Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down

The bow-tie is unfairly characterized as the neckware of fools and dandies, a misreading of the fashion in my opinion.

The men who affect the bow-tie are trying to look different, trying too hard because the bow-tie is a cliché that says "I'm trying to look different." They're obviously attempting to stand out, and everyone knows it...except the wearer, which confirms them as terminally un-hip.

If only the bow-tie was associated with restraint sex. From personal experience, regular neckties make perfect tools with which to tie a woman to the bed, or to restrain her arms or legs, or even to blindfold her. But bowties are a more perfect length, and you can always wear them the next day and keep the scent close to your nose.


Bottoms Up, Dominators!



Bow-tie sweater from here [link]

The Dating Matrix

Bottoms Up, Optimists!

Friday Fluffer - Happy Ending

Sentimentalist that he is, the penis enjoys a happy ending.

As with much involving dicks, technique is important, not least when raising the delicate subject of a happy ending with one's massage therapist. Here's how not to do it:

"...Al Gore fondled and groped her during a massage session ...describing...the former Vice President as a giggling "crazed sex poodle" who gave a "come hither" look before pouncing on her in a Portland hotel suite."

Full article from the Smoking Gun.[link]<------SFW worth reading.

The picture of a naked, corpulent Al Gore as a crazed sex poodle gives happy endings a bad name. No wonder Tipper wants out.



Bottoms Up, Happy Enders!


wombat@kissnblog.com

Pic from here.[link]

La Petite Mort

There's a part of me that envies the complexity of the female. I have way fewer moving parts than a woman, and some days - like today - I wonder if being a chick would stave off the boredom.

The reason any given woman will suffer less from boredom than any given man is because you have more mental rooms in which to play. You can take your emotions out for a spin and see what happens. There are always your sisters with whom to share. And if you're in the mood, you can always unbridle your sexy side for some fun.

The sisterhood is really important, because y'all are way more social animals than men. That means there's always someone at the end of your street or the end of your cellphone who might have something to say that will alleviate a dull day. At the very least, she'll call you "Sweetie" and "feel bad" for you. Women empathize.

Maybe life really is more dramatic for babes. Male orgasm (I imagine, backed up by porn) is a pretty standard thing. But female O is Shakespearean. (Irony of a using a playwright and actor noted.) Memories of ex-g/f Os are some of my favourite mental images, especially the near-death-like Petite Mort kind.

I like the Urban Dictionary's definition:

The little death is translation from the French "la petite mort", a popular reference for a sexual orgasm. The term has been broadly expanded to include specific instances of blacking out after orgasm and other supposed spiritual releases that come with orgasm. Speculations to its origin include current connotations of the phrase, including: * Greco-Roman belief that the oversecretion of bodily fluids would "dry out" one of the believed four humours, leading to death.

Seems I'm not the only one who enjoys the memory of climax past:

This is quite the discovery [link]<-----Interesting Link SFW


Bottoms Up, Climaxers!




Pic from here {link}

Allow Yourself Pleasure

"Most women need permission to express themselves sexually and allow themselves pleasure."*

I sense an element of truth in this statement, and yet raise my eyebrows. 'Permission' implies someone has the authority allowing each individual female release. Is is possible that women themselves deny that permission? Do women stop their own natural behaviour? Why?

This kind of self flagellation is foreign to guys. We routinely deny ourselves expression from the other end of that spectrum - controlling our impulses civilizes us. This, too, can be overdone, leading to male sexual introversion.

Perhaps we could meet in the middle. Ladies, give yourself permission. Men, go meet the women.




Bottoms Up, Permit Holders!



Pic from here [link]

*Quote from a quote from "Release the Seductress Within" by Laurie Sue Brockway.

Kiss Types

Reward offered.



Bottoms Up, Snoggers!



Click on Wombatgram for larger image.

Prisoner of X

Prisoner of X: Twenty-Two Years in the Hole at Hustler Magazine, by Allan MacDonnell.

ISBN: 1-932595-13-9

Right here, I shall make the case that a book cover can determine its commercial success. It's not true all the time, but this is the latest in a line of books in which the quality of writing, the way the book feels, is so much better than the cover suggests.

