Monthly Archives: October 2007

Hallowe’en Rubber lust Soprano Back

rubber one rubber two
rubber three rubber four - self portrait

Close-ups of my talced dress

I’ve done the Hallowe’en thing already but I am nursing a great desire to wear the rubber dress again; it’s currently hanging from the back of my wardrobe door where I stare at it longingly every now and then. I want to put it on and shine myself up and run my hands over it and go display my self eee eee eeee.

Maybe I can wear it to my cousin’s wedding. The relatives would LOVE IT.

In other news, I have finished Season One of the Sopranos and my back is rather sore. W00t.

Violet Blue – NSFW Open Source Sex # 60 – Hot Hallowe’en erotica


Better and Worse


Saturday I met up with Leia Ewok Village for Hallow e’en hijinks at our favourite pretentious cocktail bar; I was dressed in NSFW my new rubber dress (heh, less boobs than the model) and my cat mask with my crush-your-nuts boots and lots of heavy make up. It was fucking awesome to squeeze into my dress and then spray myself with the silicone spray- Watching the now smooth black surface of my body become super shiny was really exciting. I am definitely a rubber convert!

Anyway, I thought I was looking pretty good- To my surprise Leia was not dressed up spooky BUT she was wearing a pair of the fabulous red platforms that I waxed lyrical over a few weeks back. Truly shoes to worship. So we were amongst the first to arrive but complimentary champagne helped us out and at least we had somewhere to rest our stupidly shod feet.

The place started to fill up; we talked about our boring lives and how this year has kinda sucked. I said I wasn’t depressed and that my life could be a lot worse but at the same time it wasn’t that great. We eventually got onto the subject of MW#1 and then I don’t know what happened, I just dissolved; It was really embarrassing for me but Leia was patient and offered me copious tissues. She had not realised that we don’t see each other as often any more and was really surprised to hear that he goes months without seeing me, and that he only invites me over to watch wrestling.

The whole conversation started when I said that for years I used to rely on MW#1 for entertainment and that my life socially sucks in part due to this- My other male friends have all moved away, he used to take me out for drinks and conversation and fun but no more. I just lost it whilst taking about this, and I had to peel up my mask so I could mop up my copious tears- I couldn’t stop for fifteen minutes. Ugh.

Leia mentioned that MW#1 went out for dinner recently with a deeply, deeply flawed mutual acquaintance of ours but I was already feeling so sad that this didn’t have any impact upon me; Leia just commented on how he can find the time to meet up with someone like her and not someone like me (me and MW#1 haven’t been out for dinner in nearly a year). It’s like amongst all the emotional shit that’s happened, he’s stopped being any sort of friend to me.

I talked about how I have a strong sense of my worth but that means accepting that I am going to be alone for a long time and that things will be difficult and that that thought is difficult to deal with sometimes. I then talked about how my self worth might be high but my self esteem is still pretty low- I’m now so cynical and hardened because of what i’ve been through and because I have a hard time believing anyone is going to take a sober interest in me, even though I think I am a catch so to speak.

Things progressing in a similar manner to what’s currently going on mean that me and MW#1’s friendship is going to come to an end shortly. Never mind not being with him- I just cannot take him dipping in and out of my life whenever he chooses, him complimenting me and telling me what about me turns him on and then not even bothering to see me for months, let alone follow up on what we’ve discussed, how we never do anything except watch TV.

So over the next couple of months I face losing one of my most important friendships, years of companionship that have been fucked up and pissed away through no fault of my own. It hurts me deeply.

So eventually after analysing MW#1 for a while and talking through things with Leia Ewok Village I managed to stop crying and managed to save my eye make up; cocktails helped brighten the mood and soon things were back on track. I finally took my coat off and dazzled the patrons and got into an argument with a accountant on the value of education and whether it’s simply a business. I scared him pretty well ha ha.

We then hobbled off to the local dive bar and met up with the previously mentioned deeply flawed woman, a couple more drinks and a taxi back to mine and me and Leia were eating delicious Kebabish mmmmmmmmmmmmm… It was after 4am by the time I hit the hay- A proper night out.

It was a really good evening- Fucked up with parts spent feeling terribly bleak about things but also filled with laughter and wonderful companionship. Hooray.
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Queen and Country

So on Friday I took myself and my pirate boots into the Big Smoke for a change of scene. Once at Paddington I stood in front of the tube map for two minutes before deciding where I should go and what I should do; I finally decided to take myself to feed myself first and start at Tate Modern for lunch in the cafe.

