February 5th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Oooh, Excercise
This sort of thing might be able to convince even Bacchus that exercise can be fun.
It gets better. What are they doing, practicing Gorean slave girl postures?
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February 5th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
EmilyD says “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”
What she said!
She quotes loosely from a press release:
“One of our clients is a French doctor and plastic surgeon, who has an amazing new procedure: It involves injecting collagen into the G-spot to increase its surface area, thereby improving the occurrence and intensity of orgasms. It is a very quick and easy procedure that can be carried out at the [blah blah blah] clinic in [blah]. It has been brought over from Paris where it is all the rage. If you would like any other details, please get in touch.”
Now, Bacchus is not equipped with a G-Spot, but his most recent ex emphatically was, and presumably still is. Surface area was more than adequate, howbeit quite remarkably changeable in texture. This suggested “enhancement” sounds every bit as absurd as “enhancing” a pair of firm but deliciously malleable breasts by cutting the nipples mostly off and stuffing vinyl bags of salt water in through the holes until the skin is stretched so tight it begins to deform and…oh, wait. Never mind.
February 4th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Google Revenge
This article [link gone] contains a chilling tale of Google Revenge by (who else?) a scorned woman:
Amanda created an alternate digital identity for her former boyfriend – a personal Web page that would, in all likelihood, be accessed only by those people Googling him by name. On this over-the-top Web page, the guy makes a series of mock confessions that, if taken seriously, would be toxic in any future dating situation. He “admits” to being untrustworthy, jobless, sneaky, a lousy lover, and, finally, a carrier of venereal disease. Hey, Mom, let me tell you a little bit about my new boyfriend.
Confession time. When Bacchus first read this article, it gave him an evil urge to go and do likewise to an arguably-deserving ex. The urge was quickly suppressed, after mere moments of consideration, on purely pragmatic grounds — she could, and would, do unto as done upon, and belike with an evil genius of even higher calibre. Best not to go there.
But Alina promptly leapt for, and attained, the moral high ground:
In the end, we each get what is coming to us in some shape or form– a natural consequence of our good or bad decisions. The most poetic justice is the kind that never shows its hand. So don’t bother. Vengeance sullies the soul of the bearer more than the soul of the intended target. Limit the collateral damage. Call it a day. Thank ex-man/woman for what he/she may have taught you about the world, about human relationships, and more importantly, about yourself.
But wait, don’t grab for your insulin yet! Alina may be high-minded, but she’s still human:
Life, love, and the pursuit of happiness prove far too beautiful and elegaic to be drowned in revenge fantasies. That said, it can never hurt to check the google galaxy for unfortunate slips. Picture me grinning.
February 3rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
Satisfying the Camel Toe Searchers
The site logs, which do not lie, tell us that many searchers are looking for “camel toes”. Far be it from ErosBlog to disappoint.
February 3rd, 2003 -- by Bacchus
By Popular Demand, More Pix
Who said suburban living was bland and banal?
January 29th, 2003 -- by Bacchus
It’s A Damned Formula
Here is some more sex writing that uses the up-front “this stuff doesn’t turn me on and by the way I’m a feminist” disclaimer. Come on, guys, ball up, find your nuts, and write about sex without all the wussy disclaimers!
It’s right here in paragraph three — this guy wanted to get it right up front:
But I never quite recovered from the blow to my libido, going from interested to bored to downright queasy within an hour. It’s a shameful confession for a sex-positive feminist to make.
From an otherwise fairly decent article on porn.
