Weird factoids!

So I realized the other day that the age difference between the last 2 guys I slept with is actually 15 years. Whoa.
And yes, the older man was infinitely better, even if the younger one was hotter.

So bees, what news! Apparently noone has done it since October. Lies!

Other weird facts to add?

Oscar time

Does anyone else look at the Oscars, and wonder whether people do inappropriate things with the statuettes when they get home? They kind of look like they would be ok for that sort of caper, as compared to say, this

WTF?

Ummm......would you trust this to prevent unwanted little people?
Creepy!
Is it just me or does the US seem to have some really weird contraception?

RUDE!!!!

And yet strangely arousing. I'm sure it's wrong to be aroused by Shrek...

Hypnosis

This is going to sound a little weird. But, ok.

You see, PVC has been learning how to hypnotise people. He's been downloading pirated hypnosis lessons and learning - it has been an interest of his for a while. At first I was pretty skeptical (particularly of anything ripped off the internet) but the first time he tried it on me it actually worked. It's like being extraordinarily relaxed, like just before you go to sleep. The theory is that the person hypnotising you can speak directly to your subconscious without your consciousness getting in the way. (He also has a kick arse massage chair, which helps. The technique he's using to hypnotise me is just speech - using words to relax you and lull you into a sort of trance. Amazing how simple it is... truly weird).

So. We'd done a couple of sessions, one of which focused on building my confidence, which I reckon actually worked. Like, visualisation type stuff - 'visualise your confidence as a colour blah blah'. And it leaves you feeling really relaxed with a clear head afterwards, which is also really good when you're stuck in Crazy Thesis World.

The third time he hypnotised me, he didn't tell me what we were doing, but he said I was going to like it.

He did the basic thing, and I got trancy and relaxed, like normal. Then, he did a similar sort of visualisation exercise as 'confidence', but, er, 'sexual energy'. It's a bit hard to describe, and particularly hard because I was the one being hypnotised, but it was like this buzzing feeling, like my skin was tingling all over. So as he kept talking (pretty simple and not particularly sexual words) this feeling just got stronger, like turning the dial from sensual to sexual, really intense. It was crazy, and I knew it was crazy, but it felt amazing! It got to the point where I felt like I was going to come (and I was still sitting relatively still in the chair, he wasn't touching me or anything), until, oh my god, I did come. Like, whole body orgasm. And that wasn't it! Then he just kept talking, and telling me that I was going to come on his command, and I freaking did. Like, he would tell me, and there was nothing I could do but obey. At least five times.

It was just this beautiful pure feeling, like sexuality undiluted by problems like body anxiety or feeling silly or worrying about the other person. Just total bliss. Absolutely incredible.

And the best thing was that when he brought me back I was unbelievably turned on. Like every single part of my skin was a sexual receptor. So we had sex in the massage chair, and again in his bed - and the physical intensity coupled with the fact that I'm off-my-face in love with this person, well it pretty much blew my mind. One of those 'I could die right now and I'd be ok with that' sort of nights.

I think I should marry this person.

Also, I might be going to New York with him for a week in December. His work is sending him and he asked if I wanted to come along. And I think, since I have nothing better to do, that I just might take him up on the offer.

...wait a second. I AM dead, aren't I? My head exploded sometime last week from over-exertion from Thesis Hell, right? You guys are just too polite to break it to me! But, if hell is this good, well I'm not complaining.

Typical Musings

>':'< (meow)

So I was having a phone conversation with an ex of mine who currently lives in Melbourne. (It was late... why do they always contact me when it's very late on a Friday night and I'm somewhat out of it?) and we're chatting away, and somehow the conversation gets onto sex. Not that I ever want to shag this ex of mine ever again (I'm not just saying that, I really, really, don't) but hey a bit of harmless flirtation never hurt anyone. And I don't know how this came up but at some point in the conversation he revealed that I was the last person he slept with.

...say WHAT???

I was really quite shocked. That means the last time he had sex was well over a year ago, and it was utter crap. (I have immortalised this experience in a short story I wrote - possibly one of the most dismal sexual experiences of my life).

