Archive for Sex & XXX

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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Silverman Gives the Word “Diva” a XXX Smackdown (adult content)

Posted in Fame & Celebrity, Fur Reals, I Heart Funny Femmes with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on May 29, 2010 by alphabetfiend

 

Fine. Wave off yer ignorance with a flick of your plastic talons.

Cause you gotta have yer way cause yer a diva. 

Well, bitch, then you had better be able to belt out an aria.

 

Luckily, I’m no longer alone in my aggravation cause once again Sarah Silverman says what we’re all thinking. This time, in song. 

If you call yourself a diva, you better be a singer, and not somebody cutting me in line. 

If you call yourself a diva, you better sing a solo, and not be someone treating me unkind.

I kinda wanna purchase that patch — “Crossword Diva League” — cause it’s cool enough with the curvy lady and the old skool look. I kinda wanna stitch it on my engineers cap cause I love crossword puzzles and I want the world to know it. However, I don’t want the world to think I’m a stupid bitch. And so you see my dilemma. No self-respecting crossword freakette could call herself a diva, not when she’s faced twice daily with the word’s true meaning. When the clue involves the word “diva” then the answer always has to do with opera and never with self-entitled bitchery.
Look up “diva” in the dictionary. The word applies to female operatic stars or (more recently) it extends to distinguished female singers who are long time legendary power houses like Aretha Franklin or Diana Ross. Sure there’s the prima donna addendum but who wants that? Who wants to be a mere pain-in-the-ass post-script?
Down with those bitches who call themselves Divas — excusing a lack of manners with a word that is supposed to denote a presence of talent.

Wearing leopard print does not make you a diva.

Neither does your rhinestone-crusted blackberry.

And that glitter graphic on your myspace page? Gulp. Please no! Not another one!

What does make you a diva?

Well, do you have an absolutely legendary ability to sing your fucking ass off? Have you taken a bow as the curtain closed at the Met? Does the crowd roar and send thorny roses hurling to the stage like arrows shot from Eros’ bow?

No? Then you’re no diva. 

 

Now this fabulous bitch, she’s a damn diva. (Yes, that’s right. Divas can be bitches but bitches aren’t divas.)

People are always shining me on with the word “Diva” (as a compliment or as an explanation for my tiara) but I don’t take a shine to it. I sing in the car, with the top down and the volume up, and I sing loud. But I’m not the fat lady y’all are waiting on.

Sing it, Sarah!

If you call yourself a diva, it better be for reals, and not just some sad pathetic kind of front.

You’re selfish and your thoughtless and you’re broken and you’re heartless.

You’re probably not a diva, you’re a cunt.

Aniston Gives Letterman her GQ Nudie-Spread Necktie

Posted in Fame & Celebrity, Star F*#ker with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 18, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“Well you know what they say about guys with short ties.” — David Letterman

Jennifer Aniston was on David Letterman last night. They discussed her recent birthday suit photo shoot for GQ magazine, at which point Jen presented Dave with a tie box — inside was the tie that barely covered Jen on GQ’s sexy cover.

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The tie is damn sexy as ties go — whether it was on a naked Aniston or not. Kinda patriotic meets Brit punk. Unfortunately, the tie was too short for Letterman… either that or he had it tied that way for extra laughs. I felt bad for Jen cause she was so giddy over the gift and then he was rather ungracious. And really guys, let’s be honest, it’s plenty long (and plenty silky) enough to wrap it around your nuts & wiener for a little tug and moan.

It was hot how Dave started stripping and put the tie on right then and there. Too bad he had to be dickish when it didn’t fit. Though the Robot Boy does not think he was dickish so I maybe I’m just over-sensitive.

Real Dolls: Kinkster Deluxe for the Loaded & Lonesome (XXX)

Posted in I like big butts & I can not lie, Psyche & Sexuality, Sex & XXX, SPOOKY KABUKI, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“I am doll eyes
Doll mouth, doll legs
I am doll arms, big veins, dog bait.”
— Hole

Wendsday night’s episode of CSI New York — “Sex, Lies & Silicone” — involved a plot line about the Real Doll phenomenon. I don’t normally watch CSI but when I saw this trailer, I had my Ro-beau punch a few buttons on the tevo. 

