From There to Where? How Far We've Come.

The INT ran a fascinating story on the end of tradition in Albania last week. The article begins:

Pashe Keqi recalls the day nearly sixty years ago when she decided to become a man. She chopped off her long black curls, traded in her dress for her father's baggy trousers, armed herself with a hunting rifle and vowed to forsake marriage, children and sex.

Women in Albania have long had the option to hold power traditionally reserved for the family patriarchs. The catch is, they'd have to abdicate their femininity, a la Keqi.

Once considered the only way a woman could be strong, by pretending to be a man, it's now considered outdated and unnecessary, and women, for the first time ever, are making serious strides in a very old-world country. The longstanding opinion of women is stated succinctly here:

Under the Kanun [a code of conduct that has been passed on orally among the clans of northern Albania for more than five centuries], the role of women is severely circumscribed: Take care of children and maintain the home. While a woman's life is worth half that of a man, a virgin's value is the same - 12 oxen.

But things are changing, and quickly. There's no longer the belief that a man or pseudo-man must be around the homefront to keep worlds righted and working. It's now understood women can handle it all, too.


There's a lot of rah-rah "sisters are doin' it" cheerleading going on on the stump in America today, with Obama trumpeting Hillary's gender-bending run for the presidential nominee as the two engulf headlines with their show of unity in Unity and the their travelling love-in.

And I think it's easy to get a little cynical and just dismiss it all as politics as usual when someone like Obama lauds Clinton by saying not only can women do it better, but "do it in heels..." But it's important for us to really dust that cynicism off, especially for those of us under 35 who've never really seen how damaging sexism once was.

This is no time for that cynicism, though. For a little while we deserve to be proud, too. This is a great time to be alive. It really is. There's a lot of hope for the future, with all these walls coming tumbling down these days. Black folks running for the highest office in the land, beating a woman for the job. It's a wild time.

When you look at the sacrifices made by those who've gone before us, like the women in Albania who've opted for a life of virginity and pretending to be a man so they might adopt control of their families, or those who've been skewered in the public for saying a woman can do a better job than a man, like Hillary did, it's been a long fucking road.

Girls today maybe don't even realize that most of us females have had the right to vote for less than a hundred years. We had to fight for the right to have a say.

Women today maybe still don't realize that most women never worked a job until this century, and pay still isn't equal for equal roles, most of the time.

But, wow, have we come a long ways, baby. I get a little dejected sometimes when I see the Paris and Britney wanna-bes coming up in the ranks, but then I see the new generation of women who can't stand their P/B contemporaries, who are smart, sexy, driven, resourceful, and promising.

It's going to be all right. I suspect some tough times may still be ahead, but that light at the end of the tunnel just keeps getting stronger, doesn't it?

It's a great time to be a witness, don't you think? An even better time to play a role.

Hate Speech? I Call Bullshit.

Sigh. I like my gay people, you know? My best friend's a gay guy, I've had lesbian and bi-sexual friends all my life, and I've been a staunch defender of gay rights since I was in my teens, long before it ever got popular. I think my mother thought I was a lesbian in training when I said, "But, Mom, people should be able to love whoever they love." I mean, I was 14 and it wasn't even 1990 yet.

Even though I like my gay people, I'm going to say a few things here that might get me in trouble.

Here in Vancouver, the Human Rights Tribunal is convening to investigate complaints that a comedian used hate speech when he flamed a couple lesbians at his show in May.

Here's where we have a big ol' class, boys and girls, about how Canada and the United States are different. So let's digress and give y'all the crash course, okay, for where it pertains to the right to speak freely?

We Canucks have freedom of speech... sort of.

The USA has carte blanche on freedom of speech, so it's no surprise we'll hear hate-spewing fuckheads shouting racist remarks followed by "I got a right to speak free, man!"

Here in Canada, no such thing would occur. Why? Inciting hatred is illegal.

Hey, that's what you like about us, after all. We're nice, we're polite, we're Canadians. We even say please and thank you. And, we promise, when we talk smack about ya, at least we'll do it nicely. (Most of the time.)

Aside from the incident last month, there's another case quietly being heard in the courts, getting little press out there in the world, which is surprising, because it's huge. MacLean's Magazine dedicated an entire issue in 2007 to Islam in the world today, which was staggering in its slant against Islam. I mean, I'm open-minded, have known Islamic people, and even taught ESL to Saudi Arabian Muslims who I thought were, by far, some of the kindest and most generous people I'd ever met.

And, even still, after reading that issue of MacLean's, because it was MacLean's (Canada's equivalent to Newsweek, and just as trusted) I found myself becoming slightly more anti-Islamic than I'd used to be, which shocked the hell out of me.

Now MacLean's is facing a lawsuit from the public as well as the government, for spreading hatred. It's been a long, long time since such a lawsuit has been heard here, though, and against such a venerable publication. And, in this instance, I'm proud and happy that our laws are speaking up and saying that MacLean's biases against Islam, and trying to argue against it, are the equivalent of "mild-mannered" hate-speech. Good.

So into this current climate wades a new controversy. A human rights tribunal will convene to hear the case of Lorna Pardy versus Guy Earle and Zesty's Restaurant.

The gist of it all? Basically, a comedian heckled some lesbians at his open mic night he was hosting.

There's no Youtube video, unfortunately, so much of what transpired is he-said/she-said. What is claimed is that these lesbians were out on the patio all night, getting loaded with drinks, and then they came right into the "club" part of Zesty's Restaurant on Commercial Drive, sat at the front, and started making out.

The comedian, Guy Earle, says he was pissed off by the disrespect of strolling into a comedy show just to make out -- full tongues, everything, in the front row. He says he doesn't care if you're "gay, straight, or giraffes", it's just rude. He got pissed off and launched on them.

Apparently he made comments like "You're fat, you're old, you're not even lesbian!" and brought up comments about sex toys and such. There's not a lot of context being put towards these alleged remarks, so it's hard to really beef it up. He admits he got angry, he says they took it up a notch too.

A question flying around Vancouver is, at what point does the age-old tradition of heckle-smashing in comedy routines become hate speech? Or does it ever?

And here's where I might get myself in trouble here.

Vancouver's Commercial Drive, where this went down, is considered many things -- the counterculture capital of Canada, a hip place, a great restaurant street, little Italy, where to catch the World Cup of Soccer... but it's also acknowledged as home to some of the most militant lesbians out there.

We're talking really, really militant lesbians sometimes. I heard someone describe it as, "Well, comparing them to your average lesbian is like comparing an average black person to a Black Panther, minus all the violence and stuff. They're just really out there."

I find that statement a little over the top, but it's certainly accurate to what the PERCEPTION is from some of the folks out there.

So, if some of them are that in-your-face, the question is, how much did the lesbians in question throw that in his face, and at what point does what you flaunt about yourself mean you're permitting that to become a weapon against you?

I mean, if you're acting like a militant lesbian, isn't that the first thing someone who's pissed off at you is going to notice and comment on? What, in the name of being politically correct and not hurting anyone's "alternate lifestyle" sensibility, you're supposed to try guessing at randomly arcane "safe" things to insult them about? Like, what, "I bet you take your library books back late, bitch"? Right, yeah.

Like, if some fucking asshole driving a Jaguar acts all entitled about making an illegal turn in front of you while driving his Jaguar, what's the first thing he's going to get insulted about? "Yeah, you fuckers and your Jaguars, you're all entitled assholes," right? Is it a stereotype? Yeah, but it's a stereotype the guy perpetuated. If he was driving a Civic, you'd find some other obvious way in with the insults. It's how we roll, man.

This is different, I think, than the Michael Richards tirade where he started launching into black men for being black, and calling them "nigger" and saying 50 years ago was better when they'd had forks shoved up their asses. This is very different than that. VERY different from that.