I'm disappointed on behalf of the author, Mr MacDonnell, because his book is worth the money and the time. The subject matter won't be to everyone's taste, but if you can get over the background, the foreground of his description of life working at a porn magazine makes for good reading. An undertone (and, now I think about it, an overtone) of snark inhabits Mr MacDonnell's writing, but he's equally snarky about himself as all those around him in Larry Flynt's business empire.

For the unfamiliar, Larry Flynt is the publisher of Hustler, the apogee of skin-mags. His empire (Larry Flynt Publications) is a grab-bag of flesh-driven enterprises that made him a centi-millionaire. "Prisoner of X" is an insider's story, a tell-all of the ridiculous ways men like Larry Flynt make a fortune despite themselves.

Do I sound envious? Well, kinda. I was a fan of Hustler in its heyday, the 80s. Then it was the dirtiest of the big three news-stand-type mags, considerably to the south of Playboy and less air-brushed than Penthouse. (That's a figurative concept, less airbrushed, not a literal one, because...well, you know, they all do it.) A subscription to Hustler said: He'll Do Anything. Subscription to Penthouse said: He'll Do Anything (mostly). And a subscription to Playboy said: He'll lick your tits.)

Larry Flynt started in Lakeville, Kentucky and ended up in Los Angeles, California. That's the architecture of success in America, or was, until recently. Our protagonist, Mr MacDonell, started in LA, first as a copy-editor on Hustler, so his story's different from that of his boss. The concept of a copy-editor at Hustler is mildly disconcerting, like the idea of quality control in China. Nevertheless, such jobs exist, which makes my Hustler subscription vaguely mainstream.

So the take-down is that Mr Mac starts at the bottom (ahem) at Hustler, and ends up at the top, the executive editor. In the intervening period his personal and buff life make for a good if not great book.

If only he'd insisted on better cover art-work, this thing might have been a best seller.


Bottoms Up, Airbrushers!




Also published here [link]

Friday Fluffer - Talk Dirty To Me

Talking dirty is another of those bonking skills that improves with practice. Some are better at filth-chat than others, so here are two videos to help. (The first one won't allow embedding, but it's worth the visit to YouTube.)

Both safe for work.


It's not what you say, it's how you say it. [link]<------Amusing video.









Bottoms Up, Trash-Talking Sluts!




Foul mouthed woman from here [link]

Can we leave the light on?

Laughable.

Can we leave the light on?

Well, yeah, otherwise how will I be able to see what I'm doing?





Bottoms Up, Ninjas!



Ronin thanks to [link]

Why can't I save her?

I note a thread in my dating history that I guess some others know too. It's the state of mind that says:

There's a girl I think needs help. I can save her.

It's a foolish way of thinking, but for a long time I couldn't quantify why it doesn't work. Experience taught me that people change only when they want to; the impetus for doing so must come wholly from within. Knowing that someone would benefit from help is different from them deciding to change.

The decision process I figured out is to never commit to someone more than they commit to themselves.

This is one more of those life lessons that would have been handy to learn by instruction rather than repeated mistakes.




Bottoms Up, Lifesavers!





Photo courtesy of the Ocean City Sentinel. [link]

Edited for clarity.

Vice and Virtue

The Roman Catholic Church recognizes that the seven deadly sins correspond inversely to seven virtues. Inversely isn't quite the right word, but it's close.




Bottoms Up, Sinners!

Friday Fluffer - Kiss the Wombat

Today's Fluffer is for you nature lovers.






Bottoms Up, Marsupials!





Sweet kiss from here. [link]

I am not associated with Kiss the Wombat in any way. Who owns that site is a mystery to me, buy it's incumbent upon me to promote something so worthy.

Women on Top

The Masculine Movement's struggle runs up against the Pussy Ceiling in many fields. Men still represent a tiny minority of strippers, for example, or witness the inequality of sexual distribution in Public Relations jobs - 70% of practitioners there are female.

Matters are clear when it comes to college undergraduates in the United States too. The majority of students in post-secondary institutions are female - 57/43 - which reminds me it's high time to dust off my application for that Masters in Creative Writing and Beer. I like those odds. Perhaps that fact alone, the paucity of guys in higher education, speaks to the failure of the Masculine Movement. What we need is an inspirational figure, in the same way that the Feminists have Gloria Steinem or Germaine Greer.

