Speaking of domination

This shit just amuses the hell out of me.

Check it out: http://theduchess.wordpress.com

An Orgasm Isn't The Only Good Feeling You Can Buy From A Phone Whore

"You know I care for you Danielle, but this will be the last time we speak unless you contact me directly. True friendship can't exist when one party is paying for it."

It was about eight years ago a man said those words to me. He'd been calling often, and for extended periods, sometimes intentionally hanging on the line until he fell asleep to the sound of voice as I read mystery novels aloud. While I didn't have any romantic feelings for the man, I was concerned for his middle class income and an apparent penchant for downward spirals into reckless spending.

Not that there was much I could do about it.

I know many would rightly say I contributed to the man's addiction and encouraged him to keep calling. Those people would point out how easy it is to hang up a phone and save him the money. I won't feel harshly toward those accusations, (who could I? I just posed them myself,) I enjoy my own self-rightousness too much to deny it in others. I will, however, defend myself to both my accusers, and my guilty conscience.

I was not the owner of the company I worked for an had no control over who called me, how often, or how much they were permitted to spend. And hanging up on a caller was strictly forbidden.

I had college to pay for, and a small child to raise by myself. I was in no position to risk my job for the sake of someone who's problems began before he spoke with me and would continue after our conversations ended. I couldn't stop his addiction, the best I could do was to discourage him from overextending himself. I did so gently, and in soft terms for the benefit of any monitors who may have been listening. "I want you to take care of yourself so you can keep calling me, babe."

Unfortunately, my concern for his well being, only served to bond him to me more closely, and for three months, his calls increased in frequency and duration. Though he regularly encouraged me to contact him outside of the work line, he accepted my protestations both of loyalty to the company who had hired be, and of the fear of being fired.

I realized it might have been kindest to be cruel, to make him believe, without being overtly rude, that I cared nothing for him and that he'd been foolish to think so. And while it was the truth, I couldn't bring myself to say so. He was obviously in great need of a kind word and warm voice. He'd been recently divorced and his ego needed reassurance before facing the world of romance again. The very fact he thought he was falling in love with a stranger on the phone made me think he needed kindness more than money.

To a point.

Shortly after I realized how deeply he was digging himself, I presented the owner with my case for blocking his calls. "It's easier to get $300 from someone than $3,000 or $30,000."

"The credit company knows what he can afford, they're the ones letting him call," was my boss' dismissive response.

I quickly began looking for another company to work for. Lest you think I'm in some way motivated by honorable sentiments, let me disillusion you. I just figure a man who doesn't mind putting his customers in the poorhouse wouldn't mind screwing me out of a nickel here or a dime there.

I left the company a short time later, but not before my caller had his moment of clarity. I applauded him when he stopped calling, wishing him all the best in the world.

The nest company I worked for limited calls to 30 minutes. Being a busy call center, a caller who tried to get back with the same operator was unlikely to manage it. Serious seeming romance didn't blossom on the phone again for the next few years. Especially as I'd moved into management, taking only occasional calls as a teaching aid.

I'm back on the lines again now, working for a company which caters to a more upscale clientele. Calls are longer and more involved. The women working the lines are all very knowledgeable about sex, fetish, and some psychology. We are fantasy artists and take pride in our work. And we also build relationships with our clients.

For the most part, the callers understand the deal and we work together with mutual respect as we call each other filthy names. But sometimes, every once in a while, there's a guy who imagines himself in love.

Here I'm going to be arrogant and speak on behalf of all my colleagues who take their jobs seriously and do an exceptional job.

When you call us, it's important to understand that our job is not simply to make you orgasm.. it's to make you feel good. If it takes a bit of stroking your ego along with stroking your cocks, we'll do it. Enjoy the rush of the compliment when you receive it, but don't consider it too highly as proof of our esteem.

You know we won't give you our addresses and home phone numbers, please understand that these aren't the only steps we take to protect out identities. The vast majority of us use fake names, and more savvy operators will never admit to having children, pets, spouses, or sometimes even neighbors. To ward off the extreme calls, we don't admit to having anyone or anything we wouldn't want to talk about having sex with.

Since we can't admit to where we live or who we know, there are many more things we can't discuss with you. The tornado which ripped through our garage will go unmentioned, for fear you could google the news story and find out who we are. A beloved friend with a unique career will go unmentioned for the same reason. These are just a few examples of how we keep barriers between us.

With all these precautions we take, it's simply not possibly for you to know who we are. What you think you know about our interests or activities are likely lies to make us fit your idea of the perfect companion.

We research different hobbies, areas, and interests, all so we can speak with you intelligently and become your prefect women. We collect stories of other people's adventures to share with you as if we'd experienced them first hand. In this way, a man who rides in the rodeo can hear how I broke my collarbone while learning to barrel race, even though the accident actually happened to another caller.