This is two lesbians walking into a comedy show and fucking making out in the front row. It's fucking RUDE. If it was a STRAIGHT couple, I'd ask for their asses to be taken the fuck out of the club, 'cos I think it's uncalled for that someone sits in the front row and just goes at it full-out with their partner. Sit in the fucking back, you know? It's the civilized thing to do. But because it's two lesbians who, I think, deserved to be called out for walking in and disrespecting this other person's career and efforts by sitting there and rudely making out in the front row it's somehow homophobic?

These chicks were just wanting to start something, I think. A club on Lesbian Central, a couple militant dykes camping out front row after getting loaded on booze, and then smack-talking the comedian? Yeah, sounds like someone was button-pushing.

And it's bullshit. If anyone is acting like a militant lesbian or a militant Christian or a militant Muslim or a militant racist or even just a militant dick, they deserve to be called out on what they're acting like. If they're being antagonistic and trying to use their beliefs or lifestyle as a get-out-of-jail free card because they pissed someone off and the other party has said something mean to them, then they oughta fuck right off.

They want to be all in-your-face about their beliefs and their lifestyle, then when someone calls 'em on it and comments and gets back in their face, then they want to turtle and claim the "offending party" is some big, bad meanie who's spewing hate speech? FUCKING HYPOCRITE.

Comedians have always treated hecklers mean. It's an unwritten rule of attending comedy: Keep your fucking mouth shut if you don't want the comedian to spank you on the stage.

They'll trash talk anyone who makes a scene -- and that's most particularly the job of someone like Guy Earle, who was the host of an open mic night, since he's the guy who had to give a night full of amateurs a little structure. Why? Because everyone wants to show up and be the hot shit who makes the headline comic squirm. Anyone who goes to comedy shows knows this is true -- there's always some asshole with six beers in 'em who thinks they belong on stage, so they smack-talk comedians.

Like a reader in our local paper wrote about Lorna Pardy and Co: "Don't pitch if you can't catch."

I loathe real hate speech. I support our laws against it. But bullshit whiners like these chicks, who go fucking looking for a fight then cry foul because they've lost, deserve to fucking lose and lose big.

As a Canadian who usually proudly appreciates the distinctions in freedom to speak between my country and the United States, because we shut down hate speech, I think there's a world of difference between someone like Earle and someone like Michael Richards, and *I* am offended he gets lumped in with a true hate-spewing fucker like Richards, because it lowers the standards for what we, as a society, really ought to be offended by.

I think there's a sad irony a case like this is coming up the week that George Carlin dies. Sigh.

What do you guys think? Am I blowing smoke out my ass? Am I secretly a homophobic bitch and this exposes it all? Eh?

Links:
Here's a great page on Georgia Straight's blog where they've posted both the controversial Michael Richards anti-black rant along with Guy Earle talking to a Toronto talk show about the Necking Lesbian Controversy here in Vancouver. Here's the New Rebublic tackling this story, and the National Post. Guy Earle's Myspace page. No info yet on how to contribute to his legal fund, something I hope is forthcoming soon, as I'd like this fight to get the support it deserves.

The Requisite Quarterly Drunken Posting (Hicc)

So, I'm drunk. It's been forever and a day since I've drank and blogged, so you're owed, dear reader, you're owed.

Of course, there's about 60% chance that this posting will suck, but I've given you the "I'm drunk" caveat and I'm good if you are. :) Mm, wine!

It's a cheap and dirty Californian Burgundy. I know, "They have Burgundies in California? It's a region, you know... Burgundy? Like, in France? Hence the name? Like, French?"

I know, I know. I know. Hey, it's $6.99. It's probably one of those proverbial 99-cent bottles of wine from the great Sunshine State. Whatever. It's all right. I find, sometimes, that life's just so much simpler if you opt to lower your standards a notch or two, and open your mind. There's only something wrong if you choose to notice it, right?

So, I says: Fabulous. Tasty, that. I had one of the lofty government liquor store employees recommend me something tasty and light that would work with sauteed salmon. I say it works with getting drunk, that's what I say.

I decided a second ago that I needed candles and some music, so I've opted for Elton John Live in Australia, and lit four candles. And I had a moment... just then. On my quest, I flicked on the light and caught my gaze in a mirror. And this toned, getting tanned face was looking back at me. My face has been lost in an overgrown bad haircut for more than a month... and I've lost about 15 pounds in that time. Tonight, wow. It shows. I hadn't seen that yet, and I cycled 30km today. And to catch myself off-guard, you know?

Maybe you don't. When you're in a process of change like I think I've been in, just hitting it hard, and working to lose the weight -- not relying on a diet plan or something like that to get you through, but sweating hard for six, eight, ten hours a week on top of full-time work, doing the whole "I cook and clean for myself" thing, and maintaining a life, a blog, all that, you get absorbed in life, you know? Months go by when you're conscious you're changing a bit, but all it takes is something completely new to enter the picture and you suddenly realize how much change there's really been from then to now. A haircut shows new face angles you've not noticed, or a new outfit betrays new hot curves. Doesn't take much. But it can blow a mind, baby.

So I've had my moment. Sure, I'm drunk, but I hope I remember it. Heh. Or else I get a two-fer and I have the same epiphany when I wake up and get sober. "Holy shit! I've lost weight!" Awesome. A two-fer! On a Saturday morning on a four-day long weekend? Fuckin' a, I'll take a two-fer. :)

Ahh, well. Here's a promise I make you, readers. I'm stewing on a few heavy, heavy postings. To come in the coming weeks are possibly an entire series devoted to Teen Sex in America Today... or at least my take on it. That will segue into a story or two on the state of AIDS in the world today. I may tackle a sociological story on the demise of the tradition of abdication of femininity of Albanian women who wish to become the clan leaders for their family, a really interesting change in society that's brought entirely about by media and the new chicks in the spotlight worldwide, an interesting story I'd like to weigh in on.

And, fuck, I can't forget the long-awaited rise of gay marriage in California, now, can I? More importantly, but less covered, is New York's decision to start legalizing the recognition of gay marriages performed in states where it is legal. Performing one isn't legal yet in NY, I don't think, but they're opting to legally recognize ones performed elsewhere, so that's fucking huge, man.

It's been a really important month in sex and politics, but I've sort of needed to take some mental time off.

Tonight, drunk though I be, I feel really, really keen to start tackling some of the harder stuff.

The sex with teenagers thing in America, man, that's just so depressing, and so very, very scary, and why the mainstream media isn't covering it more when there's four months before an election just baffles the fuck out of me. And I've been holding back, because when I let go on it, it's going to be in several back-to-back postings. It's important. When one in four girls who are 14-16 has an STD under an administration that has pushed abstinence-only education, something NEEDS to be said. 25% of mid-teens are carrying an STD, and it's not a major issue?

HELLO? Scientists in Antarctica are given condoms on the government dime when sex with coworkers is considered sexual harassment, but kids aren't taught about condoms in school? Like, what the fuck? Sure, the Wii is fun, but I'd much rather be playing with the cutie from Biology, you know what I'm saying? Can't get drugs, can't buy booze, but the bodies are there in the offing? "Duh."

So, all right, I'll be tackling that very, very soon. Fuck it, this weekend, even. It's time, man.

I digress: Before my decision to drink a bottle of red wine (I have a glass in front of me still), I had cycled around much of the fabulous city of Vancouver this evening. About 30k. Gorgeous. It's the night before a heatwave. In fact, it's nigh on midnight and all my windows and doors have been open since eight, and it's hotter now than when I came home. Still, I love me a heatwave and have a notion to do a long, long ride when the bitter hot-hot-hot kicks in tomorrow afternoon, after I scoot around town for the fine fixings for a great weekend from an assortment of farmers' markets. I can't afford big things, but I can afford locally-grown organic lettuce and farm-fresh potatoes, and isn't that something fantastic right there?

