Monday, March 22, 2010

There are no coincidences or comfortable poses

Note to self: Do not do a long reclining pose with your arm above your head ever again. Ever.

Not there are any comfortable poses, mind you. Don’t believe me? OK, why don’t you go lie down on the couch. Go ahead, get comfy. Put one arm above your head, put your other arm wherever you want (yes, you can put it in your pants, if that’s what moves you). All set? Now, hold that same pose for 30 minutes. You can fall asleep, but just don’t move. How’s that arm feeling? (Um, the one above your head, perv.) Is it asleep? Does it tingle? But wait! There’s more! Get back into that pose and hold it for another hour. It’s OK. I’ll wait for you. *whistles while filing nails*

Oh, you poor baby. Are you a bit stiff (ahem)? Feeling a kink in your neck? Got a spasm? Yeah, now you know how I feel, and you will believe me when I tell you that there are no comfortable poses.

I meant for this to be a longer post, but I must go model. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, in addition to revisiting the importance of music while modeling, strange requests, and other odd fodder.


Friday, March 19, 2010

Being at The Right Place at The Right Moment

Not only did the Poet have a knack for seducing each and every one of the two legged dear whose curvaceous and well stacked hourglass figures managed to catch his roving eyes. The brown haired, sky blue eyed and well hung two legged dear hunter also had the downright amazing and rather annoying ability to be in the right place at exactly the right moment as well. Like the time many years ago when he attended his college roommate’s family reunion, a shindig complete with lots of pretty half dressed women, one of the best and more popular county music bands around and more than enough beer to guzzle.

Bummed out by the loud music and the milling crowd of red necks swilling booze the Poet found himself walking down one of the trails through the nearby woods. In search of some solitude when he looked up to see a vision of loveliness storming towards him who was moving so fast that the two legged dear hunter could see the orbs of her melon sized breasts bounce wildly up and down upon her chest. Clad in a pair of blue jean cutoffs and light blue ribbed tank top that appeared to be at least one size, if not two, too small for the wearer. The Poet couldn’t help but become aroused as his male sexual organ began to harden with the desire to taste the sweetness of her wetness even as he wondered what had made her so made in the first place.

Moving to the side of the trail as the Poet watched the scantily clad curvaceous and well stacked daughter of mother nature storm towards him so that she could pass without having to step off the trail. The two legged dear hunter soon realized that once again he’d managed to be in the right place at the right time. When the curvaceous goddess reached out and grabbed his arm as she ordered in a commanding voice, “Come with me.” then set off in the direction from which the Poet had been coming as she pulled the two legged dear hunter along with her like a puppy dog on a leash.

Skirting the field where the pagan rites of dancing to loud music and swilling booze continued apace the scantily clad curvaceous and well stacked goddess. Led the well hung Poet down another side trail that ended up at an old barn out of sight of the line of sight of the drunken participants of the festivities. Opening the side door which squeaked  loudly in protest upon its rusty hinges the daughter of mother nature, who is the goddess of reproductive love, led the Poet inside. Where she ordered the Poet in a commanding voice dripping with feminine sexuality to follow her up the ladder on the opposite wall that led upwards into the darkness of the hidden loft. Before scrambling up the ladder like a squirrel scampering across a tree limb where she disappeared into the looming oppressive darkness. Right before the curious up turned sky blue eyes of the well hung Poet who stood there at the bottom of the ladder gazing upon her cute heart shaped and tight little ass.

Upon entering the loft which was lit up with the soft filtered sunlight beaming down from the skylight window built into the roof into what appeared to be an abandoned storeroom of some sort or other. The well hung Poet found the raven haired scantily clad daughter of mother nature waiting for him where she stood beside a single bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in for quite some time. Who by the time the Poet stepped off the ladder had kicked off the tennis shoes she was wearing and slid her blue jean cutoffs. Off the curves of her hips and down her clean shaven long slender legs and removed both of her feet from the puddle of cottony fabric around her ankles. Then as the Poet turned around to face the lovely raven haired goddess the daughter of mother nature had already crossed her arms and was in the process of pulling off over her head the light blue ripped tank top she was wearing. So that she stood there in the soft filtered sunlight falling down through the built in skylight clad only in her matching sexy red Victoria Secrets thong panties and pushup bra. As she greeted the well hung two legged dear hunter with a come hither too smile dancing upon the soft curves of her full lips as she reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp holding her red pushup bra together.