Recently I’ve not been getting very much pleasure from eating. I can’t seem to choose things that satisfy me, the fridge, store cupboard and freezer are uninspiring and it takes me a long time to choose what to eat, before I give up and have pasta again. Even steak and chips has lost it’s appeal. Yes, it’s that bad. I’ve been raiding Caversham Princess’s extensive cookbook collection for inspiration. Anyway, I decided on the Tate because i’ve had many a good meal there and the environment is pretty interesting.

I decided to take the scenic route and make my way there on the bus from Waterloo; I enjoyed the small challenge of perusing the maps and working out where I needed to go. I then got on the right bus… that was going the wrong way. Ahem. So I got back on in the opposite direction and the bendy bus slowly snaked it’s way along the river; I got to see the interestingness of the South Bank and lots of side streets and architecturally interesting buildings before stepping off outside the gallery, in front of the new Blue Fin building.

I passed a black cat nestling on a bench and inside manoeuvred around the usual crowd of families and buggies to the bar, where I took delight in flirting with the gay waiter who came to take my order- Fancy hamburger with fries and a bottle of cider. Yum. I read my Time Out as I waited and people watched and generally got enjoyment out of sitting alone and knowing I was drawing glances courtesy of the pirate boots and my short skirt. Huzzah.

The food and drink was as usual great and when I had flirted with the waiter a little more I went to peer at the crack that has been recently installed. It’s an interesting piece. I liked to kneel down and run my fingers along the edges. There were kids hopping over it and toddlers dangling their legs in; it had a similar feeling of community of the fabulous Weather Project of a few years back. Good to see and experience.

Off I wandered back to the bus and bendy-d my way to NSFW Honour. Yes, after my previous meltdown I thought fuck it anyway, I might as well go as i’m in the area. I’ve been in there once before to get my cat mask but I’ve never tried on any great amount of rubber before. I was looking for the tube dress seen on their site but I had to settle for two short dresses instead.

Trying them on was hilarious. As previously stated, i’ve not tried on rubber outfits before, so it was a totally new experience. I stood in the little changing cubicle and stripped to my knickers before dusting myself liberally with the talcum powder provided; I read the advice notice on the wall and took the plunge… There was a gal trying on a corset in the adjacent booth- Squeaking and struggling into the first dress I had to try very hard not to start laughing on my lonesome as it was such an effort. I found it highly amusing to think of the poor woman next door hearing my squeaking and chuckling and wondering what the fuck I was doing.

After much hoiking and twisting about I was finally in. It was really cool- The rubber held my bulges in really well and as it started to take on the warmth of my body it felt amazingly comfortable. I didn’t look bad either and was able to arrange my boobs so that the rubber held them together a little, giving me some actual cleavage. Woo. I peeled it off and tried dress number two. Again, I looked surprisingly good but eventually I decided on getting the first dress. A can of silicone spray later and I was out the door and off to the former asylum that is the Imperial War Museum.

Inside I took in the Camouflage exhibition– It was small but really interesting, lots of dazzle designs and patterned uniforms. They had a film of soldiers inflating lightweight model tanks that were used to confuse the Axis powers- It was amusing to see them carry the tank into position in a field. They had examples of camo usage in fashion too as well as some Warhol prints. It was a very satisfying exhibition.

I wandered upstairs to see the Steve McQueen installation (no, not that one) Queen and Country. It was an excellent piece of art but what blew my mind was the six or so women looking through the stamps who kept commenting on lost husbands or children- As the work is constantly updated these women were looking for people they had lost in the current conflicts. It was quite upsetting to be in the room with them, to get taken out of my arty sphere by the nature of the work- confronting and memorialising contemporary losses. Fucked up, but a good thing I think to be removed from my usual detached perspective.

I bought two little camo badges for my coats in the shop then spent a while wandering about trying to find a bus that would take me north of the river to Paddington; I eventually succeeded and sat on the top deck and stared down at all the evening shoppers and traffic. There was a queue twenty-five metres long outside the Apple store on Regent Street as people waited to claim Leopard X- the store itself was rammed (heh heh losers). A train and a taxi later and I was home in time for day two of steak and potatoes.

