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A Slow-Mo Wednesday on Wordpress

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Friendship, I Heart Friends, I Heart Funny Fellas, I Heart My Love-Tribe, I Heart Tricksters, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2010 by alphabetfiend

It was a slow, rainy day in Mississippi, which I craved after the chaotic heat of the last few weeks. The Robot asked if I wanted to drink beer on Magazine Street and I said no no no. No Nola today, not for me.

I was too exhausted from blowing the blooms offa roses like they waz fuzzy dandelions. I was too zapped from biting my tongue while my best friend talked crazy talk, just nodding my head when she said he waz her soulmate. I was over-wrought from bawling my eyes out on the porch steps cause crazy makes no fuckin’ sense but there’s no way to say it so there’s nothing to do but cry. I figgered she’d get there herself and she did.

She sez “Oh, the blooms off, it’s flat-out gone. Someone came along and blew it off, sent petals flying everywhere, and it was YOU!” And little trickster me, why I’ve never been prouder, even though her realization had her packing up a whole week early. After she pulled out, I crawled into bed and CRASHED. I slept for 12 hours, woke up, ate breakfast and then went back to sleep for another 4 hours. Now I’m curled up with the canine trinity and happy as hell to be here and not on Magazine Street.

On the plus side, I won’t be getting in trouble for my big mouth (again) because she does not read this. She reads everything I’ve ever written but not this. The very mention of wordpress or Cream Scene Carnival or bliggety-blog-blabla is enough to have her rolling her eyes as she stubs out her cig with ragged impatience. I said I was in an introspective writerly place and her face lit up, “Fiction?”  When I said no, her face fell like an avalanche. I’m so lucky, I know, to have someone champion my work. For 18 years, she’s been my biggest fan, but she hates this and hasn’t hesitated to say so. Why? Hmmm. She thinks it’s below me, that it’s a waste of my precious time, that it will lead nowhere (or rather, it won’t lead to her being able to see me on the shelves of your local Barnes & Noble and therefore, it’s going nowhere.) She thinks some asshole will stumble on my writing, either here or elsewhere on wordpress where I’ve posted the first 20 chapters of a novel in first draft (Pure Sweet Chocolate Sense) and that they will steal my stuff and use it to get where I should be going. I’d write it off as total paranoia but she’s been right about assholes before. She’s got a nose for assholes (this week not withstanding.)

I should be ecstatic that someone cares enough to obsessively worry like my friend does… and I am. Sorta. It’s odd being griped at for not writing when writing is all I’m doing these days. She feels I’ve got a gift for fiction and that fiction is where I belong. Fiction is my first love, my true love, but even at 10 yrs old I knew I wanted to master other forms of writing. I always expected to write everything from poetry to free-lance magazine columns/articles, from love letters to graffiti…. Cream Scene Carnival is representative of that creative mish-mash. Maybe if she took a real look at CSS she’d see “ME” in it and chill, but probably not. Like her, the word “blog” makes me bristle. Something about it seems not quite right… not quite “write.” I don’t really consider CSS a blog so much as a digital zine. If I “made it” as a blogger but not as a writer, I’d be devastated and then dead from all the I told you so’s. Which is not to say that I don’t think real quality writing is happening within the blog-o-sphere. Maybe it’s just about linguistics and literary pretension.

Still, I’m proud to be a Cream Scene carnie these days and grateful for all the support I’ve gotten from the people I’ve met through wordpress. I’m energized by the back and forth, the intimacy, and the immediacy of being able to knock something out and put it up to be read right that minute. I love how I never know what’s gonna make an impact and so I’m always surprised. I totally dig my dash — all the searches, the pathways people took to get to me, and sometimes to get back to me which is even better. It’s starting to happen where everyday someone is searching for “Cream Scene Carnival” in particular or else “Dia VanGunten writer/circus freak” or “TV sex carnival Dia Van” or some other variation on either my name, the site name or a specific post title. That never used to happen and now that it has, I’m paying close attention. 

