Do you like thongs?

So, Bacchus was awakened early on Christmas morning. This was unexpected, as Bacchus has no children. Still, there was a tugging at Bacchus’s…well, let’s just say there was a tugging.

“Bacchus! Bacchus! Wake up! It’s time to unwrap your present!”

“Present? I already unwrapped my presents last night.”

“Well, if you don’t want to….” [much pouting]

And that is the tale of how Bacchus did not wake up on Christmas morning. Ah, well, so much for fantasyland.

This tale of a snappy comeback was posted on an adult webmaster board by the famous Persian Kitty:

This was in the Washington Post… the title of the article was “Best Comeback Line Ever.”

In summary, the police arrested Patrick Lawrence, a 22-year-old white male, resident of Dacula, GA, in a pumpkin patch at 11:38 p.m. on Friday. Lawrence will be charged with lewd and lascivious behavior, public indecency, and public intoxication at the Gwinnett County courthouse on Monday.

The suspect explained that as he was passing a pumpkin patch he decided to stop. “You know, a pumpkin is soft and squishy inside, and there was no one around here for miles. At least I thought there wasn’t,” he stated in a phone interview.

Lawrence went on to say that he pulled over to the side of the road, picked out a pumpkin that he felt was appropriate to his purposes, cut a hole in it, and proceeded to satisfy his need. “I guess I was just really into it, you know?” he commented with evident embarrassment.
In the process, Lawrence apparently failed to notice a Gwinett County police car approaching and was unaware of his audience until officer Brenda Taylor approached him. “It was an unusual situation, that’s for sure,” said officer Taylor. “I walked up to (Lawrence) and he’s… just working away at this pumpkin.”

Taylor went on to describe what happened when she approached Lawrence. “I just went up and said, ‘Excuse me sir, but do you realize that you are screwing a pumpkin?’ “He froze and was clearly very surprised that I was there, and then looked me straight in the face and said, “A pumpkin? Damn…is it midnight already?'”

Of course, it’s an urban legend. But still funny.

“Merry Christmas to All, and To All, a Good Night!”

Hungry?

It’s a poster by Sharon Leong.

Alert readers will have noticed the recent appearance on the sex blog list of Pornblography, a fun new blog [since gone defunct] that’s all about the movers and shakers in the porn biz. Frankly, to an outsider it’s just a bit bewildering — these people are not most of them household names, although they will be familiar in some cases to heavy porn consumers and regular readers of Adult Video News, the New York Times of the adult entertainment industry. But it’s a delightful and eye-opening read all the same. Do you know what a suitcase pimp is? Nope, neither did your humble scribe. It turns out:

A “Suitcase Pimp” is the industry term for any boyfriend or husband of a porn chick. They are often, but not always, jobless….

Suitcase Pimps can usually be seen carrying the bags of the actresses when they arrive on a set (hence the term Suitcase), and they are often to be found on the cell phone handling the business affairs of the girls (i.e. “pimping” them out to whichever producer will pay the most money for a scene). This activity takes place much to the consternation of various film producers and directors, who would MUCH rather deal with the porno chicks themselves, for various reasons.

Carly, who writes Pornblography, also has great taste, having averred that ErosBlog “fucking rocks”. Thanks Carly!

Ok, here’s one for all you ladies who were horsey girls when you were little, and never quite got over it. You know who you are: the girl who ate, slept, breathed, and dreamed horses, and filled her room with plastic ones if she couldn’t talk Daddy into paying for riding lessons. If you had a horse, you loved him more than life itself — and in your more heated private moments, you imagined, at least, riding him through the tall grasses, birds singing, clothing conveniently forgotten back at the stables, his warm heaving steaming flanks pressed firmly between your girlish thighs… et cetera. It seems to be a girl thing; every third twelve year old girl seems remarkably, even inexplicably, fond of horses, but rare indeed is the preteen boy who loves him his horsies quite that much (although, to be fair, stranger things have percolated up from the muck in the back pages of the search engines).

For all their manifest virtues, a horse is alas still just a horse. But a centaur, wouldn’t he be special? He could give you rides in the wildflower meadows and buy you diamonds too, and tinker on classic cars in the garage on weekends and live happily ever after. Pity they are mythical. But, a few photoshop artifacts aside, here’s what one (a very buff one) might look like:

Enjoy.