Day 3: Would you like cream with that?

(Photo credit: Adrian Williams)

First, thank you for all the kind comments on Facebook. I'm glad to be writing again, and I'll try not to stay away so long again.


I went to a lovely 4th of July party tonight. We're saddled with intermittent rain here that's supposed to last through the actual 4th, but in spite of the drips the show went on. We watched the fireworks from a 5th-floor loft downtown, and as you can see, the view was perfect.

We also sang karaoke and ate all-American apple pie and red, white, and blue cake that will probably give us all blue poops, but what's the 4th of July without blue poop? I'm actually looking forward to my next poop now.

And finally, the host asked a few actors to entertain the guests with fiery oratory, which is why I was invited. I played Mother Jones, and in my best Irish brogue, gave one of her speeches. She was, and still is, a fascinating woman. In one of her most famous quotations she said, "I'm not a humanitarian. I'm a hell-raiser." That's a woman I would have liked to have spent the 4th of July with. She died at age 100 in 1930. If she were alive today, I like to think we might be voting for her for president this November.

But that's not what's got me fired up tonight. What's got me fired up is this new coffee shop that's going to open up soon  in Geneva, Switzerland. A coffee shop where a cup of coffee costs about $62 because it comes with a .... were you going to guess muffin? Ha! Fuck, no. Were you going to guess the coffee beans were shit by a monkey? Nope, not even that. The coffee costs so much because it comes with a blow job. We're talking "fellatio cafe."

Here's how it works. Say a man wants a cup of joe and a blow. He goes into the fellatio cafe, orders his coffee, and then uses an iPad to choose a woman to give him a blow job. She comes out and sucks his dick while he drinks his coffee and reads the newspaper. Five to ten minutes later, he wipes his dick off mouth, folds his paper, gets up and goes to work. I assume most men don't get their coffee to go from this place.

Remember last night I said I don't write sometimes because so many things piss me off? Well, this pisses me off, and I don't even live in Switzerland. Even though prostitution is legal there, this sounds like a severe infraction of equality.

Why are men the only ones who get coffee and oral sex? Women are far less likely to get orgasms with their partners than men are. Isn't this a service that would benefit women at least as much as it would men. Probably even more?

And yet, it's hard to imagine a roomful of women sitting there drinking a skinny latte with

(Stolen from Google images)

extra foam and reading the newspaper while some strange guy (I'm sticking with the cis theme here, because that's how reports of this cum cafe read so far) licks her lady bits to orgasm. Can you imagine? 

Can you imagine the sounds? The cacaphony of ah .... uh huh ..... aaahhh .... right there .....  don't stop! .... yes .... yes .... YES ... AAAHHHH YEEEESSSSS .... ahhhh.

Mmmm mmmm good. Another satisfied customer.

If the idea were reversed, would I meet a girlfriend at the Muffin Munch Cafe. where we would order our coffee, peruse the men available on the iPad, fight over the cutest one and then agree to flip a coin, pull down our panties and sit back in special lounge chairs with our coffee while the men we'd chosen go to work with their nimble tongues? Maybe get some Asian guy to give us a mani/pedi at the same time? And would we talk about our kids and how much weight we've put on and whether it's better to go low-carb or paleo and what the fuck is she thinking with that hair color? Until .... ah ah ah .... AAAHHHHHHH ....

Would that be weird? 

Fuck, yes, it would be weird, and you know why? Because it's hard to imagine a selection of men sitting in some room waiting around so they can go down on any old pussy who walks in the door and clicks the box beside his photo, all for a 60/40 split with the house. It's demeaning. No matter how much a guy likes burying his face, he's not going to wait in a back room to be ordered off a menu like a burger and fries, hold the onions.

And it's just as hard to imagine a woman walking into a coffee shop and letting some stranger put his mouth on her most sensitive, delicate bits while she drinks a cup of coffee  and updates her calendar. Who the fuck would do that? You don't know where that tongue has been. And how is that even appealing to anybody who's not a sociopath? That's what vibrators are for!

Maybe it's not even my business. Consenting adults and all that. But this sounds like just one more way to objectify women, and frankly, we don't need people coming up with new ways to do that. The old ways are bad enough.