I once got 900 hits in just one day for a post about Amy Poehler and Will Arnett’s first born. I’m a fan of both and so I was watching SNL and then on the late-late news, they said that Poehler had gone straight to the hospital from her final night on SNL, which had just aired. I giddily typed it up, never expecting the onslaught of views. It was timely, because it was late on a Saturday night/early on a Sunday morn and I was up anyway trying to get the punk rock gospel up for my “congregation” of misfit mystics. I ended up being one of the first to report it, even before Hollywood gossip sites, so I was top o’ google and still get hits for that post 2 years later. I’ve slaved over other posts — masterpieces in comparison, well thought-out, finely-crafted writing wise and typo-free — but they’ve been viewed by one very reliable reader and I always know it’s him cause he hops over from his own wordpress dash. I don’t mind either way. Really, to be honest, I write for myself first and then for that RELIABLE ONE… it’s all gravy after that. Lately, it’s looking like I have a reliable few and that’s cool too. Very.

In regard to my expectations for myself or the expectations that others have for me (see more of the above) — it’s those specific searches that most thrill me. It’s one thing to get lottsa hits as one person after another stumbles upon you because you’ve done a good job of staying current and guessing on that next big thing or even inventing that next big thing (in the case of one of my notorious top posts.) But it’s another thing entirely to be searched out, either because they’ve read you before and they dug it, or because they’ve heard from someone whose taste they trust that there’s something kinda freaky-deeky goin’ on over at “Cream Scene Carnival” and so they take the time to google and then to read. You end up with readers both ways but with the latter, you can see it happening and that’s a blast.

     
Lusty Luddite Looking to Seduce Lonely S 21 More stats
Home page 9 More stats
True Blood Theme Song: “Bad Things” by J 7 More stats
Peggy Hill in Flint’s Palin Porn: hot XX 4 More stats
Hot Mummy Love is Some Sexy Ass Gentle 2 More stats
Showtime’s Californication Makes My Brai 2 More stats
Tina Fey as Palin: “Not Afraid to get Ma 2 More stats
Baby Jesus Butt Plug (A real thing!) *Ad 2 More stats
About the Ringleader 2 More stats
Tryin’ To Make It Real Compared To What? 2 More stats
Swimming Pool Mermaid 2 More stats
Elvin Bishop’s “Fishin'” (Sunday AM Punk 1 More stats
My Sexual Custody 1 More stats
Peggy Hill to Star in Palin Porn? 1

A slow day in Mississippi, a slow day on wordpress, 58 views in all. I  love the goofy google poems that randomly rearrange everyday…. it’s like a window into meaning and culture. Here at wordpress we have these magical spaceship dashboards that give us a glimpse into the minds of human beings. What are people loving, laughing at, lusting after? What are they wondering about or wishing for?

I did a post a while back about the word “Diva” and how it’s been co-opted by obnoxious women with sparkly fingernails and I posted a clip of Sarah Silverman singing, “If you call yourself a diva, it better be for reals, and not just some sad pathetic kind of front…You’re probably not a diva, you’re a cunt.” She’d performed it in NYC for a storytelling thang which I’d listened to on pod-cast but no one had heard it outside of this small audience and no one cared a whip about my post. Until last Wednesday, when she must’ve played it on some late night talk show or something cause suddenly the cunt-diva searches came rolling in.

I have a couple posts about the amazing mofo comic Mike O’Connell of Million Dollar Strong and the hits are paltry but I fully expect to open my laptop someday and see it lit up & blinking like a white tinsel christmas tree.

I find it’s fun to anticipate the future obsessions of others and to be privy to their proclivities at present.

steampunk 22
tina fey 2
creme scene carnival 4
i wanna do bad things to you true blood 2
xxx carnival 2
janeane garofalo sexy 1
king of the porn peggy 1
bride frankenstein tattoo 1
hank hill porn 1
larry flint palin 1
tina fey’s wedgie 1
hot sexy mummies 1
peggy hill porn 1
true blood do bad things to you 1
camille rose garcia 1
true blood theme song 1
i dont know what you’ve done to me but i 1
californication 1
elvin bishop fishin 1
but i know this much is true; i wanna do 1
tumescent cock

I must say that I’m feelin’ pretty damn cheeky over the hilariously absurd collection of searches that show up on my dash. I’ve never written about Tina Fey’s wedgie and yet there it is, no nonsense white cotton panties all up in Fey’s yummy bizness. Mmmm. And “Janeane Garofalo sexy”??? Oh hell yea! Lately steampunks can’t get enough of the Lusty Luddite while the rumor I started about Peggy Hill starring in Flint’s Palin porn is finally beginning to slow down. The very talented artist Camille Rose Garcia is another sexy bitch that I’m proud to see on my dash. I’ve never written about a Bride of Frankenstein tattoo although I’m all inked up and was once the bride for Halloween. Funny story:

