Hi. You probably know me as hellohahanarf from my years of commenting around the world wide internetz, yet never having a blog. Well my friends, that has changed. Welcome to MY site.
I love me some Bug Eyed Earl. The man is funny and smart and all around fucking cool. He has asked me a few questions with strict instructions that I post the answers here and then below offer to ask you questions. So, without further adieu, here goes…
1. I know you were an active commenter on blogs before you started one of your own, and once you did you seemed to have more fun with your blog life than just about anyone I can think of. What’s your secret?
It’s new! Ha! (Sorry, there is no secret. I’m one of those people who genuinely love life and find it way cool to share some of my stories with anyone who stumbles over here. And honestly, the supportive and kind comments or emails that I receive truly bring me joy. I love knowing that there are such phenomenal people out here in the Internet. This blog and all of you guys make me happy. When it stops being fun I’ll stop posting.)
2. The only film I can think of off the top of my head that was filmed in Pittsburgh is Striking Distance. Did it accurately portray life on the Three Rivers? Is there really that much of a police presence on the waterways?
First, there are a ton of films that were filmed here. (Dogma, Zach and Miri Film a Porno, Inspector Gadget, Silence of the Lambs, Mothman Prophecies, Kingpin, Sudden Death, Flashdance, Night of the Living Dead, Wonder Boys, Boys on the Side, Like Bread My Sweet, Dominick and Eugene, etc. Don’t get me wrong, I love Bruce Willis and Striking Distance, but c’mon! DOGMA!) Second, no, Striking Distance wasn’t as accurate as it could have been. We do have cops in boats, though. (Also? Michael Keaton is from Pittsburgh…that has to count for something even if Batman wasn’t filmed here.)
3. You say you do a happy girl wiggle when you are happy. Care to prove it?
Anyone who knows me has seen the wiggle. Imagine a puppy with a happy tail that shakes their entire body. Now you know the happy girl wiggle.
4. Being an Eagles fan, you probably know how I feel about your Steelers. But you probably don’t know that the Pitt Panthers have always been among my favorite college football and hoops teams. Since I know he was born there and went to school there I have to ask if you have ever met one of my man crushes, Dan Marino. If not, then who is the biggest Pittsburgh celebrity you have met?
Fucking hate the Eagles. Like capital H and A. HAte. I’m trying to get past the fact that you are an Eagles fan long enough to answer your actual question. Ok, deep breath.
Yes, I have met Danny Marino. He went to school with my oldest ex step brother. Although he wouldn’t know me from a can of paint today. At a few events I have been introduced, along with a kerjillion other people, to him and he was incredibly patient as well as pleasant and sociable. Gotta tell you though, during a Penguins playoff game last season he was on the elevator when Donnie Van Donnie (regular commenter here) started pointing and hollering “DAN MARINO! DAN MARINO!” Poor DAN MARINO! was scared.
I’ll be honest, I consider Mr. Rogers to be the “Biggest” Pittsburgh celebrity that I have met. I mean, every kid in the damn country knows who Mr. Rogers is/was. I miss him. And now I am sad. Can we go back to me being pissed that you don’t bleed Black and Gold? Or how about we talk Pitt basketball being named #1?
5. Love your HNT feature. You seem very outgoing in posting pics of yourself on your blog, but with your assets what’s not to be proud of? Have you ever regretted anything that you have posted? Maybe a co-worker or family member saw a little more of you than you really wanted, or are you really this fucking cool?
A few family members know about my site. Plenty of friends know about Midnight Cliff. Several coworkers do. Hell, even a few customers and vendors stop by here regularly.
I mean, in person I tend to speak my mind and try to live my life with no regrets. All I am is where I have been. So the true answer is absolutely no regrets. I’ve had fun with HNT. After a solid year of HNT it will probably end, but until then I’m enjoying it. Especially because I have so many people who guest post or want to participate. Cracks me up. There was only one time when I thought of HNT as a “bad” thing…a friend that I met through blogging mentioned how much she hates Thursdays because she can’t necessarily visit blogs she otherwise likes. She made me pause and think about it from her point of view. Not everyone wants to see boobs and butts and feet every week. We talked a little about it and she just steers clear on Thursdays if she remembers or doesn’t want to see what I have posted. Neat part is she was very adamant that this is my site and I should do whatever the hell I want. Totally terrific of her.
Damn, I sure can ramble.