One of the ways bloggers encourage readers to leave comments is to ask a question at the end of a post. Like now I would ask you if you -- female or male -- would buy oral sex with your coffee. And you would post a comment down there in the comment area with your answer.

Don't worry. I won't put you on the spot. But I will ask this question: What the fuck is wrong with people? And isn't Switzerland supposed to be neutral? 

New Friends

I went to an unusual party Friday night. Some relatively new friends, Steamy Cynthia and Grogalingus, invited me to what they called a "new friends party." They also invited five other people they didn't know well and who didn't know each other. OK, a threesome came together and a twosome came together; and one of the guests is a colleague of mine, but we don't really know each other. As it turned out, I was the only one who didn't know anybody there well, but I can handle that. As my mom has always said, I don't know a stranger.

Mixing a group of relative strangers seemed a courageous gambit into the diminishing art of face-to-face socializing that could fall flat on its fucking face, or, as it was intended, make new friends of people who might not otherwise have met. I was delighted to be invited and met.

We started the evening with a little social lubricant. Grogalingus mixed up a tasty cocktail of amaretto, Southern Comfort, sweet/sour mix, and pineapple juice called Leah's piece of ass.* I recommend drinking it by the pitcher.

And there was food: cheese and crackers, hummus, and fresh fruit! One of the guests brought a yummy apple crumb pie. And because Steamy Cynthia reads this here blog, she baked chocolate chocolate chip and lemon cookies just for me--but of course I shared with the other guests.

Really, what more do you need at a party besides a piece of ass and cookies? I was perfectly satisfied. But besides the food, here are a few observations from the night.

1. I'm going to have to break down and watch Dr. Who. Probably I should also make a cheat sheet just for parties or get relevant details tattooed on the inside of my arm. Evidently just nodding like I know what the fuck people are talking about is not enough for the Whoish crowd. I need to know the characters. And I suspect I could at least appear smarter than a brain-damaged turkey if I knew why this outhouse is so important.

I'm the only one on the planet who doesn't know, aren't I?

2. Going to a party where you don't know anybody well means every story will be a new one. That's some cool shit right there.

 3. I can't go one single night without talking about boobs and how much I love them. I haven't written about that here yet, but I will soon. Not that it's a secret, but don't worry. I didn't lead with boobs at the new friends party. We'd all had at least 2 drinks before the topic came up. And before we listened to this song.

4. I will probably be writing about some steampunk adventures here in the near future. As of this writing, I know very little other than that it started as a literary movement and within the past few years has morphed into a costume movement as well. And there should be goggles.

For the past few months Grogalingus and Steamy Cynthia have been encouraging me to ride on their airship to some steampunk functions, but so far I've encountered scheduling conflicts. Three of the guests Friday are instigators of steampunk in a nearby city, so having made more new steampunk friends, I think I'd better don a costume and see what it's all about.

I realized as I was looking at costumes online that I already have a dress I can trick out with some accessories. I've always said I won't wear a corset in public because it's one item  of clothing I'd rather save for a special someone to see in private. Or maybe it's a matter of class that I wouldn't wear one out to a club, for example. But as I looked at photos of some of the local events, I noticed lots of the women's costumes are topped by corsets, so .... maybe as a costume? I'm still not persuaded yet. Although I think I could handle this costume in black, without the weapon. I already have the jacket.

This costume needs a redhead.

5. People who read my blog know me better than I realize they do. Everybody seems to be rooting for me to get more cookies.

I think I rambled away from the party. It was fun. One of my intentions for the new year is to get out of my comfort zone ..... OK, I do that anyway. Find new ways to get out of my comfort zone. I'm grateful that Steamy Cynthia and Grogalingus opened their home to an experimental party. It was a great idea and a generous risk. Or at least I thought it was risky.

Would you consider it risky to either go to a party where all the other guests were strangers or even intentionally throw a party like that yourself?

I leave you with another Tim Minchin offering that one of the party guests posted on my Facebook wall after we became friends yesterday. Listen through, because you'll probably be surprised by the word he's ..... nevermind. I'm not going to give away the surprise. (Thanks, Charlie.)

*The recipe is delicious as is, but I would add a spritz of black cherry fizzy water to the mix to lighten it a bit and give a touch of effervescence. That's just my preference though.