Me: I'm sorry, what did you just say?
Him (slowly now): Yes, figging.
Me: Not frigging?
Him: No, not frigging, figging.
Me: Not fingering?
Him (sighing): Not frigging, fingering fucking, or flying. I said figging. Obviously you've never heard of it.
Me: Is it obvious?
Him: Would you like to know what it is?
Me: I dunno, I'm afraid now.
Him: It's pain free.
Me: Oh good.
Him: For you.
Him: It's where you take a hot pepper and put it in a guy's butt.
Him: It's not so bad. It burns some, but it feels good.
Him: You mentioned that.
Me: Ok, I suppose I can do that. Just one thing though?
Me: Why is it called figging?
Him: I don't know. Do you need to know that in order to do it?
Me: Well, quelling my curiosity *would* help me focus...
Him: I trust you'll manage.
Me: My curiosity is burning like a hot pepper up the ass.
Him: Are we going to do this or not?
Him: Why do I hear clicking in the background? You're typing aren't you? You're looking it up!
Him: Ok fine, what did you find out about figging?
Me: Well, wikipedia says it's " a sexual practice involving the insertion of a prepared "finger" of ginger root or even pepper into the anus. The burning sensation is said to induce intense pleasure. The technique is used by some practitioners of BDSM."
"The practice is sometimes said to have originated in a preparation technique for show horses, where an irritating "fig" would be inserted into their anus to induce them to hold their tail high. Others claim that Victorian corporal punishment methods sometimes involved figging to further humiliate and chastise the culprit, as well as preventing the clenching of the buttocks during caning, birching or flagellation."
Him: Those wacky Victorians. So, are we ready?
Me: But if they use ginger, or hot peppers, it doesn't explain why they called it "figging."
Him: I'm hanging up now.
Me: Wait! I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise. I'll fig you silly and I'll even wear some hot victorian lingerie while I do it, how's that?
Me: You don't mind if I call you Newton as I do it do you?
Him: Newton?.. (sigh) Ok, I get it, fig Newton. You know what? I've changed my mind.
Me: You want to use the ginger root?
Him: No, actually I think I'd get more satisfaction from doing it to you now. You could obviously use some discipline.
Me: Wait, I'm sorry. No more jokes, I promise.
Him: Too late. Now be still, this will only hurt alot.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Me: I'm sorry, what did you just say?
Friday, August 19, 2005
How can I still be surprised? What part of researching Plushies could have possibly left me with any shred of my soul unweathered? How can anything raise my eyebrows after I saw seven thousand dollar love dolls that were selling like hotcakes. (And how well do hotcakes sell by the way, can anyone tell me that? Anyone?)
But somehow, some way, surprised I am, to learn a new word, invisiphile. An Invisiphile is one who has a sexual attraction to men or women who are invisible.
Perhaps what surprised me most is not the respectable number of internet groups and websites devoted to Le Femmes Invisible but that they each have a photo gallery. Of invisible women.
Let me say that again. They have photos gallerys of invisible women.
To be fair, not all the girls are fully invisible. Some are just fading. Of the fading women, some are just sort of translucent all over and others start out solid at one end and fade to invisible at the other. All the sub-species, the transparents, translucents and the fade-outs have their own fans.
From the guys who were willing to write about their attraction, it seems the fantasy has something of a playful dominance element. Being invisible puts the woman in a powerful position for obvious reasons. At anytime during the day, the invisiphile can imagine himself to be unkowingly observed by his invisible lover. The invisiphile can have no secrets from the object of his affection. Conversely, if she has observed him to the point of knowing him better than he knows himself, it's reassuring the imagine she lusts for him anyway.
The invisiphiles seem to be a fun lot with a sense of humor about their admittedly unusual interests. I guess if you were going to fall for an imaginary girl you couldn't see, you'd have to have a sense of humor about it. Of course, it's better than falling for an imaginary girl you *can* see... that'd be just crazy.
Did I mentions they have photos of invisible women?
Monday, August 15, 2005
When I was twenty-two, I lived in South Florida.
It's a great place to be a young woman. While your body is still young and firm, you always get the perfect weather to show it off while pretending you're only wearing so little because it's so hot out. What's more, your youth and vitality are a sharp contrast to the retirees lounging in beach chairs near where you lie on a blanket in all your sun-sweet juiciness.
