Chocolate and Pearls has Some New Cards!

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                                                                 (cover and sample text)

Quote of the Day: A Man is like a Cat...

Quote of the Day: Love Begins with an Image...

MMA Fighter Ray Elbe...One Broke Dick

O.K.  I know that most mammals have bones in their penises, but since humans don't in spite of the "boner" misnomer, I didn't know it was possible for a man to fracture his penis.  Until today.  Until MMA fighter Ray Elbe decided to come forth with his tale of penile woe.

According to Ray, when he and his lady were in Malaysia enjoying some sexy love times earlier this month, she bobbed when she should have weaved while she was on top of him, and crushed his special area. He bled like a stuck pig, passed out from the pain, and was rushed to the hospital (or as they call it in the 2nd official language in Malaysia: hospital).  The doctors performed emergency surgery for a "slight" (a quote, obviously not Ray Elbe's word) tear in his urinary tube, gave him some anti-erection medication (not sure what the meds were, but I am imagining photos of Honey Boo Boo's mother June in a two-piece bikini with that rope of fat around her neck for the win on my guess) to take for 2 weeks, and other than stress dreams and trying to trauma block out a pain that must have been akin to having a baby come out of his pee-pee hole, Elbe seems to be physically okay.

Ray chose to tell his version of a 21st century PSA (send a picture of yourself in an ambulance to TMZ) to the world because until it happened to him, he didn't know it was possible.  When he looked online after the fact, he was shocked to see that it's a pretty common occurrence but many men don't go to the ER when it happens because they are embarrassed and many don't realize, beyond the excruciating pain, the potential for serious internal injuries and long term damage when a cockeyed dick enthusiast's heat is even slightly misaligned with a heat seeking moisture missile.

While I feel bad for Elbe, I feel much better about myself.  I know that I am not a good sex person, but I can now take comfort in the knowledge that while I have made some dicks go limp, at least I have never fractured one (aiming high, bitches).

I also feel bad for Elbe's girlfriend, who according to him promised a threesome of his choice when they get to the Philippines, to which he added (regarding the Philippines), "...usually has some solid talent."  Great.  You basically already told the world that she fucks like a blind epileptic having a grand mal seizure, and now you're gonna put her in a corner and have her simulate sex until you're sure she learns how to ride right by watching some prostitute of questionable gender pound on your Wii. (Sorry, but that girlfriend isn't getting close to his penis again until she has some Phenobarbital and night vision goggles- I don't care what she promised.)

To read more about what a fractured dork means (from a doctor and; not just my sagacious ass) and see what to do if your spastic Magoo lover breaks your johnson, click here.

To read more about Ray Elbe's story at TMZ, click here.

Quote of the Day: It's easier to keep 1/2 a dozen lovers...

Quote of the Day: ...the object of our profoundest worship...

Quote of the Day: A Man Never Knows...

Quote of the Day: Beautiful Maleness

TYG (That's Your Girlfriend): Jana Lawrence

If “elegance” now means drunken, trashy, slovenly harridan, then its epitome is Jana Lawrence.  According to the Huffington Post, this delicate flower blossomed into a bouquet of skank while watching the SEC Championship game between Georgia and Alabama at El Jinete restaurant in Dacula, GA.  As you read about Lady Jana’s antics I know you will probably find yourself repeatedly asking, “What becomes a legend most?”

Evidently this borracha must have been drinking Los Jinetes Cuatros (the Four Horsemen)  because she lost her mind and left it on the bathroom floor next to her morals:  Bitch started cussing people out and flashing her boobs.  But the coup de foudre for this shining example of exquisiteness personified? Rubbing the genitals of another female patron and licking her face.  Such a fuckin’ lady, right? 

When the management finally had enough of her foolery and sexual battery and tossed her out, she reacted in true drunk fashion by not going home, but moving onto another bar/restaurant.  The second establishment she infested was called Friends, and Jana did her best to not make any by licking on peeps again and grabbing random dudes' in their "special area".  