I get to babysit a friend's cat tomorrow night, which is really to say I get to babysit his Wii. My centre of balance is apparently dead centre, says Wii. I rock. Methinks I'm getting drunk again. I mean, if I'm dead centre anyhow, right? I'll just make sure I move that glass coffee table to a galaxy far, far away...

Fuck, now I want to watch Star Wars and visit galaxies far, far away. Sigh. Great cheap red. I think it's a hallucinogenic. God knows we loves our hallucinogenics.

My drunk ass needs to be elsewhere. But I feel fantastic! It's going to be a fun few days. Ahh, cheap red wine, how doth my cheap ass love thee. Expensive red wine I also love, and can appreciate, but I just know how to slum when it's necessary.

And, believe me... everyone needs to slum it some of the time. It makes the rest of the time feel spectacular. Still, for $6... I bet I feel richer than you right now. It's good to be me. You have yourselves a fabulous weekend. I might be getting lost in the world a little. Shouldn't we all?

A Great Link for Anyone Like Me

Anyone who's been following my blog knows I've lost about 40 pounds so far this year from old-fashioned grunt work. I've done it all myself -- no weightloss organizations, no trainers, no diet plans, no fancy workout equipment purchased, and not even having a gym membership.

Yeah, I'm proud of myself. Rightly so.

But some support along the way would have been nice. So I'm thrilled it's not too late to find that support, since I have another 50 pounds I wish to lose. I've found LiveStrong.com, a website begun by biking's golden boy, Lance Armstrong, which is an incredible community filled with lots of articles and education divided into easy-to-navigate sections like "Eat Well" and "Be Active" and "Stay Young" and "Find Balance.

There's a wildly active forum community. Every member gets a profile. There's ways of measuring your calories, fitness, and means of tracking everything about your life. There's "groups" where microcommunities with similar goals amass, and there's "Dares" where you choose a challenge to strive towards, like "Quit smoking" or "Lower my blood pressure", and really useful programs for tracking and improving your effort on a daily basis.

Did I mention the whole thing is free?

Any place like this I've seen on the web that has been free has looked like a fucking Mickey Mouse operation. This is sleek, like something like Nerve.com or Lavalife.com. Beautiful system.

It's in Beta now, and if you're like me and can't afford these places like The Biggest Loser Club where they want you spending $20 a month or whatever, check it out, but make sure you tell them the "free" thing is important to you.

As I explained in a glowing letter I wrote them, "Health is too important for it always to be about industry. Someone has had to stand up and say, 'Every body deserves to be healthy, no matter what their income'. And it looks like that was Lance."

If you join, speak up, let them know. Support their advertisers so the free-thing can continue. But, mostly, just live strong. That's my plan. I've got two hours of cycling in 25/85 degree heat today... and I'm pretty pleased about it, because I live strong! :)

Um, The Weirdest Poll Ever (Or One Of)

So, I got up early to make myself muffins today. It was a new recipe. Cinnamon Banana-Peanut Butter Muffins. I thought it looked really liquidy, but I thought "Stranger things have happened..." I mean, I know of flourless cake recipes, right?

So, I bake them, I take poke them, the finger indent pops back up, which is the tried-and-true method of knowing when muffins are ready.

Except this time. See, I take 'em out, take a deep breath, think, "Wow, these are going to rock! They smell SO! good!" I put 'em atop the stove... and I step off to tinker while watching the morning news, awaiting my kettle to boil.

I go back, and the muffins have fallen! They've gone flat, like bad souffles. "WHAT?" I bake 'em longer... they still look raw. "FUCK!"

There was no saving 'em. I tried. Cinnamon banana-y, peanutty goodness? DAMN RIGHT I tried to save them. I may have lost 40 pounds, but I'm no fool.

___

So, they're no good. Somewhat raw, can't eat 'em. Question: Is it safe to feed them to the seagulls and pigeons? Cinnamon and banana-y goodness can't go entirely to waste, right?

So, can I feel 'em to the birds? Whatcha say, minions?

Fuckin' recipe... 25 years of muffin-making and not one batch has ever failed me. My perfect record is no more. Fuckin' recipe!

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #17

Leaving work early, like I have something important to rush off for, but, really, all I want to do is have a dinner date with myself: Get to a local Farmer's Market before it closes, buy ingredients for a as-yet-undecided very in-season gourmet meal with fresh local Coho salmon, heirloom tomatoes, a bottle of wine, and some artisan bread. Then, cooking the best meal I know how, with my incredible just-harvested organic produce... and getting a little drunk. Hicc.

[I blogged about my culinary adventure on TLD.]

(Check the comments for the complete list, amended with the latest reader additions. Leave a comment with your own thing you love to do when you're all alone, single or not. You never know, it might inspire someone you'll never meet half a world away. Gotta love the Web.)

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #14

I think I've started something here, so I'm now compiling a complete list of these, including reader suggestions for additional points. See the comments on this posting for the complete list. Have your say and get on the list, if ya like. Have at it.

Having a four-day long weekend planned with exciting things to do with myself, by myself, before a crazy two weeks begins:

An afternoon at the beach, a long ambling bikeride to an old independent theatre for an afternoon matinee, a sleep-in and a DVD day, and a day packed with to-dos to scratch off the list. A bottle of wine. Maybe even two. An expensive steak, a fancy meal. Maybe 2. Maybe 4. Hell, maybe 10. All for me. Because I'm worth it. Because life's short.

Of George Carlin and Obscenity in the Courts Today

It's 12:30am and I have a pretty solid rule of no writing latenight anymore, 'cos it gets my mind revving for bed, but then I shouldn't have stumbled on the midnight airing of Larry King, on which a few comics are lamenting the loss of George Carlin.

Bill Maher nailed it nicely, in speaking of both Lenny Bruce and George Carlin. Lenny Bruce, he liked but didn't love, 'cos while Bruce was wildly groundbreaking, he wasn't always funny. Carlin, however, even when he offended the shit outta you, his fuckin' smirk would win you over and you'd be smitten by the act's end.

Here's the thing, though. Carlin's greatest contribution to our society, I think, is that words are just words, and if we wanna let 'em hurt us or bother us, that's our right, but our rights should stop when it starts infringing on other people's rights to use whatever words they like.

That's it, in a nutshell. I mean, shit, it's a fucking word. What's the motherfucking problem? Why are they getting their tits in a twist? Don't let the cocksuckers win. They're a bunch of cunts just taking the piss.

When Carlin unleashed the seven words you couldn't say on television, and his act landed his ass in a sling for obscenity that same year, it began a serious debate. The debate wasn't new, but it was much more prominent, because this was Carlin, not Bruce. Carlin played the fucking Tonight Show, man. People actually liked him.

Lenny Bruce's problem was, he was so antagonistic and angry about pushing the boundaries that he often sort of forgot to bring the humour along with his act. Still, he made important statements, and you can read his How to Talk Dirty And Influence People today and it will still sound like he's talking about modern society, and it's more than 40 years old. He was ahead of his time, brilliant, outspoken, groundbreaking, but just a little too hard to take for the common person.

George Carlin, however, was this bright, funny, charming, effusive, witty, and always surprising guy who couldn't help but to leave you feeling very, very amused. (And probably a little sore from all the laughing.) At the end, you'd think "Damn. That was some funny shit, but how'd he get to be so goddamned right about things? Yet... funny?"

One of the great unfortunate things about George's lousy fucking timing about getting out of this rat-race of ours is that a landmark case is before the courts now, maybe to finally, for once and for all, debunk the notion of the "obscene".

God, George would have loved to see this case argued.

As a blogger who sometimes talks about sex, but almost always writes in a way some deem to be "obscene", with profanities abound, I'm concerned about any case that defines internet sex-related sites as obscene. As should anyone who writes on sex in the blggosphere, even if this is regarding a much more overt sex-filled site.