If you’re out of the lurid loop, Real Dolls are eerily “realistic” life-size love dolls. Has Kelly Lebrock been in your spank bank since you were a pimply kid in the 80’s? Ever since you rented Wierd Science? Get you a slotted-piggy and start saving up. Well-to-do deviants can skip the piggy and go straight to  RealDoll.com  They can create their ideal woman as though they were Gary and Wyatt.  (I LOVED Wierd Science and can still quote Gary and Wyatt. Which may explain my obscene interest in this mad scientist insanity.)

This is not your horn-dog Uncle’s blow up doll. Real Dolls are high end silicone sex dolls with three fancy orifices. A Real Doll is the “Ferrari of love dolls, ” says Matt Krivicke, Creative Director of Abyss Creations.”It’s the most expensive highest quality love doll on the market.” If yer gonna pony up 7 grand for a poseable pin-up, you gotta do more than press your lips around the rubber valve and blow. You’ll need to make some tough choices.

At the Real Doll Web site you can choose among nine body types, 14 faces, five skin tones, six eye colors, a palette of makeup colors, 10 wigs, and three different pubic hair styles. Save your pennies, and for $6,499 plus shipping, you can have your very own synthetic woman sent directly to your home. (Salon.com)

Talk about some Bride of Frankenstein freaky-deek DELUX!

Um, lady, yer not planning on using that on me are you?

Serious afficonados of this luxury item– ” idollators” — often have a whole harem of faux femmes. Which is surely less complicated than having even one real girl.  

What kind of wierdo creepazoid would shell out dollars for a doll with a dick hole? The answer to that is all over the board. Even veering dangerously close to home.

Flinch at the notion of a man having sex with an imitation woman and classify him: lonely loser. Pathological creep. Misogynist. Potential rapist. Sicko. True enough, some men who have sex with Real Dolls are creepy, the kind of guys you wouldn’t want to be alone with. But not all. Many are simply lonely — some tragically so. Others are disfigured or infirm. Some are oddly sweet, like Davecat, for whom a Real Doll is a “teddy bear with benefits.” And others proclaim their normalcy and defend their Real Dolls as no different than a 3-D version of a Playboy centerfold. (Salon)

Hey, I know, let’s ask one of them c-zoids. This guy makes the case for Real Dolls, while also making your stomach lurch.

The Robot says Real Dolls are too bizarre to not want one. “If I was rich, I’d buy you one for your birfday, baby,” he once promised, which riled until he revealed his ace: they are available in magically delicious skin colors like alien green or sci-fi lavender. Oh hell yea! I’d sully that cartoon wench like nobody’s biz-ness. Which I suspect is the REAL reason why the Robot is keen on the idea of bringing a Real Doll home. (To the extent that he actually is. Which isn’t much, not 7 G’s much.)

I’m about to give details above and beyond TMI so if your easily offended, skip ahead. 

OK, here goes… 

Years ago I had this yummy dream where I was wearing a cartoonish strap-on dildo on the outside of my jeans, as like an accessory, to go with my thug-rolled dungarees & wife-beater tank. Until that dream I thought Freud’s penis envy was total bullshit. But goof knows I love to accessorize! I’ve wanted a strap-on ever since. I began to hint around and swore that I only wanted it as like a lewd jewel, to wear underneath a flouncy girl-bomb dress. A naughty secret stolen in a petticoat, tucked into frothy layers of tulle. I wanna frock out with my cock out!  He began to hint around that maybe he’d let me do more with my new toy. Yea, I know you, and you’ll end up wanting to ass rape me, which might be OK.  RB found a harness in pale pink leather — it’ll match yer Plush D afro! — and picked out a springy fleshy dong in translucent pink. When it arrived in the mail, it wasn’t as petite as he’d hoped. As I began to cock-strut around the house, lines of worry furrowed into his forehead. Yay! I wanna stick it in things!  Which is where a blue-skinned babe like trickster Krishna would come in damn handy. And no, don’t bother emailing saying you know just the gal-pal for me, cause I can’t cheat, not even with girls. I just don’t have the temperament for it.