Through the phone we are courtesans, we are geishas, we are chameleon enchantresses, but we are not ourselves.

If, during the call, you believe we love you, we've done our job. But just like at the movies, when the curtain goes up, it's time to stop suspending your disbelief and remember that it was an illusion.

Enjoy the call. Embrace the feeling while you have it. But don't imagine you love us or we you. You have no idea who we are.

Busy, Busy, Busy

I've taken a position with a new company, specializing in domination and it's kept me very busy.

You'd be amazed how many men need to be tormented, beaten, restrained, and humiliated in preparation for holidays with the family.

Of Sex and Science

A new study has determined that there is no firm link between promiscuity and sexually transmitted diseases. They point to the fact that nations with the highest rates of HIV/AIDS are not the nations with the highest rates of promiscuity.

Sometimes, scientists fucking kill me. I don’t know what part if "sexually transmitted" is confusing.

Don’t get me wrong, in general, I love them. I question everything, have the hots for Jamie and Adam on Mythbusters (I know, they’re not actually scientists,) and become utterly provoked when pseudo-scientists like ghost hunters claim what they do is science though they’ve clearly never heard the words "scientific method."

But to deny that promiscuity has any correlation to sexually transmitted disease defies reason. Any fool knows, if you continue to dip from the well, eventually, you’ll pull up the goldfish that’s been down there.

Their reasoning takes into account only one factor contributing to the spread of one STD. The scientists themselves displayed a lack of cultural understanding when they said they expected to see the most promiscuous behavior in regions like Africa where the virus is most concentrated.

Africa... where so many people are devout Muslims or Christians. This is where they expected the highest concentration of promiscuity.

Morons.

Of course the disease is spreading rapidly when a good potion of the continent had HIV before we knew how to prevent it and few people could afford condoms once we understood they protection they afford.

Nowadays, every African woman who sleeps with a single man, and make no mistake, that’s the average number of partners for an African woman, has a fifty-fifty chance of contracting the disease. And every single woman who has the virus can give birth and pass it down to more than one child before she dies. It’s amazing there are any Africans left, with or without promiscuity.
They may as well have said "there are more dark people in Africa than in Europe, ergo, sleeping with dark people has no direct effect on the outcome of your potential offspring’s skin tone." It makes about as much sense.

It’s simply not possible to determine the effect of promiscuity on the spread of disease without removing other factors which would skew the results. No credible scientist would run such a study and call the results conclusive. I’m confidant when the test subjects are all from a relatively equal socioeconomic class and all have equal access to condoms, you’ll find sexually transmitted disease is more prevalent in the more promiscuous population.

And lest you think condom use is the single difference in the spread of disease, and promiscuity may be dismissed as a factor, you should understand condoms do not prevent all STD’s and won’t prevent any at all if improperly used. Many people are not aware of the basics principles of condom use for disease prevention and either don’t use condoms for the entire duration of all sexual encounters or don’t use condoms and dental dams during oral sex.

Ok, so why am I getting all worked up about this? Well, for one, I like to beat dead horses, and this bastard’s still needs one last kick. But mostly because the claims of this study are dangerous. They promote a false sense of security. And the people most at risk are the ones we should be most passionate about protecting. They are the young, who have more time and drive to be promiscuous and less experience discerning when something is nonsense.
I’m pissed because I have children, who will one day want to have sex, and I will have to combat the dangerous misinformation coming from people who, at first blush, seem to be experts.

200 years ago, everyone knew the prostitute down in the red light district was going to die of the pox before the holy housewife. It took modern fucking science to deny what common sense has always known.

You can find an article on the study I'm bitching about here.

Put the Ginger Root Down and Back Away Slowly

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Happy Figging Halloween

Once again, I stop by my blog to discover that easily 15% of my visitors are looking for information on figging. Well Happy Halloween my burning-bottomed little kinksters! Did you realize there were so many of you?

You should all start a club. Hell, maybe I'll start a club for you... If you're nice. But first, you'll have to come out of the closet, or rather, the spice cupboard, and tell me it's what you really, really want.

You can be the Fig-kateers.

Sing the song with me, will you?
G-I-N... Anyone up for a figging?
G-E-R... Are you ready for the burn?
A-S-S-E-D

(I realize many of my readers aren't from America and may not understand the reference to the Mickey Mouse Club, but please don't feel left out. You'd be amazed by how many Americans don't get my jokes either.)

Wow, how many times in life will I get to bring Mickey Mouse and figging into the same conversation, huh? It's days like these that make me adore being literate.

Well, Happy Halloween everybody. And to my pagan friends, Happy Samhain.