It was a really good day. I got away from the memory minefield that is my local town centre to somewhere different, I took in exhibits and filled my brain with new stuff, I got to take in sights that were new, I got taken to emotionally difficult places for reasons other than relationships, and finally I gained an appreciateion for rubber.
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Post Rubber Woe

Steak and Sopranos helped put a stop to my half hour of crying; I still feel pretty glum though, like a part of me has been stomped into the pavement. I think I will go into Lahndahn tomorrow, but just to visit a museum of gallery or something so I can direct my brain to something different for a wee while.
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Rubber Woe

See, now I am thinking that the whole idea of buying rubber is ridiculous and I seem to be weeping copiously. Such fun! I have always wanted some rubberwear to go with my corsets and mask as I love dressing up but In the space of ten minutes of thinking further about it I realise that it is pointless. Literally as I wrote that last post I thought through things as I typed and the end result is a decidedly deflated, tear-stained me.

Wanting rubberwear is just another in a long list of stupid ideas that simply are not feasible unless there is someone else to help out, like buying bondage stuff, stripper shoes, fully expressing myself sexually, having someone to rub my back. It’s not like I have to have anyone to dress for, it’s just the appreciation I suppose. In the past i’ve always had a male friend who might oblige me with a little flirtation, but my ever decreasing number of friends means i’ve lost that small excitement too.

I don’t need to be with someone to be a complete human being- A disturbing proportion of people I see who are in relationships really need to wake the fuck up and question what they are doing to themselves and each other. It would also be fucking amazing to meet someone who took a genuine interest in me whilst sober and who didn’t turn out to be completely full of shit. Oh, the novelty. Things are more fun when shared (with the right person)- My solitary trip to Salzburg could have been considerably improved with someone beside me to talk to… I feel that my ideas are forever curtailed because I have no-one to share them with.

Browsing lingerie or watching pornography is a real downer for me at the moment… I keep thinking to myself that there is no point in buying more stupid fripperies that no-one but the washing machine will ever see, the porn I watch and wish I was intimate with someone and then feel sad that I don’t.

Basically it’s total meltdown city here ladies and germs- This post probably doesn’t make much sense (sorry). Maybe it’s because i’m tired… I’m sure a night’s sleep will help me feel better… See, writing that I am reminded how I sleep alone every night. Great…
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I am seriously considering going into Lahndahn tahn tomorrow and dropping some serious cash on a rubber dress. This item will be super awesome of course, but I will wear it maybe once per year. A worth-while investment? Of course!

Here are some options:

Honour Mistress Dress :: Short Mistress Dress :: Mistress Jacket :: Rubber Tube Dress :: Front Zip Mistress Dress

Libidex Goddess Dress :: Matrix Dress

I figure I can go and try some on and see what they’re like- I’m thinking the Matrix one is perhaps the best bet. I’ve not worn rubber on such a large scale, just my cat mask and a pair of gloves. I’d imagine that depending on the thickness of the latex my bulges might be held in; I presume you don’t wear underwear underneath so that you get a good clean line but I guess I could wear a corset over the top to suck me in.

Chances are i’ll look 4/10 in all of them, and even if I do manage to find something that helps me look pleasing it’s not like there’s anyone about to fully appreciate me in said fantasy outfit. I’m going to the pretentious bar in town on Saturday night to scare the customers as part of their Hallow e’en night stuff; I’m sure i’ll be successful at this whether i’m clad in a rubber dress or a plain old t-shirt. Some drunks at the bar might take an interest but they’re drunks at the bar.

TOTAL fucking esteem boost. Yay.

Off I go to weep.
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Hitchens Battle Hard Ons Bunkers War Potter vs Snape Russian Guns FBI Torture Anal Dickmatised

EvolutionBlog : D’Souza vs. Hitchens – Excellent review of a Theist vs. Atheist battle

The Road to Sildenafil – A history of artifical erections – Read this for an example of a researcher injecting himself with a drug that produces erections and then getting his penis out in front of the invited specialists to show that it works. Genius.

