I've mentioned elsewhere how, when I was young, my parents would let me buy the books I wanted. They trusted my judgement when it came to what I could handle, and they were right to do so. I never appreciated how much freedom they gave me in that regard, because I didn't know how other parents censored their kids' reading. But I appreciate it now, and I give my kids the same freedom when it comes to choosing books.
This doesn't mean that back then, I could get my hands on any book I wanted--or that I even knew about all the books out there. I was limited to what was available inside my local bookstores. Barnes and Noble carried a LOT of romance, but erotica? Not so much. (This is true to this day, by the way. Borders carries more erotica than B&N, but even they don't shelve that much.)
So I read a lot of romance books by the likes of Johanna Lindsey, Karen Robards, and Jude Deveraux. I fell in love with so many of those books. Jude Deveraux's A Knight in Shining Armor has the most satisfying ending I have ever seen in a romance novel; if I can ever get one of my stories to end with such fulfillment for the reader, I will consider myself a successful author.
But many of the books, particularly Lindsey's, contain a lot of non-consensual sex. And I'm not talking about forced seduction; I'm talking about rape. Two books in particular I'm thinking about have the heroine's first sexual encounter be in a rape scene. Now, the women weren't physically hurt, they didn't struggle and get beat up or anything, but they didn't have a choice about it either. They submitted to what was being done to them, that was all.
As I got older and learned how to get my hands on erotica, particularly BDSM erotica, I moved away from purple-prose romance and stuck with that.
So here's the thing: I have never seen a non-con scene in any BDSM novel I have ever read like I did in so many romance books.
In BDSM erotica, the woman is usually made to submit, yes. She is often restrained, she is usually spanked, or belted, or slapped. Sometimes she is serviced into pleasuring more than one man at once. She may be degraded, humiliated, beaten and used.
But always, always, at some point, she has given consent for these things to be done to her. She is a willing participant in each and every scene. I have never seen a BDSM novel where the woman/sub doesn't have at least the Right of Last Refusal--the chance to walk away completely. The reader understands that this choice may be painful for her, it may be hard, but the choice is still there, and she can do it at any time. Most books also include a safeword for the woman/sub: a word she can use to take a break in the scene, or even stop it completely.
This, at least to me, is very different from a novel in which a man is forcing a woman to have sex with him, either through manipulation or physical advantage. Even if the author tries to make us, the reader, think the woman somehow enjoyed it in the end, or at least didn't mind it, it's still non-con sex. She had no choice, none at all.
This may be titillating to many. I mean, obviously--these books still sell thousands of copies. I certainly didn't have a problem with it, until I got older and began to understand what was really going on in those scenes.
But I'm trying to point out the difference here between the kinds of scenes you see in "innocent" romance, described in purple prose and flowery language, where a woman is forced to submit to a penetration against her will, and BDSM erotica, where a woman may be caned and sodomized and leave the scene covered in welts, but she is satisfied. She wanted everything done to her. She wasn't abused, and she certainly wasn't raped.
I don't understand why romance is sold in all bookstores, and no one has a problem with it, but BDSM erotica has to be ordered elsewhere and handled with kid gloves because it's somehow more dirty and controversial. Isn't it more important we teach girls about responsibility, and dignity, and making informed choices, than remaining "pure" and "innocent" and only letting men "take" us in a certain way?
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Playboy Ads Weekly Series
This week's Playboy ads brought to you by the fine ladies of September 1989.
This must have been around the time that the last GOOD Indiana Jones movie came out, because there is a whole page ad for this:
There's some bad photoshopping right there, unless his forehead protrudes about a foot beyond the rest of his skull. Hay! Maybe that was the original idea behind Kingdom of the Lost Skull! Okay, I admit, that was lame.
You know, the ad might be silly, but the photo is damn fine. Harrison Ford, pre-Calista Flockhart, was quite a nice specimen. Just look at that man hand!
Okay, moving on.
This ad made me realize how tastes can change so much over time. Back in 1989, men were supposed to have hairless chests. All the guys on Beverly Hills, 90210 had bare chests, remember?