I'm going to go wrap myself in seaweed paper, shove a ginger finger up my derriere and tell everyone I'm dressed as sushi.

Sexy Skirt

Me: Hi, this is Lara, who's this?

Him: What kind of skirt are you wearing?

Me: Poodle.

Him: Poodle?

Me: Yes, poodle.

Him: What do you mean, poodle?

Me: I mean I'm wearing a poodle skirt. It's a skirt... with a poodle.

Him: Like one of those old fashioned things?

Me: Yes, just like one of those old fashioned things.

Him: You're not really wearing a skirt are you?

Me: How did you guess?

Him: {{{{Click}}}}

(Next time I'll tell him it's a grass skirt and see if I fare any better.)

Figging revisited

I’ve recently added this nifty little feature to my blog which allows me to see where people are visiting me from both geologically (Hellooooooo Dubai!) and virtually, as in "what link did you follow to find me?" Turns out a disproportionate number of you little kinkmeisters come to me after you’ve googled the word “figging.”

Oh yeah, you know who you are.

Well, as a public service for my lovely burn-bottomed readers, I thought I’d go into it in a little more detail.


First, some safety tips.

1) Peel it. Smooth it down, take off the rough patches and knobbly bits, and round the end. Inserting the ginger should burn, not scrape.

2) Wash the damned thing! We all know you shouldn’t be eating fruits and vegetables without giving them a rinse, do you really think it’s advisable to shove one up your ass, pesticides and all? You’ll also need to clear away any peelings still clinging to the root.

3) Use a root large enough not to slip in and disappear. This really isn’t anything you want to take to the emergency room.

4) Don’t leave it in for extended periods. While the burning begins to diminish in ten to twenty minutes, depending on freshness, the root is still capable of causing irritation.

5) Cut an indentation around the root for the rectum to close around, keeping the ginger in place. Put the indentation far enough from one end to afford you a small handle or base when the ginger is in the rectum. (Like a butt-plug.)

6) While some people have used ginger in the vagina, others claim vaginal secretions are too acidic to combine safely with the juices of the ginger. You’ve been warned.

7) Wash you hands after touching the ginger. Avoid touching your face until you do so as the juice from the ginger will burn your eyes, nose, and mouth.

8) To avoid unexpected and unwanted after-effects, begin by testing it for a few seconds, increasing to a few minutes, checking for signs of prolonged irritation between inseertions.

Now for some tips and tricks:

Some enthusiasts recommend a slice of ginger berifly placed on the clitoris for added fun.

The peeled ginger requires no lubricant. Lubricant creates a barrier between the ginger and the rectum, diminishing it’s effect. The juices of the ginger may be used as a natural, though less effective lubricant. Some preliminary fingering may be required to relax the rectum prior to insertion.

Fresh ginger has a stronger effect than older ginger.

To increase the effect of older ginger, allowed it to age in a sealed bag in the refrigerator until it begins to develop a mold. Peel and use as normal.

For reviews of personal experiences with figging, check out:

http://www.agirlwitha.com/content/2004/07/ginger_fingers.php

or

http://sinerator.blogspot.com/2006/04/figging.html

The Supreme Court Refuses to Jugde Dildo

A man in El Paso was arrested for violating a Texas law prohibiting the sale of sex toys shaped like sexual organs.

Two undercover police officers made the arrest when adult-bookstore employee Ignacio Acosta made remarks which indicated the phallus was intended for uses which were prurient in nature as opposed to educational, medical, or artistic.

Let me repeat that slowly.


He was arrested, while selling a dildo

in an adult bookstore

to police officers who were disguised as people who have sex

when he indicated that the dildo

the one that was in the adult bookstore

was intended to be used as a sex toy

instead of medical or educational use.



If he had sold a dildo shaped like a rabbit, it would have been somehow alright.

If he has sold a dildo shaped like a penis under the guise of using it as a rectum dilator, it would have been somehow alright.

If he had sold a dildo shaped like a penis, claiming it to be a ten inch, rubber sculpture representing man’s inhumanity to man, that would have been somehow alright.

But selling a dildo, shaped like a dildo, to be used as a dildo, is against the law in Texas.

Acosta challenged his arrest and the El Paso county court agreed with him that the law violated individual sexual privacy. But apparently the district attorney felt strongly enough about dildos to appeal the decision and the ruling was overturned in appeals court..

The next step would be the US Supreme Court, but they’ve been busy with Ana Nicole Smith and refused to hear the case.

I just wonder how they'd feel about a dildo shaped like a high court justice? It would only be in violation of Texas law if they admit they're dicks.

Why ask why?

I've on occasion been asked why I would do phone sex for a living.