It only took a moment for the wayward curvaceous and bosomy goddess to shake out the melon sized orbs of the milk jugs perched upon her well endowed chest. As she released her ripe breasts from the lacy cups of their prison and tossed her red Victoria Secrets pushup bra off to the side where it lay upon the bare wooden floor. For the moment out of sight and out of mind as she bent over in order to remove the matching red thong she was wearing which soon joined her bra as she stood back up to her full height in all the naked glory of the al natural womanly beauty mother nature had blessed her wayward daughter.

But that was long enough for the brown haired, sky blue eyed and well hung Poet to get the silent message reflected in the liquid pools of her deceitful eyes as he watched in silence. As the ripe orbs of the two legged incubator’s mammary glands fell down towards the bare wooden floor where they swayed gently back and forth like the milk filled teats of a jersey cow as she removed her sexy red thong. Without averting his eyes from the spectacular sight of the curvaceous and bosomy raven haired goddess who now stood naked before him. The well hung two legged dear hunter absentmindedly removed his own clothes until a few moments later he two stood naked. Before the wayward raven haired daughter of mother nature who was intent on avenging herself of her unfaithful husband’s infidelity whom she’d seen making out with one of her cousin’s deep in the woods.

Like the moon helplessly ensnared within the orbit of good ole mother earth’s sphere of influence as it travels across the night sky. The well hung Poet found himself drawn into the outstretched arms of the scorned raven haired daughter of mother nature whose heart, mind and soul burned with anger and vengeance. Who drew the naked well hung two legged dear hunter down onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs as they playfully wrestled each other for dominance. Which the curvaceous and bosomy daughter of mother nature won hands down when she found herself sitting atop the Poet whom she’d managed to pin  beneath her like a preying mantis in a display case. With the entire length of the two legged impregnator’s male sexual organ buried within the welcoming warmth of the love canal nestled between her legs. As she sat astride his bow-flex crafted and well hung body in the exact same unladylike manner that she enjoyed riding her father in laws expensive thoroughbred stallions.

Throughly enjoying being boffed by one of mother nature’s curvaceous and full bosomed creations. The Poet watched as the milk jugs of his unexpected sex partner bounced up and down like twin bowels of jell-o  as she impaled herself upon the pole of his male sexual organ. In an attempt to ride out the storm of anger howling within her heart and mind as she sought vengeance upon her unfaithful spouse. (Who even now was in the woods boffing one of her cousins whom she’d never even suspected of being a rival for the sexual attentions of the father of her  children.) By willingly acting as a sperm receptacle and perhaps baby incubator for the fertile seed of one of her unfaithful husband’s financial and sexual competitors.  Unaware that she was sliding up and down the pole of a being who had the ability to not only read her mind but could make her become his willing sex slave. At any moment in time that he chose to do so as well as had the ability to consume the sweet essence of her inner being- her so called immortal feminine soul. In order to recharge the powers over the bodies, minds and souls of the individual members of the feminine gender; bestowed upon him by mother nature herself who as the creator of the entire human race in all of the splendor of its diversity is also the goddess of reproductive love.

Using his telepathic powers the Poet reached into the naked daughter of mother nature’s mind and stimulated the sexual pleasure nodes  located within her brain. Intentionally holding back his own orgasm as he deliberately helped the troubled goddess to achieve the orgasm she so desperately wanted to experience at that very moment. Who responded by closing her eyes as she threw back her head and cried out ecstatically into the air as her loins climaxed again and again. Only to collapse a few moments later throughly exhausted and drained of the energy fueling the storm of emotions warring with each other inside her heart and mind until peace reigned at last.

Catching the naked daughter of mother nature within his arms the Poet quickly turned over and trapped his willing captive beneath his muscular bow-flex crafted body. As he intentionally took full advantage of her momentary weakness to pin her curvy backside to the mattress of the single bed upon which they were lying. Like a lovely butterfly in a display case as the well hung Poet allowed himself to cut loose in a flurry of motion as he humped the ever living daylights out of the wayward daughter of mother nature. Who continued to cry out in ecstasy as she writhed beneath the Poet’s well hung body as the two legged dear hunter took his latest willing victim to heights of sexual ecstasy till then unknown as she climaxed again and again and then some more. Until at last the Poet allowed himself to cum as the shaft of his manhood leaped for joy within her hot and wet pussy. As his little head deposited the tadpole which would win the race to impregnate the ovum that would develop within the daughter of mother nature’s womb to become another individual of his race of two legged dear hunters. A punishment that would fit her wayward and unfaithful husband’s many acts of infidelity  by forcing him to unknowingly raise, care for and support the child of one of his male financial and sexual competitor’s as his very own.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of her multiple orgasm the curvaceous and bosomy daughter of mother nature fell into a deep sleep within the two legged dear hunters arms. Satisfied that she’d gotten the vengeance against the wayward biological father of her children only to awaken a short time later alone upon the bed within the hidden room of the loft of the long ago abandoned barn. Hurriedly the raven haired daughter of mother nature pulled on her clothes and fled the scene of the crime of her own sexual infidelity. Without noticing that the intimate garment of the red Victoria Secrets thong that matched her push up bra was missing; as she set out upon her new life as the chosen mother of a new member of the race of two legged dear hunter’s gestating within her womb at that very moment.


