¿Es sobre?

She makes abstinence sexy.

Toronto radio personality Fearless Fred recently featured Claire Brosseau on air to speak about her new project to entirely give up on sex with men for one year. The "boy crazy" early30s Toronto comic and actor is sharing her experience in the blog, The One-Year Manbbatical.

Until May 2011, she plans to restrict herself to "no sex, kissing, flirty texts or emails or conversations of any kind, dates (including lunch and coffee), handholding, pictures, suggestive status updates or tweets. No looking at dudes' websites, Facebook or Twitter page more than once per day, inviting boys to (her) shows or going to theirs, or making any decisions based on dudes (including gigs, outings, number of drinks consumed once realizing said boys are in the same location."

But, as she said during her interview, "man-shaped objects" are still ok, as her newfound path has been more about reducing attempts at finding love than sex alone. "If I have an afternoon of flicking my bean, lovely flicking my bean, say with a lovely battery-operated object, I want to go out and pick up dude, so if I refrain from that, I'm slightly more composed. I can watch porn, and though I find porn very romantic, it hasn't been interfering. My porn habits have not been interfering with my manbbatical."

You have to love a woman who talks about flicking her bean on the radio, regardless of the circumstances. But not that I'm waiting to see her trip up (I think what she's doing, and how she's doing it, is interesting), but the newly-abstaining darling has already tweeted, "say what you want about lebron james. i'd still make sweet, sweet love to him."

You'll find Claire's updates on the blogroll posted here.

She likes weenies.

She's away on vacation. I'll be joining her in about a week.

Me: Whatcha doin?

Kara: Off to a weenie roast! :)

Me: Nice! Wanna roast my weenie? ;)

Kara: Uh... Do you WANT me to roast your weenie? :o ;)

Me: All you gotta do is drop those pants, bend over, reach behind and open up, babe. You'll roast one juuuust fine. Smokin! ;)

Kara: Ooooh! That might be more of a slow boil, but I'm good with that!! ;)

Me: With relish...

Let's make a deal.

Jesus. There are times when I'm so fucking bad.

Given the chance, the right amount of caffeine in my system, and how tired I am, my imagination takes my brain on sudden whirlwinds from time to time. I roll my eyes to myself, I smirk, I'll chuckle on the streetcar, and people look at me like I'm crazy.

But it's just so fun.

Lately, I'm trying to sell some antiques that I've acquired over the years, and have been making a lot of postings on CL. Some of the pieces are artifacts from when The Grrl was with me, and so parting with them would be healthy for my psyche. Some are simply things I just don't have the space or dire need for. Other things are echoes, physical noise from my past.

I had a pair of antique window frames that I rescued from a house renovation, for example. I intended on replacing the glass with either stained glass work or mirrors, but the damned things just sat in my storage unit for ever and ever.

A CL posting later, and someone whom I thought was a male with a uniquely Slavic name was heading over to buy them for three times my asking price. kaching! I open the front door, and "Virve the artist" turns out to be this statuesque Nordic blonde who looks as though she's previously won biathalon gold. I must have looked somewhere between cute and ridiculous when my jaw dropped and my eyes fluttered. Leading her into the garage, where I was holding the frames, my cock twitched under my jeans as she stood directly under a crossbeam.

"Oh, ja. Just relax, meinem frau. Raise your arms over your pretty head. No, no, don't be afraid, these ropes won't cut into your wrists, won't hurt a bit, I promise. See? I'm not feeling a thing! Now, how effectively might these scissors remove the tight denim covering your lovely, butch bottom, mm? ...Sehr gut...

I'm selling a wooden dresser. It's worn, but with the right TLC would be a very solid piece for someone. An office worker named Tina responds, and she's haggling over my dirtcheap price right away. I cave. She sends another email now that she's seen a very swish dining table I'm also offering (the very one that Molly sucked my cock beside and squirted her grrlcum under two years ago) and is haggling with me over email for both pieces. I like her spunk (Tina's, not Molly's. ...ok, I like Molly's too...), but she's undercutting me way too low.

"You sure you can't take just $60 for them both, mister?," she asks. "Your price is really fair, like, but it's just that I can't afford to spend that... and it really is a great table..."

