Archive for September, 2010

30th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

Seriously? Suspending an athlete for allegedly possessing minute amount of a performance-enhancing substance in his body? Why should athletes be just ordinary people? Why can’t we see their potential – using precautions of course to protect the athlete’s health? With all this technology available to us, why should we race like Neanderthals? Let’s embrace a bit of technology and the human body. We don’t race bikes made of round wheels made of rocks, competitive swimmers don’t race nude, so why not add a little “juice” to the athlete’s diet?

30th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

Reacting to Faizal Shahzad’s failed attempt to bomb Times Square, it got me thinking about a strategy to combat the explosion of militant Islamic websites and recruitment.

My first solution? Start bogus militant websites that feature revolutionary new bomb-making methods and list distributors of said ingredients. The bombs would fail in such a way as to incriminate the user and be traceable by law enforcement.

The unfortunate truth is that possession of bomb-making ingredients is not illegal, nor is the fake bomb that results. Hmmm. Maybe one of those ingredients should actually be an illegal drug, thereby making its possession illegal. The only problem is that the government would be involved in selling illicit drugs, but that happens anyway. 🙂

My second solution which targets potential terrorists deep in the troubled Middle East is to start organizations or cults that are happy places. They get rewards and perks complementary to Western culture, sing happy songs, play happy games, get out their aggressions by mud-wrestling each other, eat chocolate and candy, maybe smoke some dope, and get far too relaxed to do evil. Evil is hard work after all.

29th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

One of the biggest concerns of women considering breast implants is what size to get. The funny thing is that I could easily come up with names of B-sized beauties – Eva Mendes, Marion Cotillard, Gisele Bündchen, many Hollywood starlets (though on the small side), and the larger Victoria’s Secret models (most are very skinny A cups). D-cup bombshells like Beyoncé, Kim Kardashian, and Salma Hayek, are also memorable for their boobs. But I couldn’t think of anyone in between, with C-cups. Where was the middle ground? Apparently, the fashion of having large but moderate-sized boobs went away with the 1990’s.

I consider Harry Connick Jr.’s wife, Jill Goodacre the most gorgeous and iconic Victoria’s Secret model of all time. Just google “Jill Goodacre Victoria’s” in images and you’ll see what I mean. She’s got long shapely legs, exotic eyes and lips, and large but not humongous natural boobs. Among her images, I found listal.com’s page celebrating ten supermodels of the 90’s, most with C-sized boobs. I don’t know why they went out of fashion, but they deserve a revisit.

Ah, I just thought of a real live C girl from today, Angelina Jolie. That’s a tribute to her that I can’t remember she’s a C-cup because she’s done so much more with her career and her life, that and the team of kids she takes care of.

But who else will step forward and represent the C-cup women?

27th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

I had a dream last night that I was on a flight sitting next to a guy who was a hot action film actor. We started making out, then we got naked, and I was behind him with my arms around his muscular chest and I reached down and was disappointed to find a skinny penis shaped like a piece of rough ginger root, and it was neither hard nor soft. So awakening from that horrible dream, I decided to think about my own sexual history.

Though my experience is anecdotal at best, it is still interesting.

• In general, skinnier, shorter guys have smaller, skinnier penises and medium-to-very tall guys have average-sized penises.
• There are many exceptions.
• I have been with five very tall guys – one 6’3”, one 6’2” and three 6’1”. Two were disappointingly average since they just didn’t seem proportional. Both had very muscular bodies. One muscular guy was smaller than average but he was very sweet and had great hair! Still, small. One had a short penis that was thick – maybe 5.5” long. One, muscular but lean/thin guy was the second largest guy I’ve ever been at about 7 or 7.5” and thick. Thus, only one in five very tall guys had a larger than average penis.
• The only half-Asian/half-Caucasian guys I have ever been with (two) who were short and skinny – about 5’7” and 140 pounds – had larger (longer and thicker) penises – maybe 6.5” – than those of the average white guy.
• The largest guy I’ve ever been with, who was one-quarter Cuban, 5’7” and had a lean, muscular build, had an 8” penis that was also thick. It was difficult to get erect and get to remain erect but it was impressive to look at.
• I have no experience with full Asians or blacks, sorry. I will let you know if that changes.

As for functionality, average was best, with slightly short best for me as the owner could go deep and do well in any position which is always fun– 5-5.5”. The larger-than-average penises were lovely to look at, but are better as museum pieces than really useful. Only missionary worked okay. Also, the largest one relied on his size for sex and he had no creativity whatsoever. I gave him several opportunities to shine but he disappointed and I said goodbye.