ANYhow, thanks to the fantastic Earl for taking the time to Interview me. I’m happy to return the favor to anyone who is interested. Granted, I doubt my questions will be as good as Earl’s, but we shall see, eh?
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
Maker’s Mark (my redheaded boyfriend) sent me terrific news. My bourbon is just about ready. (squee!) Has it really been seven years already? Wow.
I accidentally took the CD that Mark sent me to work so I don’t have many details, but according to the Embassy section of their website, my barrel should be ready to go in the Fall of 2009. Seems they will host a party for those who want to go to the distillery and buy bottles of bourbon from their batch. You so know my ass will be there. Might even have bells on.
The amazing folks at Maker’s Mark let me know that I can purchase a replica of the barrel plate if I want. Problem is I included my ex boyfriend’s name on the plate with my own. How about they thought of everything…I can actually have them change what is written when I order a “replica” plate. So my question to all of you is whether or not I should order the barrel plate as it was originally written or if I should simply have them put my name alone on the plate…
(The two photos on this post were from the first visit to the distillery that I had with the ex. It was a good trip…the distillery was all decked out for Christmas. Way cool. And as you can see in the one photo, the owner of the company was signing special bottles. I still have mine. Hell, I have about 20 collectible bottles about now, but the Christmas bottle that year was way cool. Hehe, I am even wearing my Ambassador pin in these photos. Too funny. I am such a dork!)
The 30th I leave for Orlando. I seriously have no idea what I am going to be for Adam’s Halloween party. It is already the 13th. Yep, I still need a costume. One that is not terribly hot coz the temps in Orlando are by no means chilly and one that doesn’t make me look like a whore coz I don’t wanna go that route. I don’t feel the need to stick to the party’s theme, but I do need a costume.
My little cousin, she comments here as Sarah or Quirky Sarah, actually made the costume in the above picture. I wore it a few years ago. This photo was taken at her mom’s house when I first tried it on. The Renaissance costume was loved by me enough that I wore it for a few years. I just think it would be too hot for a Florida party.
So, ummm, help? Any neat ideas for a costume that will travel well? At this point I am considering cutting two holes in a sheet and calling myself a ghost.
So the Olympics are done. I barely watched them, but what I did manage to see was pretty damn amazing. We have such tremendous athletic talent in this country. I do buy into the patriotic everything that I get fed and watching these kids succeed could easily make me swell with USA pride.
What I saw of the closing ceremony was incredible. The months of practice paid off. My Mudder would have loved the show. And the way the announcers kept talking about how wonderful the people of Beijing were to the foreign athletes and tourists would have thrilled her.
Mom always loved China and would defend their culture when I would bitch that too much of our products were made in China. “Buy American!” was always met with her somehow turning the conversation to the wonderful people of China and not politics.
It should have come as no surprise when Mom announced that she was going on a AAA trip to China. In January. She was over 60 and I was terrified for her safety in the middle of winter. IN! CHINA! When I started asking questions about the trip halfway around the fucking world that she stumbled upon in the Triple A newspaper thingy, she had all of the answers, including that she had just bought a floor length down coat with a (fake!) fur trimmed hood to keep her warm.
My favorite volley? “Well, just who do you plan on going to China with?” “19 friends I haven’t met yet.”
I am so my mother’s daughter, no matter how I try to fight it.
This is most likely an oldie that I hadn’t seen before, and it is so wrong, yet it really hit my funny bone. Yep, I recognize that I was in the mood to laugh. And that Mom, the former nun, would have cracked up at this…
While shopping in a food store, two nuns happened to pass by the beer section.
One asked the other if she would like a beer.
The second nun answered that, indeed, it would be very nice to have one, but that she wouldn’t feel comfortable about buying it.
The first nun replied that she could handle that without a problem.
She picked up a six-pack and took it to the cashier.
The cashier had a surprised look on his face, so the nun said, ‘We use beer for washing our hair; a sort of shampoo, if you will.’
Without blinking an eye, the cashier reached under the counter, pulled out a package of pretzels and placed them in the bag with the beer. He then looked the nun straight in the eye, smiled, and said, ‘The curlers are on the house.’