On one particularly blistering afternoon at the beach, I wrapped my sarong around my bikini clad hips (ok, it was a towel with Mickey Mouse on it, but sarong sounds sexier) and sauntered off to the nearby pier, where there were a few shops (I needed to buy a sarong) and a bar.
Being the parched girl I was on this hot day, I perched myself on a stool at the outside bar and ordered something virgin as I eyed a young man reading a comic book on the beach.
As is so often the case where women and booze are found under one roof.. er, umbrella, it wasn't long before I was approached by a stranger.
"My G-d, you're an Amazon."
I took a bracing breath and turned, ready to lash at the voice behind me with some comment about originality and calling a tall, large breasted woman "Amazon." As I say, I turned, and I was ready, but then, I didn't. It was one of those rare moments in my life when I was surprised into silence.
Standing next to me was, without a doubt, the largest man I'd ever seen in person. He was huge! I didn't even come up to his shoulders. My smart assed comment slipped from my mind like an extra large condom from Dubya's dick.
As my eyes continued up and up, trying to focus on his far away head, I considered forgiving him for the lame comment. The air must be thinner all the way up there, he couldn't possibly be getting enough oxygen to be at his wittiest.
"You're not exactly Lillipution yourself," I observed, my neck craned back for perhaps the first time since third grade. "How tall are you anyway?"
The stranger smiled. It was the same strained smile I recognized from all the times I'd been asked the same question. He answered with a well rehearsed tone, "I'm six eleven stadning up, nine inches lying down."
Moments later, I excused myself from his company. Despite what I do in private, my public persona has always been respectable and dignified. I didn't think being picked up in a bar was an acceptable practice to begin with, but especially not by someone who announces the size of his penis to strange women.
I did however go straight to my car and right the line down, so I could use it on the phones.
"How tall are ya baby?"
(pretend to listen to answer)
"Oooh, nice, and how tall are ya lying down?"
Friday, August 12, 2005
Maybe it's the image of fresh faced guilessness associated with the age at which most young women get braces, but dental appliances have garnered a following of their own.
Brace faces beware, the orthophiles are on the loose.
I assume the allure is similar to that of the lusty innocence of the school girl uniform. Braces and short skirts are the accessories of that time in life when youth blossoms into voluptuous beauty and eager curiosity about all things grown up.
I never really know what to say to the orthodontic fetishists. My own experiences have been limited to mild discomfort a few times when I had my wires tightened and one traumatic day when I first saw a childhood crush in braces and headgear. Before he explained what they were, I was sure he'd been in some horrible accident and the straps around his head were all that kept his head upright.
So the glamour and glitter of the mouth jewelry has eluded me. Fortunately for me, there are websites to refer to.
Monday, August 08, 2005
In India, where pornography is illegal, men caught watching the illicit flicks are being sentenced to do sit ups and make a public pledge never to watch the smut again.
Want the details? Read it for yourself. I ain't yer nanny. (though I've played one on the phone)
Now, I'm just gonna throw this out there, but maybe something similar would work to control obesity in America. We have the fattest people and the largest porn industry, there's got to be the potential for a tie in. Besides guys jacking off to workout tapes I mean.
I'm seeing a new national health craze "Mastercize." Soon enough Richard Simmons will have BBWs Sweatin to the Pornos.
Wooo Hooooo... My very best phone buddy is moving near me!
No, I'm not foolish enough to be meeting callers. I'm talking about a co-worker.
We've been friends for years but we've never met in person. Now, she's moving to the countryside just 90 minutes away from me.
We'll be like the Country Slut and the City Slut!
Friday, August 05, 2005
Robots and dolls, mannequins and androids, however you like em, imitation humans are hot stuff for some people.
Going back to childhood, (since that is, after all, where our sexuality takes shape) I can easily remember times when faux humans have tripped my trigger. The Tin Man seemed to me the sweetest of Dorothy's travel mates. At age six I felt a special bond with Pinnochio after playing him in my dance recital. And the day I sat on the floor in the den watching a rerun of Star Trek where Spock's brain had been removed and his body was being walked about by remote control, I distinctly remember thinking "that could be handy." I was fascinated by the possibilities for a long time after.