In a nutshell, the NY Times says:

Mr. Walters is defending Clinton Raymond McCowen, who is facing charges that he created and distributed obscene material through a Web site based in Florida. The charges include racketeering and prostitution, but Mr. Walters said the prosecution’s case fundamentally relies on proving that the material on the site is obscene.

What is the defense? They plan to enter into evidence information about search trends on Google. Comparing, say, the searches done for "apple pie" versus those done for "orgy". The argument they're making is, yes, we'd like to think we live in a world with perfect, "normal" suburban people and all, but the reality is, almost everyone's got a little kink in the closet.

And "orgy", it turns out, is a pretty darn popular search. Arguably as popular and even as American, it would seem, as apple pie, if the numbers bear out.

I mean, think about it. If Oprah came out tomorrow and said, "GOD, I love it doggie-style!" then taking it from behind would become the new pole-dance. But as much as we want to think we live in a society full of sex, it's mostly a society full of hypocrisy. 'Cos it's that clean sex, right? Tits and ass, a little cock-thrusting, she takes it and likes it, and that's how we like our sex. Or is it?

The guys passing all the laws in Washington are the ones cluttering up the Rolodexes of all the best escort agencies-- err, whorehouses-- I mean, escort agencies. They're the ones doing fancy toe-tap messages in airport washrooms as they troll for clandestine homosexual encounters, and getting caught with, essentially, hookers, yet they want voters to believe they're somehow perfect people with no strange sexual mores.

It's insane. It's hypocrisy. It's bullshit. Own up and admit that you like it d-i-r-t-y, and get it over with. Fuck!

And probably half the people covering the stories or attacking others based on the stories, are hiding their own strange little fetishes. You know, they're into toe-sucking, or golden showers, or love to be spanked and chastised like they're six years old. Then there's the holier-than-thou who fall harder-than-you, like Jim Bakker, Jimmy Swaggart, who just oozed hypocrisy.

So, this case, substantiated by Google, aims to finally assert that people want to know about orgies, and all those other sexual things. And much, much more than apple pie, it would seem.

The reality is, we're in a whole new kind of sexual revolution, and we're all getting more savvy, but also more experimental. If we can look to the internet for inspiration and information, in the privacy of our own homes, then we're liable to do just that. Thus, the web seems like the porn-lover's playground, because there's no inherent public shame left in the consumption of porn, not when you can do it at home.

George understood that about us. He understood, somewhere around when he was in '70-71, that it was all right for him to be confused and disappointed by the world around him. He began to realize that he wasn't alone. He stopped being a clean-cut comic and gave in to the dark side. He began to point out the stupidity of obscenity, swear like he was hanging out with friends, and just nudged us into a direction where maybe, just maybe, we might finally realize that they really are just words, and we all needed to lighten up a little.

Just like methinks Florida might lighten up about sex. After all, if Google says we're d-i-r-t-y, then who are we to argue?

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #7

Note: If you're wondering why the list started at #6, it's because I thought "sleep in, get drunk, masturbate, burp, and wear pajamas for the whole day" were really obvious as a solid lock for the top 5. I mean, really, come on. They're universal. We're not proud that we like to be that way sometimes, but we secretly love to do 'em all. And on the same day? Ha, yeah, score. It's the Catholic way to sin: In a bunch, so you can be penitent all in one shot and get the guilt over with sooner. I thought it only fitting I take a moment to acknowledge what should be obvious but, in the Puritanical age we sometimes seem to live in, may well not be obvious, in tribute to the dear departed George Carlin, who I know would really understand.

Saying "My holiday can't end this soon!" and sleeping in till 8 on a Monday, then casually cycling to work at 11 after an eggs-and-sausage brekkie, and getting home at 8:30, with supper getting on the table around 9:30. Like I did today and tonight. :)

Carlin is Dead, Long Live Carlin

Freedoms are something we take for granted in places like the US and Canada... until someone comes along and takes those freedoms.

The trouble with being "free" is we don't always realize how limited that freedom truly is. That's why we have people like George Carlin in our lives, people who push buttons.

Or we did. George Carlin died Sunday of a heart attack.

When it comes to really saying how society is, I think comics like Lenny Bruce and George Carlin have had such important roles to play. Lenny Bruce I've eulogized before on this blog. Carlin, not so much. I'm a huge fan of comedy, but more so the pushy, provocative skits of the '70s.

In 1973, Carlin had a skit air on the radio that prompted another challenge of America's obscenity laws that had plagued Bruce till he died. Carlin fought the charges and the Supreme Court ruled he was indecent, but not obscene. It wouldn't be Carlin's last fight, either, but he'd always win a little bit.

I'm a big fan of Freedom of Speech, albeit I'm a fan of our Canadian version of it, not the American version. (The difference? Although you're not allowed to do hate speech in Canada, [which goes against "freedom" of speech but I approve] we can swear more, get away with more, and we have more sex on TV.)

But I'm a big believer that the freedoms I celebrate by being angrily on-point with issues, swearing all over the place, and flaming anyone I can think of, come on the heels of such provocative work done over the years by folks like Carlin, Bruce, Bill Hicks, and any other dead comedic great you want to lump in there.

Unfortunately, the debate between "obscene" and "indecent" still rages in the USA, and the land of the free still isn't as unbridled and free as many of today's comics wish it would be.

There aren't a lot of comics where you always get the joke, professionals who understand how to really make their audience come alive, but Carlin was the last truly great comedian left from the time when American censors were getting paid too well for their jobs, when getting onstage meant daily questions of "What's gonna be too much for this town, anyhow?"

For folks like Carlin and Bruce, that question would get answered when they'd land in jail yet again for some dirty jokes or peppering speech with profanities.

Just a little of the free speech you have in America is thanks to folks like Carlin who questioned those who called him "obscene".

After all, what some people consider obscene is how the rest of us like to live our lives.

I'm sad that the world's without Carlin now. I'm sad he never lived to receive his Mark Twain's Humourist prize this November.

But I'm glad he pushed some buttons in his lifetime. Thanks, George. The mark you left behind changed the landscape of public speech, and you will be remembered.

Things I Love to Do, and Can, 'Cause I'm Single - #6

Eat cold cereal for supper.

And then there was none.

Work looms ominously on the morrow as my holiday comes to a close. I could have achieved a lot more than I did this week.

I didn't set goals. I didn't want goals. This year is about achievement, but this week wasn't. This week was about pausing and just pushing everyone far, far away from me. Sleep, some writing, a lot of "just being" and very, very little else.

Every time I started feeling guilty about the vast nothingness that was my week, I reminded myself, "Monday, it's on." I could stop completely all week long, but come workday, ain't no pause to be pushed.

And tomorrow's Monday. As much as part of me dreads it, because I'm educated enough to know what I'm in for now, the bigger part of me is looking forward to proving more to myself.

Today's the antithesis to my week because I'm getting so much done. I'm tackling paperwork I've avoided for about eight or nine months, sorting it out. In so doing, I'm getting this pretty good snapshot of where I was last September and where I'm at now, and I finally feel like there's progress in every area of my life. I've also come to accept that this struggle will probably continue for the better part of the next year, and I won't really start to reach where I wanna be until late next year, even if I continue with all the progress I'm making.

But that's all right with me. I want my goals to be met in a steady, digestible fashion. I don't want everything to pan out overnight. It's impossible to grow that quickly on a constant basis. Growth spurts happen, sure, but they're called spurts for a reason.

I'm really glad I gave myself this chance to just pull away from everything. I've needed a big break like this for a long time. I'm glad I was broke for it, too. Money can be a distraction when we need anything but, at times. Sometimes space is the most precious commodity in the world. Time always is.

Hey, it's a fantastic day. A fine finish for my holiday. A reckoning of "from whence we came" and an acknowledging of how far to go. Speaking of distances to go, I have some miles ahead before my night comes to a close. Back to the grind for this lowly scribe-type gal.