Sleeping in only my underwear - bad idea.

I played dead out of embarrassment. Although, what I would’ve REALLY liked to do was : walk up to the window ’state’ and look the ogling perv IN THE EYE. And smile.

I’m SO inspired by Skins. Maybe it’s a good thing that the season’s over.

P.S.- I still can’t believe Freddy DIED!


Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Juliet, Naked

Nick Hornby is one of my favourite authors. That’s mostly due to his 2005 novel A Long Way Down, which should be compulsory reading for everyone who’s ever considered suicide, even as the remotest of all possible possibilities. And his other books aren’t too shabby either. (With the exception of Fever Pitch, which is non-fiction anyway and of which I never managed to read more than two pages. Football… what more need I say?)

Now: Juliet, Naked.

The story revolves around three characters: Duncan, a teacher in his early forties obsessed with Tucker Crowe, an 80’s singer/songwriter; Annie, Duncan’s girlfriend of fifteen years; and finally Tucker Crowe himself, now no longer a musician but a recluse and father of five. Fairly in the beginning of the book we realize that Duncan knows more about Tucker than is good for him and that, mostly because of the Tucker issue, his relationship with Annie had a definite expiry date. I’m not spoiling much when I say that the two will break up fairly early in the book and that Annie will get to know Tucker Crowe. And that’s all I’ll say about the plot, for despite all the criticism that I’ll heap upon the book in just a minute, it’s still a very good book and you might do well to consider giving it a read.

Now. If Juliet, Naked is such a jolly good read, why do I speak of criticism?

For one thing, because of bad marketing. Just like Shyamalan’s The Village got sold as an all-out horror movie (which it isn’t), this book gets sold as … ehm… something that it is not. Okay, maybe I’m being a bit too hard on Hornby and the marketing department of Penguin/Viking here. I thought, from the jacket text, that the book would be about Tucker and Annie, not necessarily in a romantic sense, but in a talking-with-each-other sense. And it is, but only on the last hundred pages or so. Before that, it’s mostly either Annie or Duncan or Tucker sitting in a corner and being miserable. Erm… I’m being unfair again, they’re not miserable, which seems to me to imply postmodern yack about how incomprehensible and unfair the world is. The protagonists are sarcastic, doubtful, often witty as they wonder about their lives and where they would be today if things had gone a little differently for them.

This is not a bad thing, per se. If I could change only one thing about the book I would tone Annie’s incessant whining about her state of childlessness down a bit. That’s about it.

If I could change two things I’d have her meet Tucker sooner. Because Tucker is the most fun character in the book, but he needs a conversational counterpart to realise his true potential for awesomeness. The clashing of rock-star and museum curator, of British middle-class and American wash-out, that’s where the book gets really brilliant. And there’s not enough of that.

I read Juliet, Naked in two sittings and after finishing the first at page 154 I wasn’t sure if I liked the book. Then I read the second part and I loved it. That’s just a warning. Give it some time.

One review I read basically said that the book was okay, only Tucker wasn’t a very interesting character and why didn’t Nick Hornby try to be a bit more mysterious and twisty. I think that woman needs her head examined.

Lately I’m reading and hearing a lot of reviews that essentially demand that every book read like an episode of Lost. Now, twists are all good and fine in their right place. I’m sure crime fiction would be poorer if every novel told you who dunnit in the very first paragraph. (Some do, and are better for it. The attraction of rare things, I assume.) But the attraction in novels like Juliet, Naked doesn’t lie in the answer to the question of who will sleep with whom because of what. Novels like this one are beautiful because we get to examine the motivations behind what the characters do, in seeing their journey, their evolution. And that is made all the sweeter if you can see all the elements from the very start. This is not a flaw, Miss Myerson, it’s perfection.


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The Naked Truth

The video comes courtesy of a faithful reader. The comments come courtesy of, well, me.

Right, so a few thoughts come to mind after having watched this video 3 times (that’s right, once just wasn’t enough). I know you’re dying to hear (read) them, so here they are:

  1. Did anyone else notice that the place was named the “White Tail” resort? Am I the only one? I didn’t see any other colors of “tails” there.
  2. Am I the only one who thinks the man sitting over to the side didn’t appreciate the blocked, frontal view of the preacher and moved in for a closer look?
  3. Gives a whole new meaning to “turning the other cheek,” don’t you think?
  4. Uh, can we have assigned seats, please?