The manager finally told her to hit the bricks because her ass was hanging out of her pants, and she acted like she was reaching for her pocketbook to douse herself in some more “demure” and “genteel”, but instead reached down and pulled her pants further down.

When the cops came to take her away ha, ha- she poured more of her special Jana sugar on them calling them racial slurs, and names like the English term for cigarettes,  as well as threatening to bury them under the jail.  After she finished insulting and inciting the boys, she offered some Sapphic Cellblock H action to the female officer on duty.  Umm.  Sounds sexy in a vomit inducing game of "Death is Not an Option" kind of way.

The 46-year-old walked around the Grand Canyon to get her secret wish to go to the pokey because she told the cops before she vomited on herself and passed out (I would assume) that she was glad to go to jail because her husband “beats her ass” and couldn’t get to her there.  How any man could be driven to beat on such timeless radiance is beyond me.

This ray of sunshine, veritable poetry in motion, Jana Lawrence, was ultimately charged with sexual and simple battery, public indecency and drunkenness.  She remained in jail at press time.

To see the full Huffington Post article, click here.

Quote of the Day: I'm Being Treated like a Sex Object...

Quote of the Day: Lover knows more than logician

And on the 8th Day God Created the Septuagenarian Venus that is Hattie Wiener

Why do I keep hearing about that Honey Boo Boo when the real summit of beauty and grace on TLC is Hattie Wiener?  Although Hattie has been featured on 1 or 2 other TLC shows, I was only introduced to her goddessity on Sunday’s episode of “Extreme Cougar Wives”.  The show is complete crap, but sometimes you have to pick through cow dung to get to the Psilocybin mushrooms- and Hattie is a lovely, lovely trip. 

This holistic life coach and expert in anti-aging and sexuality who has authored/co-authored 3 books, is like Tallulah Bankhead, Blanche Deveraux, and Mae West all rolled into one sexy girlfriend.  Who happens to be 76.  She swims, she works out, she masturbates, and she is a straight up, unapologetic, young-dick-haver.  On the episode of “ECW” that I saw, she had 2 dates with a 29-year-old cub, and then met another young 25-year-old cat at the swimming pool!  I hope I still even know what a penis is when I am 76, let alone be active enough to still go on dates and mack on dudes.

Say what you will and hate all you want, but this woman should be celebrated.  If not for her refreshingly cavalier attitude about sex, particularly, senior sex, then for her self-awareness, self- knowledge, and self-honesty.  She has realized what path makes her happy and is following it as she enjoys her soul’s journey.  It’s not about achieving a goal or finding something at the end, it’s about making the most of the ramble.  Some might call her a spiritual slut, and she probably wouldn’t care, but we all would so much happier if we spent less time hatin’ and more time realizing what would make each of us happy and guide us to our own paths. We would do well if we all were as soulfully aware as this bar-hopping gangy who says "hell yeah" to sex on the first date. 

Hattie Wiener is my new hero.  After her divorce at 48, she built it and they came (and so did she, evidently).  I want to be her when I “sept up” (hit my 70s), and I don’t care who knows it.  She is so bad ass, she makes Betty White look like a punk.  And err’body knows that Betty White ain’t no punk.

When your last name is Wiener, whether you dig it or not, you are gonna get clowned.  When your last name is Wiener and you love dick, well, that’s the universe telling you something and you should listen.  Thankfully, Hattie did.

“With or without a partner, I’ll keep dancing.” – Hattie Wiener.

Quote of the Day: Woes of Loving a Pretty Man...

Quote of the Day: Victor Hugo & a Kiss

Thanksgiving Day Hollywood Style: Turkey, Stuffing, and a Beatdown

I know that I am not supposed to delight in men beating the crap out of each other.  Especially in front of a child- even if she was rushed away before the actual fisticuffs, she had to get a sense of the mood and that is not cute.  But when I heard that Olivier Martinez bam-bammed on Gabriel Aubry's face in Halle Berry’s driveway- something very primal came out of me.  I immediately had visions of ancient warriors, gladiators, invaders, and destroyers.  And I liked it.  I know it's the 21st century, and we should all know better than to let our fists be our words, but sometimes we forget that we are just basically animals that have shoes on and opposable thumbs. 