And then this guy came along:
And all of a sudden it was okay to have a hair again. Lots of it. And army tags instead of a wimpy "Franklin Mint American Eagle Medallion." I mean, look at those two pictures again. Which chest would you rather rake your hands over?
We've got our technological signs of the times, of course. Like this ad:
This phone ushered in a "new era" of cordless phones. The antenna is on the inside! How did they do that? Of course, now when I hear "Cobra," what I'm thinking about is temporary health insurance and job loss. My my, how times have changed.
Frankly, I'm not sure this ad was cool even in 1989. It certainly doesn't look like something that belongs in Playboy; it looks like something that would be much more fitting for a teen magazine, circa 1985.
"Yo! So Low"? What does that even mean?
And now, I present to you: the return of June and Steve!
At least in this ad, they are both looking at the camera, even if they still don't look too happy. But this time, it's not just her knee that looks wedged in his ass, it's her hand, too.
The ad that I wish was still good today:
I think this is so cute. Seriously, you can open bottles while holding onto this little gem. Not that I have so many bottles to open, but still. I've never seen a novelty item like this. Have you?
Next week, new ridiculousness!
There's some bad photoshopping right there, unless his forehead protrudes about a foot beyond the rest of his skull. Hay! Maybe that was the original idea behind Kingdom of the Lost Skull! Okay, I admit, that was lame.
You know, the ad might be silly, but the photo is damn fine. Harrison Ford, pre-Calista Flockhart, was quite a nice specimen. Just look at that man hand!
Okay, moving on.
This ad made me realize how tastes can change so much over time. Back in 1989, men were supposed to have hairless chests. All the guys on Beverly Hills, 90210 had bare chests, remember?
And then this guy came along:
And all of a sudden it was okay to have a hair again. Lots of it. And army tags instead of a wimpy "Franklin Mint American Eagle Medallion." I mean, look at those two pictures again. Which chest would you rather rake your hands over?
We've got our technological signs of the times, of course. Like this ad:
"Yo! So Low"? What does that even mean?
And now, I present to you: the return of June and Steve!
 |
| "Okay June, let's just call a truce... wait, what's that on my ass? June, NO!! |
At least in this ad, they are both looking at the camera, even if they still don't look too happy. But this time, it's not just her knee that looks wedged in his ass, it's her hand, too.
The ad that I wish was still good today:
Next week, new ridiculousness!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The Liaison
I've written a little before about the hosts of the Hotel Bentmoore stories, how they each have their own looks, their own personalities, and their own backgrounds.
The guests obviously have their own histories, their reasons for coming to the hotel in the first place.
The characters that play a pivotal role in the stories, yet never really get fleshed out, are the liaisons.
The liaisons act behind the scenes; they are always at hand, always ready to perform their duties, yet can make themselves inconspicuous to the point that you forget they're there. They know the ins and outs of the Hotel like no one else, and they keep their secrets well.
Liaisons at the Hotel Bentmoore are all older gentlemen who have seen things that would sear your eyeballs, yet keep themselves slightly aloof from everything going on around them. They don't judge, they don't comment, and they certainly don't gossip.
Each host has his (or her) own liaison. All communication between host and guest outside of the activity rooms must go through the liaison. Consequently, liaisons are privy to information that is often quite personal and incriminating. That is why they must be so trustworthy.
Hosts are allowed in all parts of the hotel, except for one exception: the guests' private rooms. But liaisons are allowed anywhere and everywhere they are needed. In any case, the duties of the hosts are primarily performed in the activity rooms on the lower floor, and so it is fairly rare to see them wandering around the hotel.
Liaisons, on the other hand, can be seen walking about the hallways all the time. They are delivering messages, bringing guests to and fro, handing supplies off to hosts when needed...you never know what they are carrying under that domed tray.
And they never, ever, judge.
The guests obviously have their own histories, their reasons for coming to the hotel in the first place.
The characters that play a pivotal role in the stories, yet never really get fleshed out, are the liaisons.