Of Muffins, Mechanics, and Meddling Old Men

Just a note: We bloggers don't have a lot to go on, since stats are fickle, links are fleeting, and pagehits are flukey. Therefore, comments are the lifeblood of what tells us what works, and what doesn't. So, if you actually like when I post the odd sex-advice posting, but there's not a single comment left, like the one that's been front-and-centre for two days now, I'm actually left with the impression it wasn't liked or totally missed the spot. This is true of anything we write, but much more true of things we write that are a little outside our comfort zones sometime.

If you do like it, and you want more, then you should let me know. Otherwise, I might take it the wrong way and just not go there.

____________________________

It's a long story but my scooter mechanic works pretty much for free if I throw homemade foodie goods his way. So, since my bike's getting its love on with the boy avec wrench today, I had to zip up to Safeway for the urgently-needed chocolate chips with which I would bake muffins to appease said mechanic boy.

I was pre-caffeine when the driver of the car next to my scooter eyeballed my bumpersticker on the side of my bike, which reads: "The last time we combined politics and religion, people were burned at the stake."

So the old guy goes, "I'm sorry your bike doesn't like religion."

It took me off-guard, which it shouldn't, since a surprising number of people question me about the sticker. But I gathered my clues and sputtered, "It doesn't have a problem with religion, it just doesn't like it when religion mixes with politics."

"Well, I like my religion."

"In your politics? As long as it's YOUR religion, right?"

"Oh. Hmm. Well... Now that you mention it..."

"Yeah, there you go."

So he chuckled, scratched his head, finished backing up and took off.

Which goes to show you: It'd be nice if people would actually think about what they read before they go spouting off against it, wouldn't it? Ahh, the silly things I dream of.

On Oral, A Reader Asks:Can I Really Tease Her For More Than An Hour?

some days are clean slates, just waiting for some input, a spark, a suggestion. some days are lazy days of slack, and on such a day, it's nice to receive a great email from a snazzy reader, especially when it's something worth spending a little time writing on. if you have something you think i could shed some light on, you just wanna say hi, or you just wanna wind me up and watch me go, here's where to send it: smuttysteff@gmail.com.

just a reminder, though: this isn't a gig that pays my rent, so real life often (and rudely) interferes, and if i forget to respond to you or I fail to post a response I say I'll post, please, please, write me back and remind me -- like this reader did! yay, reader!

__________________________

A young lesbian reader has written after reading my three-part (evidently not so) Man's Guide to Cunnilingus (click here to read: part one, part two, part three). I may have to change the name of that. How hetero of me. Shame!

Awwright, let's start off with the 18-year-old girl's question:

In your cunnilingus post, pt.3, you exhort to torturously delay her cumming in order to give her one "mind-boggling" orgasm. That is exactly my question, how do you do it? Because, in order to do so, if I start varying the rhythm of my tongue or even stop for a moment to lick other spots I'm afraid her orgasm might vanish.

In your post "Giving Great Head" you say that your "record" for delivering oral on a guy was over an hour and that his reaction was mind-blowing. Is it possible to do the same to a chick?

-Eager Beaver

Excellent question!

Let's all just take a deep breath for a second here and think on the basics that everyone needs to know about sex:

First, orgasms don't just up and vanish into thin air. It's not like a Hogwart's class on spellcasting or something here. Don't be so scared of failing to bring an orgasm that you don't explore the realms of human enjoyment, all right? It's not about achieving orgasm in 18.67 minutes. There's no time-limit involved. Taking the slow scenic route may mean you need to build back up to a cadence that'll yield an orgasm, but so what?

The fact is, one of the best things a woman can do to increase her orgasm potential for later in the evening is to masturbate to the brink of orgasm, then stop, denied, before showering and/or getting ready for her plans/date. If she knows she's getting laid later, she'll typically have a better, more fulfilling orgasm because of "masturbatus-interruptus". Same thing as if you get interrupted during sex, can't finish, and then finish later, it's a much hotter orgasm, isn't it?

So, if worse come to worse and the arousal should dampen, which it often can and will, just take charge and take her right back to where you want her. Who cares if it takes a while? What's your rush?

Spending an hour on oral means semi-constantly making sure you're somehow stimulating her vaginal areas, whether it's tracing a finger over her and just lightly toying with her, or during a more overt clitoral rub to heighten things, or working her as part of your oral arts. Always be aware and be conscious of her vagina. You can detour away for a few seconds here or there, but make a grand return by kissing your way down her torso or introducing a sex toy into the equation.

There are no rules, get creative. Think "If I were a vagina, how would I like to be toyed with" and get creative about finding items you can tease her with over the course of an hour or two. Spend an afternoon sometime when you're by yourself just going through your place and finding unusual items (that need to be clean) for teasing a body with. A feather, a powderpuff, a silk tassel, sex toys... use props, put the "play" back into playing with each other.

If you're talking about stimulating your lover for an hour, two hours, or more, mostly via oral, you have to remember that you can absolutely pull back and just lightly toy with them, using a finger or a small prop, for a few minutes to take a break. God, even just hovering over her vagina (or over a man's cock), an inch away, and breathing hot and hard against her vagina will be arousing, and you have to do nothing but breathe, so that's a good "breather" to take as well. Just try to keep them in a light state of arousal throughout, and when you're recharged a bit, go back to your pleasure-giving duties.

Understand, everybody, you are NOT going to kill orgasms! You are going to ENHANCE them. Yes. Yes, you are. That's what it's about. The longer someone is aroused and the longer that pleasure is denied, the greater the orgasm will be. Do we understand now? Making them wait is a good thing. It's the difference between an "ohh..." orgasm and an "ohh!" orgasm, all right?

You're not the first person to not realize this, Eager Beaver, and, god help me, you ain't going to be the last. But overcome the fear of "losing the orgasm" and adopt the confidence of giving the orgasm on yer own damned timetable, all right?

Besides, again it's all becoming about the orgasm, when it really isn't about that. Sex, oral and otherwise, is about so much more than just blowing our loads.

It's about showing your lover they're worth you spending an hour or more of your time literally just making them feel great. It's about enjoying the mingling of human saltiness and sweetness on your tongue and the millions of crazy nerves firing off inside yer lucky lover, beneath your touch, as they squirm and groan softly as you playfully dart here and there, licking and kissing and nibbling and sucking.

The orgasm is just the briefest of moments, and, in the end, it's never really the orgasm we remember anyways, is it? It's the delightful tortured waiting in which we think this fury of feeling we've got is going to explode from within us if we don't get to orgasm soon, isn't it? That feeling's so fucking hot. THAT is the feeling you want to work to create. That place between heaven and hell that we could all spend an eternity in, provided we get release every now and again.

You won't lose the orgasm.

You will, however, find a whole new definition to what it means to please your lover. Trust me.

Sugasm 136 & Hot Yurt Love!

[Okay, so it's a few hours later, I've seen the movie, I'm disappointed, check the comments for more, but read my hyped anticipation first. :P ]

Oh, colour my broke ass elated, minions! GayBoy rang earlier to alert me to a stunning development brought on by the generosity of a customer: Free passes to see Mongol!

Now, if you haven't heard of Mongol yet (trailer), it's the cinematic tale of Genghis Khan's life. It's apparently to Asian cinema what Braveheart is to Western cinema. Giggle! In case you've never gotten the memo, Genghis Khan was the greatest military leader the world's ever known, and had conquered more of the known worlds than any other military leader in history.

And I know I don't wax poetic about all things Mongolian on here, (I mean, geez, you have better things to read) but I cannot WAIT to see this movie and I'm so excited I get to see an advance screening.

I wrote about the movie longingly last week on my other blog, in what I think's a pretty fun posting:

And, get this: I think it has Tuvan throat-singing on the score.

I mean, does it get better? Mongolian horse riders, sword-fighting, lance-fighting, Mongolian justice, hot yurt love, and funny hats? AND throat-singing? Holy fucking bonanza, Batman! Gimme more!