ART DELIVERANCE – Abandoned brains in a Russian institute – Alex Klochkov – Lots more abandoned bunkers and the like here

On Killing: The Psychological Costs of Learning to Kill in War and Society – Thorough book review from Do You Mind? filled with fascinating facts about the abhorrence soldiers have to killing and how this is being broken down

Aggressive Personalities, or, The Magic of Testosterone – Do You Mind? – James Potter and Serverus Snape analysed

Road Rage Shooting – The Exile – Strangely aesthetically appealing less-lethal weapon sold in Russia – Shoots rubber bullets, flares, and shock grenades

A tale of two decisions (or how the FBI gets you to confess)

Girl wanted – Men hate us

NSFW A Question for men… – Always Aroused Girl – Vaginal vs Anal sex- Sensation variations

NSFW Dickmatised – “As in hypnotised by the dick of one’s latest sexual conquest.”
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Morgellons Head Boom BDSM Bitter Harvest AlisonTyler Sheats Residence Pretty Ejaculate

Morgellons and Exploding head syndromes – Morgellons is fascinating- Is it delusional parasitosis or a hostile takeover?

NSFW Animal sex – Hot erotica from a dominant/submissive couple

NSFW Harvester of Hearts – The London Exhibitionist – This is an excellent blog. It’s hot and terribly sad at the same time (particularly this entry); the need for intimacy crawls through all his writing and I can empathise with how he feels. I wonder how many other men of a similar age go through the same?

NSFW Trollop with a Laptop: Three fingers in the honeycomb – Alison Tyler is an expert writer of super hot erotica

The Sheats Residence – Iconic setting of the Big Lebowski and that new Tesco Clothing ad

Photo Essay: Architectural Photography – JPG Magazine – More uber-cool housing

NSFW Aeric Meredith-Goujon – Really gorgeous photography with the dailies – daily updated blog
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Twins Warm Sad Sylvia

I am getting better hooray- My voice is croaky but there and there’s no pain when I swallow; I’m just a little snuffly. I should drag myself into Lahndahn tahn at some point this week to look at an exhibition on camouflage at the Imperial War Museum that’s been on for ages but it’s cold and I don’t want to increase the length of The Sickness through fucking my airways up some more. I think I might just hibernate in my room with Tony Soprano (i’ve been lent Season One).

I met up with my PGCE school partner and we caught up over pie; she is the same age as me but is married, owns her house and is expecting twins in January. The mind boggles. It was really good to see her and hear that it’s not just me who has a hatred of some kids out there, the pie was tasty too.

Then MW#1’s for Bound For Glory and some of UFC 77. I haven’t seen any wrestling for aaages. Surprisingly the TNA was rather good, though I did take exception to seeing Karen Angle acting out her and her husband’s personal issues for entertainment- It doesn’t work ever ever ever. Sadly I didn’t get to see my Big Gay Cop fight, apparently because he’s a little bitch now or something…

As for MW#1, well, a preposterously weak hug welcomed me as I bundled through his door and then I spent the next few hours sitting on the other sofa not saying very much. I left quickly, without a hug and went home to be alone again. His behaviour makes me feel very angry as well as upset sometimes yet I still want to reach out and touch him; I seem to be nothing but an acquaintance now… it feels like i’m not even a friend… it’s all awkward… I wonder how many months it will be until we next meet and whether I will finally have had enough?

I’m going to take a guess that it’ll be another three months and that the chance is very high that this will be the case. I don’t think I can be around him without wanting to be with him… The main problem is that I can’t take the way he drops in and out of my life whenever he pleases; maybe I can manage but I’m really not terribly positive on that front.

So i’m sitting up in bed writing this whilst wrapped in my blanket, feeling pointlessly soft and warm (as I scrubbed myself especially well prior to my trip to MW#1’s) and a little glum in some far off part of me wishing I had someone curled up next to me to kiss my nose and rub my sore back.
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Sex and the City Sickness

To pass time whilst infected with The Sickness I have been making my way slowly through Caversham Princess’s box sets of Sex & The City. It’s exciting yet sad to see Carrie and Big go through their self-inflicted traumas; watching all the writhing bodies has me wishing for looong kisses– the sort where you shove someone up against a wall and only pause to come up to put air in your lungs.

I am even more dehydrated than usual, I struggle to make myself understood due to losing my voice and am harbourer of The Sickness. I am ripe I tell you, ripe for kissing- Men queue around the block to get a taste of me. It’s true, it’s damn true.

I just hope I am a bit better by Tuesday… I actually have people to see and places to go; I may have to inform said parties that I am a disease carrier and call things off, which would suck big time.

Healing power of the blanket don’t fail me now…
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Just in time for the half term break I am sickly with some sort of pupil-induced sickness. Great.