The liaisons act behind the scenes; they are always at hand, always ready to perform their duties, yet can make themselves inconspicuous to the point that you forget they're there. They know the ins and outs of the Hotel like no one else, and they keep their secrets well.
 |
| After you drink what's in the cup, you'll need the towel, believe you me. |
Liaisons at the Hotel Bentmoore are all older gentlemen who have seen things that would sear your eyeballs, yet keep themselves slightly aloof from everything going on around them. They don't judge, they don't comment, and they certainly don't gossip.
Each host has his (or her) own liaison. All communication between host and guest outside of the activity rooms must go through the liaison. Consequently, liaisons are privy to information that is often quite personal and incriminating. That is why they must be so trustworthy.
Hosts are allowed in all parts of the hotel, except for one exception: the guests' private rooms. But liaisons are allowed anywhere and everywhere they are needed. In any case, the duties of the hosts are primarily performed in the activity rooms on the lower floor, and so it is fairly rare to see them wandering around the hotel.
Liaisons, on the other hand, can be seen walking about the hallways all the time. They are delivering messages, bringing guests to and fro, handing supplies off to hosts when needed...you never know what they are carrying under that domed tray.
 |
| Could be a carefully sealed message...could be a short whippy rod. You'll never know. |
They are always dressed impeccably. They always carry themselves with a sense of quiet nobility. They take pride in their work. They are helpful. They are patient. And above all else, they keep their secrets.
 |
| No Ma'am, the gift doesn't go on you: it goes in you. |
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Man Hands
You would think, after yesterday's post, that it's a guy's face that gets me all hot and wet between the legs.
Ahhh, but you'd only be half right.
True, I go for the slanted brows, the soft creamy eyes, the angled nose and square jaw. I like a guy with messed up hair and a five o'clock shadow, like he's just gotten out of bed after a good tumble between the sheets.
But what really gets me going isn't the face...it's the hands.
Man Hands.
Show me a good pair of man hands, and I'll suddenly turn into a woman who can't collect her thoughts, who's standing frozen with caught breath and beading lip.
What makes a good pair of man hands, you ask? It's simple: everything that makes them different from feminine hands. Man hands have to be square, and knuckled, with well defined tendons and rounded fingers.
They have to be wide, and the fingers have to be able to spread. A lot.
When I see a pair of great looking man hands, I'm not thinking about the guy's face or figure anymore. I'm thinking about all the things those hands can do, all the places they can go...I'm wondering where those hands have been. And on whom.
I'm picturing them holding different implements of punishment, maybe some tools of pleasure...I'm imagining them at work.
So a face is nice, a flat stomach is nice, a wide chest is nice...but nothing gets my juices flowing like a great pair of hands.
Ahhh, but you'd only be half right.
True, I go for the slanted brows, the soft creamy eyes, the angled nose and square jaw. I like a guy with messed up hair and a five o'clock shadow, like he's just gotten out of bed after a good tumble between the sheets.
But what really gets me going isn't the face...it's the hands.
Man Hands.
Show me a good pair of man hands, and I'll suddenly turn into a woman who can't collect her thoughts, who's standing frozen with caught breath and beading lip.
What makes a good pair of man hands, you ask? It's simple: everything that makes them different from feminine hands. Man hands have to be square, and knuckled, with well defined tendons and rounded fingers.
 |
| Why do you need a pair of gloves to hold a bottle?...OH, MY! |
Of course, it doesn't hurt to have a great pair of hands modeling a great ass.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Inspiration
I got an interesting email the other day, asking me if, when I'm writing my Hotel Bentmoore stories, I use the images of other men to "inspire" me when I'm portraying my hosts. I suppose the short answer to that is yes.
I don't copy the whole body, of course. I don't picture the whole form in my head and use that to model my host. But I'll try to figure out what it is about a man that turns me on, and inject that into my host character.
When I was very young, I had a major crush on Christian Slater. I mean MAY-JOR. I had a huge poster of him on my wall; I bought every magazine I could find with his picture.
What was it about him that turned me on so much? Mainly, the mischievous smile. Slater's got that perfect mouth that holds limitless secrets and endless fun. It's playful, it's coy, it's sneaky, and it's just plain breath-catching. So I gave one of my hosts a coy, mischievous smile.