Which got me to thinking... how many people running around out there would list me as the last person they slept with? I know two are certain (one due to a religious transformation that happened shortly after our final round of ex sex... I like to think these things are unrelated) and now Melbourne bee. That leaves two more people I can't say for sure but would be willing to put money on... (one is female and one is that dude from last year with the incurable illness and such).

And then there's the person I'm currently shagging... I'm assuming I'm the last person he shagged... unless he's had a very busy 24 hours.

So what is that, five people??

Yikes.

In other news, the shagging of the current partner is going exceedingly well. I still don't know where I stand with him on an emotional level, which is concerning, but with sex this good who gives a damn.

The drought is over... Hallelujah Amen.

What's wrong with this picture?

(Not this picture. Nothing wrong with a scantily-clad cat girl.)

I think I've reached the bottom. Today I found myself trawling through the obituaries section of smh.com to try and determine whether a love interest of mine had died. When you find yourself doing this, perhaps it is time to stop and evaluate. One can't help but be reminded of that line from that song:

"Don't be no fool when
Love really don't love you."

This is D-Bee. (Myspace guy, the one with the drug history, the one who caused all that shit with my aunt and her somewhat doubtful choice in father of her child. If anyone is confused, don't worry. I think I'm mostly writing this to myself).

After everything happened with my aunt and uncle, D-Bee sent me an email apologising profusely and saying that he hoped I could forgive him. He said not to worry, he wouldn't be going anywhere. This meant everything to me - to know that even though things were shitty I could at least I could rely on D-Bee to talk to.

This was over two weeks ago.

Since then he hasn't been online at all and hasn't responded to my email that bluntly asked him to let me know "yes" or "no" if we were talking anymore.

I don't have his phone number. I don't know where he lives. I don't know his last name. And yet I spoke with this person about every third night for hours (online) since the beginning of the year. We told each other some big, personal things. I felt, in some strange disconnected way, that I knew him, or at least I knew I wanted to know him. The night that the crap happened with my uncle D-Bee was talking about the possibility of meeting - which was huge for him considering the drug past (and associated complications), etc.

And now he has disappeared off the face of the planet and there's nothing I can do but look through the obituaries. And this is, like, EVERY obituary as I don't have his last name.

Is it too much to ask for my prospective dates to be mentally sound, not addicted to something, in possession of a driver's lisence and ALIVE???

Fucking hell.

p.s. Agent Y please let us know how RSVP goes. (Hopefully well!) I've heard it can work but due to my freak-magnetism I've given up on the internet.

I'll let you know if D-Bee ever turns up again. Preferably not in a body bag.

Pussy ring?

This is a ring.

Made of sterling silver.

For your finger.

With a pussy on it.

True story.

Want one?

Pussy rings

This one IS funny

Rape Comic?

Umm. is it wrong I find this kind of funny?

I am Agent Z, Hear Me Whinge

I just read Agent V’s post from way back – only just noticed it. And dude, I hear you. Being single is supposed to be fun, naughty, promiscuous. But after 12 months of very irregular lovin, (in the last year I had approximately five halfway decent shags, and they were mostly with Bad Bee), I find myself going out of my freakin lovin-deprived little mind.

It’s just a freak show out there. An utter, utter freakshow. And the more cheesed off I become with the whole ‘dating’ thing, the hornier I get!

My year in Dating Wonderland (summary form):

* Broke up with the Hopeless Tortured Artist Bee (he was on anti-depressants which meant he never wanted to shag and when he did he couldn’t get it up)

* Had stupid affair with Bad Bee (we would see each other about once a month, have incredible sex and then he would pretend it didn’t happen for another month until he got drunk again…)

* Shagged a girl, which really meant I got her off and then she rolled over and went to sleep, and I’m not willing to repeat owing to the fact I’m not a lesbian

* Had a one night stand with some (albeit good looking) random after speed dating. We had sex twice, amount of orgasms I had= zero.

* Met Nice Bee, and we all know about Nice Bee. (Now that I have broken it off with him I have been accused of running away because he was sick, which really wasn’t true. I was running away because he couldn’t kiss and the sex was shite.)

* Pashed Fat IT Bee at office Christmas party. Went on date with Fat IT Bee, thought maybe it could work. Had abortive sexual experience with Fat IT Bee. Told Fat IT Bee just wanted to be friends and got abused by text messages and emails. Fat IT Bee quits his job and deletes me from his myspace. Mature.

