Here’s a sex poem by a QUOTE thirteen year old virginity enthusiast UNQUOTE.

We won’t fall into bed ’til we’re legally wed!
We will not heave [sic] sex; this is what we have said.
We’re not falling for the old standards; we’ll tell you that now.
It’s not bad! Don’t have a cow!
Virginity rules so we’re protecting our rights,
Our bodies are treasures; we won’t give ’em up without a fight.
Sex is serious; perversions we won’t allow.
Abstinence is the way … it’s your right … decide now!

Spotted over at How To Live.

If I didn’t hate the whole “not safe for work” idiocy so much, I’d be sorely tempted to get one of these for The Nymph. It’s cute.

[Update: I should have snagged an image before the websites in question broke and vanished. It was a cute tank top from Cafe Press with “NSFW” printed on it.]

Looks like the PETA slogan needs updating. Seriously:

Babs is in Japan and checking out the love hotels:

At a love hotel in the Shinjuku district of Tokyo, a condom in a flowered wrapped is discreetly provided in the bedside table drawer. It bears the label, “Make love: I am sunshine flower since happy luck.”

For great justice!

No man can resist a woman who likes her food this much. It’s such a refreshing change from the “I’ll have the odor-of-lettuce salad” girls:

The dessert menu announced donut holes, and we had ordered them before I could even consider how full I was. They came in a basket, wrapped in a piece of cloth, still warm, made of the lightest dough, with the crispiest exterior coated in the best cinnamon sugar ever. A bowl of strained strawberry sauce was put out to dip them. When I broke one open, I found inside a piece of melted bittersweet chocolate. Melted. Bittersweet. Chocolate.

“I’m going to stick my tongue in it.”
“No,” he taunted me.
“Oh, I will you don’t believe me?”

And I did. And the gooey warm chocolate ran all over my mouth. The warm dough clung to my tongue. The strawberry sauce made me roll my eyes back. I was somewhere else.

When I came to, he was staring at me as if I were a specimen of unquantifiable mystery.
“You think I’m weird, don’t you!”
He smiled.
I flushed with angst, “You think I’m crazy! You think I’m cuckoo. You can’t believe I just jammed my tongue inside a donut hole in a restaurant. You ordered a girlfriend of the non-whackaloon variety and you got stuck with me. You want to trade me in for a sane model. You ”

“I think you’re adorable.”

And so I stuck my tongue back in it again.

From Smitten.

I don’t usually visit Wonkette, but today I’m glad I did, because I got to see the most evocative asterisk ever:

“Huh-huh, Beavis, he said ASSterisk….”

From Clean Sheets, which I routinely and stupidly forget to visit, a short fun poem:

R.S.V.P.

By return address
please indicate
— if you could find it in your heart —

your willingness
to participate
in a small drama, in the part

of Helpless Maid
(lightly restrained),
your body lathered with whipped cream,

whilst, with patch on eye,
as Pirate, I
shall lick you quite completely clean.