Li’l Bastard Comix Friday

Well, bitchuz- I’m off to NYC in a few hours.  So, these’ll have to tide you over until Monday.  Peace out, mutherfuckers!

 

Mood Killers

Here are just a few things that I find sort of kill the mood during sex:

Body fart noises.

These are not to be confused with real farts, queefs, or the gentle “ffffft” after pullout.

NO, this is when you both are all sweaty.  One is face down, one is on top.  The stomach of one presses into the lower back of the other.  Suction is created.  And then subsequent thrusting movements create that “pppffffrrrrtttthhhh” sound.

Usually I start to giggle uncontrollably at this point and things have to stop.  Or at the very least a switch of positions is required.

Vomiting.

I related this story on Dirk Mancuso’s blog as one of my most embarassing sexual moments.  I was extremely new to gay stuff, was out of town, was drunk off my ass, and was in the middle of a one night stand.  He wanted me to sit on his stiffy, which I wanted as well.  He was pretty thick and this was back in the day when I was still fairly snug.

While squatting on him, he couldn’t wait and he thrust deep.  The pain of entry made me nauseous and before I could extricate myself from the impalement, I threw up on him.

Well- mostly on the bed, but he did get the back splash.  I went home soon after and left him to strip his bed.  How embarassing.

Leaking poo.

Not something one talks about in polite company, but it is something to be aware of.  Shit happens, especially when you are trying to go in through the out door.  On occasion, I have had that “not so fresh” feeling down there, and all things must cease at that point.

The first time it happened to me, my boyfriend at the time kept going (that sick fuck!).  He managed to finish, whereas I did not.  The discomfort (and the smell) simply precluded that.  Thank allah he didn’t give me dirty sanchez– although that was a de-stink-t possibility.

All he said afterward was, “Um, you ‘may’ want to go clean up some.”  Half a roll of toilet paper later….

Exceedingly Rough Ball Play.

I don’t know about y’all, but I am NOT one for rough ball play.  Mine are sensitive and don’t like to be slugged, thumped, twisted, yanked, squeezed or otherwise tortured.  One time a dude was sucking on my nuts and he did the whole “suck really hard and then pull off so that it pops out of the mouth and makes that finger-in-the-cheek “lollipop” popping sound”.  It was like taking a soccer ball to the nads.

Then he wanted me to fuck him.  Well, seeing as how I felt like I was gonna hurl and was trying to catch my breath, I sorta told him exactly how he could fuck himself at that point.

Drunk Dick (aka Whiskey Dick).

Nothing more disappointing and mood killing then getting a nice “Challenge Plus” or “Pro Series” dick home, only to find that they can’t get it hard or keep it hard.  And I’ll be DAMNED if I’m spending an hour blowing the thing in an effort to fluff it.  Its your dick, therefore its your responsibility to keep it up and angry.  I can only contribute so much, folks.

Cramps.

Cramps can be a real downer– especially when your hips cramp from being in an awkward position for too long.  And I’ve also experienced a calf cramp and a foot cramp during sex– both of which I had to “walk off”. 

Kinda makes you lose your boner.  Plus the “oooo CRAMP!!!” reaction can sometimes be dangerous for the other guy.  Lots of jerking around and tensing up can happen in that moment.  I’m not saying, I’m just saying…

Oh, and neck cramps can be a real bitch too.  I mean, would it be asking too much for you to stand UP while I blow you?  Jebus.

Funny, Disturbing or Inappropriate Talk.

I’m a kinky motherfucker, as you may have imagined.  I get into all sorts of dirty talk and being vocal during sex.  I love being told what to do, how to do it, and what is gonna happen.  I also like giving guys feedback without mincing words and in no uncertain terms.

That being said, occasionally there are things that just wreck the mood.  Like having a guy getting ready to fuck your ass when he says, “So, you want mama to fuck that hole?”  Mama??  WTF???

Or having a guy tell you that he wants to eat your hole– and then proceeds to tell you its ok if you fart or “let go a little” in his mouth cause he likey things dirty.  Ew.

Or getting too Harlequin Romance in your sex speak.  “Ooo, yeah.  Your mouth is like a velvet furnace, man.  Work my manflesh!  God, you have my manhood like a steel girder!”  (This usually just makes me roll my eyes and then I start laughing).  Why can’t you just stick to “Suck my cock” like a normal person?

