Day 29: Dildos I wouldn't buy

I realized today when my son sent me an article about dildos it was time to stop writing about politics. No, not that dildo. I have no idea how a person would use that dildo, assuming it's even a dildo and not some kind of fish from deep in the ocean. People will call anything a dildo these days. For example, did you know you can get Pokémon dildos to poke yourself with?

Ooops, sorry. My mistake. Pokemoan dildos. Capitalizing on the captivating Pokémon Go game that's so popular, these hand-made dildos are sure to go fast. Pokémon Go is so ubiquitous my daughter even caught one in my van the other day. I couldn't see it, but she showed me a photo of it on my steering wheel so I have to believe it was there. It's not such a stretch to believe some poor woman is going to discover she's got one in her vagina some day.

Or she could just put one there herself.

I'm not sure if my son was trying to get me interested in Pokémon Go by telling me about these dildos or what. I'm probably the last person on the planet who is not playing , but I do have reasons. First my phone is too old. Its memory is shot. And not only that, I'm simply not interested. I have a dog, and walking him gets me out of the house. 

Not only am I not interested in the game, I also don't find these dildos very appealing, although a couple of them are almost clever. Like the grass-type Pokémoan named Bulby that has a seed tip. I mean .... a seed tip!?! That's so penile. Somebody was stoned when he came up with that one. Oh, and I have no doubt it was a he.

 And then there's the one named Squirty that's a water Pokémoan. I don't get the appeal of the little turtle shell. It kind of looks like a venereal disease, or maybe a turd, but I'm sure Pokémon fans would recognize the need for a turdle shell on the dildo named Squirty that doesn't squirt.

The one that's most disturbing, is the one named Piky, because Piky is an electric-type Pokémoan and he's .... he's ..... I said he's. See this is what happens when you start giving names to your dildos and butt plugs. They become almost human, and before you know it you've got a camera crew in your house filming a documentary about lonely misfits who fall in love with their life-size dolls. (No offense to any reader who likes to fuck life-size adult dolls as long as it's consensual.) I digress.

Look, it's probably just me. I don't play Pokémon Go, so I don't get why somebody would want a lightning bolt plugging up their rectum. I don't judge though. It's not a real lightning bolt, although I do think playing with these sex toys could invite trouble and possibly other real Pokémons into your private orifices. My van was locked and one still got in. I'll just let you imagine where that might lead.

Finally, there's a fire-type Pokémoan with a flaming tail named Charmy. Supposedly he "gives intense orgasms everywhere [he] goes."  Umm, sorry Charmy, but I don't believe that. First, that pointy tip looks like it could cause pain. Maybe even a rupture. And second, that's not the way orgasms work. Poking a flame-shaped dildo into .... well, any orifice at all does not produce an orgasm. I find that claim quite disappointing and not at all charming.

I've never understood the veins.

So there you have it, all you Pokémon fans. Number one on nerdy Christmas lists all over the world. Order early, because these babies are custom orders, and they're shipped from Australia. What will those crazy Aussies think of next? Light saber dildos?

Nevermind. They've got those too. 

Wordless Wednesday: Is that thing cocked?

http://www.amazon.com/Glass-Gun-Dildo/dp/B00CV03H66/ref=pd_rhf_se_p_tnr_8

(Reason number 475 why I shouldn't be allowed on Amazon after midnight without a chaperone. Ride 'em cowboy!)

(What is that purple blob shooting out of the barrel? Does that look vagina friendly? I don't think so! It looks like a Christmas tree light. If only it lit up!)

(Please buy me this for Christmas. Thank you.)

(The answer to the question you're dying to ask is absolutely no, I would not.)

(It's still Wordless Wednesday if the words are in parentheses. My blog. My rules.)

(Finally, when is the last time you liked my Facebook page? You should do it now.)

That's not a dildo

A few months ago I ran across an article with an interesting title. Interesting to me, that is, because as I've written here last night before, I spent 20 years as a military wife. Because LtColEx and I were apart for long stretches during many of those years, the title of the article intrigued me: "A Thousand Dildos for the Military Wives."

