I know. You thought you’d heard it all from me. Between the open discussions on porn and the occasional need to send the smut police over here, you didn’t think I could go any lower.
Brace yourself, Ethel. We’re getting down on our knees today.
Every now and again, I check out where my blog traffic is coming from. This week, I found myself on a Tesco search engine. Someone in Sweden dropped by after a google search for “head struck pavement” (shut up Stuart). Curiously, someone in Ontario got here after a search for “questions most likely asked in a safety job interview with the British Columbia.” I’m not even sure what that means, and I have no clue how it links to Sandrablabber.
Slightly more relevant was the hit from the Republic of Korea, after googling “made by oops.” Sounds about right.
Most notable? From South Africa:
“I am horney I want to be fucked without registering.”
Now, as I’ve already explained, I only fuck the registered. So something went awry with that google search.
I also discovered traffic from The Lipstick Chronicles. I was intrigued, so I went to check it out. Take a look for yourselves. Part of my post one day, about the husband getting a promised blow job, was referenced in the comments by Cornelia Read.
But it gets better. Read the post. Oh my. Oh oh… well, what can I say? I never tricked evilkev into marriage with spontaneous blow jobs in public places.
Now, Cornelia posed the question, “In the interest of fair play, what are the monuments that suggest interludes of reciprocity on the oral sex front? Grand Canyon?” And really, there was no answer.
So, what would be the monuments that would inspire a man to drop to his knees and, well, satisfy his woman?
Now, this blog is read by a lot of men, so I’ll be very disappointed if none of them toss out a thought or two. I can’t speak from personal experience, because I’m a prude. Growing up I thought there was one kind of sex: dirty. And I never saw the need to involve a woman in digital sex when a man’s arms are plenty long enough.
But for some reason, Cornelia, I’ve got the Irish Sea in my head, and I don’t know why…
Now, not only are we to think of what prompts spontaneous oral sex, but we must consider the new science. Yes, courtesy of Russel (via agent Phil) I am now up to speed on the new technique of predicting the future by feeling a woman’s mammaries. “The novel tells the story of Dr.Schwartzball, inventor of the science of mammarology. As a phrenologist tells the future by feeling heads so Schwartzball makes his predictions by feeling mammaries. From his Parisian chambers he achieves immense popularity amongst a select female clientel…”
Oh, yeah, I bet he’s popular. He’s had plenty of experience refining his technique.
Some guy comes up to me and wants to predict the future by feeling my mammaries, I can tell him what I see in the future without him doing a thing. It involves my foot impacting his crotch, and I hope I’m wearing something steel-toed for a change.
What would a Friday be without something to smile about?
So, whether you muster up the courage to discuss oral sex, or your insights on the mammalogist, whatever you do this weekend, I do have some advice for you. What not to say during moments of intimacy.
1. Are you trying to be funny?
2. Oh my Lord in Heaven, please forgive me for this vile sin I am about to
3. Remember.... I don't want to get involved.
4. Have you gained some weight?
5. Whoops -- sorry!
6. SHAME on you!
7. Hup, two, three four....
8. Oh Leroy ... I mean ... (insert his name here)
9. Careful! Don't muss my hair!
10. **RING RING (phone)** What? Oh nothing, what about you?
11. Woman: I love you! Man: Let's not spoil it, okay? (or vice versa)
12. You done yet?
13. I forgot to tell you. I'm leaving for Alaska tomorrow.
Foot in mouth, or something else?
This had most of the state of Michigan laughing for 2 days and a very
embarrassed female news anchor who will, in the future, likely think before
she speaks. What happens when you predict snow but don't get any....a true
We had a female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to
have snowed and didn't, turned to the weatherman on live TV and asked: "So Bob, where's that 8 inches you promised me last night?”
Q.What do you call a virgin on a waterbed?
A: A cherry float.
Q: What's the fluid capacity of Monica Lewinsky's mouth?
A: 1 US leader
Q: What did the sign on the door of the whorehouse say?
A: Beat it - we're closed.
Q: Why do walruses go to Tupperware parties?
A: To find a tight seal.
Q: What's the difference between sin and shame?
A: It is a sin to put it in, but it's a shame to pull it out.
Q: What's the speed limit of sex?
A: 68; at 69 you have to turn around.
Q: Why did Raggedy Ann get thrown out of the toy box?
A: She kept sitting on Pinocchio's face, and moaning, "Lie to me!"
Q: Why is air a lot like sex?
A: Because it's no big deal unless you're not getting any.
Q: What's another name for pickled bread?
Q: Why are Monica Lewinsky's cheeks so puffy?
A: She's withholding evidence.
Q: What's the difference between light and hard?!
A: You can sleep with a light on.
Q: Why is sex like a bridge game?
A: You don't need a partner if you have a good hand.
Q: What's the definition of macho?
A: Jogging home from your own vasectomy.
Q: What do a Christmas tree and a priest have in common?
A: Their balls are just for decoration.
Have a good weekend everybody. Don’t forget: if you’re as old as Boy Kim, use a cushion. Hardwood and pavement is hell on the knees.