I mean, MY GOD, people.

I think the only option left, is to fork out a bit of cash and buy myself a decent vibrator. Like one of those fancy rabbit ones.

A purple one.

Bees out.

I've lost my mind, obviously

Just an update on the whole office Christmas party fat IT dude snogging business:

Well he sent me an email on Monday (damn that internal directory) apologising for upsetting me on Friday night. As I've discussed with the Agents, you've gotta love the apology email which is basically just another excuse to talk to someone. But hey, guess something had to be said, and it provided a welcome distraction from work, so ok.

Anyway, he invited me to his birthday party on Friday night, which I couldn't go to cos I already told Nice Bee I'd see him on Friday. What's weird is that Fat IT Bee's birthday is one day after Bad Bee's birthday (Bad Bee: 7th December, Fat IT Bee: 8th December). Which, if you're a lame astrology freak like me, explains EVERYTHING!

Sagittarius!!!

Sagittarius + Taurus (+ alcohol) = CRAZYTOWN.

Now it all makes sense.

And I sort of agreed to have lunch with him tomorrow. Which as my sister unkindly pointed out might consist of an entire cow.

I think I need a hobby, other than dysfunctional men. Ideas, anyone?

And I pronounce you, Sir Freaksalot

Oh dear.
I think I’ve struck freak.
Quite similar to striking oil, striking freak comes quite unexpectedly and can leave you in quite a mess.
Pierced/Tattoo guy seems to be becoming a bit freaky. What at first seemed like endearing attentiveness has now seemingly turned into a barrage of text messages aimed like missiles targeting information that I now don’t want to release.
He has a real job, surely he can’t stand about texting me all day, RIGHT?
I have had 56 messages since Wednesday, granted I was txting (encouraging) him for a portion of yesterday but I’ve only sent 14 txts since Sunday – the ration on this is WAY out.
The only question I have is, do I ask him if he’d back off a bit? Or ignore him completly?
Butttt he could have been FUN, with a capital F ME. But he went and ruined it by being all strange and freaky.

clinical Gstrings

ooh I love the new graphic in the corner!!

hilariously it wasn't until I got to the bit about "writing a book" that I realised that it was Agent Z posting, not Y!!! LOL. You'd think the genital piercing would give it away but no......
I'm totally hearing you on the gentle admonishment from the sex workers at the clinic about unprotected sex. And they gave me chocolate condoms when I went that one time. I SO disagree on the non-seediness. It was seedy central. I expected to see a drugged out pregnant teen in the stairwell! At least if we're talking about the Parra one.

And i reckon the stripper is looking at the other guys jeans and thinking "Is it so hard to do up your pants properly. really. You've done it every day of your life and even button flies are not that time consuming". Or maybe "what are those jeans resting on? The G is on his hips? What, does he have a hard on? Am I really that hot? Oh no wait it's her boobs"

Piercings

I will bow down to Agent Z on this issue probably as she's more experienced that I in the land of the piercing. But I'd be freaked out. And if my bf was pierced there or considering having it done I'd be worried about hown often he'd be "out of action". I mean periods are bad enough for making the deed impossible without having issues for the both of you. Oh god, and if you were both "decorated" what if you were both infected!

regarding foreskin, I don't have a problem with it really....skin is skin. It's really more of a cleanliness issue I think. If they're circumcised and still gross well then they need better hygiene!!!

He's peirced, down there

It's your average run of the mill, girl goes to pub, girl enjoys adult libations, girl meets boy, boy is peirced, girl comments on mulitple peircing and tattooing, nice boy eleborates on extent of peircing

Here's me thinking I wouldn't have anything sensationalist to post about!

T'was an evening of no real interest, pub, music, drink - chatting to this boy all inked and perforated.
He showed me all his tats, metal band names, family members, flag and southern cross (you get the idea) then catalogued peircings, three in eyebrows, two ear, tongue and foreskin.

That seems a bit much, I don't even like foreskin. I think men should have evolved past it by now. I mean, our is all tucked in and clean why can't thier's be all neat and stuff...
I only grabbed his number, I didn't take him home or anything but I find the whole thing somewhat intimidating (and intrigueing I will admit) but lets face it I'm probably too lazy to actually call him.