I tucked it away in a file and didn't read it because it seemed obvious from the title what was going on. I predicted some adult toy company was going to donate dildos to the poor military wives who are left at home lonely and sexless while their husbands are off at war. Better than what I got when LtColEx was gone for weeks at a time, which was ..... nothing.

No wait, I did get something. A 5-minute phone call once a week on what's called the "autovon line." It was 3 years before I was made aware that someone at the squadron had to listen to every one of our phone calls, and the monitor couldn't be turned off. Everybody took their turn at autovon duty, so we had no privacy.

I looked forward to those 5 minutes every week, but maybe a dildo would have been less embarrassing that what some of the airmen might have overheard before I was told they were listening. Anyway .....

Tonight I finally read the article. Really read it all the way through. And ... dildos for the military wives my ass! No military wives are going to get dildos, much less a thousand of them. No, sir. What this article is about is military wives giving long-distance hand jobs to their husbands during what could only be called a virtual booty call.

This article is about a device called RealTouch, which yes, you can buy right this very minute for about $250. (And isn't it just typical the man "dildo" costs 1/6 of the price of a Sybian? This whole thing just reeks of male privilege.)

The original purpose of the device is so men can pretend they're fucking porn stars by synching up with porn movies. But the manufacturer is such a humanitarian, he decided he'd expand his market to military families, because you know, so many military wives look and act like porn stars. He's trying to contact the military so he can share this "genuine social benefit" with military couples all over the world. Step aside, Bill Gates.

I don't really want to promote this thing, but we've come this far. You might as well learn how it works.

One half of the "unit" looks like a big loaf of white bread with a slit in it. The author of the article writes that "the unit warms up, lubes up, pulses and grips any item stuck into it." That's his unit. His dildo.

The other half -- her half -- looks like .... fuck it. Here's a photo.

You wouldn't believe the shit I had to look at just so I could show you this photo.

As I said, dildos for the military wives my ass. It's a motorized, long-distance hand-job.

Now, I'm not going to say long, frequent separations aren't hard on the old sex life. They are. But the last thing I was thinking about when LtColEx was gone was giving him a virtual hand job. I had a hundred extra worries, but whether he needed a hand job wasn't one of them.

No, my worries ran more toward swapping out the guts in a broken toilet (damn ballcocks), helping Drake carve pinewood derby cars, changing flat tires, and cleaning up puke when both kids and I had the flu at the same time.

If he'd called me on the autovon line, wasted the five minutes I had to whine about how everything was going wrong, and asked for a fucking hand job, I would have emailed him divorce papers the next day. Along with the other half of his fucking unit.

Dildos for the military wives. What was the author of this article thinking? This has nothing to do with dildos or with wives. He put his finger in the "unit" and got a finger job. You can't put your finger in a dildo. Idiot.

Well, hell, I'm just disappointed. I thought maybe somebody finally wanted to do something nice for the military wives. Like maybe being a military wife had become sexy. First dildos, then Sybians. Keep the wives happy and the troops will be happy too!

But no. I was terribly misled. You can go back to watching Mad Men. No dildos are being handed out here today. Just move along.

Mystery Photos

My phone broke recently ... no, that's a lie. My phone broke almost two months ago. The qwerty fell apart, although it's still held together by a couple of ribbons. It still works except sometimes it takes two people -- one to hold the two parts and one to text .... anyway, I can still text the old fashioned way on the number pad. When it broke I couldn't decide if I wanted a smart phone to keep me busy when I'm out and everybody else is on their smart phones texting or playing Draw Something or checking Facebook. 

Someone with a mind for mechanics took a look at my dumb phone at karaoke and told me how to cobble it back together with double-sided tape. I asked if that would fix it. He looked at me with pity and said no, it would just get me through until I could buy another phone. Then he moved to another table.