As I grew older, my tastes changed. I started watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (shut up, you're never too old for Buffy) and discovered David Boreanaz.
David's dangerous. He's meticulous, he's serious, and he gets the job done. He'll tell you exactly what he's about to do and why he's doing it, and he'll tell you with his eyes. So I gave one of my hosts the same haunting, deep eyes.
And then...and then Queer as Folk came along, and oh my God, there was Gale harold.
Harold is quiet. He's a thinker. He'll spring up on you when you're least expecting it and make you dizzy with need. You'll realize you're in his clutches and under his complete control only when it's too late.
Yeah, I tried to make one of my hosts like that.
There's another kind of sexy I'd like to try to copy, the boyish/hyper/emotional/crazy kind of sexy that only this guy can show so well:
But I don't know how that would translate for a Hotel Bentmoore host. I mean, hosts are supposed to be Doms, always in control, always anticipating the next step. 'David Tennant sexy' is more of an adventure, impulse, 'jump-first-and-look-after' kind of a thing. But maybe I'm only picturing it that way because I'm used to seeing him as Doctor Who. Maybe I need to start seeing him more like this:
I don't copy the whole body, of course. I don't picture the whole form in my head and use that to model my host. But I'll try to figure out what it is about a man that turns me on, and inject that into my host character.
What was it about him that turned me on so much? Mainly, the mischievous smile. Slater's got that perfect mouth that holds limitless secrets and endless fun. It's playful, it's coy, it's sneaky, and it's just plain breath-catching. So I gave one of my hosts a coy, mischievous smile.
David's dangerous. He's meticulous, he's serious, and he gets the job done. He'll tell you exactly what he's about to do and why he's doing it, and he'll tell you with his eyes. So I gave one of my hosts the same haunting, deep eyes.
And then...and then Queer as Folk came along, and oh my God, there was Gale harold.
Yeah, I tried to make one of my hosts like that.
There's another kind of sexy I'd like to try to copy, the boyish/hyper/emotional/crazy kind of sexy that only this guy can show so well:
 |
| Poster Boy for Leather |
Monday, June 6, 2011
Kink Meme, Day 29
"Do you have a BDSM title (e.g. mistress, slut, sir)? What is your opinion of the use of titles in general?"
I don't have a title beyond Wife. But Wife in my household encompasses many things, including (but not limited to) professional organizer, secretary, butler, teacher, animal trainer, cook (but not a good cook) and a little too often, maid. I am a great mom, but I could never be a dad; which is fine, because Husband is a great dad (but he could never, in a million years, be a mom).
I am submissive to Husband, but that doesn't mean I don't let my opinions be known loud and clear, especially when it comes to the kids and the running of the household. I would say a vast majority of the time, once I state how I want things to go within the home, the reply I will get is "yes, Wife." Because Husband knows I do my job well, and bows to my better judgement.
This only applies to the running of the household and general daily dealings with the kids, of course. When it comes to "dad" stuff, I leave it up to him. And he has veto power over everything, because let's face it, sometimes he can see things with his clear eyes that I simply can't and he can stop me from making a muck of things before it's too late. But he steps in only when he thinks he has to.
Frankly, it's quite humiliating for me when he has to "help" me do my job of running the house and dealing with the kids. The other week, I had to have him call a teacher and have a talk about one of our kids. I had to ask him to do it because this teacher was obviously not taking my concerns seriously, poo-pooh'ing everything I was saying, and I was left with the distinct impression he was patronizing me because I am a woman. I was right; once Husband called him, the teacher did an about face and suddenly took my original issues very, very seriously.
I knew it wasn't my fault I had to ask for help, this teacher is obviously a sexist individual who couldn't see me as anything but a hysterical mom. But still, I felt like there should have been a way for me to force him to take me seriously, to get him to see me as his equal. But I didn't know how to do that, so I had to ask Husband to step in. In cases like these, I feel like I failed somehow to do my job.
But I know everyone feels like that about their jobs now and then. The job of being Wife and mom is no different.
