baserinstincts

“Pay No Attention To That Man Behind The Curtain”

Exhibit A:

Just about any Johnny Depp character will do but we’ll go with his portrayal of Don Juan DeMarco, world’s greatest lover, for emphasis. Ignore the fact that he’s dressed like it’s Halloween.

The songs tell you “you’ll always be my endless love” but most times what you really get is “bitches ain’t shit but hos and tricks”.

I remember visiting my ex’s parents out West. There was a large group of us at breakfast and my ex was lovingly telling the story of how we met. He ended the vignette by saying..”a match made in heaven”. I tried to catch myself before I made the face but the reaction was immediate. “Sometimes” I said in rebuttal. An uncle of his just laughed and said to me that there probably isn’t a woman on earth that thinks men are wonderfully infallible. “We’re screwing something up about every hour,” he said and went on to say that he admired the female gender’s patience with the men.

In general, I think that what people tend to expect form relationships and from their partners is just too much. Ordinary people aren’t always perfect and consistant. They’re not always considerate. They don’t always know what you want to need before you tell them and even if they do, who’s to say they’re capable or even willing to deliver it.

When Your Ex Reads Your Blog

I recently discovered that my ex boyfriend subscribes to this feed.

Hi A.

At first, I felt kinda funny about this.

It’s a complicated thing being a writer, especially without the cover of anonymity.

You’re tempted to censor yourself when you know that people you know, people you are close with or were once close with, will read what you write.

People act differently around you and toward you when they know there is a possiblity you’ll write about them.

Do you tailor your expression to make others comfortable?

Or do you stay true to your voice and your thoughts and your feelings no matter what?

No matter who you may piss off and who you may alienate?

Do you contantly issue disclaimers? Give a head’s up? Ask permission?

Case in point.

Chuck stumbled onto this post.

The post was complimentary enough. I didn’t go into great detail, but more than implied his sexual prowess.

What every guy wants to hear right?

But I called him an asshole in the comments.

He bristled. “I’m an asshole,” he asked, pretending to be wounded.

“You pissed me off the day I wrote that,” I answered.

“Oh. Well you should go back and write an addendum.”

But why should I?

It’s what I was feeling at the time. If I went back and said “ok folks, I take it back. Chuck’s not an asshole,” then I’m only cheating myself out of expressing what I want to express.

It was such a ridiculous request because no one knows Chuck. His identitity is know only to him and myself so it’s not like people are going to walk down the street pointing and say, “Look! there goes Chuck, the asshole!”

Not to mention that Chuck certainly does not have creative liscense over what I write. If he’s concerned about his online image, he should start his own blog.

And besides, I’m not wholly convinced that he’s not an asshole.The jury’s still out on that one.

I know that you leave yourself open for all kinds of shit when you put yourself out there, especially putting your business on the net where all the world can read.

But even so, this is my space. A safe space.

I’ll continue to write. People will continue to read.

Or not.

My advice: Don’t like what I’m saying? Don’t click through.

Link Lovin’

FOX News - Why Female Chimps Shout During Sex - I knew I was making all that noise for some reason. Evolution has an explanation for everything.

Jezebel - Let’s Talk About Sex(ually Transmitted Diseases) - Props for even broaching this topic.

Fuck: A Love Story - Risk Assesment (or I’ll manage your assets, baby) - For those who love to fuck around at work.

Jezebel - The Emotional Conquistador is the New Sexual Conquistador - “I’d much rather be fucked than fucked with..” profound

New Times - Sexual Healing - And so this is legal? That’s not at all inconsistent..

Indiscretion - Revision - For all the times you wish you asserted yourself sexually

HNT - Purple Lace

I have a pair of matching panties but I’ll save those for next week.

Click the pic if you want to see it in Technicolor.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday!

Sex in Movies - Donnie Brasco

Reasons I love this scene:

-Johnny Depp

-Hot makeup sex after a heated argument

-Johnny Depp

-The stairs - my first though was “I’m gonna have to try this fucking up the stairs thing”

-Johnny Depp

- Donnie’s face when his wife says “I’m here”

-Johnny Depp

The Brush

I was on my way to work.

I’d taken the long way so that I could enjoy a few extra minutes outside as the weather was nice.

Now, I walk quickly. And there are few things I detest more than being stuck behind slow ass people.

I was coming up on a group of school kids loitering on the sidewalk. There was a narrow strip of concrete between them through which one could walk.

No problem. Two decades of living in New York City have made me an absolute pro at effortlessly navigating tight, crowded spots without so much as breaking my stride.

There was a man walking in the opposite direction, toward me.

I glanced at him. He wasn’t very tall, only somewhat taller than me. He was muscular. He wore a t shirt and some jeans. Well built, sexy. Black. Bald. Only passing observations.

We hit the crowd of teenagers at about the same time.

I did not slow down and neither did he. There wasn’t enough room for the both of us to walk through them side by side.

I turned sideways and kept walking. He did the same.