Surprise! The tape worked a little better than that -- as long as I keep a hair tie around my phone when I'm not using it to text. So I didn't buy the smart phone right away, but just as I was about to, my prepaid phone company, Straight Talk, refilled my phone. I didn't want to  waste that $30, so I waited.

Maybe I also waited because I hate buying shit like phones and TVs and cars. Some people really like shopping for high-priced, techie items. I don't. I was married for many years, and we had a system. LtColEx loved shopping for expensive toys, so if we needed a computer or a car or a VCR (we were married a very long time), he would research every option, then go out and buy it. If he even tried to talk to me about the decision my eyes would glaze over and my ears would start to buzz, so he learned to just do it. He had skills. I had skills.

I confess: When I needed to buy a TV, I asked Martini what he would buy. Same for Elvira's camera and a backup hard drive. Like LtColEx, he likes shopping for toys.

I know what you're thinking. I need to stop relying on other people and grow the fuck up. I do.

So I shopped and I decided to get a phone just like my friend TrickShot's. It's smart and it has a qwerty and her husband got it for her for Christmas. That last part is comforting. I'd have to change carriers though, which I don't mind. I rather like the idea of being a Virgin again. So I waited to buy the phone so I wouldn't waste my minutes and texts, and Tuesday Straight Talk refilled my dumb phone again. Fuck me.

It doesn't sound like such a big deal, right? But it truly is. My social life is suffering. My friends are embarrassed to be seen with me and my phone with the hair tie around it. At karaoke they put a napkin over my phone when I lay it on the table. It can't be to prevent someone from stealing it. C'mon! It's a dumb phone with a hair tie around it.

No, they're ashamed to be seen with me. And they don't want to text me because it's so painful to watch me text. They don't want me to be doing that in public. They don't want to get involved. That's the kind of friends I have. Loyal until I've got a hair tie around my phone.

Now I'm preparing to buy a new phone, mostly so I can get clearer photos of belly tattoos. But first I have to get all the stuff off my old phone because it's so dumb it doesn't have a card. So I have to remove the photos and phone numbers manually and then reload my future smart phone. What a pain in the ass.

I was going through photos and emailing them to myself yesterday when I came across a few photos that puzzled me. A few photos that I looked at on my little dumb phone and thought what the fuck is that?

For example this one.

On my little phone screen it looked like a clown dildo. And on my big LCD monitor it looked like .... a clown dildo. In fact in real life, Elvira and I were shopping at a discount store and I picked this up and said, "What the hell is this? A clown dildo?"

Elvira said, "Mommers, it's not a dildo. It's a b*by rattle." I guess she looked at the cardboard package and not the dildo-ish plastic object attached to it.

"Oh. It looks suspiciously similar to that rabbit dildo you bought. The one that broke right away, remember?" I said. "Even the name...."

She grabbed it from me and hung it back on the display. OK, it's not a dildo, but I don't think there's any doubt why the Twist and Shake was dumped at the deep discount store instead of selling out at Walmart. Do you?

What if it had looked like this, Elvira? Then what would you have thought it was?

I rest my case.

 I probably don't need to add that we didn't buy one for Coraline.

Here's another photo I forgot I'd taken.

But once I got it up on the big screen ... oh, yeah. Then I remembered. You see it already right? What it is?

 It's a butt plug. An electric butt plug.

Can you just imagine a young bride opening her wedding gifts at the reception. She pulls this beauty out of the box and says, "Oh, look, honey. Your great-aunt Beatrice gave us an electric crystal butt plug. And it lights up. So thoughtful....."

It doesn't look like it's been used. Not surprising it ended up at Goodwill, is it?

And this last photo .... I have no idea why I took this photo, but I did.

 

It's a toilet and the tank is taped. Maybe that was significant at some point in my phone's life, but I sure as hell don't remember it. It's the mystery toilet.

Next I need to copy all of my phone numbers off my dumb phone and re-enter them when I finally buy my smart phone. Ugh. I don't want to. And then there are the texts I will simply lose.

Am I the only one who is traumatized by buying a new phone? Shouldn't shopping be fun? Next I need to buy a car. I'm hyperventilating just thinking about it. Anybody want to buy me a car? Please?


