I'm lovin' it.

The scene:
A trio of uniformed, brunette schoolgirls at a downtown McDonald's.

Girl #1: Look at all this waste! This is, like, so many trees.

Girl #2: You know where else you can find a lot of wood, dontya?

Girl #3: (giggles) Gym!

Girl #2: (giggles) I love it when guys say, "Knock on wood!"

Girl #1: All the guys I hang out with...

Girl #2: ...are dirty.

(giggles)

Girl #1: No, it's, like, everything I say, they say it right back, like...

Girl #2: ... but dirty!

Girl #3: Knock on wood!

Birthday wishes to a brave one.

Thanks to her Twitter, where she often shares pleasant tidbits about her wee kidlet, her interesting diet, and what new projects she's working on, I learned that it's adult entrepreneur Belladonna's 28th birthday today. I'm not usually one to be a celebrity-follower (porn or otherwise), but her work and attitude a have long been a favourite between Shayne and me for a good while.

Not only because she's gorgeous, she's hot, and she's articulate. No dummy, Belladonna found a way to persevere when her career choice was rocked by HSV2. I can't help but admire someone who has so adapted-and-overcame in both her personal and professional efforts.

You go, grrl. Happy birthday.

Oh, those wacky Brits.

In Canada, we're just coming down from the Victoria Day holiday, when our summer barbecues begin and the drinking hijinx are supposed to remind us that it's Queen Victoria's birthday.

Sexual regimentation was fundamental to social order during the Victorian dynasty, with sexual impulses (of women in particular) subjected to the strictest of controls, analysis, and barriers, most being rooted in misogynistic (or at least, ill-informed) suppositions. Great stuff for modern bondage fantasy, but I'd expect that being subjected to the public judgment of your neighbours wouldn't be all that much fun in 'real life.'

But this 2009, you say, not 1869. We don't have to worry about such things. Right?

Ask Caroline Cartwright.

There's a nifty little statute in Britain, the Anti-Social Behaviour Order, which gives the public certain powers when they're riled up about the goings-on in the neighborhood. Abandon your car on someone's property, and you're a fine candidate to be subjected with an ASBO. You and your skinhead buddies shout slurs to the Turkish people across the street, and you're a candidate for an ASBO. Spraypaint your tag on the post office, repeatedly harass that redhead, commit some obviously anti-social or abusive public behaviour, and you get slapped with an ASBO.

A "personalized criminal law," the ASBO enables citizens to file a legal complaint to "protect persons from anti-social acts," and it's no small feat to get one through the courts. First, the applicant must demonstrate that the defendant has "committed acts causing or likely to cause harassment, alarm or distress" and convince the court that only an ASBO will solve the problem. Hearsay is admissable evidence.

The defendant is then instructed to desist in the 'harassing, alarming, and distressing' behaviour. Breaching this order then changes the circustance from a civil matter to a criminal one, then to be tried in criminal court, and with criminal penalties (e.g., prison).

Did Caroline repeatedly kick the dogs in her area? Is she a vandal, a thief, an abuser? Does she threaten people, toss her trash out in the street, or shoot passers-by with a slingshot from her kitchen window? Nah.

Caroline's neighbours have subjected her to an ASBO because, well, she has great sex. In fact, she has such great sex that she screams and howls and cries out for more, shaking her bedframe with a thunder, rattling windows, heard far and wide. Poor Widow Tuffle can't bear to take her poodle out for walkies. The vicar can barely hear his own sermons on Sunday morning. The Johnson twins were perfectly scandalized during their game of hopscotch. It was awful.

Her neighbours were not, shall we say, enjoying it.

Leave it to the British to really appreciate Victorian values, despite being regarded by some as one of the most sex-positive nations in Europe. Identity crisis, anyone?

Naturally, in time, she violated the terms of her ASBO. After all, she had essentially been ordered by the court to stop having loud sex. Did she try to calm down? Probably. (And, please, no jokes about
gag orders.) But the woman may be potentially facing jail time because of how loudly she cums.

"But I can't help it," she pleaded.

Me, I'd love to see the looks that her husband must be getting from the women he passes on the street. Dude's got game!

Canadian Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau once famously commented that "the state has no business in the bedrooms of the nation." Perhaps the Cartwrights should seek asylum in Ottawa.

Frak.

Yes, yes, I know, I know... I'm a little slow on the uptake and I'm way behind in my share of obligatory teevee watching. Whatev.

But I'm actually just getting around to being riveted by the new Battlestar Galactica series (via DVD) for, like, the first time. I won't confirm nor deny that I grew up on the original series... coughcough... but, yeah, I've become really into it... But my local DVD haven hasn't had the goddamn 2nd series discs in for weeks. Then they got them, I was called for them, I procrastinated, and when I finally got to the store they were gone again.

Now I'm convinced that it's because of the hot scene that's supposed to be (you would know, I expect...) between Starbuck and Anders. All my friends told me I'd fall in love with Katee Sackhoff, and dammit, they were right. Even if she did grow her hair longer.

Yes, yes, I know, I know... I'm totally behind the times. Leave me alone in my shame, ok?

Craigslist courtesans of Toronto.

That being said...






... so there.

To serve and... protect?

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Banana Blowjobs and other May games.

I just couldn't resist sharing the picture below, but it comes with a story.

In the previous post, I mention a May Day party I had hosted in the past where bawdy games were part of the day's events, including simulated oral sex with bananas or Twinkies. Women demonstrated their skills as the guys held the peeled fruit at waist level, and the boys would tease the filling out of a halved Twinkie (without breaking it) as thier playpartner held the treat before them, often between splayed legs. Yes, it was fun.

Another game we enjoyed was "genital croquet," where players would insert a cue ball into one leg to a pair of pantyhose, use the other leg to tie it all around their waist, and allow the weighted leg to hang downward from their crotch. Players would then sway their hips to get the cue ball to hit other balls on a grass field and into the goal hoops.

A more sensual game included a basket I devised that contained small scrolls of coloured paper: white, pink, orange, and red. Each scroll bore instructions that the receiver was expected to bring to the person of their choice, gain consent to share it, and then engage in the activity written. White scrolls were kept away from the others and were for minors (because, believe it or not, these were family-friendly events) and might simply state Go give your parents a hug. The colours for the others revealed increasing levels of "hotness," with pink perhaps instructing Take your partner to the willow tree and read a poem aloud from the book you'll find there or orange instructing Bring your mouth to your partner's ear and share something about him/her that arouses you. Red scrolls would instruct to discretely... well, you get the idea. wink

This was all part of a way to express sacredness in playfulness, romance, and consensual sexuality. But, like Banana Blowjobs, it was also saucy good fun among saucy good people.