This blogging thing is pretty damn amazing. I have been fortunate enough to “meet” folks from all over the country and even a few outside of the USA. Really interesting people with so much to share…knowledge, support, encouragement, kindness and more. TequilaCon and BrittCon even provided me with the opportunity to put skin on some of these new friends. While I have never had a problem meeting people and making friends, my life is better because of the new Internet people in it. Whether they open their homes and share their kids with me, drop me an email when I am having a bad day, offer me a porch for sipping margaritas or send me a coupon for shopping, these new friends touch my life every bit as much as the friends I have here in Pittsburgh.
Back in the fall of 2007, close to the beginning of Shreve’s Daily Coyote, I happened upon a link to the site and immediately fell in love. I purchased a calendar and several prints, plus joined the email list. Just fell in love with the photography, the writing and the subjects.
The other day Shreve, via Twitter, sent out a message that her grandmother had started a blog. Her grandmother who just so happens to be 90 years old. She is quite the pistol. And I am in love.
If you never got the chance to sit with your grandparents and hear the story of when they first arrived in the United States, if you love history, if you enjoy catching blogs from their inception, do yourself a favor and head to Shreve’s Gram’s site. To date there are less than 15 easy reading posts up and they are so well worth the time. She certainly has me wanting more.
Sven is the first half of my maiden name and Sto is the first half of my married name. Voila, a mysterious foreign sounding name was just what I had searched for.
Earlier I had a wonderful conversation with UMB. He is the boyfriend of my phenomenal Jester, who you may know as my bloggy godfather and UMB just started his own blog (finally!). Turns out he is studying to be a tattoo artist! (It is easy to tell from his awesome artwork which appears in the header of his blog.) UMB is a gorgeous, kind and talented artist who is finally going to put the tattoo I have been longing for on paper. Wahoo! It will be so exciting to see what I have dreamed of for over half of my life leap from my brain to paper.
ANYhow, we were talking about specifics of the pinup mermaid that I desire when I started thinking of the piece I will get next. I mean, I absolutely love my Strong Woman tattoo. She was the perfect design at the perfect time and will always be something that brings me joy. For a girl who was adamant that I would never be inked, it still surprises me how thrilled I am to have my Strong Woman on my shoulder.
Problem is, what everyone told me, about feeling unbalanced and one not being enough, was immediately true…I do want another one. There is a feeling of unbalance that I was warned of, but of course I knew it all and never anticipated that those with multiple tattoos might possibly be right.
Obviously I am not headed to get marked permanently without being wholeheartedly certain of the design, but I already have it narrowed down to several possibilities.
If it isn’t my mermaid, it would be something from my favorite book of all time, The Little Prince. The book is so special to me that for years, even though I owned several paperback copies, I would tell my mom, “I don’t care what you do with your things in 20 + years when you die, but please put that 1971 anniversary edition of “my” book in your will for me. I love that book more than is probably healthy.” Although it is officially a children’s book, it is dear to so many aspects of my life. Any of the simple images from the book would make me happy to see on me, although I am even considering simply inking words as opposed to pictures. EDITED TO ADD: If you haven’t read the book and plan on it, do NOT, and I should repeat the NOT, do not read any of the new translations. They simply aren’t as good. A word here and there most certainly makes a difference. Find a copy translated by Katherine Woods. Or go HERE. Thanks.
The other day I was checking out Ginabanina‘s site (where I hardly ever comment because I am a slacker) when I came across her link to a tattoo site that had a photo of a Theodore Isaac Rubin quote tattoo. It was rather well done so I started clicking around. One of the categories was “Books” so I went for it. Imagine my surprise to find several pieces based on my book. Yeah, it shouldn’t have been a surprise since the site blatantly said “Literary Tattoos” at the top, but I wasn’t looking at the header. ANYhow, here are a few of the pieces I viewed:
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye. ” – from Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince) by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Wow. Part of me feels vindicated that if others want what I want then somehow that makes it alright, yet another part of me hates that someone else might have the same image that I desire.
Then again, the other image that I have been seriously considering is something that I saw on someone else, somewhere on the big bad internet. Wish I could remember where I saw this guy…probably had something to do with HNT postings. On his right inner hip area he has the happiest simple tattoo that I have ever seen and I fell in love with it instantly, especially because I will often throw my arms in the air and holler “Wheeeeee!”
Once I decide on the design, then I get to agonize over placement.
The other day I mentioned that there are lots of times I want to stay home once I get back to my house. Thursday evening was not one of those times. On the way home from work I called my aunt (Tinkle Twat Tom Tom) who lives in my neighborhood. Turns out she was looking for an excuse to not be home and just so happened to be craving a mojito. What a coincidence…I was thirsty! Bring on Mojito Madness!