Then, I started thinking about my own husband, a licensed, ordained minister of the Gospel (though not currently practicing).  I was thinking about how fastidiouly he prepared for Sunday mornings back when he was in that line of work.  I, myself, checked his neck to make sure there was no hair on the back of it (a pet peeve of mine) and did a once-over on his outfit every week.  Could you imagine the prepwork we’d have to do if he were to preach in this kind of church?

The body waxing alone could take a whole day.

There goes my Saturdays.


Claire is happy

Not only have I got my lovely boy back, I’m also teaching him how to properly dry and straighten my hair which is a wonderful process.

He’s never really had the chance to do this before so it’s rather like teaching a small, rather clumsy child to do it… which is a touch worrying with straighteners!

He’s doing very well though and I’m terribly proud of him. He started by whining that he couldn’t do it, but now he’ll pick up the straighteners and get to it. It’s not an easy task as I have long hair and it needs properly separating into sections etc.

Yesterday when he did it, I told him to do it naked.

This is what I had for entertainment while he did my hair.

Claire is VERY happy ;-)


Monday, March 8, 2010

Do Two Wrongs Make A Right, Ask Former Rep Eric Massa

Dem Rep. Eric Massa Calls Rahm Emanuel the “Son of the Devil’s Spawn”

Here is audio of Democrat Rep. Eric Massa saying Obama’s Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel is the “Son of the Devil’s Spawn.” He also described an encounter he had with Emanuel in the House Gym’s shower, where he said Emanuel approached him while he (Massa) was “naked as a jaybird” and started yelling at him:

“I am showering, naked as a jaybird, and here comes Rahm Emanuel, not even with a towel wrapped around his tush, poking his finger in my chest, yelling at me.”

“He is an individual who would sell his mother to get a vote. He would strap his children to the front end of a steam locomotive.”


before he disappears from the site, at least the bills he introduced are there for now:

Most Recent Sponsored Bills
  • H.R.4704To provide public safety officer disability benefits to officers disabled before the enactment of the Federal public safety officer disability…

    Introduced Feb 25, 2010 10 Views

  • H.R.4665To designate the facility of the United States Postal Service located at 23 Genesee Street in Hornell, New York, as the “Zachary Smith Post Of…

    Introduced Feb 23, 2010 19 Views

  • H.R.4448To direct the Secretary of the Interior to conduct a special resource study to evaluate the significance of the Newtown Battlefield located in…

    Introduced Jan 19, 2010 5 Views

Before he disappears on a few of his letters from across the country today. When he’s gone at least the titles sentiment show:

  • DO NOT LEAVE CONGRESS!!!!!!!!! - Deshler, OH – 03/08/2010
  • Your Resignation - Lincoln, CA – 03/08/2010
  • Rescind your resignation and stick it to these thugs! - Apex, NC – 03/08/2010
  • Stay in the House - Kingston, MA – 03/08/2010
  • STAY IN YOUR SEAT - JENNINGS, LA – 03/08/2010
  • support - Casco, MI – 03/08/2010
  • Corruption in our Government - Lancaster, CA – 03/08/2010
  • PLEASE STAY – DEMS ARE AFRAID OF YOU! - Henderson, TX – 03/08/2010
  • Stay In Congress - Estero, FL – 03/08/2010
  • Rescind Your Signature of Resignation~Send the Mobster/Gangsters in the White House a Powerful Message !! - Las Vegas, NV – 03/08/2010
  • Rescind Your Resignation, Please! - Oxford, NY – 03/08/2010
  • Rescind Your Signature of Resignation~Send the Mobster/Gangsters in the White House a Powerful Message !! - Las Vegas, NV – 03/08/2010
  • well-wishes from former shipmate - Merritt Island, FL – 03/08/2010
  • Don’t resign -we need you -switch parties & keep talking - Wesr Haven, UT – 03/08/2010
  • Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Naperville, IL – 03/08/2010
  • Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Corning, NY – 03/08/2010
  • THANK YOU for telling the truth! - Fulton, NY – 03/08/2010
  • Please Rescind your Resignation - Pine Island, MN – 03/08/2010
  • Oppose Obama’s Health Plan - Trumansburg, NY – 03/03/2010

From reviewing all of the information that I could garner, it would seem that this man is under attack, and purposely! I wonder…… if it could be from the current administration? I believe he wants the world to know just in case of ? No wonder he resigned!