It started with a sore throat and now it’s fairly painful to swallow; I just feel a bit bleh, and I can feel my upper airway getting lovely and congested. Woo. I think it’s from shouting at kids when I’ve been “teaching” PE- I’m not used to having to shout like that as i’m in a better school.

Lots of blanket cocooning is doing nothing for the pain but helps me feel a little better; i’ve bought a throat spray that’s supposed to numb the soreness but I seem to be more successful in numbing my tongue. Mmmbmb… I’ve tried various angles of attack but I don’t seem to be able to direct the spray to the sore parts. Dammit.

Why is it my voice just sounds strangled rather than sexily husky? Grrr…ak…uuk
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Bored Drunk or Horny

Today only a few minutes after i’d signed on to MSN MW#1 messaged me hello; I hello-ed back and asked how he was, he replied that his afternoon was dragging. I said that I was surprised to receive a message so soon after signing in and that I thought that he might be bored as he contacted me so quickly. He said that it isn’t just boredom that makes him say hello and that he was offended that I thought that was the case. I apologised. I wish I had not.

From my point-of-view I assume that MW#1 generally contacts me when he’s bored, drunk or horny, when there’s no-one else to talk to, or when he’s read that I am fed up with his behaviour (though this can sometimes be good). I am the last resort. This is the same point-of-view that hopes that he genuinely cares for me and perhaps loves even a little part of me, but assumes he just finds me somewhat sexually appealing, that I am a collection of easily available holes to fill or a sympathy fuck.

I assume all these things because otherwise, he doesn’t contact me, nor does he seem to want to see me particularly often. We used to see each other once or twice a month or so, now it’s once every three months or abouts and always for wrestling, not an evening out; I don’t initiate anything because I take up too much room in his busy schedule and I don’t want to be let down again. He used to make me feel special, too… like I mattered.

We may discuss my sexual dysfunction and I may compliment him on his bedroom skills (he is perfect for me) but sex is always on his terms and anything he could do to make me really happy and satisfied is only the sort of stuff that someone does when they are supportive and reliable. He cares an awful lot about my pleasure but not about how I feel.

I enjoy every single minute intimately spent with him- he rocks. I just feel frustrated because I want more than I can have- I want more intimacy as I enjoy it obviously, and because I think practise really would help me address my problems. He’s not there to care though, just to “do”.

When he’s telling me what he likes about my body or what about me turns him on, it’s like a fantasy where he actually kinda cares about me- I forget for a little while the realities of the situation. Then as I spend another night sleeping alone I remember that he seems to be the man who takes more pleasure in picking up and bedding women he’s known for two hours than in giving pleasure to someone he’s known for years and just might care for a little.

I am aching as I write this… It’s fucking dumb. It hurts that I long for him (retarded!) and also because I miss the intimate gestures made towards me. His actions and his words can be so terribly considerate and sometimes quite beautiful… I wish I was able to accept them, and not always be reminded of what little I amount to. And still I miss him and still I ache to feel his fingers slide slowly across my warm skin…

Le sigh.

My back’s been better this week but now it’s sore again goddamn it… Hot water bottle. Bed. Patrick. Hug.
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Designer Purikura Glowing Boobies Zombie Embroidery Ravelry

Photobooth fashion illustration Japanese-style – Designer Purikura from SHOWstudio

Glow-in-the-dark nipples ahoy – Coffee Hacks With Mark/Foxie Moxie – Boing Boing TV

Craftzine – Zombie Embroidery Makeover

Ravelry – Knitters community of awesomeness (apparently)
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M&S Christmas Undies

Yes, it’s in the Mail, but here are some really pretty new undies courtesy of M&S… Holy smoke!

Just in time for me birfday and Christmas :D

My underwear drawer(s) are already bulging at their seams with frillies i’ve bought for imaginary liaisons, or at least liaisons that were called off, so it’s not like I need more. I think it’s the tiny speck of hope in me that leads me to lust after such things, or maybe it’s complete self-delusion. Heh.
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Damaged goods II

… I’d like to think not, but when I think about how I approach the world and interpersonal relations, perhaps I am.

It would be super easy to blame my cynical, black hearted view on being fucked over in non-relationships but it’s not quite that straightforward. Even before I had my first kiss I think I was already far down the path I now lead- The one where I am slow to trust and fearful of asking for anything in case I am let down, where I am wary of expressing my feelings so I don’t appear too caring, too weak. I have learnt to keep my emotions hidden. I am always slow at making friends- for instance I take a long time to accept invites to social outings; I see work colleagues as just that.