* Why the star? Because you wouldn't believe some of the keyword searches some sick fucks use to find my blog. There are certain words I don't want to put together.

The Weight of Keywords

Blogger has a handy, but hardly accurate, little stat counter. Like most stat counters, it's only useful for trending: which posts are viewed most often, how many pages are viewed in a day, and how people find the site. One way to do the latter is through keyword searches, usually through Google. Let's say somebody searches for "lick a vagina cupcake" on Google, gets my blog as a list of potential sources of information on vagina cupcake-licking, and decides to click into my blog. I see on my stat counter that someone came to the post about decorating a vagina cupcake by using that keyword search.

A lot of the keywords are funny. For example, a surprising number of people want to know what to do with men's junk in bike shorts. People, this is a problem! In fact, so many men share this concern, I'm considering doing some research myself so I can write an informative post on how to tuck the junk.

I also get lots of searches for various dildos:

• unusual dildos (x 100)
• makeshift dildo walmart (I'd start in the produce section)
• cold hot dildo metal (tell it to the brothers Grimm; I don't want to know)
• dildo porn kilts (I love a man in a kilt, but this one has me stymied. I wouldn't want to reach up "there" and find a dildo)
• dildos you can buy at walmart (use it to poke out your mind’s eye after you see those People of Walmart buying cheap Chinese dildos)
• for a day dildo (just wash it before you bring it back to Rent-a-Dildo, mmm-kay?)

I also get lots of keyword phrases with the word "vagina" in them. I don't know why really, but here's a sample:

• tucked up inside vaginas (this one seems incomplete to me. What is tucked up inside? An umbrella? A handkerchief? Extra quarters for the parking meter? I know it's not a cookie, but read on. It might be a cupcake.)
• i wanna date a vagina (maybe I could start a dating site for vaginas to hook up)
• lick vagina (x 100, this one. Again, maybe I need to post a tutorial---no, I'm sure a tutorial would be useful. From what I've experienced heard, some people could use instruction on how to give a chinchilla a cookie.)
• is it advisable to lick d vagina (only after you aks d ownah firs')
• how to keep my vagina rejuvinated? (hey! .... nevermind ....  that was my keyword search)
• i shoved a cupcake in my pussy (that was probably easier than getting it out again. Try a cookie next time.)
• i'm celibate talent out of vagina (maybe an English teacher checking for plagiarism, this one. Sounds like syntax I might read in a student's paper.)
• squid inside vagina story (someone was probably disappointed to find out Squildo is a dildo, not a squid)
• squid dick missile (only assuming this one was aiming for a vagina?) 

 Another popular topic is the Sybian, which does not surprise me a bit. One searcher was obviously looking for another site with this one: "me trying out a sybian blog." (Wait! A whole blog on just trying a Sybian? Once you’ve tried it, isn’t the trying over? After that it’s just a “me sitting on a Sybian” blog, right? Hmmm. I wonder if they'd comp me one if I blogged about it.....).

And then there's the Silk 'n Sensipil and Epilady searches, like the one for "silk 'n nipples" and "epilady testicles." (I want to put a warning out there: don't get an Epilady close to the boys, men. It will rip them out by the roots. Trust me on this.)

And there are random searches like hippie farm sluts, gay nipple torture blogspot, when did men discover the clitoris (that’s like saying Columbus discovered America or the Christians found Jesus), date had an impressive penis (I didn't write about that. I would love to, but I'm so much more discrete than that I didn't.)

Lately I've seen a lot of searches that have to do with  standing naked in front of a classroom. I want to poke out my mind's eye whenever this one comes up, and it's often--like daily often. Is this a fantasy or a nightmare for people? And about moms standing naked, often in front of windows. Again, fantasy or nightmare? For some reason "mom nude in front of window" comes shows up a lot, as does "naked middle aged mom." More on that in a minute.

