Some Food. No need to finish it.. but tell me what the first bite tastes like. I'm curious.

Tonight I watched a movie. Nicole Kidman, The Interpreter.. fair.
There is only one thing I've been trying to search:
I thought she said '(a) capella: It means standing on the opposite side of the river from another.'
And, it can't be. It's lead me to research on stars, and I now know that Capella is the brightest star in the constellation Auriga. Irrelevant. So I'm aggravated, because it was the one compelling phrase which resonated from this depiction of scandal within South African governments.

I'm in a fairly clear state of mind. I'm thinking, I like thinking about why vengeance is lazy.
I'm thinking, I miss people who share my love for antiques.
I'm also thinking if anyone else clues into social cues the way I do.
Like, how many people will speak to another simply to ensure that they are not alone, when they are the insecure and generally selfish disappearing act. Self-interest, a curious addition to human psychology. Or, isn't it at the root of our existence? Yeah. Yeah I read that somewhere.
Why are humans so predictable to me? I've always recognized this to be a trait of mine. To pay attention to strange and small detail. Or was that Tao reading from the cookie?
He must get bored of being so serious and play pranks once in a while..sometimes. Atleast. Poor dude's stuck inside a fortune cookie factory and can't get out.
I'm lucky. The shining of the gems, I'm thrown in passionate and passive fits when finding them. I wish my fingers could follow my thoughts as quickly.

Am I bitter, or passionate? Or do I simply take joy in how misleading words can be.. as I am now. No premeditation, just the lazy act of speaking silly. Free flow. The minutes before bed time are my favourite for that.. They're one of my favourites. Period..
'Lists. [I like to write lists].' And I don't mind who follows them, but I tend to love those who can follow them.
This was voiced of a character in that movie I mentioned, The Interpreter.
And so I find myself having gone in a small circle of thinking, as I usually do. I find myself at a coincidence, almost daily. I notice the small coincidences that make up my life, and sometimes other people's lives. I bet you do that too, don't you? It's enough for some inspiration, before I forget.
I am so, so happy to be directionally challenged. I could find myself absolutely anywhere, having been brought there by anything. eee wanderers. buzzing, hot, shiny things.... Unite?

in the league of the clit

Clitoris
–noun Anatomy.
the erectile organ of the vulva, homologous to the penis of the male.

I don't think I necessarily agree with this definition entirely, at least the part pertaining to the penis of the male. If literature on the clitoris continues to compare the clit to the penis then it will only perpetuate the lack of skilled clit commanders in this world. Men will never master the art of tapping into this source of pleasure if they think it even remotely works the same as their dick.

First of all, the clitoris exists soley to provide sexual pleasure to us women, also known as goddesses. The clitoral glans (not to be mistaken for glands) has more nerve endings than the penis, consequently making our magic button a little more magically sensitive than your (male) magic wand. With this information on the table now I would like to extend a message to all you men out there who don't really understand: STOP PUTTING SO MUCH PRESSURE ON MY CLIT. It hurts. It's ticklish. It's not fun or sexy or pleasurable.

Secondly, the clitoris allows the blood that flows INTO it back OUT again continuously, allowing for us goddesses to experience multiple orgasms (A side note: one orgasm is more than enough for me to handle, though many women swear by their multi-dose of the big O). The penis is not this smart. Instead, men have to wait some set amount of time before he can get going again, and this interval changes for everyone.

So in a nutshell, don't suck the clit off when you're going down on us. Don't put too much pressure until advised to do so (some women have a less sensitive clit and need lots of pressure). And for the love of the sex gods, do not bite down.

Now accepting applications for Clit Commanders of all ranks.

a mimbo could be your slave

Last night I went on a pseudo-date with the most beautiful piece of man meat here in my town of Whistler, British Columbia. I say pseudo-date due to the fact that an actual date usually possesses the intention of getting to know someone you're attracted to, having some time alone with them, some conversation perhaps. Conversation I did not engage in. Physical interaction however, was plentiful.



His lips touched mine so passionately and desperately I thought he may consume my very existence right there in that kiss. He was so hungry for me. His hands travelled along my body and my skin responded with millions of goosebumps on every part of me. I was paralyzed with pleasure. But it was then, in those very moments of pure euphoria that I realized "shit, I'm on a date with a mimbo." How could I let this happen? How did I get involved with such a vacant being? I was so very disappointed in myself. Was it his beautiful baby blues? Was it the smile from cheek to cheek? It certainly wasn't his charm. This poor little man had been pursuing me for a little while now, asking me to spend time with him. I hesitated at first because I am (as always) hung up on someone else. But that was the reason I decided to say yes after all. I thought if I became involved with someone else, perhaps my emotional attachment to the other would dissolve.



Let me tell you something: it doesn't work that way. At least not with someone who has nothing more to offer you than an orgasm and hours upon hours of cuddles. That's another thing, the dude wanted to hold me constantly! Cuddling with someone you aren't into as a person is not satisfying, it's just fucking suffocating.



I didn't sleep with him (thank god), but I did get a preview of the situation 'down there' and is it ever satisfying. Girth, length, smoothness of skin, shaved pubes, the works! Yes that's right ladies and gents, my mimbo has a perfect penis. PERFECT. No curving in any direction, no foreskin, no hair, and no erectile dysfunction. Should I decide to sleep with him I'm sure I'll be tickled pink...



Even with a perfect penis and a perfect body and a smile that sends me away to some far land where beautiful people are my slaves and the beds are draped in silk, I have no interest in him. He has nothing to say. Nothing at all. He even mentioned he was glad Bush wasn't recently re-elected....BUSH. Oh my goodness. During one of the very rare moments we exchanged a few words I counted the amount of times he said the word 'like.' I don't even want to repeat the number for I'm afraid you wouldn't believe me.



Whistler is full of his type of man: Hot, talented rider, tall T's and mad steeze.....Oh ya...and dumb as Alicia Silverstone in Clueless. In the morning when I left I patted him on the head with utmost pity and said "catchya later." I left him there like a poor puppy, all alone while his owners were off to work. I doubt I'll hang out with him again, but if I do it'll be to feed the kitty and nothing else.

the birth of our baby