To be honest, I don't do it for a living, it's more of a hobby. Which is not to say I'm getting off while I do it, but that entertains me by lettiing me have an amusing glimpse into some men's psyches.

There's that, but I really just wanted to see the look on the auditor's face when I claim vibrators as a legitimate business expense.

I Just Don't Get To See Them AT Their Most Intelligent

Me: Sure, I can send you a pic of myself baby. Where would you like me to send it?

Him: Number five Elm Street, Springfield.

Me: Ok, well hun, what’s your email address?

Him: There isn’t one, I live in a house.

Eeeeeeeeeeew!!!!

My good deed for the day

In response to a request for links to other phone sex perator's blogs, I've found a list of directories which allow you to search for adult blogs by category (BBW, Tranny, hardcore, etc.) Manny operators list their blogs on these directories.

Here ya go puddin's;

• Adult Blog Directory



• Adult Blog Spider



• Porn Blog Catalog


• 
  Directory of Sex Blogs


• Quality Adult Blogs



• Sex Blog Hunter



• Twisted Blogs



• Adult Blog Turtle



• Porn Blog Dog



• Porn Blog Rabbit



• Porn Blog World



• Sexblog Demon



• Pornblog Finder



• Sex Blog Dump



• Sex Blog Pussy



• Sex Blog Zilla



• WorldWide Topsites

Do You Want To Know What I Do When I'm Feeling A Little Kinky?

Sometimes, not often, but every once in a while, when I'm feeling a little bit freaky, I talk about thinks that have nothing to do with sex.

I've started a Blog over at MySpace for those days. You can find it at http://blog.myspace.com/operator15

Go.. Laugh... Be my friend.

Please?

The advertising think-tank is filled with intellectual guppies

I normally prefer to stay away from the war between the sexes. They usually end up being ugly accusations which cite extreme examples of behavior as a justification for the attack of half the population. It’s ridiculous and the attacker ends up looking more foolish than the attacked.

That said...

Some men are so fucking stupid I could have an aneurism just thinking about it!
There’s an old truism in advertising that says simply "sex sells." Let me be the first to raise my hand and testify to the truthiness (I love you, Stephen Colbert) of this statement.
The heavily male dominated advertising industry has been pitching sexy ads to the heavily male dominated executive businesspeople almost since mass media and branding were created. For the most part, it’s been a great success.

An new study conducted by three University of Florida professors is saying that for women, the theory is a falsehood.

The study showed women who were shown advertisements featuring attractive female models and asked to both categorize the type of beauty the model represented (classic feminine, sensual exotic, trendy, cute, girl next door, and sex kitten) and rate their level of response from bored to interested.

The data showed that the more sexually charged the model seemed, the less interested the women were. The conclusion? Sex does not sell to women.

OK, here’s a pop quiz who can see what is wrong with this statement? They were basing their conclusion on the responses of women to images of attractive *women*. No study was done based on the responses of women to sexy men.

Now, I don’t know if the studies participants were surveyed on their sexual orientation, but presumably, it was the same 90% heterosexual as the rest of the population.
So let’s analyze this equation. We are heterosexual women who aren’t attracted to images of sexy women, ergo, sex does not attract us in advertising.

And the Diet Coke guy had no part in boosting sales of Diet Coke that year. And Fabio’s books sold so well because he was a really brilliant author. (I said that sarcastically, but really, Pirate was a great book.)
For decades, Advertisers have been pitching sexy women in advertisements to women, hoping to entice the buyers to emulate the models. But the first rule of communication is to know your audience. Before we ever picked up a magazine telling us what products we want, society taught us not to be whores.

Damn society.

It took three PHDs to figure out that I really don’t want to buy toothpaste from a Victoria’s Secret model. How many of them will it take to figure out I’d buy any freaking floorwax you’re selliing if you just put Keanu Reeves’ half naked body on the kitchen floor.

Small Penis Prevention Day.. Spread The Word!

It's here at last! I know you've been waiting. The 1st annual Small Penis Prevention day is finally here.

Mistress V has decided to take matters into her own hands and cull the herd of underendowed men through the use of tagging, tattooing, and branding to mark these men as unfit for procreation. She also supports the use of chastity devices and sterilization to prevent these men from passing on the puny-peter gene.

Show your support, visit he site today and learn what you can do to prevent small penises.

Trapped In Chocolate?

The AP wire released a story about a Kenosha Wisconsin man who fell into vat of chocolate. The poor bastard was stuck until rescue workers could blend in enough cocoa butter to thin the goo to a workable consistancy.

I'm smelling a new fetish hitting the phones.

Oh wait, that's mine.

Self-fellatio as an art form?

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Juggling Is The New Mime

As a rule, phone sex operators can be pretty busy during the prime-time hours.