In the past few weeks I've seen a bunch of searches about masturbation -- because I said I wouldn't talk about that -- like this one: why is masterbation never talked about (because I can’t talk when I'm  uh huh...uh huh ..... ahhh….ahhhh. ….aaaaahhhhhhhhh. What did you say?). Or this one: alone again naturally masterbation reference (or maybe just alone again because you're masturbating again? Naturally. And you can't spell.)

Most of these keywords make me laugh, and then my muse, Dolores, and I have fun thinking up responses. Some of them aren't so funny. Like an uncomfortable number that are about masturbating with someone who "starts with an m and ends with an m." And see, that's when we who have given birth say, "Stop that right now or you'll go blind .... and you'll fucking deserve it!"

On some rare occasions, one will come up that's so disturbing I wouldn't speak it aloud to my closest friends. I definitely wouldn't put those words together in one post. Those most often have to do with young people, innocent people. Those really piss me off.

Today one showed up that made me so sick, I can't even look at my stats. It will roll away eventually. But the image the words brought to my mind won't go away. In fact, I've felt sick to my stomach all afternoon, since I saw that combination of words on my screen. A combination of words bad enough I would love to be able to find out who did that search and report it to a former friend and police detective who is a pervert hunter. Or find the piece of shit myself and .... well, listen I strive to be a nonviolent person. I do. But I can kill an animal for food. And there are perverts out there I could probably dispatch the same way. Yes, that's how bad this keyword search was. And I can't get it out of my mind. It's haunting me.

In case it's not apparent from what I've written here, I'm not shocked by much. I was a social worker in a former life, a counselor at a women's resource center. I counseled survivors of spousal abuse, rape, child sexual assault, incest. I've heard lots of stories, both then and since then. The depths of human depravity rarely surprise me. Obviously I'm not immune yet though, because I've struggled this afternoon to get this one away from me. It hit way too close to home.

I know an argument can be made that I get the keyword searches I get because of what I write about here sometimes. Fair enough. Although in my defense, I'd have to respond that what I write is not pornographic, nor is it particularly provocative, at least not in a way that's meant to cause the blood to rush to the lower regions. (Unless, however, you really are turned on by the idea of naked, middle-aged, g-ma teacher types like me, and then you should definitely let me know so I can ..... well, to be honest I'd think you were mocking me. Nevermind.)

In any case, my interest in sex has been with me as long as I can remember. I was the first-grader who spied on my parents and re-told my dad's dirty jokes at recess. I was the one who told all my girlfriends that a guy sticks his thing in a woman's [something we didn't have a name for] and pees in her when they have sex. I was the 8-year-old  who sneaked off with her uncle's Playboy joke book to try to figure out how a grown, naked woman would fit into a martini glass. Sex is just fascinating to me, but I kind of dread the keywords I'm going to see now that I've put this combination of words in a post .... and yet I refuse to censor myself just yet. Some of them will inevitably be hilarious.

But I don't want perverts here -- and when I use that word I'm talking about the searches I won't copy here. I don't want pervs seeing my words. I doubt most of them stay more than a second, just long enough to see that this isn't a porn site, but I don't want them to dirty my blog. No, I can't do anything about it. Keyword searches are random information* that I'm sure some bloggers use to their benefit, but I'm just not that sophisticated, so to me, they're just interesting.

I'm going to go to Scrooge rehearsal tonight and forget all about that horrible little group of words I saw this afternoon. Eventually it will fade away, both from my stat counter and from my mind.  Sooner rather than later, I hope.

In the meantime, I need to think some more about that Sybian blog. Hmmmm.

* Somewhat random. I could see what city that search comes from using a more powerful stat counter.

Wordless Wednesdays: On Your Mark...

Where'd You Get that Unusual Dildo?