I don't have a title beyond Wife. But Wife in my household encompasses many things, including (but not limited to) professional organizer, secretary, butler, teacher, animal trainer, cook (but not a good cook) and a little too often, maid. I am a great mom, but I could never be a dad; which is fine, because Husband is a great dad (but he could never, in a million years, be a mom).
I am submissive to Husband, but that doesn't mean I don't let my opinions be known loud and clear, especially when it comes to the kids and the running of the household. I would say a vast majority of the time, once I state how I want things to go within the home, the reply I will get is "yes, Wife." Because Husband knows I do my job well, and bows to my better judgement.
This only applies to the running of the household and general daily dealings with the kids, of course. When it comes to "dad" stuff, I leave it up to him. And he has veto power over everything, because let's face it, sometimes he can see things with his clear eyes that I simply can't and he can stop me from making a muck of things before it's too late. But he steps in only when he thinks he has to.
Frankly, it's quite humiliating for me when he has to "help" me do my job of running the house and dealing with the kids. The other week, I had to have him call a teacher and have a talk about one of our kids. I had to ask him to do it because this teacher was obviously not taking my concerns seriously, poo-pooh'ing everything I was saying, and I was left with the distinct impression he was patronizing me because I am a woman. I was right; once Husband called him, the teacher did an about face and suddenly took my original issues very, very seriously.
I knew it wasn't my fault I had to ask for help, this teacher is obviously a sexist individual who couldn't see me as anything but a hysterical mom. But still, I felt like there should have been a way for me to force him to take me seriously, to get him to see me as his equal. But I didn't know how to do that, so I had to ask Husband to step in. In cases like these, I feel like I failed somehow to do my job.
But I know everyone feels like that about their jobs now and then. The job of being Wife and mom is no different.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Why I Give a Bad Review
I admit it, I like buying those relatively short pieces off Amazon for .99 cents. It's probably why I write them; I write (or try to write) what I would like to read. I know a lot of writers think the .99 cent buyers don't really care about investing their emotions into the story, or keeping track of which authors resonate with us and which didn't, but we do. At least, I do. For .99 cents, I may not get a long, intricate novel, but I can get a taste for the author's style, and if I like it, I'll be more willing in the future to spend more money. Which is usually exactly the point of authors offering their stuff for .99 cents.
If I read something and really like it, I leave a good review. If it's okay but needs a quick fix, I'll say that, too; one time I thought a story needed a key piece of information put in the Amazon description, and my advice was followed. It may be that the author was being told this by a lot of people and not just me, but still, I felt good about my advice being followed.
If I don't like what I read, and it's the writing style and not something that can be quickly fixed, I don't leave a bad review. I don't like to do that. Unless...unless it's really, really bad. Like, I'm finding spelling and grammar mistakes that any computer would point out kind of bad. Or I was promised one thing in the description and got something completely different kind of bad. Then, I leave a bad review because I feel like the author didn't give a shit about me as a reader. S/he got me to invest the .99 cents, but didn't even try to hand me something of quality in return. I feel cheated, and when I feel cheated, I try to warn people not to make the same mistake I did, and keep them from getting cheated, too.
Today I had to write two (2) bad reviews. Both of them were for the same reason: the writer didn't bother to state in the description what I was buying wasn't a full story. They were part of a story, the beginning of a story, but in both cases they ended quite suddenly, mid-plot. I don't mean there were some loose ends; I don't mean there was some foreshadowing for a sequel. I'm saying the end came like the blade of a guillotine, and I was left looking at a bloody stump of a head and wondering where the fuck the body had run off to. I mean, I was engrossed, I was connected, I was in, and then the story just stopped and I was like 'whaa...?'
Sure enough, I click to the next page, and there's some text telling me if I like what I read, I can buy the next part...available soon!
Oh I'll just snap that up! Not.
Here's the thing about buying any kind of literature for a kindle: I can't get an immediate idea how long it is. I can't flip the pages in my hands, I can't visually see the size of the thing. And I certainly can't skip to the end and read the last page where it basically says 'to be continued.' The author (or publisher) has to include all that in the description. If they don't, they run the risk of pissing off their readers. Hell, sometimes you'll include all that in the description and you'll STILL get pissed off readers. I had one reader give me a bad review because she thought one of my stories was too short, even though I clearly state they are short stories. But at least I felt like I had done all I could.