As with any entertainment industry, there really isn't much business during the day, and it's in the after dinner hours that things pick up. Now, what with sex being a common bedtime ritual, we tend to keep going a little later than your average movie theater, but the principle is the same. We mostly work nights.

By know, you should be reasonably wondering where I'm going with this and what it has to do with juggling mimes. Well Poppet, my point is... We don't get to watch much television unless we record it.

Be patient, the jugglers are coming.

I took this week off from work for the first time in five years (the beauty of phone sex is that it can go with you when you're on vacation) and reintroduced my ass to my couch.

I don't mind saying, I had some rather high expectations. For the past decade, I've occasionally caught a few good shows, but only after the seasons are released on DVD. (House MD is a special case, I'd rearrange my schedule for Fry, Laurie, French, or Saunders any day of the week. I'm glad none of the others have American series going right now or I'd never get anything done.)

So, there I am, with the remote, a bowl of popcorn, and my expectations and what do I subject myself to but a new show called America's Got Talent.

Sigh.

The first act was a guy who snaps his fingers. Nuff said.

Of course, I never leave it alone when enough has been said, so I'll continue.

For those of you old enough to remember The Gong Show, you'll understand what I was looking at for two hours.

Oh sure, there were a few truly talented people on the show. There were two kids who clearly hadn't made it just for being precocious. They had talent that could stand up to any adult, any day of the week. There were a few singers who were good and some guys who really need to be auditioning for Cirque de Soliel. But for the most part, it was nose organs, singing saws, and rapping grannies.

And jugglers. G-d help us, there were jugglers.

Hence the title of my post.

It seems the new trend in obnoxious street performance is toward juggling. Unlike mimes however, who can only make rude, but silent gestures if you make a disparaging remark, jugglers can threaten you with knives and chainsaws. Oh sure, they use them in the act, but really the weapons are there to make sure you keep your catty comments to yourself.

On last night's show, one such juggler managed to get a second shot at the $1 million prize by baring his machetes to the judges after they'd all voted him off. If you tune in to the next episode, you'll get to see Mr. I-don't-take-no-for-an-answer-without-making-you-fear-for-your-safety (we call him Mr. I for short) and be able to check out his encore. He's kind of clumsy though, and keeps dropping his stuff, so maybe he'll take himself out of the competition when he dismembers himself.

Enjoy your TV. I'm going back to work.

Talk about phoning it in...

I found a new sex toy for you!

Ok, maybe not the kind you're thinking of. It's a chatterbot, and you can now chat online anytime with my vacuous alter-ego.

Go ahead, she's right there at the top of the right hand column.

Here----------->

Go on. You know you wanna.

She may not be as stimulating as a venus butterfly vibrator, but if you ask the right questions, she can be penetrating none-the-less.

Enjoy.






I'm a geek.

My All Time Favorite Call

I'm sorry to say, my absolute favorite call isn't even mine. It was a story I once heard of another operator's call.. Let's just call her Operator16.. And she was kind enough to give me leave to publish her story here.

She: So.. You're actually in your garage?

He: Yeah, I'm in my car.

She: You're in your car in the garage.

He: Yeah, I'm in the trunk.

She: Why are you in the trunk?

He: So my wife doesn't hear me.

She: Are you playing hide and seek?

He: No, I just don't want her to hear me.

She: Where is she?

He: In the kitchen making dinner.

She: Ok, so she's in the kitchen making dinner and you're in the trunk of the car in the garage. Did you leave the truck latch open?

He: Um.. No. Do you think I should have?

She: How are you going to get out?

He: I.. Um...

She: I see.

He: I guess I didn't think this one through.

She: Clearly not.

He: What am I going to do?

She: Why don't you feel around for a safety release inside?

He: (rustling sounds) I'm not finding anything.

She: Does it have fold down back seats? Can you push them down?

He: No, the trunk is separate.

She: Wow, I don't even know what to tell ya. Sound like you got yourself into a jam there.

He: How much oxygen do you think is in a sealed car trunk.

She: Just take shallow breaths.

He: (Begins to hyperventilate)

She: Ok, well, that's not what I told you to do. Look, can you shout for your wife?

He: No, she's at the other end of the house. She'd never hear me.

She: So why did you need to... Oh never mind.

He: (whispering) Wait a sec. I hear something.

She: Ok, great, maybe it's your wife.. Try shouting.

He: (whispering) Shhhh... Hang on.

She: Wouldn't now be a good time to stop hiding and get out of the trunk?

He: (no response, just the muffled sounds of a key going into a lock and the unmistakable sound of a trunk door opening.)

The wife: Dinner's ready, stupid.

Robbie the Robot? Is that you?