Dildos. I don’t know why I have to keep writing about them. How interesting can something that's little more than a shape be. It's just phallic, nothing else, right? Maybe I feel compelled to give those curious people who are looking for good, solid information a place to land as they’re doing their research--people who find my blog by googling “dildo riding blogspots” or “dildo mit pats” or “dildo porn kilts.”*

And yet I feel a little guilty because, although I found my friend’s dildo, Squildo, to be quite the adorable little guy….ish, lately some dildos have come across my radar that….well, let’s just say I question whether their actual application to the vagina would result in the kind of giddiness a girl expects from a phallic substitute.

http://laughingsquid.com/steampunk-vibrator-by-ani-niow/

For example there’s this metal, steam-powered, steampunk vibrating dildo. At first I thought, Ouch. That metal looks terribly cold and unforgiving, but then I read on. It’s powered by steam from a pressure cooker. OK, let’s break this down. These are adjectives describing nouns that should not be put into a vagina: 1) steam-powered (Hot! Pressure cookers are meant to kill botulism, not vaginas), 2) metal (cold, hot, and Mama Bear says this is too hard), and 3) steampunk. Huh? What’s steampunk about this thing? Stay on your own side of the playground, hipster.

The funniest thing about this Robodildo is the name of the website where I found it: laughingsquid.com. It’s a sign. Wherever Squildo is, he must be laughing at the irony.

And then there’s this homemade dildo DIY video**. Homemade from ice, that is, using condoms and toilet paper tubes right in your own kitchen. In various sizes. He doesn’t mention flavors, but why not? If you’re into that sort of thing ... but please tell me you’re not. Who would let this guy stick an ice penis into her coochie? And why would he want to make an ice dildo in the first place?

 

The guy tries to explain it. He’s obviously heard some criticism of his craftiness, maybe even been called gay before. He says “If you’re so closed-minded you don’t know how to please your girl with more than your dick, then … ah … she’s prolly gonna try to find a guy like me after a while after she gets tired of you just … I guess … screwin’ her for five minutes…” Ummm, yeah. I’ll take the five minutes of dick any day over however long he can go with his weinersicle.

To his credit, he does give one safety tip, really the first thing I thought of. He says to wet it first or you’ll end up like that kid on A Christmas Story. And then the fun will be over, Frosty.

And finally, Halloween is drawing near and even dildos like to dress up and go out to all the parties. I think Squildo might be inspired by this Mythos dildo. Hand-made and sold on etsy. (I'd just recommend hiding this one from the male members of your family. They probably won't play with it in the way it's intended to be played with.)

http://www.etsy.com/listing/76421661/mythos-art-dildo-serene-green-with

Oh, I could go on and on, and I’m not even an expert on dildos. They just seem to fall into my lap—cyberly speaking, of course—and I have to share—cyberly speaking, of course, because you can't buy these things at Walmart or Amazon.com. So what about you. Seen any cool dildos yourself lately?

* Yes, this is how my adoring fans find me. It makes my epeen so hard to read my sexy keyword searches.

** If you get all the way through this video, I'll send you an ice dildo made by my own hands in my own kitchen.

Say Vagina and They Will Come

Wow! You guys really like your vagina cupcakes, don't you? Oh, you didn't know I could track your appetites through my handy little Blogger stats counter? Well, I can. Although Blogger's stats counter is relatively unsophisticated compared to others like Google Analytics and Site Meter, it's kind of fun to compulsively refresh 500 times a day occasionally glance at. I can see things like the number of page visits for certain posts, traffic sources (referring page and keywords), audience (by country or by browser + operating system). It's really pretty boring because it's anonymous information and I don't care that much whether my readers use Firefox or Chrome, Windows or Linux. But this weekend, I've had a couple of surprises that may relate to my recent content or may be a reflection of the specialness of my readership. You tell me.

The first surprise is how many people viewed "I'd Lick that Vagina." The numbers are still coming in, but so far it's slid ahead of almost all the others to become my second most popular post. Already. The only post that's had more hits--and it's way ahead--is ironically one about a cookie, Proust's madeleine, because it gets lots of hits. Evidently not many people have written about Proust's madeleine, so my post comes up on the Google short list.  Now that I know how delicious you find it, my plan is to put the word "vagina" in the title of every post from now on. (To be honest, it doesn't hurt that a couple of people reposted on Facebook, and I seriously do thank you for that.)

