arms or legs. The rocking upward stroke (receiving partner leads) and downward stroke (penetrating partner leads) of sexual movement builds arousal that partners let develop and peak naturally.” Yeah it all sounds sorta technical, but in the end you’ll be happy you put the effort in.

Girl on Top
When you climb aboard you can control the depth and speed of penetration, thus doing what makes you feel best. Plus, his hands are free to offer extra stimulation. Win-win!

Doggy Style With Paws
Doggy style is a great angle for G-spot stimulation. To make it even better for you, ask your man to use his hand (or just grab it and show him) to stimulate your clitoris at the same time.

You, Me, and the Machine
Find a small, easy to grib vibrator and take it to bed with you. I promise you, your partner will enjoy it just as much as you. You won’t be sorry!

What’s your favorite position?

Her body, in the early afternoon light streaming through the hotel window, looks to him like something hewn from alabaster: pure and luminescent and exquisitely crafted. She has already slipped off her dress and thrown it over the back of one of those hard anonymous chairs. She slips her finger under one of the shoulder straps of her merlot-red bra and tilts her face quizzically toward his.

He shakes his head, holding her away with his fingertips resting gently on her elbows. Tasting her with his eyes. He considers in this moment the distance between clothed and naked, how easily it is crossed; how momentous.

She, tired of watching him watch her, grabs his hand and pulls him to the bed behind her. She clambers to her knees and reaches behind her to unzip his pants and wriggle them over his hips. Then she falls forward, bracing herself doggy-style on her hands.

He lingers vertical on his knees for a moment, contemplating her marble-smooth thighs, the backs of which are studded with deep purple bruises.

“Jesus,”  he says, gingerly prodding one with his index finger. “What happened to you? Did someone … hit you or something?”

“Oh, those,” she smiles back over her shoulder. “Don’t mind those. You can leave a few of your own, if you’d like.”

Dearest 75.34.84.200,

I often ask myself if you are psychotic or neurotic.

As much as I wish I could just simply hate you, because it would be so easy, I instead look at you, much the way a dog would cock his head at the sound of a sheer and sudden blow horn.

I wonder why you obsess over this life my body leads, and follow my fingers every move through this cyber-world, as though I were a teenage boy you were lusting after, and you an adolescent girl staring in the mirror, meticulously picking each zit and blackhead until successfully making a red crater where there was no sore at all.

I don’t hate you or even wish you harm.  This is why, someone once told me: Choose your enemies carefully, because they DEFINE you.  I am in you now, and no amount of picking can get me out, and you have made it this way. You bought the kit, congrats.  Only you can disassemble it and put it back in the box.  I even kept the receipt for you.

I would love to sit here and play good-guy bad-guy with you, but I have many things to do this particular evening, and besides, talking to ones very unimpressive and benign stalker over a public blog is usually ill advised for the up and coming, righteous, and mentally well rounded people of the world.

Look, honey.  We all dislike you very, very much.  Some of us tolerate you because we (they) have no choice, and God Bless their sweet little hearts they really TRY to like you!  They even try to talk us into liking you, though we have banned your name at the consequence of not speaking to them anymore.  But they still say how you ask about us.  Oh, Joy, I am so glad you care so deeply.  But we don’t, you see?  This is not because you are a horrible, or dislikable person, which you deep down believe about yourself.  You may be a delightful person with a sharp wit and many wonderful gifts to extend to the world!  But we dislike you because your actions are so detestable, and non-stop, and pointless, and they reek of jealousy and other very unattractive and annoying traits of the middle-aged human.  Not so good, especially without the frequent use of hair-dye and lip injections.

Now, I’d like to point out that once I went onto our family photo/blog sites pretending not to be me, but being, in fact, some lonely person perusing the internet, and I felt awash of anguish and intense jealousy over my own life!  So it’s not that I don’t sympathize with you and all the other 5.999 billion people who happen not to BE me.  I am an exceptionally beautiful person, and your remarks about my narcissism only make me smile and my heart begins rejoicing, profit-taking with the brief satisfaction that yet another person has actually looked at my gorgeous photos and cared enough to comment!  I am a hopeless lover of myself and thyself, and there is nothing you can do about this, and I’ve even heard tell that this is the true sign of an artist, you know, something I am sure you would not/could not understand.

In addition, I have realized along the way that my offspring are fantastically gorgeous, for what little I actually had to do with that, and you should take up your grief over the unfair split in the gene pool with God and not with me.  I am the innocent one, standing here whistling with my hands in my pockets, just watching my life float beautifully and fantastically around me like a snow globe shaken by some magic, unseen hand.  So pretty! I coo as it all washes by….

My husband. Oh, he is so far from perfect that I know it delights you so, as you Lord it over everyone as the very last thing you’ve won, clinging so desperately to this little piece like a dog fighting to the death for the last spoiled rotten scrap.  Well.  You can have it!  You’re right, he’s a dirty rotten nothing!  But.  If only you knew what a savage fuck he is in bed.  I scream without a thought of meretriciousness, not caring about the noise that gushes from these single-paned windows.  And I write this freely for all to see, only blushing because it is so damn good I feel embarrassed to have it at all, like the fatty with the Big Mac leaking oil down their sweaty arms.  If only you knew how he tends to my every whim and argues with me until we are both hoarse, and charms me every day, and is the only person capable of earning and maintaining my deepest level of love, carnality, and intimacy then you would cry that you were not him.