Erotica is not like fantasy, or sci-fi. You cannot leave your readers hanging. If you do, you damn well better warn them in advance. Cause if you let it come as a surprise, you're not being funny, or coy, or creative; you're just being mean and leaving your readers pissed off.
And the last thing you want to do is leave your readers pissed off. That is a sure-fire way to get bad reviews. At least from this reader.
If I read something and really like it, I leave a good review. If it's okay but needs a quick fix, I'll say that, too; one time I thought a story needed a key piece of information put in the Amazon description, and my advice was followed. It may be that the author was being told this by a lot of people and not just me, but still, I felt good about my advice being followed.
If I don't like what I read, and it's the writing style and not something that can be quickly fixed, I don't leave a bad review. I don't like to do that. Unless...unless it's really, really bad. Like, I'm finding spelling and grammar mistakes that any computer would point out kind of bad. Or I was promised one thing in the description and got something completely different kind of bad. Then, I leave a bad review because I feel like the author didn't give a shit about me as a reader. S/he got me to invest the .99 cents, but didn't even try to hand me something of quality in return. I feel cheated, and when I feel cheated, I try to warn people not to make the same mistake I did, and keep them from getting cheated, too.
Today I had to write two (2) bad reviews. Both of them were for the same reason: the writer didn't bother to state in the description what I was buying wasn't a full story. They were part of a story, the beginning of a story, but in both cases they ended quite suddenly, mid-plot. I don't mean there were some loose ends; I don't mean there was some foreshadowing for a sequel. I'm saying the end came like the blade of a guillotine, and I was left looking at a bloody stump of a head and wondering where the fuck the body had run off to. I mean, I was engrossed, I was connected, I was in, and then the story just stopped and I was like 'whaa...?'
Sure enough, I click to the next page, and there's some text telling me if I like what I read, I can buy the next part...available soon!
Oh I'll just snap that up! Not.
Here's the thing about buying any kind of literature for a kindle: I can't get an immediate idea how long it is. I can't flip the pages in my hands, I can't visually see the size of the thing. And I certainly can't skip to the end and read the last page where it basically says 'to be continued.' The author (or publisher) has to include all that in the description. If they don't, they run the risk of pissing off their readers. Hell, sometimes you'll include all that in the description and you'll STILL get pissed off readers. I had one reader give me a bad review because she thought one of my stories was too short, even though I clearly state they are short stories. But at least I felt like I had done all I could.
Erotica is not like fantasy, or sci-fi. You cannot leave your readers hanging. If you do, you damn well better warn them in advance. Cause if you let it come as a surprise, you're not being funny, or coy, or creative; you're just being mean and leaving your readers pissed off.
And the last thing you want to do is leave your readers pissed off. That is a sure-fire way to get bad reviews. At least from this reader.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Weekly Series: Playboy Ads
This week brought to you by Miss June, 1989.
I swear, this issue has some of the weirdest ads I have ever seen. But let's start with the technology of the times, shall we?
You'll notice that this ads talks a lot about price. This is supposed to be the most affordable car compact disc player ever. EVER. It can handle the new, smaller CD-3s directly, it comes in a slide-out version, it's rich and dynamic and gives the automobile upward mobility...and it's AFFORDABLE.
You see any mention anywhere in the ad about how much this thing costs?
Yah, neither do I.
It may be affordable, but I don't think it's free. I think someone in the ad department made a little boo-boo here. Unless they want you to call and ask about the price? But doesn't "call for price quote" usually mean NOT affordable?
$500 bucks. For a cell phone. That's after the rebate, by the way.
I have no idea why that dollar sign showed up above the text. It just did. Zombie dollar sign, haunting my post! AHHH!
NEXT!
This is where the ads start to just get weird. I'm used to seeing ads in Playboy for radars, cigarettes, cigars, alcohol... but this one surprised me.