Another thing that shocked me--shocked me!--this weekend was when I glanced at the operating systems stats and saw that somebody visited my blog using a Symbian/3. Only I didn't see Symbian/3; I saw Sybian/3. What the self-pleasuring fuck? I thought. Somebody rode into my blogsite on a dildo machine? Pump it up! This is some brilliant technology!  Talk about the ultimate operating system!

Sybian Operating System

And then I thought,This must be the advanced model, the deluxe edition Sybian. You know, the basic Sybian gets you simple up and down action plus vibration. Then with Sybian/2, you get improvements like....oh, I don't know, maybe a TV attached to it, like the treadmills and elliptical machines at the gym. And then maybe Sybian/2.1 would offer a DVD player or even a blu ray. And Sybian/2.5.7 would be the home theater edition. And then you've got Sybian/3, which is like a smart phone, only it's a smart mechanical and digital (digital as in computers, you with the filthy mind) dildo* with an internet connection so you can read your email and text and visit my blog while you....exercise. And think of the apps you could get....candlelight, sweet talk, soft music, hard music, spanks, Eric Northman slllliiiidddeeeshow..... And on Sybian/3.4, you could get a webcam to use with your out-of-town voyeurs. Seriously, I can't imagine why nobody has ridden into Reticutown on one of these before. I'd buy one myself! Giddyup!

Yes, all of this went through my head before I thought....surely not. Is the wine bottle empty already? So I looked again and saw the very small "m." Symbian. Oh. Nevermind. It's a damn cell phone. That's not sexy. I'm pretty sure Nokia means "not sexy" in Japanese. So, I'm sorry to report that you can't get to the Reticulated Writer on a Sybian.** Yes, I was disappointed too. I do apologize if you got excited because I was too and now....well, no Sybian ride for me. It's the story of my life.

However, you can find my blog through any number of keywords, which is one more little clue to my readership the stat counter gives me. Most of my readers get here through Facebook or come directly in, but some (surely not anybody who's reading this post) are probably sitting home eating crayons and talking to their plastic dolls when they're not looking for me in cyberspace. Here, in no particular order, is a list of keyword searches that brought people here in the past week:

• squid has huge penis
• he spanked me
• wife nipple breast torture stories
• argument anything i say is a problem
• my cute little red haired girl poem
• write about when something unexpected happened
• "my pasties" breasts
• inserting things in vagaina and fuking vagaina and dildo fuki  (I can't make this shit up)
• baby stool smells like sour milk
• guys in bike shorts
• girls wearing pasties
• comfy junk on bike ride
• cycle shorts poop   (don't know if it smells like sour milk; don't care)
• picture of fat lady in pasties
• writers who rode their bycicles
• hw to put something into ur vagina
• how to tuck your junk in bicycle shorts   (not to be confused with tucking something into your vagina)
• squid penis missile
• you can win an argument, but you may lose the battle.

Well now. This is one way I get attention, and yet I feel so slutty sometimes. I do not own the copyright on these words, so I dare anybody to make a found poem with that list of starters. Or just choose five of them. I double dog dare you. I triple dog dare you.

So that's what I know about you, dear readers, from using my Blogger stats counter. If you want to either clear up any mysteries created by that list of keywords or redeem yourselves to the world....well, I really have nothing to suggest. I do read all comments though, so if there's anything you want to explain....do it there. Until next time...

*Yes, this is the third week in a row I've written dildo in a post. I don't think I can keep this up though. It's hard.

**However, you can read more about Sybians at the Reticulated Porn blogsite for the low, low monthly price of only $39.95, tax included.***
*** You know that's a joke, right?

Editorial comment: My stats do not show me who clicks on the buttons below. If you clicked "call me" and you want me to call, you have to leave or send me your number. Don't tease the blogger. If you want me to call you so we can discuss riding a Sybian, you should definitely call me today. (Disclaimer: I will write about almost anything and sometimes I take photos so be forewarned.)