OK, now, since we've already explored the fetishists who like dolls and mannequins, the whole robot fetsh was not lost on me, (if you're new to this blog, go on and read through the archives. I promise you'll be amused. And don't try to pretend you've done it if you haven't. I can look at the stats and tell you're lying. Don't give me those looks. If I have to come over there, you'll be sorry.) I must say though that I've never before spoken to a man who actually wanted to be a robot.

It was, to be frank, rather distracting. He spoke in a flat, monotone voice, kind of like the robot from the old Lost In Space episodes. (I saw them in reruns.. don't go thinking I've dated myself) At first I wasn't sure if he was just a bit.. off. But when asked him "do you like that baby? Does that feel good?" He responded with "I am programmed only to perform, I do not feel."

Oh boy.

You know, if he would allow me, I could think of a whole bunch of material for robot fantasies. Rutger Hauer in Blade Runner, Brent Spiner in Star Trek The Next Generation, (what can I say, I'm attracted to older artificial gentlemen) but with that ridiculous voice, all I could picture was the robot Asimo with a strap on.

And for all the people reading this right now saying to me "only Asimo is really a bot, the others are androids." Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't come over to your blog and point out what you're doing wrong with all those women you don't have sex with do I?

Gilbert Gottfried's too unsexy for the Taliban

The Boston Pheonix has released a list of the unsexiest men alive and Gilbert Gottfried topped out at number one.

At first glance, it's perfectly reasonable. He's a physically repellant little person with a grating voice and a propensity toward offensive humor. (Rumor has it he's told Holocaust jokes to death camp survivors and once asked a preteen girl if she had pubic hair yet.)

Yes, Gilbert Gottfried is a troll in need of a bridge.

But then I look further down the list and see that to get the number one spot, he beat out Osama Bin Laden. Now, I don't feel any attraction for Gottfried, but it must be said, at least he doesn't look like he has fleas in his beard.

Perhaps I'm a bit predjudiced. I'm an American and a New Yorker. I'm still kind of bitter about the whole 9/11 thing and it no doubt colors my perception of Bin Ladens manly charms. Who knows, maybe his multiple wives actually dig the tall, dark, and psychotic persona and they aren't just victims of a sexist society that treats them like chattel. But I don't get the sense that The Pheonix interviewed many Afghani women anyway.

I'm surprised that American sensabilities would permit anyone to be less attractive than our public enemy number one. Even if he wasn't the orchestator of what is arguably our greatest national tragedy, he would still be skinny and scraggly, with a big nose, hollowed out eyes, and lousy fashion sense.

What's funnier than Gilbert Gottfried being less sexy the Bin Laden, is that he had plenty of company. According to The Pheonix, Randy Johnson, Roger Ebert, Dr. Phil, Alan Colmes, Chad Kroeger and Mike Mills are all less sexy than Osama Bin Laden.

Other amusing notes from the top one forty list:
Jerry Seinfeld is less sexy than Larry David
Ron Howard is ledd sexy than Clint Howard
John Lovitz is less sexy than Chevy Chase, who is less sexy than Chris Kattan, Who is less sexy than Al Franken.

At this point, I'd like to point out that over 30% of all the world's least sexy men have either hosted, acted, written for, or otherwise appeared or contributed to Saturday Night Live. And you know if John Belushi and Chris Farley had lived, they'd be on the list too.

For more than thirty years Lorne Micheals's tryanny of the unsexy has ruled late night television with an iron fist and an ugly stick. What's worse, spin-off movies basedon unnatractive SNL characters have brought the unpleasantness into the daylight.

I guess they weren't kidding when they said comedy isn't pretty. But does it really have to be monkey-butt ugly?

I hope you'll help me do something to end this plague of ugly. Please boycott SNL and their advertisers until they agree to employ only the aesthetically pleasing.

Remember, it's not nice to laugh at ugly people.

The County Slut Is Online! The Country Slut Is Online!

The Country Slut has created a Blog but she's blogging about the men in her life so I've deleted the link that was here to protect the unworthy.

Introductions

Me: Hi, this is Amy. Who's this?

Him: I'm stroking my dick.

Me: I bet people just call you Dick for short, huh?

If this doesn't work out for me, I can always be a Foley Artist

Phone sex isn't always the easiest job. The easiest job I think would be oh, I dunno, ethics advisor for George W. Bush. It's not like you'd be called on to do anything.

I probably should'nt have gone there huh? You didn't come here for partisan politics did you? No, you didn't. I'm not a polite person and if you wish to spank me for my insolence, perhaps we can arrange something.

Anyway.. phone sex. It's not the job for a brainles slut who has nothing to recommend her beyond a sweet voice. Oh sure, there are a lot of us out there who are sluts, and most of us have sweet voices, but the brainless ones don't tend to do very well.