As you can see, it's an ad for deodorant. Now, it's men's deodorant, but...still deodorant.
And who the hell thought up this ad?
A tux. Wood panelling. An antique book. And the hair. The HAIR!
On the other hand, I think I just found this guy's long-lost cousin:
Granted, the 1989 playboy ad guy looks better. We're degrading, people.
The ads really start to get strange from this point on. Take this one:
You think the ad is for a car? Nope. An audio system, then? No again. This is an ad...for a poster. A $2.00 poster.
I KNOW!
Here's an ad for a toning machine. But...why are these people posed this way? And why is he looking at her like that? This is like one of those "add your own caption" pictures.
"June, you're knee is kind of in my ass. Can you move over a bit?"
"Don't talk to me, Steve. I'm trying to get in character."
And then there's this one, which just absolutely takes the cake.
It's an ad for a cruise. I get it. But are they saying you'll see mermaids on your cruise? That they have mermaids on board the cruise, in their "Aquaventure Complex"? And what's up with the suits? They are obviously not required in order to see the mermaids. But...they're holding briefcases and paperwork. What's the paperwork? Shouldn't it be in the briefcases? Maybe they're giving the mermaid a court summons? Maybe they're proving they have divorce papers so they can find their own mermaids and live happily ever after? I AM SO CONFUSED!!
And so ends this week's ridiculousness. Next week, new ads!
I swear, this issue has some of the weirdest ads I have ever seen. But let's start with the technology of the times, shall we?
You see any mention anywhere in the ad about how much this thing costs?
Yah, neither do I.
It may be affordable, but I don't think it's free. I think someone in the ad department made a little boo-boo here. Unless they want you to call and ask about the price? But doesn't "call for price quote" usually mean NOT affordable?
$500 bucks. For a cell phone. That's after the rebate, by the way.
I have no idea why that dollar sign showed up above the text. It just did. Zombie dollar sign, haunting my post! AHHH!
NEXT!
This is where the ads start to just get weird. I'm used to seeing ads in Playboy for radars, cigarettes, cigars, alcohol... but this one surprised me.
And who the hell thought up this ad?
A tux. Wood panelling. An antique book. And the hair. The HAIR!
On the other hand, I think I just found this guy's long-lost cousin:
Granted, the 1989 playboy ad guy looks better. We're degrading, people.
The ads really start to get strange from this point on. Take this one:
You think the ad is for a car? Nope. An audio system, then? No again. This is an ad...for a poster. A $2.00 poster.
I KNOW!
"June, you're knee is kind of in my ass. Can you move over a bit?"
"Don't talk to me, Steve. I'm trying to get in character."
And then there's this one, which just absolutely takes the cake.
It's an ad for a cruise. I get it. But are they saying you'll see mermaids on your cruise? That they have mermaids on board the cruise, in their "Aquaventure Complex"? And what's up with the suits? They are obviously not required in order to see the mermaids. But...they're holding briefcases and paperwork. What's the paperwork? Shouldn't it be in the briefcases? Maybe they're giving the mermaid a court summons? Maybe they're proving they have divorce papers so they can find their own mermaids and live happily ever after? I AM SO CONFUSED!!
And so ends this week's ridiculousness. Next week, new ads!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Kink Meme, Day 28
"How do you dress for kink/BDSM play? What significance does your attire have to you?"
Generally, the only thing I'm wearing for BDSM play are restrains and welts :)
If I'm feeling playful, I might wear one of my slinky pink nightgowns that drives Husband crazy, and a pair of snug black panties underneath.
If I'm feeling very daring, and it's daytime when Husband does not have time to "deal with" me, I might make sure he knows I'm wearing a garter belt and thigh-high hose, with a pair of translucent blue stretchy panties. This will drive him wild and keep him thinking about me the rest of the day (me, and my translucent blue panties). I'll pay for my daring later, of course...but that's part of the play, too.
But really, it doesn't matter what I'm wearing, the point is the way the clothes are taken off. Who removes them, in what way, how quickly...those are usually the things that help set up the scene.