The following day was a Saturday and I was certain that people would still be celebrating so the Robot and I kept our wigs on as “Frank & Bride on their Honeymoon.” I wore a sheer ghosty nightie with black lace & garters showing through with marabou feather boudoir slippers. I also carried a little pink suitcase. But the Bot was the best with a green tee and green tights under his boxers and a BIG GREEN DILDO sticking outta his boxers like a franken’ woody. AWESOME! I was wrong, no one else was dressed up, but we did get in to see the band for free.

Perhaps, hearing about the giant green monster hard-on, it’s no surprise to you that I am especially proud of the “Tumescent Cock” search as well as “XXX Carnival.” I am certain that those Brits looking for “Hot Sexy Mummies” (that’s MILFs to you Yanks) are beyond disappointed to find actual bandage-bound mummies who’ve been lucky enough to find Everlasting Love. One of the coolest things that has happened lately is that people have started reading the Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel which is my little 10 minute church for other godless heathens like myself who might still want to touch base with something beautiful on a Sunday. If church were more like the punk rock gospel, I’d probably go. No one ever read the punk rock gospel before, at least not on purpose, but I loved it and the RELIABLE ONE loved it so I kept doing it and now I see that folks are looking for it which pleases me to no end cause I’m that much closer to starting my own cult and getting fire-bombed by the government. We gots to have goals in life, right?

I love you, my sweet faceless kinksters, thanks for reading. Sorry for my hinky mood tonight — I’m zonked and I’m crabby, it’s rainy and the Bot’s drunk on Magazine Street, my best friend sneers at Cream Scene Carnival and that frustrates the shit outta me cause she hasn’t met all of you and so she doesn’t see what’s in it for me. I adore y’all, I do. Keep comin’ around. I’m here, I’m not goin’ no where, I swear!

Good night, my freaks, may you have sweet or wet dreams, whichever you prefer.

**P.S.** In ode to the deep south, there are two chickens in this rainy post — do you see the second one?

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Baby Jesus Butt Plug (A real thing!) *Adult content

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Despite last night’s post — Heaven Makes Some People Horny — I wasn’t sent straight to hell. Zeus did not descend from the rainy sky to deliver a swift kick to my ass. Jesus neither. (Though aren’t they really the same guy? Haaay, Zeus! Wassup?!) Today, when I climbed onto Buddha’s lap, he let me tickle his belly as usual. Even shared a few riddles. Ah, koans. Doorjambs for the soul.

I’m not feeling the hot flaming tongues of hellfire.

Thus my bravery is bolstered.

The baby Jesus butt plug is real, y’all!!

The baby jesus  butt plug is a real life actually-exists product by Divine Interventions, the sickopath company that makes dildos that look like our favorite deities, thereby decimating that second commandment.

You shall not make for yourself a carved image–any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.

Oh man, just reading that makes me wanna plug my butt and buy some artwork.

I’m not making this shit up.

But someone did and that’s what’s really wild.

"When simply going to hell isn't quite enough"

God, I love the human race. People crack my ass up. People create baby jesus butt plugs to stick up there, should I so choose. Which I don’t. My little pink bumhole is for tongues only or perhaps the very well-timed tip of  a pinky but never ever never for the baby jesus.

But I don’t judge. No. I encourage.

The idea for Divine Interventions came to the guy while seated on the porcelain throne. There he was, meditating to the warm glow of his Jesus nightlight, just trying to pinch one off, when he was suddenly struck by divine inspiration.

It’s all so creepy and yet so captivating — like something out of a Harry Crews novel. Almost makes me wish my booty didn’t have such a strict doorman. Almost. (Don’t get any ideas, Robot Boy.) 

If you’re like me and the idea of a baby jesus butt plug makes you crack up rather than spread your crack, then I have something for you.   The Baby Jesus Butt Plug by Carlton Mellnick III. Perfect for the back pew. You know the one — it stinks like Old Spice but it’s great for catching up on your reading.

 

What came first, the book or the butt plug?

The Jesus Baby Butt Plug is for the twisted and well-read. It does not promote the molestation of Jesus.