She glances over her shoulder and reaches for my crotch gently, leading me into the storage unit. She turns on the timed light and it cliks loudly as she lowers the aluminum door behind us. She bites her lower lip as she kisses me.

"I really like the table..." She drops to her knees and unzips me slowly.

Yeah. I chuckle to myself.

I continue haggling with CL responses when, speak of the devil's mistress, a message from Molly herself appears on my Facebook. Talk about serendipity.

She's interested in some books I'm culling, but making it to the storage unit to pick her choices is a small hassle for her. No crisis.

Now, I know for a fact that Molly, God love the sexy fandom geek she is, isn't exactly swimming in cash. She's been rebuilding her world, and more power to her. Sure, the books'll be cheap... but my brain had already been in the gutter. Shameless, sarcastic me. I caught myself smirking again when, you betcha, part of my naughty, laughing head pondered poor, happily-submitting Molly sucking me for garage sale reading material.

"I just happen to love cock," she told me once, her wet lips slurping around my shaft after dinner. "And yours is attached to a particularly nice guy."

I can just picture it now...

"Oh! Mercedes Lackey! Piers Anthony!" likk Oh! Anne McCaffrey! Douglas Adams! sssuk Oh cool! A Laurel K. Hamilton I haven't read ssstroke Hey! The complete Marion Zimmer Bradley! mmmbub mmmbub Mmmm.. nice.... Oh! A limited edition series of Anne Rice?! mmf mmmf slrrrp! Oh... oh my God! A hardcover, limited, gold-embossed, fucking fiftieth anniversary edition of The Hobbit! mMMmmmm mmmlp mulp mmmf mmmph Mm MmMMMMmmmm...

I wonder. What would she do for some out-of-print Michael Moorcock? Hardbound? With, you know, a thick and sturdy embossed spine?

The ironic and funny thing is, kidding aside, I would be surprised if Molly wouldn't enjoy sucking my cock again, books or no books. She keeps inviting me to the local polyamory social events. Maybe one of these days I won't be too busy to go.

And maybe I'll have some Andre Norton in my pocket. You know, just in case.

In the happy countercultural house near the park.

I nearly panicked. A backhoe has been parked in front of the house, and as I looked down from the bedroom window, I heard a cluster of people talking around the glorious tree in the front yard. Was the city taking our fucking tree down?

False alarm, it turned out, but not before I texted Serene downstairs. She's been in this pad the longest, and between that and her (excellent) no-nonsense attitude, I appreciate her gentle but self-sustained role as resident quasi-matriarch and delegatrix. Sometimes we switch between playing Good Cop and Bad Cop when dealing with the maintenance crew. But I digress.

Earlier, as I sipped my tea in the quiet morning, I smirked to myself as I faintly heard Serene and her lover, the always-laughing black Becka, enjoying themselves beneath me. Serene has unapologetically told me before about how loud she gets when she cums, and between her and Lacey with her lover, I enjoy some audio entertainment on occasion.

You see, I live in a house full of lesbians. Sucks to be me, huh?

I'm on top. Serene and Lacey are below me with Becka as a regular visitor, but come next month, Lacey and her airline attendant fiancee Pamela will be taking the space on the main floor. They'll be replacing the breathtakingly delicious, shorthaired Sam, who has been the cunt-throb (ok, and cock-throb) of the house. A new woman, a spritely little pixiechik whose personality I have yet to learn, will be replacing Lacey as Serene's housemate. Confused yet? Add to that that sexy, outdoorsy Australian Lacey also happens to be Serene's ex-lover.

Me: No, wait, I'm mistaken. Our tree is fine.

Serene: I was just getting dressed to come investigate. Ok.

Me: You mean I missed out on seeing you dash outside in your Wonder Woman underoos? Dammit! ;)

Serene: LOL! Indeed you did. I have been known to go out in just my robe many times. I wonder what the neighbours think. Don't care tho! :)

Me: *winking shrug*

Serene: Did you just feel the house shake?

Me: That good, huh? ;)

Serene: :D

Softly breathless.

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Happy Canada Day.