Incorrect use of the Daddy/Boy rollplay is a showstopper too.  I had a guy once say, “Yeah- work Daddy’s cock, boy.”  He was 32 and I was older than him.

Or any time a guy uses any of the following terms during the workup to the main event:  pussy, manpussy, buttcunt, boypussy, boy-gina, fartbox, etc.  Not that I don’t appreciate (and even LOVE) these terms.  Hell, my blog uses the term ‘Mangina’ for crying out loud.  But I really don’t want to hear them during sex. Ever.

Unless I say them.  (as a joke!)

Oh, and “fartbox” makes me laugh out loud, by the way.

New Macy’s Commercial

First off, let me say that I am NOT a fan of Macy’s.

Ever since they bought out Marshall Fields, I’ve declared a silent war on them.  I mean it sort of feels like Sears buying out Nieman Marcus and then forcing them to sell platinum Craftsman tools or something.  Just wrong.

Making my semi-annual hajj to the State Street store was absolute perfect shopping bliss.  I would walk around the building and silently salaam to all the window displays before entering.  And that atrium.  The goddamn atrium alone was worth the visit.  And the mechanized windows at Christmas with the chestnut vendors outside… le sigh.

And now it belongs to “Macy’s”.

I think I would have been less wounded had it been some other department store chain.  I mean, I was ok with Marshall Field being associated with Target.  After all, Target is the upscale bargain basement store.  And Marshall Field got to keep their name and identity.  God forbid if MF had been snatched up by Sam Walton, though.

Can you imagine going to a Marshall Field’s with motherfucking smiley face rollbacks everywhere, and below-the-poverty-line greeters working the doors?  I’d rather fuck myself with a broken pepsi bottle- and I’m a COKE drinker!

Unfortunately this is slightly how I feel about Macy’s.

I’m sorry, but I view Macy’s on a same level as JC Penney’s.  Maybe at one time (like back in the Miracle on 34th Street days) the Macy’s name meant something special.  But now I think it just means crowded, ugly, generic department stores.

And one, fucking long-ass parade that nobody gives a rat’s ass about.

Macy’s is not quite Sears… but it ain’t Nordstrom either.  And therein lies my issue with them taking over Marshall Fields and ‘rebranding’ it.

Which brings me to the new Macy’s commercial that features Gabriel Aubry (aka Halle Berry’s Baby Daddy).

In the commercial (in case you haven’t seen it) Gabriel is being paraded through a Macy’s department store to his station at the Calvin Klein area.  While walking through he runs into the various “money changers” who have set up shop in the temple that is Macy’s.

Martha Stewart features prominently, which should give you an idea.  She drops one of the godawful plates from her dinnerwear collection as she gets all schoolgirlish about meeting Gabriel.  And then she leers at his butt when he walks on by.

Bitch please!  You ain’t in prison no mo’.

Mariah Carey is ALSO in the commercial- selling what I don’t know.  Fragrances?  Her latest album?  Liposuction??  All I do know is that I couldn’t tell it was her because they had her fat ass shrouded by a counter. (Thank Buddha for small favors!)

And at the end of the commercial Donald Trump makes an appearance and declares the women to be “So very shallow”.  This is the best part of the commercial in my opinion, just for the multiple levels of irony.  I doubt he even thought of it applying to his “collection” of gaudy, fugly cufflinks and tie tacks.

Jacquelyn Smith and her collection would have made the scene complete, but alas Macy’s did not see fit to invite her.

That all being said, Gabriel is still hawt.  Especially in the commercial.

Normally I do NOT go for the long-haired, golden-boy, prince valiant types.  And it takes a special man to pull of the name Gabriel– especially when you aren’t hispanic.  But he does.  And in the commercial he just oozes sex and masculinity.  I mean, who wouldn’t with a department store full of women gawking at you?

Which is completely unrealistic by the way.  Hello Macy’s– Gabriel walks through an entire department store and not one faggot stops to check him out?  What- Tim Gunn and Michael Kors not have anything “Macy’s worthy” to sell?

“Gay-cy’s” you ain’t.  And I ain’t shopping in yer stores neither. 

Night Visions

First of all, I had some bizarre-ass dreams last night.