If anyone is concerned about his being too short, there are potential solutions.

The Matters of Size website, which though heavily leaning toward making money selling product, has a legitimate-looking public forum commenting on various products and options. The comments on the main homepage, however, seem much too well-written to be random and none of the commentators’ names are clickable like they are in the forum which is suspicious.

I promise to talk more about penises later, like curvature, surgery options, and circumcision.

26th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

It’s about time Madrid got it together with a smooth ride to the airport. Madrid will at the end of October start offering 24-hour buses every 15 to 30 minutes. Via metro, you likely have to make at least two changes, which involves going up or down a few flights of stairs – a bitch if you have awkward-sized luggage – not to mention the additional wait time. In Barcelona it’s been quite nice for awhile. You take the Aerobus to/from Plaça Catalunya or Plaça Espanya door-to-door to/from Terminal 1 or 2, not killing yourself with your suitcase. You know how bruised up I get when I travel? Seriously, I look like I’m a masochist, a fan of pain. No, people. I just don’t like to spend a night’s worth of partying on a snail’s pace taxi ride into the center of Madrid which costs me 45 euros with a modest tip. Ouch. There are lots of things I love about Madrid. Now there’s one more.

26th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

So apparently, the Mexican national team was prohibited from bringing girls back to the hotel (why?) even after the game, but disobeyed orders and did bring some. Maybe they brought fourteen prostitutes and one transvestite. Maybe the girls and boy just happened to be in the hotel and heard the noise and joined them. Who cares? What are the odds that there will be a transvestite partying with you sometime without your knowing? 100%. I know, because it happened to me. Of course, the girls I partied with were transsexuals – that’s different. But I did not realize it until I was in the taxi with them! And you know what? We had a great time! Except that one of their friends kept grabbing the front of my neck wondering if I was a transsexual myself. Sorry to disappoint but a baby came out of me. But keep partying!

25th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

I have the opportunity to watch Italian Serie A games, often in high resolution, but I find myself more often than not disappointed. Part of it is my ignorance of the players, so I don’t get personally involved, but I see bad play as well. Just today I saw Roma versus Inter Milan, and there are some moments and lots of shots on goal, but nothing of amazing quality minus the daring and successful header in the last seconds of stoppage time. I am familiar with Brazilian Júlio César and Marco Borriello, the man whose newest hairstyle he copied from Pepe le Pew, the famed cartoon skunk, but other than that, none of these boys sound familiar. It doesn’t help that Italy’s national team features players without reputations. I’ll give them another shot or two, but I don’t expect anything revolutionary. On the other hand, that Roma crowd is exceptional! You can imagine the roar of the crowd being similar to when gladiators ripped each other apart.

25th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

Manhattan Madam Kristin Davis is taking advantage of the story in which former call girl Irma Nici claims a 2007 hook-up with David Beckham. Hardly worthy of note, the story has still been picked up by many media channels, and for Madam Davis’s sake, and possibly those of sex workers, she’s getting publicity for herself and her cause, that of decriminalizing prostitution, a cause I happen to agree with. The Beckhams unfortunately are easy pickins for alleged infidelity rumors. Famous hot guy, successful wife aging (as all humans do). Whether or not the story holds true is irrelevant to me. I hope that someday law enforcement gets their head out of their asses and makes the legitimate and very human business legal and safer.

24th September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

Who would take the trouble just to be able to make a grand entrance twice a year to the glamorous Real Madrid stomping grounds on the outskirts of Madrid? Lori would. She specifically took motorcycle lessons to get her international operator’s license just to do it.

She already had a distinctive look to her, cocky but with an innocent girlieness that when it did come out, did melt – at least temporarily – the biggest bad-boy heart. Here she was again, long black hair flying around her head, in a bright sexy dress and a stuffed kitty cat between her legs. The big bouncers were surprised – even they whose eyes had seen fights, cars wreck into the club’s façade, and their share of drunken wardrobe malfunctions. They stopped what they were doing even if it was a famous footballer they were greeting, to see Lori rev the motor once in announcement, stop, jump off onto her 4-inch heels – still holding the kitty against herself, kick the kickstand in place and kill the engine.