Anyhow, I have nothing of value to write about today, except that my apartment's almost clean, I'm going to spend a rapt and wonderful night embroiled in the drama of ancient Mongolian conquerors and flashy big cinema, and that's that. (I'm such a movie geek!)

But I'd like to send a shout out to anyone affected by the floods down in the USA right now. Here's hoping Mother Nature lends all y'all a hand. Geez.

Here's this week's Sugasm; eat some, you'll feel better:

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.

This Week’s Picks
69 “Frozen, I wait for your next move.”

Balanced on the tip of my tongue “Pushing her into the bedroom, I stripped her bare swiftly, laid her out on the bed.”

Impertinent Question: Do You Enjoy Spanking? “That’s what we call Wednesday night!”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
The Source of All Waters

BDSM & Fetish
He loves me
Intimacy and BDSM
The Lilith Obsession, Part the First
Mr. and Mrs. Kink’s Unbelievably Good Sex Last Night
Online Auction Snafu - F/m Spanking Pics
Other World Kingdom visit - Part 7
r’s naughty thoughts on submission, fetishes, and enemas
Raw
ThunderFuck
Vacation story
Weekends. part 1
Why I’ve Never Gone To A Pro-Domme..Why I Might Someday

Sex & Politics
Condoms for Everybody! No?
To Choke a Chicken

Erotic Writing and Experiences
3 days, 3 guys (Part 1)
Catalina loves Oral Sex With Mr. F
A Day at the Fair
Hot Hotel Bang: Key West
In Which Penny Receives Kisses That Exceed Expectations
My Usual Friday
Proudly fucked at the pride

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
And the Award for Most Beautiful Breasts in the World Goes To…
Fetish Model Charlotte Brooke In Serious Encasement, Full Enclosure, Gas Mask Scene
January Seraph in Corset and Collar
Half-Nekkid in a New Corset
I Love Amsterdam girls alone on video
Kim Sharma Looking Sexy in Chemise and Tiny Shorts
Live hidden Carmen gets wet in Zoo Promo
Making Porn With Nikki On The Lord’s Day
Mz. Berlin In The Sun With The Family
One Tuff Babe -HNT
Sex And The Kitty
Toy Time

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Asian Fetish Model Jandi Lin, Sarah Jane Ceylon,and Mistress Claire Adams Get Fucked Up On Device Bondage
Book Review: Jenny Block’s Open
German Porn
I Can’t Stand “Sex And The City”
PullJoy© Book Review: Don’t Use My Sweater Like a Towel
Review of Astro Vibe
Sex News Roundup

Sex Work
Princess Back Online!!

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Desire Its Cascading Flaming Passion to a trickling flicker
Finishing with a Bang
Letting Go
Shopping basket
Why do you Love “The City” So Much(with a twist to the story)??

Sex Advice
The sofa-sexual masturbator: couch copulation and furniture fucking examined

And Then There Was Sloth

Behold! What is that slow-moving mostly-horizontal creature on yonder horizon?

It be Steff! Yes, yes. Embracing the spirit of "r and r" to the, well, letter, yes, here on day four of the vacation. Yesterday I cycled. Today, I'll do yoga. And a little light cleaning. I've done dishes. Faced the ugly bits-of-food sink-clogging drama that I so hate. I blame the chickpeas. I've taken out some trash. Laundry. Bleh. But at least I'm moving around and doing things.

Saturday: I blogged. The rest of the day? I was too tired to even go choose one of my DVDs to watch. I could have been entertained by a test pattern. Then I went to bed at 10. How's that for exciting?

After months of go-go-go, I stopped. I barely even cooked. Yesterday, I finally cycled. And I remembered why all the go-go-go, as hard as it was, often felt completely, totally worth it, if only in little tiny moments.

Cycling was awesome. Beautiful breeze with salt in the air, just hot enough. Mostly empty trails. Not too dusty yet. Spring air. Great scenery. It was one of those brief but indelible "Nobody anywhere is having a nicer time than I am at exactly this minute. This is contentment" moments. They don't come around often, so it's nice to do like I did: Stop the bike, take a look around, and say "Yes, life is sweet". I took a deep breath, grinned, and played "No Rain" on my iPOD and carried on. I just loved the whole experience from start to finish. The perfect ride.

I caught a snippet of a show not too long ago, Serious Andes, a BBC reality show with kids where 8 preteens from 12 to 14 are taken on an expedition up the 20,000-foot Cotopaxi volcano in the Andes, a journey that would cripple most adults, and, on top of that, they were to build a massive enclosure for endangered bears being returned to the wild, as their final stop before the wild. This 12-year-old, Josh, at the end of building the massive bear enclosure by themselves, mixing thousands of buckets of concrete by hand at high altitude, and doing fencing, in freezing ice rain, for nearly a week, at 2am in the morning, dead tired, just stops, looks around, turns to the camera, and goes, "I'm taking a moment to remember how great this moment feels, because I have to remember this for the rest of my life."

And I found myself wondering just how many adults are wise enough to consciously stop in the middle of truly great moments to make a note of how THAT feels so you can draw upon that memory, that bliss, through all your moments left to live in your life. Do you? Do you really realize your memory of THAT moment needs to stand up for 30, 40, 50, 60 years in your mind? Do you?

I do. I've been this way, since, fuck, I don't know. I was a kid, I guess. I'm totally fine today, but as a kid I had a rare kidney condition and spent some time in the Children's Hospital, on the cancer ward, 'cos my condition was serious at the time. I was in the room with Lisa, a 13-year-old with lung cancer. She was awesome. Funny, beautiful. She was 13.

And I woke up after a few days of bunking with her, and she was dead. Alarms had blared. Something happened. She died, and now the gurney squeaked as her body was taken out. I think I realized then how small we all are in the scheme of things, how quickly things pass and change.

I haven't used that lesson to the best of my abilities, but at least I use it. I don't live every day with reckless abandon, hedonistic "today's the first day of the rest of your life" fervour, but I certainly find it in me to celebrate moments. And there, alone, under a blue sky by a rushing river, no one around but the ducks, I felt about as alive and grateful as I've ever felt. Didn't cost me a cent, didn't require anyone's interaction, didn't even need me going on a voyage. Just an iPOD and a bike and there you have it. Life, and the meaning thereof, served on a platter, if only for the briefest of moments.

Why are here? 'Cause we lucked out. What are you gonna do about it? What's the meaning of life? I don't know, but I've long since decided giving it meaning is the next best thing to knowing.

And clarity may only come in the briefest of moments, but if you stop and enjoy it, the briefest of moments is all you really need.

So here I am now, enjoying my old new wave music, bopping around my apartment, doing nothing... because, right now, nothing feels like everything.

Rant: Tired of Defending a "Party of One"

As a blogger, nothing gets me going better than comments. It's when people comment that we know we've said something not only worth reading, but worth considering, and sometimes even worth arguing.

Yesterday's posting inspired a bit of a discussion between a couple of readers, so I'll excerpt those comments here:

Anon: "And that's the secret about being single, it's realizing life doesn't have to only be in parties of two."

Even when you realize it, you need to make a conscious effort to remind yourself of it every single day. We're all being bombarded with that you're-nobody-until-somebody-loves-you message 24/7, and it can be hard not to be swayed by it even when you know better.

CJ commented: I actually don't find it all that difficult to ignore that kind of generalized message. I've come to really believe you can't love somebody until you love yourself; stir in a general skepticism of 'socially accepted' concepts, with a dash of the cynical standby "people in large groups are stupid," and it becomes surprisingly easy to dismiss whatever subliminal messages might be thrown my way.

Anon retorted: If you buck the pairing trend long enough, the messages become overt as well as subliminal. You may not agree with the ideals of society, but you still have to live in it & interact with it every day. Sometimes having to be constantly prepared to deal with flak for being alone gets old; sometimes it causes doubts. If you don't find yourself occasionally susceptible to that, then good for you.