In one of them I was at a luncheon with my mother, my friend Sheri, and my dead grandmother.  When Sheri arrived, she wouldn’t let me hug her– because she was protecting her pregnant belly.  My mom started crying and hugged Sheri and asked her how far along she was.  And then my 60+ year old mother indicated that she TOO was pregnant.  Then grandma, Sheri, and mom all started talking about how they finally got their guys to impregnate them.

It was too much so I grabbed my wand and headed outdoors.  Where I found myself in a bamboo maze.  I wandered along until I found myself in a paddock.  Where the T-Rexs were kept.  Suddenly knowing where I was, I ran for the T-Rex house and ducked down by its wall.  One of them saw movement and came to investigate.  I was lying motionless next to their feces hoping it couldn’t smell me… 

Anyway- I’m mega tired today.  The long weekend has finally crept up on me.  Interesting story though….Kyle and I bumped into two employees of the Guthrie Theater while leaving the baseball game, and we got invited to tour backstage.  So we went.  I’m not posting those pictures, but these are some from inside the building itself.

Random city view.

Historic Stone Arch Bridge.

Closeup on the bridge.

Inside the “bridge to nowhere” cantilevered structure at the Guthrie.  If you look carefully at the ceiling, you’ll see faint images burnt into the background.

This is what the images look like.  Very “Dante’s Inferno”, I think.

Kyle as “devil”.

And because I just couldn’t resist– MORE pics of Jason VARITEK (with an “A”):

As much as I love Catchers– I just know I’d want him “pitching” to me.  While I wore his guards.

My God, it looks like he’s smuggling a 5-dollar footlong from Subway!

Really Jason? Must you tempt me so???

Twins Game (or Jason Varitek and some baseball)

Twins 9, Red Sox 8.  Grrr.  The Sox didn’t look especially sharp, and their leadoff pitcher Wakefield was completely off his game.  After a disasterous second inning where the Twins rattled off 5 runs or something, the game got much better.

Oh, and Jason Varitek was NOT the starting catcher for the Red Sox, and he was pretty much the reason I got these tickets so I was a bit heartbroken.  I really REALLY wanted to see Jase-bear behind the plate AND at bat. 

But he did warm up a few pitchers later and I was able to snap off about 50 pictures of him– some of which you will see below.

Kyle and me enjoying the game– but not our seat neighbors (over Kyle’s shoulder).  The one closest to Kyle was cute with a nice, hooked nose.  But his drunken behaviour was eye-roll enducing.  AND he was sporting a faux-hawk!! 

Twin’s dugout. With Joe Mauer (#7) looking rather fetching while he posed for me! 

J.D. Drew has a great ass.  With that perfect back-arch form, methinks he has “taken a few”.

And here it is again, practically thrust in Joe Mauer’s face! Just for the record, Joe Mauer is fucking HAWT.  Definitely my second favorite catcher.  I’d have him squat and catch for me any day!

Joe Mauer is a cornfed Minnesota boy… you can tell!

A bit of a conference for the good guys– featuring dead sexy Mike Lowell.  Mmmm DADDY!

Looking good Mr. Lowell!

Youkilis being all ‘papa bear’ with his goatee.  And Morneau is about to be congratulated for his base hit with a smack on the butt.  Good boy!

I think Papa Bear needs to butch up his stance a bit, but it did match the pink bat he was swingin’.

Lopez is gonna hurt himself with that seriously fucked up pitching style.  But I love the action in this picture.  His arm looks all twisted and gross.

And now for the highly anticipated Jason pics.  He didn’t put in an appearance until the 7th inning, but when he did… schwing! 

The “eyes” have it.  And the pink grill for Mother’s Day gives it just the right touch, don’t you think?

Damn it! I said LOOK at me, Jason!  Why do you spurn my love??

I think you can see why this is my favorite picture of Jason.  And no, I don’t think that’s his cup.

Finally Jason without the goddamn catcher’s mask!  God his legs are like tree trunks!!  And that ass…gaaaaaahhhhhrrrrhhhh.

And finally, gotta love random, hot, built, shirtless college boys with body paint!  They paraded up and down the aisle plenty of times for us.

Preparation… H?

A short clip about my NYC trip preparations:

And knowing is half the battle…

Hat tip to Adam (straight, married, musician dude who lives in my ex-house and contributor to This Blog) for cluing me into these.