We grazed one another as we passed through the crowd, my nipples brushing roughly against his chest. They stiffened and immediately I felt tingly between the legs.

I didn’t slow down, didn’t turn back to look at him.

But it had me going crazy the entire day.

Hooker Boots

hooker boots (n) -

definition from Urban Dictionary

You just can’t fuck with me when I have my hooker boots on.

Knee high, inky black, smooth leather.

With corset lacing up the back of the calf. Lacing that says “watch me as I walk away”. Laces that say “unlace me, undress me”.

3 and a half inch stiletto heels. You had better get out of my way when I have my hooker boots on. I just might trample all over you, although it would be the sweetest agony you’d ever experience.

Every woman has a pair. Or she should at least.

Hooker boots.

When I need to be reassured, when I need to be reminded of my power, of just how fly I really am, I put on my hooker boots.

My thighs, not at all slight to be sure but very well defined, are even more so in my hooker boots. When paired with some  naughty fishnets, my legs take on a new life. Legs, thighs that men and some women to would love to lie between.

I walk slower.

I stand taller.

I look my would be suitors straight in the eye, a look that says “you wish”.

You just can’t fuck with me when I have my hooker boots on.

My hips, full, round sway just that much more when I walk in my hooker boots.

In my hooker boots, I don’t just get the ordinary cat calls.

No.

They take one look, mesmerized by my strut, my swagger, the work of art that is my walk while wearing my hooker boots, and they fall in love.

They want to posess me.

Those unfortunate enough to have tried will tell you I’m not a woman who will ever truly be possessed.

But they try.

And stare at my boots as I walk away.

Alone but Not Lonely

Alone (adj.) - 1. Being apart from others; solitary.
2. Being without anyone or anything else; only

Lonely (adj.) - 1. Without companions; lone
2. Dejected by the awareness of being alone

(definitions taken from The Free Dictionary)

I began to think about this when a guy friend at work suggested I get a new boyfriend.

I was all but disgusted by the suggestion.

I’ve been enjoying my freedom and independence so much since the aftermath of the-breakup-that-took-way-too-long-to-happen.

My coworker mentioned something about me wanting to be lonely and that he couldn’t understand why.

After this, I firmly corrected him.

“I am alone,” I say. “But never lonely.”

He was thinking of the situation in overly simplistic terms, a flaw that unfortunately ails most men. He deduced, logically yet incorrectly, that if I didn’t have someone in my life then it could only follow that I was lonely.

I broke it down to him like this.

Loneliness occurs when you feel the absence of Other.

Aloneness occurs when you feel the presence of Self.

Penis Envy

I was reading this post over on Funky Brown last week and it got me to thinking.

Is that all men have to complain about?

Inopportune erections?

I’ll do you one better. In fact, I’ll do you three better.

Junior High, 7th grade -  I was on my period. I think I was the last of my friends to get it. I hadn’t even  even heard the phrase “Always with Wings” yet. So my friends and I are in the pizza shop during our lunch break. The period was particularly heavy and my tampon, unbeknownst to me, was leaking something awful. When I got up to return to school, blood had soaked through my gray checked uniform skirt and onto the booth in the pizza shop. The stain was huge, but the worst part was watching one of the employees have to come behind me and clean up my blood.

High School, Junior Year -I was in gym class. One of my bra straps popped during jumping jacks (I’m a big busted woman so my girls were noticeaby lopsided after that). I was supposed to be meeting a guy after school and had to cancel my date for fear of wierding him out with my lopsided titties (I was used to men staring but I wasn’t about to give them extra reason to).

Freshman Year of College - Mr. H, hitherto the fuck of my life, had a mean cock that he wielded with deathly precision. After one particular episode I remember walking home, lost in post coital bliss, when I felt something move in my bowels, or rather, felt my bowels move.

In my pants.

How can you play something like that off? The worst part was that a very astute observer calls out to me on the street and says “Miss there’s something on the back of your pants.” I turn around and muttered that I accidentally sat in something on the bus (because what was I supposed to say…”my boyfriend fucked the shit out of me”…
literally). “Well people will find it looks bad,” she added. 

I had about seven blocks to go.

True story.

So the moral? I’d take an unsolicited woodie over any of the above incidents any day.

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Cinewhores NYC is official!

I’ve finally got it together after weeks of running around like a … well you know the saying.

Voila!

Whore! Magazine presents Cinewhores- Scandalous Sex on the Silver Screen, a monthly salon devoted to classic cinematic portrayals of sex, money, power, and the goodness in going bad (hosted and curated by moi).

This month in NYC we’ll be showing Blonde Venus starring the fabulous Marlene Dietrich as Helen Faraday.

Helen Faraday is a nightclub singer turned housewife, but when her husband needs money to have a life-saving operation, she decides to resume her career as a singer to raise money, she undergoes a chain of events that separate her from her husband and force her to make a choice between her lucrative singing career, and her role as a wife and mother.

Suggested donation is 5 to 20 dollars and the money goes to benefit various women’s organizations.

Free popcorn!