This is going to be a heated post, hence why it's a "rant". But it's easy to think I'm aiming this at CJ, but I'm not. If you read the comments after this posting, I'll expound in there. Long story short is, his comment just inspired me. Heh. For better or worse, hey?

I've always been the kind of person who would rather be single than fuck around swimming in a dating pool filled with less than desirable options. I go through dating phases, and either I find someone, or the search for someone begins to tire me and I think "All this bullshit energy I'm wasting looking for someone could be used to live my life instead, so what the fuck am I looking for, really, anyhow?" followed by a realization of, "I don't even need this!"

Someone asked me the other night why I haven't been at least trying to get laid, and the answer was simple, "A, my options for getting laid haven't been inspiring, and, B, the only thing worse than not getting laid is having bad sex, so, I'm opting out for now."

And because I think like this, you'd think it'd be easy for me to ignore the "You're nobody till somebody loves you" old line that keeps running through society and crooners of an age gone by.

And you would be wrong.

I'm often finding myself feeling like a loser because I feel left out in love. It may happen for only 30 seconds, or it may happen for three days, but it happens. Why? Because I'm made of flesh and blood and I'm stuck in a world infinitely bigger than me. It happens. And it will continue to happen.

When people like CJ can flippantly say "Yeah, well, ignore it", it makes me think of two things. Either he's under 25 and hasn't experienced the way flying solo feels when you get embroiled in your career, and life is full of long days and nights that become more quiet than not, and week after week after week after week, or he's just never opted to fly solo long enough.

And it all changes after 30. When you hit 30 and you start opting to be alone, like the Anon had said, the messages get more and more overt. Especially if you're female. Of course guys should stay single and play the field! He can get shagged by different women all the time! But if you're a woman, you're an old maid-to-be, or slut like Samantha from Sex and the City.

"Well, wouldn't you like to settle down?" gets asked of us. Like it's some big switch we flick on and just magically find the perfect partner. Oh, here, let's just turn on that big shiny neon "MATE ME" sign on my forehead, right? It's THAT easy to fall in love and spend the rest of your life nestled in those lovin' arms. And it's a green light from our desire to finding the perfect mate for us? Just like that? So simple. Sign me up! Yeah, sure. Right.

Or we get "Wow, I can't believe someone hasn't snapped you right up yet?", which encourages mental retorts along the line of "That makes fucking two of us, genius" or "You shoulda seen who wanted to do the snapping", but instead we smile sweetly and say something coy, like, "Why don't you tell me?"

Then we're told by the media, "Well, there's so many people out there looking! Look at the popularity of eHarmony and Lavalife! Finding a mate has never, ever been easier! You just have to look! Whoop, there it is!"

The trouble is, finding a mate is easier than ever, but so too is getting rejected and being treated like shit. The online dating world is fraught with inconsideration, it's-all-about-me attitudes, and probably way more promiscuity than any of us really realizes right now. For every bit of its appeal, there's just as much downside, and as easy as it is, it's also like ordering a side of bullshit, too.

The further you get over 30, the more inclined you become in keeping to yourself, the more overt these messages get. God help you if you're a woman in her 40s who doesn't see the need to date. The media always has you pegged as desperate to take any date that comes your way. It's always the woman in her 40s or 50s who's got her ear to the ground for any moving-and-shaking in the newly-eligible-man category. Like, "Did you hear Larry just got divorced? He's available again!"

It's bullshit. There's not a lot of acceptance for those of us who seem to think life's all right with me, myself, and I. Instead, we're painted as being damaged goods or just trying to make positive of a negative situation, when the reality is, we're living the life we know can be good, rewarding, and fulfilling, and we're just tired of shaking up the mix with unnecessary dating that seems to never go anywhere other than closer to a steaming pile of bullshit with a few orgasms thrown in for kicks.

What's wrong with putting the brakes on and being that relaxed, carefree person who's not worrying about the bullshit races that come with life? Why do we get made to feel like we need to defend our decision to not swim with the relationship tide?

Why should we even have to fucking ignore any subliminal advertising anyhow?

You know what I think? I think it's because half the fucking relationship-forever people are secretly, deep down inside, in places no one wants to talk about, jealous as all hell that we've got complete control over our time schedules, and they just want us to be as consumed by obligation and lack of space as they are.

Yeah, well, you people ain't fucking fooling me, man. I know my single life is a good one. Sure, relationships are nice. When they work. The rest of the time they should come with signs that read, "I'm so wrong for you, you should run like the fucking wind, honey".

I'm going to keep my options open, and if someone fabulous comes along, I'm going there. Oh, absolutely. Going, going, gone. I'm not going to let opportunity pass me by. None of us should.

But I'm not settling for anything less than I've earned, and, until that day comes, book me in as a party of one. With no apologies.

How to Enjoy the Single (And Non-Dating) Life

Most places you look and read will have you believe that everyone who's single dates all the time. Really? My friends and I have missed that memo.

So it's easy to feel like you're a loser when you're the one who's totally current on what's happening on all your favourite tv shows, since you're the one keeping the couch warm while every other person on the planet appears to have a life. "Thank god for entertainment," you sigh.

Every now and then, dating patches occur. Some are good, some are bad. Even when things are good, first dates often occur peppered with awkward conversations once it's obvious that there's not much there beyond a little physical attraction, then comes the troubling dilemma of "sex or no sex". You know, you're at the gates of the promised land of the fabled orgasm. You could use a little servicing. You'll never see them again anyhow, so, why not have a little visit through those gates to orgasmic bliss?

And it seems so simple and easy but somewhere in the throes of being serviced, silly little emotional flashbacks to all the good things that come with a sexual relationship start to confuse the issues. After all, the reality is, you're just having a total NSA courtesy fuck and they're going to be riding the highway to nada by 6am. And god help you so you don't fall asleep and they rob you for every little fucking thing you have. Fuck me, please, but leave the television, right?

So it's no great mystery that there are those of us who fall into complicated patches of life and start to entertain the notion that dating, for all the small joys it can contribute, really comes with its share of headaches, too. And maybe, just maybe, life without all those headaches isn't so bad after all. I mean, there's always your trusty hand to do the servicing.

God knows that's the line of thinking I've adopted. Despite moments where "alone" starts to feel lonely, I ultimately also really love the sanctuary and freedom that comes with my simple single-and-solo life.

In yesterday's posting, I commented about an upcoming date that, "if the date should flop and I'm left to myself and masturbation, that will keep life simple and manageable, too."

Hell, yeah! Being a party of one is all right. Living a solo existence can be absolutely fulfilling if you know how to do it right. And masturbation is required!

The single life can be fantastic, when you've got the money to see movies, attend events you dig, browse bookshops, and enjoy cafes, and whatever else takes your life from "existing" to "full". That's what I'm really looking forward to when money returns to me: The joys of hanging out in cafes and movie theatres by myself. Sometimes I chat with other people, or maybe I just get to observe life unfolding. It's great. And it's what I love to do, so why must I wait for the permissiveness of being in the company of others to enjoy such things?

And that's the secret about being single, it's realizing life doesn't have to only be in parties of two. Just because you're single doesn't mean you need to wait for friends to accompany you out in the world. All you need is the sense of entitlement that you, too, deserve to enjoy your place in the world.

If I haven't been enjoying being single, it's because I'm missing that small element of money so I can be out in the world in coffee shops and theatres, prepare lavish meals for myself, buy the bath bitsies that make me feel like I own my own spa... all those little things add up to me really enjoying being single and not dating. It's about remembering to value yourself because you deserved to be valued, regardless of whether you're in the mythical "party of two" so idealized by the media today. We all deserve to be loved and cherished, even if we're going to bed alone at night.