In all honesty, I’d never spend 7000 bucks on a squishy hole when there’s other things to spring for: fingerless Chanel gloves, flouncy Miu Miu dresses, Anna Sui Kimonos, Phillip Treacy hats, Marc Jacobs platform pumps. Aaaaaahhhhh, mmmmmm. An ice cream trunk, a lazy hazy trip to Amsterdam, a steampunk laptop!  Oh oh oh YES! Besides, lube is cheap and men can be manipulated. I mean, men have open minds. Especially when it comes to all things bedroom.

With only 9 body types, I doubt they’d have the fleshy bouncy bottom of my lezbo dreams. If I’m gonna go gay, I want a big ‘ole booty that I can go to town on like I’m Tinto Brass on acid. A tiny Barbie bum is a serious deal-breaker.  And I’m not the only one for whom junk in the trunk is a concern. Check out this informational video about the Real Doll factory. Watch as Big C sez “I like big butts and I cannot not lie.” Or something to that affect.

Awww, what a happy ending, so sweet. Big C sweeps big-booty Judy off her feet. But was her booty really that big? Size 6 big just ain’t BIG enough for me!

“I am doll parts
Bad skin, doll heart
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, they really do
He only loves those things because he loves to see them break
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake”
— Hole

So, how creepy was this post? Man oh man, are you gonna have some weird (wet) dreams tonight! SPOOKY KABUKI strikes again!

Peggy Hill in Flint’s Palin Porn: hot XXX mess. (adult content)

Posted in Goof & Glamour, I Heart Funny Femmes, I like big butts & I can not lie, politics, Porn Stars are Peeple too, Republicans scare me, Sex & XXX, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2008 by alphabetfiend

I told you that Larry Flint was making a Palin porn and then I told you that he’d pegged Peggy Hill to “play” Palin.  I thought for sure that Hank, being the King of his Hill, would never bite. Looks like I was wrong! I don’t know how Flint managed to talk The Hills into this, no doubt Peggy’s insatiable ego came into play. Peggy’s done porn before but only in foot fetish films. This is her first foray into full-spread freakdom. Fortunately (or maybe not) Peggy is familiar with her co-star: her father-in-law Cotton Hill was brilliantly cast as John McCain. 

The resemblance is uncanny! Pretty f#%kin' scary!

Palin & McCain are one hot ticket!

I may be biased. I’ve previously confessed a dirty cartoon fetish (which is pretty weird as I’m very often told that I resemble Betty Boop.) I think Flint’s new project is pure genius. There are plenty similarities beween The Hills family and McCain-Palin. Peggy is perfect as Palin! Absolutely. They both hear “dumbass” and retort with “Why, yes, I am a genius.”

Plus, Peggy has Palin’s homespun vernacular down.

Peggy’s porn star turn is doggone hot,  I tell you whut!

Peggy! We never knew!

Peggy! We never knew!

It’s nice to see Peggy released from her usual get-up. Green tank and skort begone! She took to her pink feather boa like a practiced XXX starlet and eased right into her role as pervy Repub Sarah Palin.
A change from her usual green shirt

Peggy Hill makes one hell of a pornstar!

Who knew Peggy Hill was such a nympho-licious nincompoop?
They don’t call her “The Boggle Champ” for nothin!!!! 
Hank has the heebies

Hank has the heebies

Hank had no idea what he was getting into when he volunteered to “man the tools.” 

Okay, I’ll come clean (if that’s possible) and point out the obvious — Peggy Hill is not actually the new star of Flint’s Palin porn, reportedly called Nailin Palin. The real Palin-player is Lisa Ann and she is not pixilated. Darn! Although I’m sure that the rest of you will find her a more suitable pornstar than Peggy Hill. But if, like me, you dig this toon version, then hop over to drawnsex.com to see more cartoon obscenity from the folks who brought you the above images of the Hills in compromising positions. The Hills aren’t the only toons those freaks at drawnsex.com have sullied. Seriously. You will never look at Snow White the same way again. Or maybe you will… if you have always imagined that her straining bodice becomes ferociously unloosed by horny dwarfs who then feast on her snow-white flesh.

Goof-speed, kinksters.

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