The most important skill a phone sex operator will use is not a naturally pleasant voice, but the ability to read people and decipher what callers want without the benefit of body language and few, if any, spoken clues. Beyond that, the ability to quickly spin engaging stories based on ideas never before heard or thought of is mandatory and last but not least, the ability to convincingly simulate noises associated with those stories.

What is they sound of one hand clapping? Well, it's similar to the sound of testicles coming in contact with flesh as the result of a forward pelvic thrust.

In other settings, my vibrator sounds amazingly like an electric toothbrush and my friend has one with a pulse setting that sounds just like her cell phone set to vibrate.

Those are the easy sounds to make. But there are times it's not so simple.

A lot of guys are into golden showers, and after a long shift of drinking coffee, they can be a real blessing, but there's obviously a limit to how many you can do during a twenty minute phone call and for the guys who want brown showers or rainbow showers (if you can't use your imagination to figure out what they are, you may be at the wrong blog,) it can be nearly impossible and distinctly unhealthy to do such things on command. (Did you know that satifying a belching fetish for a half-hour call can make a person vomit? Now you do.)

Thankfully, we ladies of the line need no longer resort to pouring water from cup to cup or letting ice plop into a beverage as we blow razzberries until our phones are covered in saliva. Thanks to the blessed internet, and a few people with too much time on their hands, we have recorded resources!

Kevin Kelm, a man with a distinctly scatalogical sense of humor has devised both a virtual vomit site that simulates the sites and sounds of a queasy stomach using the foods and settings of your choosing, and also the Robodump, a robot he left in his office men's room which convinced his coworkers that a man with severe intestinal distress had spent and entire work day in the first stall.

The few vocalizations in the recordings sound rather male, so female operators may want to listen to the recordings a few times and carefully time when you pause the files, but you gentlemen in the business have it made.

While you're there, take a look around his site. He also has the phrase "I have lard in my anus" translated into the languages of the world. You never know when that may come in handy.

Life's most challenging question

Him: Oooh yeah. Suck it.

Me: Mmmm yeah baby, I'm gonna suck it real good.

Him: Oooh yeah.

Me: That's right, I want to take it deep to the back of my throat. I want to run my tongue up and down the length of it and bring my mouth down on it again and suck.

Him: Oooh yeah.

Me: I'm gonna slide my hand over the wet, slick monster and pump it into my mouth.

Him: Ooooh yeah.

Me: I want you to just hold my hair and move it in and out of my mouth. That turns me on. I'll be able to play with myself as you do it.

Him: Oooh Yeah.

Me: I get to have hand down between my legs as you just hump my face. I want to look up into your eyes while you do it to me. Tell me, what color are your eyes?

Him: Ooooh yeah.

Me:...

Him: Yeah.

Me:Babe? What color are your eyes hon?

Him:.... uh

Me:...

Him:.. um, Hazel

Me: I knew you could do it.

Who Would Jesus Do?

So, I stumbled upon this site called Blogshares, The fantasy blog stock market.

OK, I didn't stumble upon it so much as it came up when I was googling myself.

Either way, I found my blog on it and I got to see some of the sites who have linked to me. It was an amusing little exercise in ego stroking. It was sort of like hearing what people say about you after you leave the party.

There were a few people I sort of know through the blogs (Hi Gern! Hi Cuddleslut! Hi Peanutbutterfilthy!.... Peanutbutterfilthy looks like Sid Vicious doncha know) but most of the links were from strangers., and apparently, like Jerry Lewis, they love me in France.

By far and above, my absolute favorite was a site called Who Would Jesus Do. It's a sick and twisted compliment to be listed there, but I'll take it.

I must say though, that while I'm flattered they think I'd be sexually appealing to the messiah, only son of G-d, physical embodiment of the almighty, prophet, philosopher, or mythical hero... whatever you think Jesus is or was; I've seen Jesus' online personal ad and I really don't think he'd do me.

It seems Jesus likes sporty, young, German women. I'm mostly Irish and I so profoundly suck at sports it's pitiable. I'm also in my late thirties, which puts me right out of his preferred age range.

I can't say I'd fancy him much either. I really love those dark eyed exotic darlings or the geeky guys who look like they've been locked in a library for a few months. You know the ones, they're so pale they're nearly blue.

Hey, I wonder if Vishnu is looking for love online?

My Own Oddest Jobs List

Because someone asked, and because I don't have much else to write at the moment, here's my own personal list of oddest jobs, adapted from Carerbuilder.com's America's Most Unusual Jobs list.

Here's where I made the list.