There's a comic strip that I wish I still had, but it's the Baby Blues strip in which the couple is pregnant with their second baby and the husband asks the wife, "So have you told your sister yet?" and the wife frowns and says something like, "Oh, honey, I can't. I feel so sorry for her, she's all alone, so single, and we're so blessed. I'll call her later."

Then the last frame of the comic shows the sorry-ass, so-single sister lying in a bubble bath with a glass of red wine, candles burning, and she's reading a book. Yes, a sad and empty existence, but she's the one with the time for a glass of wine in a bubble bath with a book, right?

Exactly. Being single is what you make of it. Embrace it for what it is: your opportunity to begin what Oscar Wilde calls the proverbial life-long love affair--truly loving yourself--or else you can sit around and wish you had anything other than what you're fortunate enough to have... yourself.

Get that party of one started. Hell, stay in, cook yourself a fabulous meal, watch a great movie, and end the evening with a little self-love in the form of that evil masturbation. You're worth it, and just because you're keeping life simple doesn't mean you can't enjoy a little indulging of yourself. After all, it's why we sometimes opt out of the chaos of dating anyhow, isn't it?

Sugasm 135

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them.

This Week’s Picks
The Angel and the Devil
“Upon looking at my creamy white and feeling my soft lips you would think I am an angel.”

How To Approach A Dominant Woman
“Wrong way: Perhaps you know me from my blog….”

Intimate
“Lying back so the full aura from the lamp lights the area in question, I spread my legs and let him see.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice
How does one trust?

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
The busiest day so far
I can hardly describe the addiction
Insane Bitch
Lindsay Lohan: Total L.U.G.
Stripper with benefits, part 2
What Counts As Sex? –NEW POLL!!!

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
Amber Rayne In Predicament Bondage On Sex And Submission
Catalina loves Interviews
Check out Mz. Berlin’s Blog
Delight
Eyes More Important Than Body In Attraction
New LELO Vibrators
Sex Toys Are Fun!
So Very Shallow

Sex Advice
Can being overweight lead to lack of orgasm?

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Fetish Model Satine Phoenix is a *VERY* Pretty Pony Girl
Field Of Dreams
Free Bubble butt webcam clip on CamWithHer
Half-Nekkid in Alaska
My second SUMMER of Love
The one with the hard body
Pornsaint Zahra Divine
A Pussy Corset Piercing - A Painful Form of Forced Chastity
Rose Petals -HNT
Video: Good Morning Blowjob

Sex & Politics
Fuck the Schoolboard, Too
Sex, Politics and Videotape: Young People Fucking and Canadian Censorship

Erotic Writing and Experiences
Bed, breakfast and more tasty cock
Grils and Playtoys
Period Piece
Skinny Dipping
Spooning Leads To Forking
When Life Gets in the Way

Sex Work
Getting spanked in the office
Reality Check: Superstar Clients
What About The Johns? (An Audio Plea)

Sex Humor
What the heck is happenin’ to my genitals?

BDSM & Fetish
Cinderella’s Big Score - A Fairy Tale
Fun with Shoes and Bondage
Kinky Email from Mr. Kink
Mmmmm, Pantyhose….
Muffles
Political Maneuvers
Princess in wonderland.
r’s naughty thoughts on wheelchair bondage, strap-on sex, and enemas
Setting the stage…
Wet Panties

The Existential Fall-out of just a Little Date

Three or four weeks ago, I had a date I'd been both excited about and worried about. He seemed like a really great, sweet guy with a big brain and a love for life, but I also knew he was overweight, and, personality wise, virtually a carbon copy of an ex I quite liked a couple years back.

The date disappointed me a whole lot of ways, mostly because I wasn't really myself there and came off a little, I don't know, bitter and whiney. It was a bad weekend for me, 'cos it's when my hand had blown out a little and I couldn't even hold a fork. Going on a date was the least of my worries, and probably wasn't wise, but I guess I exuded my stress, and I really hate it when I do that.

I suspect he probably read the stress wrong, and that's too bad, because it didn't have much to do with him. Had the date gone well, though, I'm almost certain I would have taken a pass on anything further with him. One, his similarities to my ex included the faults too, and, two, because he was morbidly obese. While I'm still obese, I'm fighting the good fight.

I've lost 37 pounds, but have about 50 to go, if I'm being honest. I cannot, I will not, get involved with anyone who does not exercise and who eats and drinks to excess. I would fall into old habits and then the self-loathing would return and I'd be back in the same vicious circle that got me in this jam.

Somewhere on that date, the thought of not wanting to fall into vicious cycles occurred to me, and I began to feel pretty badly about thinking that way about this fellow.

When you're the person who's been, you suspect, "decided against" on the basis of your fitness and eating, and you know what it's like to think, "But you don't even know me, I'm a fantastic person..." and then the table turns and you're the person doing the deciding against...

It's a pretty nasty head trip. I felt like such a hypocrite. Such a nice man. But I've fought so hard to lose my weight. I still lose battles against things like chocolate and butter and other delectable things I just love, love, love, and I know my weakness. Because I'm weak, I need someone that's strong and living the healthy life, too. It sucks to think I'll have to make the same kinds of judgements that once would hurt me.

But there comes a point on the journey of self, when you're closer to a newer, better you, a better life, a better outlook, when you have to reevaluate those who are in your life and those who you choose to partner with, because your needs have changed as a person and you'll need people who can better accommodate those. There's no sense going into brave new worlds as a person just to find yourself the same old kind of people who enabled you to be that person who's now in your distant past.

It's one of the reasons I'm not too keen to get involved with men right now. I know I'm not feeling like myself--too tired, too stressed, too overworked--and the vibes I put out are wrong. I know things will sort out in the next few weeks as my money settles down, work picks up, and I get a handle on my energy levels. Besides, the kind of man I attract will change exponentially in the coming weeks and months.

I know that sounds really arrogant to say, but I don't think it is. I know I have a lot to offer a man, hell, you know it too. I've always been told by the men I've been involved with that I'm an awesome girlfriend. Generous, doting, sexual, great cook, funny as hell, all those things. Right now, I don't exude that. It's the biggest surprise ever when a guy finds out how much I have to give, because I come across more guarded in life. Less so now, and that'll continuing to lessen as weeks and months continue to pass.

When life gets hard for me, I do what I call "turtling". I develop the hard shell, proceed slowly in realms of trust, and become very much an entity of and for myself. It really doesn't make for being Little Miss Girlfriend. That's a fault of mine I'll be fighting to change until the day I die. I do not like my defensiveness and my urge to protect myself and not reach out in hard times. It was bred into me, though, and you know how hard it is to change some of our familial legacies.

So life is still hard for me, very. I may be constantly improving myself and making positive changes, but I still feel like life is as hard as it's ever been, so my defensive modes are still in place, something I never realized until I had that date a couple weeks back.

Now it's yet another thing I need to start working to consciously improve. Welcome to life, hey?

I still haven't figured out that date yet. There was just such a strange swirl of headtrippings for me, everything from old hand issues and the emotional baggage that came with, to a very sudden realization at the end of a two block walk that left my companion huffing and puffing, and flashbacks of me having been a huff-puff girl, but knowing I'm so not her anymore, and never want to be again.

I have another date next week, but you know how things change. I'm amused that it's with someone who doesn't even live in town, and being the psychoanalytical type I am, I'm thinking "Gee, Steff, what's this? You're consciously going after someone you wouldn't have to see often? Tired of having to actually work in relationships, are you?"

I mean, there's a whole other way to look at distance relationships, and I'm so fervently opposed to them on principle, that my willingness to try a date out with this fellow just leaves me thinking "What the hell are you thinking?"

But, really, I know: Getting laid intermittently while keeping my me-time. Really. It's a cop-out and I know it, but I also love it.

Of course, if the date should flop and I'm left to myself and masturbation, that will keep life simple and manageable, too. But if it works out, then who knows. All I know, is, it's just a date, that's all.

(This is why we say we're "keeping things simple" when we don't date, eh? Geez! ;)