We don't do cosplay or pony play, and the only thing leather he wears is his belt. We do dress up a bit when we go out to a club, but that's different: that's social, not BDSM play.
Maybe I should look into getting a harem girl costume....
Generally, the only thing I'm wearing for BDSM play are restrains and welts :)
If I'm feeling playful, I might wear one of my slinky pink nightgowns that drives Husband crazy, and a pair of snug black panties underneath.
If I'm feeling very daring, and it's daytime when Husband does not have time to "deal with" me, I might make sure he knows I'm wearing a garter belt and thigh-high hose, with a pair of translucent blue stretchy panties. This will drive him wild and keep him thinking about me the rest of the day (me, and my translucent blue panties). I'll pay for my daring later, of course...but that's part of the play, too.
But really, it doesn't matter what I'm wearing, the point is the way the clothes are taken off. Who removes them, in what way, how quickly...those are usually the things that help set up the scene.
We don't do cosplay or pony play, and the only thing leather he wears is his belt. We do dress up a bit when we go out to a club, but that's different: that's social, not BDSM play.
Maybe I should look into getting a harem girl costume....
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Compatability
So, I spent most of yesterday in a really bad mood. I mean, a really black swirling thundering cloud of a mood. I felt edgy, out of sorts, totally snappy...with everyone. With myself.
I needed a spanking.
Husband came home, and I told him what I needed. He nodded that he understood, then went to eat dinner and spend some time with the kids. I left to put the youngest to bed, he went upstairs to watch a little TV...and fell asleep.
Now, I know better than to wake him up (there are 'release' spankings, and then there are 'punishment' spankings, and then there are 'by GOD woman you will learn never to do THAT again' spankings, and the latter is to be avoided if at all possible). But I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, and by the time I did finally fall into something resembling sleep, it was very fitful and light.
I woke up this morning tired, cranky, and unhappy. But I wasn't the only one. Husband woke up in a bad mood, too.
"I'm really irritable this morning," he said, clenching and unclenching his hands over the breakfast table. "I don't know why, I'm just really keyed up."
"This is why we get along so well," I replied.
"I don't get it. What are you talking about?"
"Why we are so compatible. You need to give what I need to get." He looked at me in confusion for another moment, then slowly nodded as understanding came.
I needed a spanking. He needed to give a spanking. We would both feel better after the deed was done.
He took me by the hand and led me upstairs, and gave me a short, quick, stinging spanking. It had to be fast because the kids needed to get to school, and he had to go to work. A spanking version of a quickie, if you will. But it felt amazing, for both of us. It wasn't really anything sexual, and certainly didn't lead to sex. It was perfect the way it was, because it was what both of us needed.
This is why we get along so well. Why I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else in the world.
I needed a spanking.
Husband came home, and I told him what I needed. He nodded that he understood, then went to eat dinner and spend some time with the kids. I left to put the youngest to bed, he went upstairs to watch a little TV...and fell asleep.
Now, I know better than to wake him up (there are 'release' spankings, and then there are 'punishment' spankings, and then there are 'by GOD woman you will learn never to do THAT again' spankings, and the latter is to be avoided if at all possible). But I couldn't fall asleep for a long time, and by the time I did finally fall into something resembling sleep, it was very fitful and light.
I woke up this morning tired, cranky, and unhappy. But I wasn't the only one. Husband woke up in a bad mood, too.
"I'm really irritable this morning," he said, clenching and unclenching his hands over the breakfast table. "I don't know why, I'm just really keyed up."
"This is why we get along so well," I replied.
"I don't get it. What are you talking about?"
"Why we are so compatible. You need to give what I need to get." He looked at me in confusion for another moment, then slowly nodded as understanding came.
I needed a spanking. He needed to give a spanking. We would both feel better after the deed was done.
He took me by the hand and led me upstairs, and gave me a short, quick, stinging spanking. It had to be fast because the kids needed to get to school, and he had to go to work. A spanking version of a quickie, if you will. But it felt amazing, for both of us. It wasn't really anything sexual, and certainly didn't lead to sex. It was perfect the way it was, because it was what both of us needed.
This is why we get along so well. Why I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else in the world.
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