Warm Off the Press: Weird Sex'al Tales of Yore

I initially read about this cautionary tale at Dailymail.co.uk. It’s not a tale of “yore” per se, but given our fast paced world of instant info, it’s “yore-ish”. And it should definitely make you cautious. I will start by telling dudes that if you are in Lancashire and you see this bitch

and think you’ll get a quick toss- do yourself a favor and think about baseball. Then turn the fuck around and walk away.

Her name is Dominique Fisher, and in the summer of 2008, she decided that she was going to go out and get some boy pussy. Dominique isn’t like other girls in that she evidently thinks that when she gives a guy wood, then he is wood, and starts carving shit into his skin- at least that’s according to Wayne Robinson and a jury.

Wayne Robinson was the unfortunate bloke who happened into the gods wicked sense of humor on that summer night in 2008, and they set him on a course which led him to Dominique Fisher. Dominique and Wayne, by their own accord, hailed the queen all night and; evidently decided to hook up again the next night. During their second night of ho-ho-ho and a bottle of rum-ming, after knowing each other a fort (-y eight –hour) night, Wayne decided to mix vodka and Vicodin. He must’ve been damn close to entering a dimension of visible fairies and elves because a kiss didn’t awaken him. Nor did that crazy hooka etching her name and other symbols of madness into his skin. When he came to in the morning, he realized what be-carved him and amazingly ran out without waking Dominique and feeding her couple of knuckle sandwiches. While we know that he had taken Vicodin with his vodka, they haven’t said what Dominique could’ve possibly taken to make her show us that she obviously has a PhD in crazy. Dominique was found guilty of “unlawful wounding” and walked away free.

MTV Strikes Again in the Friendzone

It seems as though SallyAnn Salsano hasn’t just been sitting around fist pumping and counting her monies. The woman who brought the world (much to its chagrin) Jersey Shore is back with another series called Friendzone.

The premise is pretty straight forward: One of two kids, who is the self-avowed best friend of the other, tells the latter that she/he has deeper feelings and tries to take it to the next level. Under the pretext of being wingman, the boy or girl asks the crush to help him/her prepare for a blind date- not knowing that he/she is the intended “date”. Just before the wingman walks away, the lovelorn friend reveals his/her true feelings, and thankfully MTV is there to capture the joy or heartbreak that follows. Nothing says that I love you and this is 100% genuine like having a camera in your faces when you tell your beloved and thirty million other people your deepest truest feelings and desires at the same time for the first time.

The first episode that I watched last night featured two sets of best friends, both a male and female pairing. In the first segment, it was the female who had fallen for her male best friend and wanted to tell him. The second pairing is a couple of friends in which the boy has fallen for his beautiful female friend. One was a success and the other a failure. Guess which one was which?

As a female, though markedly older than the kids featured, I can understand how it’s harder for girls to bridge the friend zone gap- especially when you’re in your late teens and early twenties. You want the spark, the excitement, the drama, the passion- and when that doesn’t happen initially, it’s hard to have the maturity required to appreciate your friend as a paramour. And that is unfortunate because those are the beautiful men that we should be flocking to, not the dirty-legged (slutty), obnoxious, yet hot or sexy cads we tend to gravitate toward. Oh, the humanity!

I can honestly say that I have only had one male best friend in my life. I have had many, many good male friends, but when I think of someone who I hung out with all the time- going to lunch, partying, staying up late having deep ass drunken conversations- there has only been one. And he was gay, so a potential romantic interlude was never even a part of the equation, so I cannot fathom the fear and trepidation that goes with telling someone so close to you in one way that you are feeling for him/her in a completely different way. In spite of my earlier sarcasm about the cameras, I have nothing but admiration for the fact that these kids had the courage to tell their BFFs at all. The risk of losing a friend for me would strongly outweigh gaining a boyfriend or girlfriend- maybe that’s why I immediately shut any possibilities from the jump. I’m not proud, I’m just being honest. They might be craving stardom, fame, money or anything else that can be gained by being on television, but the risk of a shattered heart that everyone can see and experience with them, makes them stronger in that sense than I will ever be.

I would love to hear from people who were old enough to go out drinking, but chose to stay home and watch Ross and Rachel in prime time television: Did you ever crush a best friend? If so, did you ever tell the person, and if you did, how did it work out? Was your friendship jacked up, did you hook up, or did you get drunk, get over it, and crack up?

For those interested, check your local listings for the time and days to see Friendzone on MTV.

Disgusting + Hilarious= Sex with an Ass (And no, it’s not a excerpt from my journal)

Sometimes when you read a blog, it feels as though the blogger has reached into your mind and expertly braided words that you know (but wouldn’t think to pair together) into a perfectly beautiful plait that flows down the back of lyrical hilarity. That being said, when I first read about the following story in the Huffington Post, I had planned to write a blog myself. Then I saw what Michael K over at dlisted.com had to say and knew I couldn’t surpass this catty, debauched cyber front/clock/call-out (minus the Brenda Song/Trace Cyrus comment because I’m not sure who they are). Read on and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

Ass Sex: You're Doing It Wrong

Some things you just can't find in a Lonely Planet travel guide. Here's one of those things: In the Zimbabwe town of Zvishavane exists the wrong stuff that when snorted or smoked causes your brain to seep out the kind of fuckery-coated hallucinations that not even Alan Ball could dream up. That is one of my only explanations for why this happened.

The Sun (of course) reports that a 28-year-old nasty ass fucker named Sunday Moyo (quick side whisper: that's a really good drag name) was arrested on Monday in Zvishavane after he was caught doing a donkey the way no bitch should do a donkey without getting permission from said donkey first. The police found Sunday performing a sex act on the donkey who was lying on the floor while tied to a tree. Earth to PETA, stop photographing F-list titties and get on this. Shit.

Sunday was charged with bestiality and the court ordered him to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. Why must his head be analyzed by mental health professionals, you ask? Well, first of all, he raped a donkey. Second of all, the power of crazy was with him in full force when he told the court the reason for why he fucked a donkey:

"Your worship, I only came to know that I was being intimate with a donkey when I got arrested.

I had hired a prostitute and paid US$20 for the service at Down Town nightclub, and I don't know how she then became a donkey. I think I am also a donkey. I do not know what happened when I left the bar, but I am seriously in love with the donkey."

Why do I have a feeling that this same speech came out of Brenda Song's mouth when her mother asked her why she was marrying Trace Cyrus?