WARNING: DO NOT MOLEST THE BABY JESUS

Step into a dark and absurd world where human beings are slaves to corporations, people are photocopied instead of born, and the baby jesus is a very popular anal probe.

Presented in the style of a children’s fairy tale, The Baby Jesus Butt Plug is a short dystopian horror story about a young couple who make the mistake of buying a living clone of the baby jesus to use for anal sex. Once the baby jesus clone turns on them, all hell breaks loose.

Carlton Mellnick III

The Baby Jesus Butt Plug was described as “Trashy and dark.” by 3 a.m. magazine. Trent Haaga, co-writer of Citizen Toxie, gave it a glowing-like-a-ufo review.

Reading Carlton Mellick III’s BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG is like hopping into an LSD-filled time machine with David Cronenberg, William Burroughs, J.G. Ballard, Philip K. Dick, and George Romero at the controls. This tale of office drones and disposable clones is a splatterpunk odyssey, a cautionary tale of corporate omnipotence, and a possible blueprint of the future of the nuclear family. Touching, poignant, horrorific, nightmarish, and beautiful all at the same time, BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG is the work of an uncompromising visionary who lances the boil of his seething imagination with the tip of his pen…”

 Lordy, lordy… I loves me some PKD!!! Burroughs and Ballard too. So I might just have to order a copy next time I’m on amazon. (Carlton Mellnick III also authored The Cannibals of Candyland which makes me smile after the candy-sotted books of today…) 

Heaven Makes Some People Horny (adult content)

Posted in Buxom Goo Goo, Fur Reals, In Celebration of the Absurd, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I once knew a kinky slut who wanted to be fucked by Jesus.

To a certain extent, I can dig it. I did have a HUGE thing for the Lizard King, even with his grizzly madman christ-poet beard. I wrote a poem about going down on Gustav Klimt and I dry-humped Amelia Earhart in one very lovely dream. I was building some kind of steampunk orgasmatron in an old barn when Amelia was forced to crash land her silver airplane in the field out yonder. Humps & hi-jinks ensued.  But that chick, with her particular kind of “jesus trip,” she wasn’t being all sassy and symbolic and referential. It wasn’t even about irreverence. She wanted to be Mrs. Jesus Christ or, fail that, then she’d have been happy just to feel his warm jizz on her face. 

As weird as that chick was, she wasn’t really all that weird. There’s plenty of freaks who wanna get their freak on with Jesus H. Or Krishna. Or the Buddha. Personally, I’d rather get syphilis from Baudelaire. My crushes are more deviant than divine. But for some, it doesn’t get much better than up high. How’s the saying go? Once you go holy, you never go lonely?  Religion and sex have knocked boots plenty. They go way back. Think Zeus with his penchant for mortals. Picture Pan — watching from the shore as maidens romp merrily in the crick, a vision that has caused an uproar in his fetid nether-region. Trance out to the swan-song of St. Teresa as she ecstatically rejoices. Damn, she loves those flaming arrows.

We’ve been boinking the gods and the gods have been booty-callin’ us ever since creation. Ever since there was an us to dream gods up. Ever since there were gods to form us from the dirt like golems. We each depend on the other for existence — we each create the other — and where there’s creation, there’s sex.

Where there’s pollen, there’s bees.

Now we can be both deviant & divine

So why am I surprised to find that a company like Divine Interventions is creating products like these? Holy holes!

Finally, a crucifix that you can safely stick up in ya! For those in need of an exorcist, this day could not come soon enough.

Me, I’d rather bless myself with the Virgin Mary… which I’d order in a spiritual hue, such as violet or prayer-robe blue. But you, you might prefer to bury “The Diving Nun” like you were smuggling Gulliver. Or maybe you’re dying to punish Judas for his sins. Bad bad bad boy. If your sacrilege has eastern leanings, then you’ll wanna use Buddha’s belly to wiggle your jiggle like a bowl full o’ spermicide jelly. 

That’s right, sinners, there’s something here for everyone! Every heathen under the red hot sun. Yes, that means you, you jew. You too can have Moses deliver you to promised land.  

For that special brand of anal-retentive weirdo (or for collectors of absurd ephemera, such as myself) there’s “The baby Jesus butt plug.”

Oh, yes, we’re all going straight to hell.

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