Something about the idea of these two beautiful men beating on each other- while screaming and arguing in French no less- was so brutally masculine and unapologetically, well, violent, that it made me feel very feminine because somewhere in the twisted, vodka soaked noodles I call a brain, there lurked a desire for two beautiful men to be fighting over me.  And what woman in her reptilian base brain, wouldn't be turned on by that?  Especially if the dude you were engaged to beat down the man who you not only kicked to the curb, but who seemed to start the whole mess.  I'm sure when Halle finally calmed down, and Olivier came back from ER with only a swollen hand and scratch marks on his neck, she probably let fly with a primordial scream that reverberated through eons of dick-hungry women, ripped his clothes clean off his body and dirty-verbed him all night long. I sure would have.  

And it's frightening, but somewhat refreshing to know that the man-cave-fight-club thing can still bring out a lusty, however brief, desire in us women when given two hot-ass opponents.  Again, I am not a proponent of  this type of violence, but for just a moment, I had to be honest with myself and admit that the idea of the clash these present day Titans was super sexy.  I will also say, though, that I believe the whole thing could’ve been made better, a whole lot sexier, and far less bloody if they had just settled it the way all good looking men should handle disputes:  Turkish Oil Wrestling (click here to read more about Turkish Oil Wrestling and see photos).

Gabriel is obviously not the brightest person in the world.  Hell, he might not be the brightest person in a room full of 3-year-olds:  You're a model and you make a good chunk of your living from your face.  Why would you risk that by going after a former boxer?!  And if this is you showing the world that you don't have rage issues, then you were obviously Valedictorian at the Lohan School of Issue Denial.  Finally, for your viewing pleasure (displeasure?): Here’s a picture TMZ.com posted of Gabriel’s now broken mug.  Frenchman 1, French Canadian 0.

Erotic Art in The City

Hey chirrun-
If you're going to be in San Francisco this weekend and your eyes want to get laid but the Folsom Street Fair isn't your bag of sex toys, check out the SF Erotic Art Exhibition 2.  The exhibit starts today, Friday, September 21st and goes through Sunday, September 23rd.  And it's HELLA cheap- $5 (you must be 21 to enter).  For more details, go to http://www.eroticartevents.com/

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Petr Jiracek

Okay.  As I stated in an earlier post, finding biographical, "National Enquirer"-er information about some of the lesser known footballers has been like trying to find Plutonium. Because of this lack of internet information, my new Euro 2012 boo, Petr Jiracek, is a mere shadowy figure in my dreams. My Czech incubus.  There is not dust on this kid on the interwebs in the form of good, juicy gossip that we girls care about.  So, I will go with the bare facts that I have learned, and then I will replay the interview that Petr and I had in my head after I obviously ingested some bath salts.  And, yes in that interview I did try to eat his face- but not in the cannibal Miami way. Kidding.  There is no interview- I am not that crazy.

This 26-year-old midfielder is a 5"11 Pisces Tiger born on 3/2/1986.  He plays for the German team Vfl Wolfsburg after signing a four and a half year deal in December 2011.  Goal.com just named him World Player of the week Monday, but I knew that on Saturday after the game in which they defeated Poland 1-0. Not only did Jiracek score the beautiful winning goal, minutes later he took a shot to the face to block a long- range Polish attempt.  Hmmm.  A dominate and a submissive? I can get on dick with that (apologies- he brings it out of me).

Please let me say that I don't think for a hot minute this dude is the best looking or best player I have seen since June 8th. He's not.  But he's a great athlete and when those crazy ass, nearly demonic eyes are stilled, as in the lead picture, I want him to lie with me in the grass looking up at the sky until we can perfect the castle in the clouds in which we are going to live forever.  Yeah, that.  There is just something about him.