We headed to Bahama Breeze and had a wonderful night of drinks, food, laughter and drinks. But I was plagued by a song that I couldn’t get out of my head. A song from a damn commercial! A song with a dance that I struggled from shaking my butt to! (This is why I am in marketing and sales. Because marketing so works on me.)
Speaking of marketing working on me, I am about to admit something that I really shouldn’t admit. I love infomercials. We are talking love people. LOVE! I drooled over the personal, versatile counter top magician for like fucking ever until I finally got it for Christmas. I bought mineral makeup that I never wore. Proactive looked fantastic so I bought it and never opened the box. My Miracle Blade knives, with the block holder thingy, made me so happy that years later I bought the Miracle Blade Series III knives. (I do so love them.) It is pretty safe to say that I appreciate a good infomercial. Especially if I have been drinking. No spray on hair crap, but really usable products with a good pitch get me every time.
Which reminds me of my family’s favorite Becky and Alcohol Don’t Mix With Infomercials story. I was maybe 20 or 21 and living in my first real apartment, on my own. Working the alcoholic shift (3 to midnight) at a private club would permit me to be at my neighborhood bar well before 12:30. Slamming two double tequila sunrises and a shot of tequila as soon as I walked in the door helped me catch up to those who had been there for a bit. We would drink until the sun came up, then the bartender would drive our drunk asses home. A few times I was wide awake and would start flipping through the channels instead of passing the hell out. One night I stopped flipping channels to watch the most amazing advertisement for automobile touch up paint. This stuff was magic in a bottle! Big or little scratches vanished and the car didn’t look like it had been dinged, nicked or scratched at all. The product was so incredible that I can’t even remember what the “BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE” special was. All I knew was that paint was magic and I had to have it. So I called the toll free number.
Them: “Thank you for calling! May I take your order?!”
Me: “I absssolootley wanna placccccce an order. Yep.”
Them: “How many bottles would you like this morning.”
Me: “Mmmmmm. One. Yeah, that ssssshhhould be nuff.”
Them: “One it is. What color would you like to order this morning?”
Me: “Quit saying mornin. Shhhhhhhhhhhh.”
Them: “I’m sorry?”
Me: “Don’t be sorry, just quit frikken sayin mornin. I don’t wanna reminder.”
Them: “Ummmmm, ok. So. Ummm. Which color should I put you down for?”
Me: “…”
Them: “Ma’am? We need to know which color you would like us to send.”
Me: “Sheesh, what colors do you have?”
Them: “Just about anything you need. What color is your car?”
Me: “Oh. I don’t have a car. What color do you think I should buy?”
Them: “…”
Don’t you know those fuckers wouldn’t sell me car touch up paint? Who knew?
P.S. In case you were wondering what the song was that bounced around in my head all night, here is my mojito song…
For as long as I can remember, I have loved just about all things sexual. Any time, any place. His hand or my own. Watching others on video or live. And print. Oh, how I love the photos.
Certainly I never thought I was some sexual pervert or nymphomaniac. Although listening to a good friend tell how she never fantasizes about anyone other than her husband, how she has never masturbated, how she is only aroused with a partner…well, it got me to wondering if there was something wrong with me because our views were so drastically different.
Don’t get me wrong, I love that Britt is so firm in her beliefs and feelings, even if they don’t mirror my own. I love that Adam can say so many things that I consider over the top. Especially when they talk porn! (Should you need the show page, you can find it HERE. And somehow they manage to stay on topic! If you aren’t listening to “Clearly You’re Retarded” you are missing out.)
Then Hilly wrote before speaking. And all was right with the world. Because she spoke for me as though she was my clone or she could hear my thoughts.
The record should show that when it comes to sex I don’t need validation from friends. Yet for some reason Wednesday evening I loved reading what Hilly had to say on the topic of porn specifically and sex in general.
If there was ever a day for girl blog crushing, today would be that day for me. Hilly is so outspoken about so many things, which I have always loved. That topic though? I am the tree, she is the Lorax. And she speaks for me. It is so nice not to have to waive my freak flag for once. Waive it high, Hilly!
I am addicted to blogging and to all of you. That isn’t a big surprise. The thing that shocked me was when my cousin Sarah, who has had me ask you guys about songs for her wedding, turned to me Friday night and asked me to take a major decision in her life to my friends on the internet. She giggled and told me to ask you, the internet, to name her baby.
