Friday Fluffer - Sex In Space

On the off-chance that you have nothing whatsoever to worry about, consider this: there's an uncertain future for humans planning to reproduce in space.

As if punting off to other planets isn't scary enough, space-kids might be even more pesky than their earthling cousins.

Space Sex Could Kill Us. Safe for work.


Bottoms Up, Weightless Doggies.

Wow! Subtle.

Desperation comes in many forms, none so blind as the person who hangs on to another person beyond the life of their relationship - no matter how short.

Men and women can both overlook critical, possibly damaging qualities and behaviours in their sig others, but there is a timing difference, at least in my experience.

Women overlook rottenness in a man early in the relationship, almost before it's begun.

Men will overlook exactly the same kind of rottenness in a woman late in a relationship, when it's nearly done.

Of course, of course, this is a generalization, and either sex can fit into either category, or neither. But the mechanism is clear to me: when a woman is of a mind to have a man in her life, she'll squeeze him into her criteria with a shoe-horn and bacon grease. When a man has been given the time to discover a woman is (ostensibly) the one for him, he'll hold onto her, even after everyone else can see they're not a match.

The fundamental difference here is that women, in general, feel that the incompatibilities - or sheer unacceptabilities - of a man she wants are within her ability to change. She can smooth out any rough edges, no matter how ingrained. Guys tend to figure that the (bad) stuff that makes them draw a quick breathe will spread, and so are best avoided. Yes, we'll still have sex if it's available, but a commitment...perhaps not.

However, if we do make a commitment over a period of time, we'll stick with it, maybe because we're afraid of being demonstrably wrong. That's our ego talking, a voice we need to ignore way more often.



Bottoms Up, Humans.

Lessons from my Cat

Pic credit.

Pain is so closely related to pleasure that we sometimes lose track of where one morphs into the other. Hormones, I guess, all those interesting wee chemicals our bodies live and die by create this intriguing dichotomy.

During sex, with the taught pleasure string and the altered pain threshold, pain and pleasure can even be reversed. In the cool calm of a Sunday morning, HOW WEIRD IS THAT?

Not really so weird, as long as we understand that a good flogging is excellent for one's wellbeing. Alright, so maybe just a light flogging, between consenting adults, with all the usual precautions. Gawd, I can't even make a small joke about the pleasures of a little S&M play without safety caveats. What have our sex lives become now that the Safety Nazis and PC Police are in the corner watching us act out our fantasies?

Oh, did I mention to ALWAYS use a safeword?

Anyway, my cat teaches me much about the nature of women. Cats have claws. Cats, when happy, knead those claws into one's flesh. It's a classic pleasure and pain scenario: my sweet tortoiseshell purrs and punctures my skin. She's in ecstasy, and I'm...happy she's happy. But OUCH, those things are sharp!

Remember, women have claws, too. Thank goodness.





Bottoms Up, Felines!

Twenty Questions

I keep discovering that if you're going to be the kind of person who asks questions about strangers' private lives, it's best to have a ninja approach to the matter.

For example, from Sunday:

Me: Hello, my name's Wombat.

Middle-Aged Woman: Hello, I'm Liz.

Me: So you and Ray are a couple? (Motioning to man standing next to her.)

MAW: (Slight hesitation.) We're married, but separated.

Me: But you look so cute together. (Lying through my teeth)

MAW: (Looking at Ray, standing at her side smiling like a goof) It's complicated.

At which point she launched into a surprisingly detailed description of why their three-year old marriage slumped to its current state of them being cocktail companions, but neither sexual nor domestic partners.

Two points:

1. Age does not give people wisdom.

2. If you're going to ask personal questions, just launch into it. They're dying to tell you.




Bottoms Up Non-Sexual Married Couples!



Photo of Hayley Tamaddon pic from here [link]

Friday Fluffer - Ink Your Pink

Jezebel, always a source of solid guidance for the modern woman, explored the world of pubic decoration recently.

They call it 'Vatooing' (as in Vaginal Tatooing) but as the article points out it's really upper pubic area decoration. UPAD isn't quite as catchy. A spirited argument exists as to whether whether the correct term is 'Vatoo' or 'Twatoo', as per here. [link] I have no skin in this game. So to speak.

Here's the original article. [link]<-----click to see. (Beware Jezebel's horribly slow servers.)



Bottoms Up, Cuntstunters!


Hat tip to the ever-on-the-leading-edge Snaf [link]

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.

Bed-In

Inspired by John and Yoko, I plan to conduct a Bed-In sometime soon. Maybe this weekend.

What's a Bed-In, I hear you ask?[link]

Well, Grasshoppah, a Bed-In is a protest conducted entirely from one's bed. It's a kind of supine sit-in, designed to create maximum media coverage without lifting a finger.

Lennon and Ono's protest concerned world peace. It's natural for anyone to think that keeping horizontal and ordering room-service could momentously change the momentum of human history. Natural for self-absorbed dicks like John Lennon, anyway.

But I like his thinking. Why create sweaty Million Man Marches or immense stinking charity concerts when all one need do to attract media attention is to check into a hotel and jump into the fart-sack?

Two things missing from this weekend's Wombat Bed-In. Actually, three.

1. A cause.

2. My own Celebrity.

3. A woman with whom to share the Bed-In (mandatory.)

If I could find a famous woman with a cause looking for publicity, I would have the answer, and quite possibly a tax deduction.





Bottoms Up, Bedriders!

Pic of Dumb and Dumber from here [link]

Ferrets

Individualism's great, but what you call individualism I reserve the right to call strangeness. Strangeness can be fun and interesting too, but I probably don't want to date you if you're strange tipping to weird. That's the way I roll.

Pets are one area in which I have little tolerance for the non-mainstream. A certain one-upmanship taints pet ownership, especially amongst those whose non-human companions extend beyond cats and dogs.

Take ferrets, for example. A mate of mine from years ago dated (for a short time) a very attractive chick who came equipped with a ferret. Mostly the rat wrapped itself around the back of her neck, with its hideous face poking out from under her hair above her left shoulder. She went everywhere with that beast, talking to it like it understood. It reminded me of a ventriloquist and her dummy, constantly blathering back and forth.

Snakes and other reptiles skip the strange category and move straight to weird. Dating a woman with a diamond python or two in her living room is beyond me. Ditto lizards, spiders, grasshoppers and Madagascar hissing cockroaches. [link]

Even mainstream pets tell us a lot about the owner. Single women with miniature dogs have them as baby replacements; men with miniature dogs are homosexual; anyone with a pit-bull is a retard. Which leaves only cat-owners as sane people. So that's who I'll date.

Have pussy? Call me.


Bottoms up!





Photo of Woman with Ferret from here [link]