When I watch him charge down the pitch-hair flying, eyes ablaze, face set in a fierce mask of steely determination- he doesn't seem so much to be chasing a ball as he seems to be leading a people.  I want to jump on a horse and charge behind him and kill anything that threatens him, then stretch along beside him and have his babies.  He brings that crazy-murderous-emboldened-frightened- I will do anything for you- but if you betray me I will do anything to you- Medea type madness.  And if I can get all that through the television, can you imagine what would happen if I met him?  I'd probably sniff his neck for an obviously and inappropriately too long amount of time, orgasm, and start crying.  I kid, bitches. Only 2 of those 3 things would happen. Seriously though, he's mad intense and I find that I love that so much-perchance because it's the opposite of me, but that's more a discussion for my Snoopy journal than this blog.

I know that when the Czechs play Portugal tomorrow many eyes will quietly sneak side glances at Crissy- no matter how much bitches claim to hate him and chant "Messi" while he's playing.  He's a pretty, pretty man- my eyes will surely be watching him too. But when I see my modern day foot warrior charge down the pitch, that's where my eyes will land and stay: on this Petr Jiracek ("Jiracek" doesn't really translate to English from the insane babble in my brain, but it basically means, "I will drag you in a cave and take you, and you will like it.") And although Portugal is heavily favored in this match, and I have thus far been unable to decide which team to scream for through the end of the tourny, I know now that I will be on my horse behind Jiracek and his men until the final whistle is blown.

Hot with a Chance of Sexy: Ibrahim Afellay

Before the Euro 2012 started, I decided that I was going to go through each of the 16 teams and pick out some of the lesser known, at least on this side of the pond, hotties.  Yeah, easier said than effin' done.  Most of the information that I saw was statistical about the players and teams, but there was little to nothing in the way of photos or good, gossipy personal information.  Sad face with thumbs down, right?  Coupling that with the fact that I am lazy as hell, I decided to let that idea go and simply watch the tourny and enjoy the beautiful games.

Although the Russia/ Czech Republic game was painful to watch Friday, and it was shocking to watch the Netherlands go down yesterday to the Danish team, I am not one to harp on the negative:  When life gives me lemons..., I am thankful the thorns have roses..., since the house is on fire I warm myself. I am a walking positive attitude platitude. Yesterday was no exception.  Instead of bemoaning that the Dutch lost, I celebrated that I noticed Ibrahim Afellay for the first time, in spite of the fact he played on the Dutch team during the 2010 World Cup and the 2008 Euro Cup.

I probably hadn't noticed this rockin' Moroccan (heritage) because I have never ordered veal in a restaurant or in my boudoir, and Ibrahim is yooouunnggg. And though I am certainly no priest, this kid looks damn good.  He's like chocolate, candy, ice cream, puffy clouds, kittens, condoms, and vodka all rolled up in a fantasy.  A footballin', younger, tad bit browner, a little more Muslim-er,  Colin Farrell.  Seriously.  You can totally see it, right? I want to read him adult bedtime stories and spike his hot chocolate with Ecstasy.  Okay, maybe I am a priest.  Or Madonna. Or Sharon Stone.

Ibrahim, "Ibi" as he's called, was born April 2, 1986, in Utrecht, Netherlands.  He was named Best Young Player in The Netherlands in 2007, and has been playing for FC Barcelona since his debut on January 5, 2011. Unfortunately, in September 2011, Afellay suffered an anterior cruciate ligament injury during training and was out for more than 7 months.

Guess that gave him some time get even closer to his girlfriend, Dorien Rose.  Rose is a Dutch model, singer, and actress who is very popular in the Netherlands.  She has been described as a "mix of Olivia Wilde and at-her-peak Angelina Jolie" (ouch!)  Go ahead, Ibrahim, with your sexy little self.