There are a ton of these on youtube and this is just a smattering. The first one is stereotypical yet funny. The second is so random it makes me laugh. And the third one makes pork sandwiches shoot out of my nose!

Go JOE!

Li’l Bastard Comix returnz

After a one week hiatus in order to do more Glamour Shots (which nobody seemed to enjoy), I am posting a new series of altered comix.

Here’s hoping you don’t shit all over these, too!

 

Digital Picture Frame Fun

Yesterday, one of my coworkers was explaining to me (at great length) what he and his children were doing for Mother’s Day this year.  Like I care, but it gave me a chance to catch up on my Kegel exercises.

What they were getting “mom” was a digital picture frame.

During the course of our endless discussion on the matter, I offered up some suggestions for the first loaded pictures.

cb:  Oh!  You should have pics of each of you sticking your tongue out at her.  OH OH!  Better!  Flipping her the bird!  Happy fucking Mother’s Day!

coworker:  Or how about “hey honey” (and he mimes mooning the camera).

cb:  Excellent!

But all this got me thinking.  How much fun would it be to get one of these digital picture frames, and then load it with nothing but nasty porn pics?

Pictures of buttsex.  Rimming.  Bukkake.  Pictures of Hustler vaginas stretched open so far you can see their tonsils.  Distended Rosebuds.  You name it, the more shocking the better.  And then have it diplayed ever-so-prominently in your home.  I’d opt for my piano or a mantle.

It could be a real “conversation starter”.

But then I had an even better idea.  How about loading the picture frame with nice vacation pics.  Something tropical and soothing… like Hawaii, for instance.  And then every so often have a nasty porn picture flash by.

It would be infinitely more shocking to catch people unawares.  And funny!

But THEN I had the best idea.  Go to someone’s house who has one of these and sneak in a naughty picture!  How funny would it be to haul out your junk, take a picture of it, and then somehow wedge it in to the lineup?

Unsuspecting family:  Oh, here’s a pic of Nonny enjoying her 90th birthday.  Isn’t she precious?

Guests:  Awww.

UF:  She had trouble blowing out the candles.  We all pitched in!

Guests:  Awwwwww!

UF:  And here is… OH!  I don’t remember THAT at Nonny’s party!

Guests:  Ohhhh…. she blow that out next?

I gotta figure out how you upload the pictures and how hard it is to do.  Plus I figure the only chance to do it is if you are house sitting or have some sort of ‘alone moment’ with the frame.  Regardless, I am completely onboard with this idea.

This could be the next best thing to “upper decking” someone!

 

P.S.  No, that’s not my junk.  That’s Colton Ford’s junk. 

The Trouble with Madonna

Or is it “M-dollah”?  I get so confused these days.

With good ol’ Madge back in the publie “eye” as of late, it has given me time to examine how I feel about her.  And the verdict isn’t good.

Truth be told, I do this every time another one of her albums drops (except the American Life one which came and went before I even knew she had crapped it out).  The height of my Madonna-lovin’ came with “Ray of Light”.  Yet with each successive album my affinity for Madonna diminishes.

Don’t get me wrong, I still appreciate her talent.  What gifts she lacks in the vocal department she MORE than makes up for in the shameless yet brilliant self promotion department.

Besides, how can I not like her?  I’m gay and the Madonna Pathos is one of the cornerstones of your “Coming Out” box.  (Along with the guide to choosing appropriate window treatments, a box set of Anne Rice novels, and the video on how to dance with your arms above shoulder level.)

That being said, I feel the need to offer up some much needed criticism of the old (material) girl:

FIX YOUR GODDAMN EYE MAKEUP.

Hell, fix ALL your makeup!  I mean, Jesus wept folks!  She’s got more than enough money to burn a wet mule.  Why does she insist on appearing in public as if a cat just spritzed her face?  What look is she going for here precisely– Clockwork Orange?

While she’s at it, she might also think about sopping up some of that oil.  Christ, she looks like Cameron Diaz!

Between Madge and Cameron, I think we have an untapped oil reserve that could potentially solve our growing energy needs.  Just a few donated blotter pads and ANWAR would be safe for another generation.

This is a woman who has set music and fashion trends for decades.  DECADES people!  And this is how she appears in public??  Like she just finished up a 3 hour Bikram yoga session and ran a 5K to get to the press party.

I’m sorry, but I expect more from the Queen of Pop.