As far as I remember though, I didn't consider doing anything more scandalous with Spock than having him clean my room and do my homework. Now admittedly, I was young, but as I grew older, my titillated interest in Spock may have evolved into a taste for tall, dark haired and emotionally reserved men but certainly not into a passion for robots.
It's clear from my research however, that many men and women saw their first robot on TV or mannequin in a mall and saw limitless possibilities for a luxuriously compliant lover. And many of them are willing to put their money where their fantasies are. If you've heard of The Real Doll you know people are willing to spend upward of seven thousand dollars on what is in effect, an anatomically correct mannequin.
It would seem Jude Law's character of the android Gigolo Joe was more than just idle speculation about what people would do if they were given such attractive appliances.
Further evidence of the mainstream attraction to mechanical men and women comes from Star Trek again, where the actor playing the android Data received by far the highest volume of lust filled fan mail of the relatively attractive Next Generation cast.
I'm going to stop now before I make any more science fiction references and make myself out to be even more of a geek.
But I leave you with one more thing to consider. You may be tempted to believe that a fetish for robots or mannequins is recent only to the past century or so, as they weren't exactly found in earlier periods. I hate to get all literary on your ass, but it seems this fetish goes back as far as ancient Greece, where we find the myth of Pygmalion, who fell passionately in love with a statue of his own creation.
Now look at that... What other Blog is gonna offer you sex dolls and Greek literature in the same entry? I may be a geek, but I'm a damned fun geek!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
- Like the man behind the curtain of the Great and Powerful Oz, I hide behind my voices and pick up lines. Because I like you, I'm going tell you a few things about me that are actually true. I wouldn't expect too much enlightenment though, I wouldn't want to tell any truths that would stick.
- I'm tall.
- Really tall.
- I've only ever seen two or three women taller.
- I'm adopted.
- It was obvious, my parents were short.
- I met my birth mother when I was 28.
- I was shocked to learn that she's kind of short too.
- I thought she had the wrong person until she told me my father
- I was the youngest of six siblings.
- Until I was 28, when I learned I had a younger blood brother.
- Now I never know which part applies to me when I see articles about
the affect of birth order on one's personality.
- I'm clumsy and accident prone.
- I've been injured in car, motorcycle, dirt bike, bicycle,
skateboard, rollerblading, and horseback riding accidents.
- Oh, and I fell of a pogo stick once
- I once had amnesia and short term memory loss for two days
following a fall from my horse.
- It was great, everything I owned was new to me.
- I was very excited to learn I had a horse.
- Because of the short term memory loss, I was excited to learn I
had a horse about every ten minutes.
- Given my proclivity for accidents, my paralyzing fear of flying
- I didn't lose my virginity until a few years after high school.
- But I graduated pretty early.
- I've had sex when I didn't feel like it, just to burn the
- I've had sex when I didn't feel like it, just to end a boring date sooner.
- When I was fifteen, I secretly listened to Culture Club.
- I think these lists are shallow exercises in narcissism.
- I like to think I'm self-aware.
- I'm aware of my latent narcissistic tendencies.
- I have a daughter who's everything I wanted to be as a child.
- I have a son who's everything I actually was.
- Sometimes, I hate Karma.
- Considering I was an orphan until I was five, I think Karma
fucking owes me.
- I have a small, strawberry birthmark on the inside of my right
- I consider any other identifying marks to be strictly classified
- I've been on television and in the news a number of times.
- I will never admit to where, when, or why.
- I've been known to say some stupid shit when a camera was pointed
- I've never done a tenth of the things I've talked about at work.
- But I as I've talked about things that aren't physically possible, that's not saying much.
- Until I was trying to conceive, I always practiced safe sex.
- Which is best, because, by my own standards, I was a slut.
- But I still slept with fewer men than my best friend.
- But I think Madonna's probably slept with fewer men than my best friend.
- I think that last one wasn't actually about me.
- I don't care.
- I'm getting desperate for things to say.
- I'm this--> <--close to making things up.
- In my spare time I'm a test pilot for NASA and the world's first
- I just thought of something else about me.
- I often start things and don't finish them.