A) Actor for haunted house: Once upon a time I was a make-up artist and, in that life I did special effects make-up for a haunted house. While I was there, I took a part as a victim in a freakish laboratory experiment.

J) Jelly donut filler: It was one of my duties when I worked in a donut shop as a teenager.

P) Phone Psychic: A lot of phone sex operators also work as phone psychics at one time or another. Many of the skills are the same, listening and being understanding. I did it briefly.

To my profound surprise, I quickly saw there was something to all that paranormal stuff. The more calls I took though, the more I understood that what there is to it would be the natural inclination of the converted to believe they find confirming details in vagaries. Once I realized it was too often a placebo for real problems, I had to move on. The few weeks it took me took between my realization and taking up another job was the only time in my life I've ever felt like a whore.

It shouldn't surprise you that many of the same companies that have phone sex lines also run psychic lines. After all, they already have the system in place. I once worked at a call center that had phone psychics on one floor, phone sluts on another, and yet another floor full of people taking catalog orders for mail order companies. The break room was always an interesting mix of people and conversation.

V) Voice over actress for movies: OK, I fudged on this one. I did commercials.

I got the job through my work as a make-up artist. While working with a fashion photographer, I answered his office phone and it was a guy trying to track down an actress who was late for a job. She wasn't there but I was.

I ended up working for the caller on and off for the next seven years. Along with commercials, he also contracted me to do a series of pseudo-sexual recordings. The scripts would be something that sounded explicit until you got to the last line like "Oooooh, it's so big. Please be gentle, I've never had anything so big in me before. Oh please, do it fast... oh, oh, oooooooh. Thank you for taking that splinter out doctor."

X) X-mas tree decorator: I once had a summer job working for a company that decorated malls and mansions for Christmas. (There's actually so much to be done, they have to begin in the summer getting things together.) It was there I enjoyed hearing America's most unusual quitting words when a man who had struggled all day with a garland finally stormed off in frustration saying "fuck it, I have to believe little elves do this."

My absolute most unusual job though, was not listed and it wasn't even phone sex. It was working for one of those old fashioned photography studios where they take sepia toned pictures of people in period costumes. I was the wardrobe person who helped people get in and out of thier costumes. When there was a long line waiting, I could strip a man of his chaps, gun belt, and tin star faster than you can say "cheesy old west gear."

I beat out the other applicant for the job because I was tall enough to reach the hats on the top shelf without needing a stool.

Public Service Announcement

For those times when you're tempted to use your phone to call a sex line, place an order for an inflatable love doll, or even to just to ask your pharmacist about the best cure for head lice, please keep the following important reminder by the phone.

Warning: All Calls May Be Monitored because our president doesn't hink he needs a warrent.

Last year, nearly 30,000 Americans learned only when they tried to fly that they'd been mistakenly placed on terror watch lists. If you haven't flown recently, you too may be one of the lucky thousands who have yet to discover your status as a threat to the country's safety.

On the bright side, since you're going to miss your flight anyway, you may take the time to convince the cute chick with the wand at the security gate that you're an international man of mystery.

Woo hoo! Cavity search!!!!!

America's Oddest Jobs... Not a Rim Or A Blow To Be Found

A friend of mine forwarded an A to Z list of America's oddest jobs. I've done five of them.

I'm not sure if I feel enriched or unnerved.

Surprisingly, phone sex was not on the list. While I'm not one to say phone sex is, in and of itself odd, certainly talking to a man about how long he should heat the cantaloupe he's just scooped a penis sized hole into can't possibly be considered the norm.

I'd like to thank everyone who has been patient with me while I post so infrequently. Your attention is both flattering and appreciated.

Slipping in the side door as if I've been here all along

OK, it's been a while. I'm not normally prone to disappearing for months at a time, but I do tend to move on with other creative venues for a while.

I may not have been Blogging lately, but I've been keeping myself busy. You see, I've been knitting dildo cozies for friends. I can't very well type and knit at the same time now can I?

Sadly, that's not a joke. I don't have the patience for sweaters and I have all the hats, scarves, and mittens a body could ask for. It was either cozies or doilies, and doilies are just.. well, doilies.

It wasn't all small projects for me though. The cozy for Barney the Purple Dildo-saur requires a full skein of yarn and a week of knitting...

Anyway, I thought I'd welcome you all back to my Blog with this little bit of news on the sexual front:

The results of a recent study done by a sexologist in Italy show that couples with a television in their bedroom have half as much sex as couples without one. Clearly, they don't watch the same movies I do.

The study showed that some shows were more likely to impede sex than others. Violent images, for instance, were more likely to turn-off half of all couples.

Conversely, reality shows actually turned on a third of all couples... Forget figging, when The Amazing Race revs your engine, you're KINKY!