Conversely, away from my sarcastic, embittered self, I take great joy in the world surrounding me, it’s intricacies, the variety of it’s nature etc and I love assimilating information on a wide and bizarre range of subjects. So I have a childlike love of the small things but I would say not in any way a naive view of the world. I can get excitable over the smallest, geekyest things; humour is important and I can often be found laughing loudly over these dumb things.

So what you see isn’t what you get. Damaged goods? If I can continue to love and those whom I care for are patient, I suppose it isn’t an issue. I do worry though that I am going to keep being crippled in my loves and friendships by my inability to share emotionally, but I guess in a relationship where the one I loved was patient and strong I’d eventually open up and feel secure enough to surrender myself.

Sometimes I feel like i’m going to burst with the strength of my feeling; I want to share all of myself with another, to feel that they will not be scared off by what I say, like i’m a big old freak. I long to freely love and not be forever holding myself back.

I’m a cynical old lag but yet there is nothing I know that can equal the feelings of contentment and happiness I get when awaking in half light to warm arms wrapped around me and gentle fingers tracing invisible contour lines along my skin.

Rambling I know. Will shut up now.
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Damaged goods

Am I damaged goods at the grand old age of twenty-six?
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One more week

One more week until a week of blanket cocooning- huzzah. It’s not like i’ve been working hard and after being unemployed for such a stretch I don’t really deserve the break; still I am looking forward to staying up late and sleeping in.

My weekend was back to the usual- Filled with nowt but TV, internets, papers and feeding myself. Unusually, I did get some ridiculous compliments from MW#1 (which is highly irregular); they were sweet, beautiful words… It is difficult to receive such things when I have not spent more than one night in a row next to him, when I am of such unimportance to him that he can’t be bothered to see me for months upon end and when I know the words come easily to his tongue because of the use it gets on other women.

My shite posture and short torso means that I have lower back soreness; when I twist over in bed I get a spasm of pain that makes me suck my breath in as I gingerly try to flip back over like a beached whale. I should improve my posture of course, but I don’t think they’d let my tattooed self into finishing school so I think i’ll just stick to hot water bottles and attempting to stretch the pain temporarily away.

I will have to expend extra energy this week imagining someone curled up behind me soothing my sore back. Bizarrely, imagining someone snuggled up against me actually calms me a little when i’m trying to get to sleep. The power of placebo. Wash. Hot water bottle. Patrick. Bed.
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Prince Erotica Bee Knives Death Boing Poodle Rubberwear Psychology Strafe Statham Men Arse

Richard Prince
Untitled (Original)

Frieze Art Fair – Film by Nick Payne and Oliver Relph & Richard Prince commission – The nice car above is the piece

NSFW Do You Want Me? – Hot erotica by Having My Cake and Eating It Too

NSFW Vivianes Sex Carnival

Evil Bee – Videology – Great animation

Atwood Knife and Tool – Cool lil’ knives and tools, handmade and very pretty as well as functional

How does it feel to die? – New Scientist

Paul Allen Telescope Array / Mark and the Boing Box – Boing Boing TV – The best bit (apart from the gorgeous Xeni Jardin) is Mark and the Boing Box…

Knitted teratoma – The AntiCraft!

The mutilated ninja poodle – Poodle clipped and dyed into a TMN/HT – Hideous

NSFW Breathless – Super pretty rubberwear – I’d very much like this (with the top hat of course and crazy heels) Cabaret

What’s the most important psychology experiment that’s never been done…?

Set It Off – Strafe – 80’s electronic rap goodness

Statham’s Secrets Of Superlean – STATHAM TOPLESS – Big pictures HERE

NSFW Dieux Du Stade – Ridiculously hot French rugby players ahoy

NSFW Beautiful Mag – Hot men galore

NSFW Arse Elektronika – Tiny Nibbles – Cool videos of a machine severely pleasuring a lady
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NSFW – New in the gallery – bow

All wrapped up with no-one to show

[except the entire internets]
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Lube-y Pen Messenger

Hmmm… My MSN Messenger seems to be buggered… Not that I have many conversations on it but still, it’s broken and I don’t seem to be able to fix it. Registry tinkering may be required, ugh.

Whilst out on supply today a Y11 student thoughtfully encased my board marker in a condom so that it would be “protected from the AIDS.”