BABY!! Squeeee!!!
My youngest cousin is going to have a baby around Christmas. Her new husband gave her a short last name that starts with an M and ends with an A so Sarah doesn’t want a first name that ends in a vowel (dammit, I had hoped that Rebecca would be in the running!). We don’t yet know if the baby will be a boy or a girl because Sarah wants to wait for Matt to return from the Marines to go for another sonogram, but she asked me to take her search for a baby name to the Internet.
Which I have now officially done. Internet, please leave your suggestions in the comments!
But here is the part that cracks me up. I come to you all with my thoughts and needs because blogging has been pretty damn therapeutic for me. And now my family and friends are coming to you for opinions also. How fucking awesome is that? I love that they recognize how much wisdom and advice (or as Adam says, Assvice) is available. Because I saw it immediately. I am thankful for this site. And very thankful for all of you.
P.S. My favorite name so far is for a baby girl. Madeline. We can call her Maddie. Respectful to Dad Matt, yet beautiful in its own right. Since our family often makes baby girls, I have a pretty good chance of having my name in the running!
Craig’s List kinda scares me so I don’t go there, not even if I need a new lawnmower. I do, however, have a friend who is often over there, giggling at the shit people post and being amazed at the XXX photos. While surfing the world wide interwebz a while ago, I stumbled across a link to a woman’s Craig’s List post. Found myself smiling in appreciation and agreement. Even laughed out loud at the “fucking a ninja” part (loved #5!).
So I figured I would share…
Just fucking fuck me, already.
Reply to:
Date: 2008-02-03, 3:29PM
Dear Men of Craigslist,
Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.
But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We’ve done dinner and drinks. We’ve gone dancing. We’ve cuddled and watched a movie. I’m wearing a low cut shirt and you’ve been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.
When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I’m not going to just lie still – I’ll get involved. But don’t make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We’ve been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That’s nice, but it’s time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don’t make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I’m practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won’t go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don’t gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It’s not what WE want.
OK, I know it’s scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don’t think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:
1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like “I’m sorry – you just look so fucking delicious. I’ll go slower.” Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you’re both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it’s not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU’RE the man. Act like one.
2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It’s different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you’re trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don’t know what to do, ask her. Just ask. “How do you like it?”. It’s a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she’s being all coy, ask “Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?” The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.
3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to “make love” every time – sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it’s not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you’re mixing a cake batter up there. It’s because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don’t be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes – I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.
4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her (“Really? Spanking? Won’t it hurt?” – yes, it does. That’s the fucking point). We know you’ve read Stuff and Maxim, and that’s all those laddie mags talk about in their “How to Please Her” sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don’t have to bend her over one knee and tell her she’s a naughty girl and that Daddy’s going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don’t worry about breaking her hip.
5. It’s OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you’re banging a woman, and she’s crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can’t even manage a grunt, she’s going to feel like an idiot. You don’t have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes “Ah!”, half grunt, half yell? That’s HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you’re in missionary position. You don’t have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she’s going to get worried.
6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you’d like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, “I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot.” Is she still moaning in response? “Your tits are so beautiful.” Does that work? If she doesn’t respond well to the term “tits”, you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:
“Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight.”
“You’re so wet – are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?”
“I think I’m going to come inside you. I’m going to fill up your little cunt.” It doesn’t matter that you’re wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.
If all of those work, you can then progress to things like “sexy little bitch” and “dirty whore”. Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.
6. You’re not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she’s not obligated to choke on your dick. Don’t skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush – you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.
7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don’t want to be preggers, and you don’t want to catch anything, right? Don’t whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can’t come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we’re satisfied and it’s time for you to let loose your load.
8. We really like it when you come. It’s called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don’t assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there’s no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. “I think I’m going to come – how do you like it?” is a fair question that shouldn’t rob you of your testicles.
In recent memory, I’ve been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I’ve been… well, fucked is the wrong term here. I’ve been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I’m ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that’s who.
*New point of clarification – some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don’t mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don’t like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you’re in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don’t be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don’t ever do something you don’t want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.
* Location: Seattle
* it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Original URL: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sea/561877622.html
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Have you ever regretted anything that you have posted? Maybe a co-worker or family member saw a little more of you than you really wanted, or are you really this fucking cool?