The new bouncers would ask who she was. The older ones would always remember her, not only for her entrance but for her charm.
She remembered bouncer Eloe by name, and he smiled as she placed the little stuffed animal in his huge hands. Notably, she ignored the footballer to her left, though she would have to admit she’d had a few fantasies about him when he’d played for another team.
But he asked her, “Do always give away your pussy as a gift?”

And she responded, “Not to jocks. It’s not worth fucking just once in awhile because of their schedules, doing all the work. Their fame makes them lazy. And your girlfriends and wives practice an evil method of revenge.”

A little bit taken aback, and exhilarated by the possibility of a challenge, he nonetheless let her go unmolested as she gave Eloe a hug – Eloe squeezed a little longer than normal, after all, she’d be gone till the next year in a few hours – and she went past the plush deep red harem-like canopied couches to get herself a drink.

Once or twice, a seeker – an athlete’s personal friend or assistant would try to entice her to join the VIPs. But the thought of sitting around over-eager wannabes trying to take a rich boy home didn’t appeal to her, and instead she’d give the seeker a peck on the lips – maybe more if his lips were the succulent sort – and send his derriere on its way with a stroking pat.

As she danced – sometimes eyes closed, in her own world, sometimes taking in the view of someone with some asset worth studying, over the next couple of hours men and boys from all walks of life would approach her. One pissed her off enough that she would leave to avoid him and go talk to Eloe in the front.

And she stood by his side and sighed. He was still married. Still couldn’t make time. Last time she’d visited he’d called her just to tell her he couldn’t see her before she left. And meanwhile he’d made her horny just suggesting what he’d do to her and it ended up to be nothing. And it’s not like they could just steal away to the bathroom or to his car – she didn’t want to ruin her reputation – that she never left a club with a guy. That added to her mystique.

Then, out of the corner of her eye she spotted a man she couldn’t resist. He stepped out of a taxi dressed casually in a sweater and tight pants, a subtle shine to his polished boots, his gray-brown hair trimmed a half-centimeter from his well-shaped head. Lori hated sweaters, but this guy… Eloe regarded her stare with a tinge of jealousy.

As another bouncer greeted him, this sweatered guy’s deep brown eyes locked with hers for a moment. “Buona sera,” he said to her with a deep, melodic voice. “Ciao,” she replied with an unexpected blush…

TO BE CONTINUED…

22nd September
2010
written by Dame Suzy

There is a vivid quote from a book I read when I was seventeen. Something to the effect of “a good marriage was when you left the guy you really wanted to fuck sitting there and proceeded to go to bed with your husband pretending he was the guy you wanted to fuck,” from Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying. Then there was a jazz dance instructor who was so much fun, who told me if two guys could be in one person – one her actual husband and one her party friend, he’d make the perfect husband. I am not so generous. I don’t even think a mix-and-match of perfect components from ten guys would make the perfect husband, nor would I want the perfect husband. How annoying would he be? Always saying the right thing, doing the right thing, skilled in five sports, an artist, a musician, a chef,…

I prefer my attitude much more. If a guy has just a few things that attract me a lot, he’s getting in my pants (if things progress). I don’t have to worry if he makes enough money, is smart enough, or if he has the perfect body. He doesn’t have to have it all. This means that guys who would never have a chance with me if I were trying to find Mr. Right in fact DO. How liberating for everyone involved!

In addition, I treat someone as an individual. This means I really don’t care if he has a wife or girlfriend. I’m not sleeping with her after all. I love connecting with someone with you have a spark. It’s one of the most exhilarating feelings I know. And there’s a mental intimacy that comes with physical intimacy. People reveal parts of themselves in post-coital conversations that they simply wouldn’t otherwise.

There are some who also don’t believe in monogamy. Kate Hudson, Til Schweiger (the hot kick-ass guy in Inglorious Basterds, and Scarlett Johannson though she’s in being engaged mode so she doesn’t have to have the urge right now and may not even years from now.

That’s the thing. I’m not saying you can never be monogamous. I was for years partly because I was just in love with my partner and we had a full life together, building trust, starting a family. Then when I was ready to kiss someone else, I had to wait another couple of years because my partner wasn’t comfortable with it and I didn’t want to lose him. This in spite of the fact that I believed what I believe since I was seventeen and that he was well aware. After I kissed someone, it was still another year till I did more sexual stuff with someone – that was my passionate, reckless long weekend with a Barcelona guy – and then months later before I then went cock in cunt.

There’s so much more to say on this matter, but I’ll start there.

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