I picked said inflated package up and popped it with my biro, noting aloud to the class that it was ribbed and that the marker was now all lubed up and slippery. Nice. I had to wipe it off before I could continue to write. I thanked him for his concern but I thought that the pen was probably okay as it was with the other pens but I said it was good to see that he carried around protection.

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Although I spend far too much time pondering the disaster that is MW#1, I have to say in a small way I am a little pleased with myself at the moment. I have managed to last an entire two months without cracking and inviting him over or out. I’ve had three weeks of being home alone yet I successfully managed to keep myself in check, though I will admit that sometimes it has been very hard not to text or email. I’ve managed.

As stated many times before I believe I am superior to anything he drags home at the weekend, so if he’s interested he can get in touch with me. From the state of things at the moment I figure he sees me as a friend to fuck who requires no commitment, rather than someone he is willing to show the respect I feel I deserve. So I just go on living my life feeling varying degrees of sadness, pining then trying to distract myself, feeling very angry with him then wanting to send him cookies and look after him because he is ill.

I have been hugging Patrick rather a lot of late… It is comforting in my big lonely bed.
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BONED Bustier Cum Blow Destricted Ovulating Spider Fear Saatchi Anatomy X-Wing

NSFW BONED – SHOWstudio – Nick Knight – Pretty boys in lacy underthings

Lejaby Bustier – Gorgeous and expensive and impractical

Male Orgasm Captured On Film – The Onion – “…the first time I saw the footage, I wept. And I’m not ashamed to say so.”

NSFW Office Slut Sandra (Sleeping my way to the top) – Flickr – Ridiculous images of what one woman gets up to in her office (blowing the boss)

Educating Larry Clark – The director dissecting the male fantasy of having sex with an adult performer and showing in his new film what happens when the fantasy comes true

Strippers’ earning potential affected by hormone cycle – More evidence supporting the theory that we are more overtly sexual when ovulating

Do Infants Have an Innate Spider Detection Mechanism? And if Not, Shouldn’t They? – Science Blogs – Are we genetically programmed to have the fear?

Saatchi liked the art so much he bought the lot! – Guardian – This was the best guy out of my peer group (his current stuff seems to be horrible, mind)

Historical Anatomies on the Web – Excellent selection of old anatomy books in beautiful hi-res

Boom: X-Wing Rocket Launches, Disintegrates Mid-Air – Video of giant X-Wing model fired into the air
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Oh my fucken Gawd. I can actually write that i’ve been out TWO WEEKENDS in a row. Scientists are studying the data as we speak. Or as I write.

I went out for drinks and dinner with Leia Ewok Village; we went to the Pretension Bar (its new name on here) for cocktails followed by a short trip upstairs for yummy Italian food. The Pretension Bar was, funnily enough, populated by pretentious young professionals. It was all right to begin with, but as time passed and the place started to fill up it was very clear that the fuckwits had taken over.

Excitingly, I was wearing both eye makeup AND bright red lipstick AND, wait for it, HEELS. Well, wedges to be precise- I finally caved and bought myself a pair that are covered in blue and turquoise glitter. Retrotastic. They are super high and although relatively comfortable they were quite difficult to walk in due to the platforms; apart from their glitteryness the best thing was that I was taller than around 95% of the men patronising the place. It was amusing. I was like a disco/nineteen-forties Amazon (but with two breasts).

Huzzah. Of course, being scary like I am no-one of even a vaguely male persuasion talked to me; I watched people in the mirrors as I waited for Leia to come back from the bar with fresh cocktails, I looked for interesting or attractive people in the crowd. Coming up with no-one I gave up and spent the rest of the time reading the bar menu.

Ugh, thinking of my life this time last year makes me feel glum- MW#1 was always pleased to see me, I used to creep out in the middle of the night to meet up for late-night shenanigans, the sexy-yet-classy incident, the night I was carried home by him whilst wearing my gold lamé pants, curling up with him on the cold nights as he held onto me like I was his comfort blanket… I read love poetry because I wanted to increase my romantic vocabulary… now the many volumes sit unread on my shelves, as I can’t bear to read the sentiments within.

Two months ago as he weakly hugged me goodbye he assured me that we’d meet up soon because there was a wrestling PPV coming up (in a couple of weeks)… I’m seemingly just “that girl that likes wrestling” so there’s apparently *no way* we can meet up otherwise; Is it any wonder that I spend a great deal of time disbelieving what he says, be it excuse or compliment? What amuses me a little is that he doesn’t just say “See you soon” or whatever usual bullshit we all say, he always factors in something to keep me going, then it never happens and I feel let down and like a fucking idiot AGAIN.