I Wanna Date a Squid

I was enjoying a Friday evening walk around the two-block-long artsy, hippie(ish) district of our city a few months ago with a friend, Starfish, when we happened to wander into a porn store. Among the many marvels and oddities there we found a case of lovely glass dildos*, some suitable for framing or displaying on a mantle or coffee table. As we were the only customers in the store, the Stick Boy behind the counter was happy to take most of them out so we could comparison shop at our leisure. He did stand by in case we needed his advice, and I'm sure he had much he could offer.

Almost immediately Starfish fell in love with one particular dildo that we decided looked a lot like a little orange squid encased in a clear Pyrex...ummm....missile. Once she had her hands on Squildo, as she named him, she couldn't even consider another of the other lovely dildos resting on their black velvet bags on the counter. Her hands went back to Squildo again and again.

Now I won't bore you with the conversation we had as we debated the attributes of the various-shaped dildos: ridges vs girth, for example, or whether the ball on the end of some of them was necessary. It was lengthy and studded with scientific data as well as personal narratives and preferences, with Stick Boy chiming in occasionally with some relevant information that had nothing to do with vaginas. None of it really mattered to Starfish anyway. She only had eyes for her man, Squildo. And yet she needed to be persuaded to invest in more than a passing relationship. That conversation went something like this:

Starfish: (looking with longing into Squildo's eyes) I really should save my money. I was just complaining about having to work so many hours....
Me: Yes, but he's on sale for half off. You can't get that much pleasure just anywhere for only $30. It costs more than that to feed your boyfriend for a day.
Starfish: True. But I do have a boyfriend.
Me: Squildo will be there even when your boyfriend is in rehab. And he'll always be hard and ready.
Starfish:True. He'll never let me down.
Me: And with Squildo you'll always get your cookie.
Starfish: I always get my cookie anyway.
Me: OK, there's no reason to brag, Starfish.
Starfish: (stroking his length) Sorry. I bet Squildo gives good cookies.
Me: And you've named him. Can you really leave him here in a glass case with a bunch of anonymous dildos after you've already named him?
Starfish: His name is perfect for him, isn't it? He does kind of look like a very cute squid.
Me: He does. He's also dishwasher-safe so you know he's disease-free.
Starfish:  Cleanliness is a virtue. Squildo is virtuous.
Me: He won't get you pregnant.
Starfish: True. Although he's so cute I'd almost want to have his babies.
Me: (gagging a little) He's yours. All you need to do is give Stick Boy your credit card. He's yours.

Not Squildo

And that was that.....until this week when I was read an article about how scientists have discovered the "super...sex organ" of the deep-sea squid. Yes, the deep-sea squid has quite the impressive penis, and the willingness of one big fellow to erectify his huge squid penis in all its lengthy glory has solved a mating mystery that puzzled biologists for years. As one expert, a Dr. Arkhipkin, puts it so eloquently, "Obviously a strongly elongated penis is the solution." So true. So true.

Not a penis

I always did think squids were more than slightly phallic in the right light and captured from just the right angle....if you squint, you can see it. And they're tasty too. But even as I debated with Starfish Squildo's many fine attributes, I never imagined a real squid would be packing a pistol that size. Imagine what a human male could do with such an appendage! He could pee out of the car window or off a golf cart or a bike... He could play footsie. He could tickle the bottoms of his own feet.....I don't even think I've got words for all the things he could do with a penis like that. Anybody else want to give it a go? Really. Don't be shy. It's only your imagination.


Of course there are all the things he couldn't do....like wear a kilt. Or even run....it would be hard to run. Hmmm. As I head off into a busy weekend, I can only imagine how often the image of that impressive squid penis will pop into my mind. So if you happen to run into me at the Celtic Festival this weekend, and I've got a wicked smile on my lips, don't take it personally. It's probably because I'm still thinking about squids in kilts .... and other mysteries from the ocean bottom.

*No, I am not going to write a weekly blog post about dildos.....unless I get enough requests accompanied by drinks and chocolate.