Yes, you would cry because OUR love it not capable of your attempts at forgery or plagiarism, nor can it suffer any definition.  It is troubled and perfect and volatile and delicate as a vase blown from scorching hot glass.   This is all to say: I am not expecting you to understand any of this.  I know for people of your sharp mental caliber I should speak 345 channels of TIVO, I should know the particular dialect of “The Bachelor ” and write with all the upbeat all insightful  felicity of “The Amazing Race”…so here it goes.

I like my man!  Like totally, he is like, amazing.  This kicks butt!  Cause you know its like hard to find someone you can talk to and I can.  With him we talk, like, a lot.  He’s freakin’ awesome!

Get it?

My finances, my house, the town I live in, my political moods, religious beliefs, and my friends.  I have a raging case of herpes that I am heavily medicated for.  They burn and cause huge sores all over my crotch.  I hope that gives you enough ammunition to leave aside these other, previously mentioned details that you have so aggressively fondled that they’ve cried aloud: molestation!!!  They are but gentle little things, you know, stuff I have accumulated in my head as true and factual about the world, and if you disturb and clutch them so, with such rage and animosity, they easily rash and hive.  If I ever find myself starving, living out of a box, peerless, rejected, republican, or penniless I swear I will write you a postcard!  For this you have my last, dying, parch lipped word.  Until then I think the herpes makes a much better tale anyhow that people will take much more pleasure in.  Besides, not all of us have fathers who subsidize our lives with under the table financial assistance.  “SOME PEOPLE” have to stand in a food-stamp line, like those filthy rotten Mexicans!  Those lice infested African Americans!  Those pesky in-laws…  Well in a world of 6 billion there is always someone to dislike!  You just have to make the choice, the way we have, to agree to dislike a few handfuls of them and move along, like after rubbernecking a traffic accident, you must keep your foot on the gas.

If I really wanted to hurt you, there are so many things I could say.  I could call you out and give your name and number to odd people, like writing a number with lipstick on a dorm room or subway wall.  But see, I’ve chosen my handful of people to dislike, you didn’t even make the cut, so you fall in the fair-to-middlin mediocre slot, and so I will not name name you and no one should ever know whom I am ranting about, but they will be distracted about the herpes thing and so you will, once again, get overshadowed.

Ah, I am tired now and have work still to do, like finish alphabetizing my collection of bestiality videos.  So,  I will close by saying, you can be the winner!

Hey, if it means that I will never have to see your IP address on my trackers, my friends trackers, my professional trackers, then L@@K.  You won!  You are more beautiful!  You are younger!  You are wittier and better at everything!  You are more likable by the entire family unit.  Have WAY more friends than I could ever imagine of during my wettest social networking dream.  You are rich and responsible and your house is Martha Stewart breathtaking, superior with every brick and block.  We all hate every little thing about your life because it is everything we will never ever have because we are on welfare and have herpes and various other mental illnesses, even though we are proud of each of them as though they were our children.  Don’t take this from us, damnit!!!

And speaking of children yours are so much smarter!  And way better looking, taller, with straighter teeth, better marriage prospects (church wedding more likely!), with far superior education and employment opportunities, social responsible, pillar(s) of the community, type A youguns, type O blood, who better represent the family gene-pool, make better athletes, score higher on SAT’s, let’s agree they are better mannered in general, do not have flatulence on regular occasion, never curse the Lord, follow perfect rules, how do you get their hair to part so perfectly, how do you get the photos so pristine, how do you keep their faces (and noses) so clean and make them swear virginity forever more?  If only I could know these tidy little secrets of yours I could sleep one night on my left shoulder the whole night through without tossing and turning so hopelessly in envy of your grey-blond hair, pink Mervyn’s pressed blouse, and shit-eating grin.

For now I will so hopelessly remain here, on my side of the world doing the things I do best, you know, snorting crack, abusing elderly people, living off the government etc etc.  Managing herpes is a full time job, I’ll have you know.

So, this is the last I will say to you, or acknowledge you in any way, you poor sweet doll.  Looking at my sites for an accumulated 2 hours a week (and once 5 hours in a sitting) isn’t doing anyone a lick of good.  Well, it is annoying us, so you’ve got me there…clever!  And if you think any of this is untrue, just look.  Who is reading this right now?  Who’s IP is on your trackers?  That’s what I thought.  Now run along and check my spelling, God knows you are good at it! Special gifts, see??? 

PS: You are not as detestable as your children and neighbors say you are, you only act that way!  If you could smile every now and then and say thank you and really congratulate someone on some wonderful thing they’ve done then you wouldn’t really even look so bad.  Think it over.  Just some advice from someone you seem to deeply admire.

PPS: You know that you have made God in your image when it turns out that he hates all the same people you do.

PPPS: Jesus loves you!

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Men sånt här orkar jag sannerligen alltid med. Det finns det alltid plats för i mitt hjärta. Rakt, ärligt, naket.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_9MI2ymN6s

Jag kommer ihåg när de kommersiella kanalerna gjorde sitt intåg på frekvens band tidigare unheard of. Det var lite som den första glödlampan, hjulet, doggy style och Jesus – på samma gång! Spännande tider!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEgbW1FxR78

Men det blev aldrig bättre än såhär. Tyvärr. Idag har vi Bandit rock, när jag gick i grundskolan bevittnade jag det obehagliga paradigmskiftet NRJ hit radio -> Power hit vafandå? Det var jobbigt. Ruskigt jobbigt. Och så saknar jag Voxpop och Thomas Gylling. Men varför var alla programledare sånär som på en så förbannat dåliga i Voxpop?!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kv6Ewqx3PMs

MayPesbuk - Apa gerangan yang sedang dipikirkan oleh pemain Rugby ini? Apakah mereka sudah tidak tahan lagi, hingga ber-doggy style ria di lapangan?