Anyway, I had a great time out with Leia- It was really good to dress up and go out as I get to do this very infrequently indeed, entertainment which I used to rely on MW#1 providing. I am thankful I have still have friends who are willing to cheer me when i’ve spent so long whining on.

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Faux Lomo Derriere


faux lomo

NSFW – New in the gallery- derriere & faux lomo
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Wonky Monky Pots

I had a good day at school today- I spent a couple of hours working on a pottery wheel making my virgin entry into the art of throwing pots. I made four bowl type things in total, all wonky and thick rather than streamlined and thin but I was really pleased with what I managed. It was really satisfying sitting high above the wheel focusing intently on the movement of my fingers and the clay; I liked the way instant feedback occurred with every tiny gesture. A lot of the time I ended up with a sort of burst thing that I had to scrape off the wheel… I am looking forward to practising…

It was good for me to spend time quiet and focused (apart from the odd guffaw when a pot went tits up)- I didn’t have any thoughts in my head apart from what I should do with my fingers to make the clay do what I wanted. Messy therapy. Hooray.

YouTube – Pottery Throwing – Bowl & Cup
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Dags Night Aht

Temple of Dogs

Fuck 'em

The pleasing shrubbery

The line

The rabbit (without embellishments)

 My winnings

I’ve had an *great* twenty-four hours. Last night I spent the evening at Walthamstow Stadium eating copious amounts of scampi and chips, drinking bad wine from plastic cups and spending six pounds on my oh-so-scientifically chosen dogs.

I did not do terribly well, winning only one race; during one of the final races the dog I had placed my money on gave up on the last lap and proceeded to frolic backwards round the track with his obviously attractive competitor in the next trap. I was like, “Oi! You’re supposed to be running, not sniffing each other! I’ve got money on you, you bastards!” They seemed very happy with themselves, at least before their respective owners rushed in to rudely separate them.

I managed to win the huuuuge total of £4.90, which I figure is a pretty good haul- I was well pleased. I had about as much fun as I would have in a museum or a zoo or a theme park- My eyes were like saucers. At the end of the evening I spent five minutes chatting to a bunch of wide boys about the rabbit lure- Double entendres were flying everywhere.

I suggested you could add streamers and spray paint to the rabbit, they suggested go faster stripes; the conversation then moved on to marker pens and how good they smell- One guy said they didn’t smell good, and actually smelled like arsehole. He blundered straight into it- I innocently enquired how he knew what rabbit arseholes smelled like. I greatly enjoyed doing my usual uncouth, flirty thing, and they lapped it up.

Seriously, I totally have to beat the men off. It’s true- just look at my entirely empty social calendar.

Further booze and obscene cheese was consumed back at the birthday girl’s cottage and vast discussion of Bruce Parry vs. Ray Mears vs. Bear Grylls (BRUCE!), before a night on dangerously mobile camp beds. Not much sleep was had, and I was mighty pleased to receive a restorative fried egg sandwich before heading to a lovely pub for lunch. I was really pleased that my present fit too. All good.

I haven’t had such a good time in months. If I do go out anywhere, a small part of me always feels very sad, and I tend to carry it around with me wherever I go. If I go into town, then i’m reminded how close I am yet how very far away I am at the same time. When i’m tired it’s worse, and the last twenty-four hours, although great, have really wiped me out. Why the fuck i’m still up at 1am on a Monday morning writing about this I have no idea. Aanyway, it was great to be around great people, away from my usual environment for a little while.

I spent the train ride back contemplating years of abused affections courtesy of The Monster and Mid-Atlantic/MW#1 and the love and care that I long to give that no-one seems to appreciate. I had to resist the urge to get up out of my seat and stand just so that I could get away from the girl dressed in black velvet from top-to-toe discussing whether or not to get into a relationship with her best friend and to escape the couple opposite who were passing the time eating face. I stared at the strip lights running along the ceiling for a while until the welling in my eyes passed and I turned up Ludacris to drown out the velvet girl.

Dead-faced, bus home, blanket, cereal. Wuxia. QVC. Write this. I am tired of meaning and being nothing to men I love. Sigh. I’ve honestly had a great couple of days though, bed calls.
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