Suggestions welcome.

Men are hopeless and becoming more so in many fields, but especially in sleeping their way to the top. It's a somewhat dated concept now, the idea that promotion or corporate advancement can be had by shagging your supervisor. More important is that with more women in authority, the opportunity for men to redress this imbalance improves every day.

Now, ma'am. May we talk about my raise?





Bottoms Up, Ladder Climbers!



Blackchickonabike supplied the pic. [link]

What Do Men Say?

Unusually, I'm about to recommend another websiteslashblog.[link] I have no clue who the people are, but I see there's talent among the production and editorial staff and (guessing) money backing them too.

The premise is one I like and try to put into practice here @ KnB, namely the idea that women want to hear what men think about, and about them. My efforts are miserable, but the following interview is worthwhile.

It helps that Miss Schell, the interviewer, does a bang-up job of not verbally obstructing the guys.

It's worth a look, safe for work, and nicely amiable.





Bottoms Up, Inquisitors!

RubixGirl from here. [link]

Sweetie Pie

Finding the one is like finding the perfect pie.




Bottoms Up, Bakers!



Click on image for larger version.

Friday Fluffer - Condom Eiffel Towers

I'm led to believe that latex sheaths coated with nonoxynol-9 have uses other than to prevent one night stands becoming paternity suit filers.

Here's evidence.




Bottoms Up Squeakers!


Forward woman pic from my favourite state [link]

And another hat-tip to Snaf, without whom I'd be bereft of material.

The Boner Gap

An awkward few seconds lurk in the space between knowing she's ready and crossing the moat. The preparatory work is done, according to the following checklist:

A. Girl nearby.

B. Aroused girl nearby.

C. At least partially naked girl nearby.

(Note: These first three points might be the same girl, or three, YMMV.)

D. Boner. (Your own.)

E. Condom.



Okay, now to connect your erect penis with the willing pussy. Time to bust out the condom.

Quickly now, the clock's running.

Another checklist:

A. Locate condom.

B. Tear open condom packet.

C. Retrieve that sucker from the packet.

D. Make sure you avoid the inside-out error.

E. Roll condom on penis.

F. Fully unfurl said prophylactic.

G. Insert properly outfitted manhood into luscious love trench.



What's the timing on that? Should we say between ten and thirty seconds?

We need a name for that gap. My suggestions include:

The Boner Gap.

The Keep it Up Interregnum.

Don't Let me Down, Dude, Gap.

Say Flaccid and I'll Kill You Gap.

The Why Hasn't Condom Packaging Improved in 100 Years Gap.

The How Bad Would a Baby Be Anyway? Gap.






Bottoms Up, Condomistas!


Pic of pigtailed aweseomeness from here [link]

Hat-tip to Snaf for the inspiration.

Interview Technique and the Sock Drawer

Interviews are, like, totally the dumbest way to judge whether you should employ someone. Anyone you would want to employ will be smart enough to hide the character flaws and criminal intent you're looking to unearth, and yet you shouldn't employ them because they're flawed criminals.

Did that make sense?

Midway through one interview, I was asked to multiply 999 * 999 whilst seated facing three stern men. The stupid thing is that I had prepared for this kind of thing (plus counting backwards in 7s from 103.) Previous contenders had set up a study course based on exit interviews, so anyone going in had a pretty good idea about the whereabouts of crevasses.

Dating is the same thing as a job interview. Granted, there's a blurring of the line between interviewer and interviewee. Roles can reverse. But in essence it's about asking questions and reading the answers.

Trouble is that we're all expert at masking. Straight-out honesty is often more difficult than telling the story we have in mind about ourselves, a story that might not necessarily be the whole truth. When they ask you "So, why do you want to work here?" has anyone ever told the truth?

In an ideal world, interviews would be held in the interviewee's bedroom. You can tell way more about a person from the state of their house or apartment or trailer than you can by asking them. It's not what people say that matters, it's what they do.

Same with dating. As soon as you can, get to your new friend and possible lover's place and check out their sock drawer. Guaranteed all the answers lie therein.




Bottoms Up, Sock Drawers!


Excellent pic of socked lady from here [link]