What floats your boat?

I am always amazed and intrigued by the world we live in and the people that fill it.

I am not going to go into too much detail as to how I found this, except to say it was the typical happy trail of blog to comment to blog to comment to oh my gawd!!!!

For those with a short attention span, the kinks (my typo...) are at the end of this post.

A while back I had some laughs about my testing of the disembodied Gina. Since then I have had some of the real thing and there is no comparison. Gina just does not rate when it comes to witty conversation and being a theatre buddy.

Well it seems that for some folks, a toy is not enough. They are after something a little more permanent in their lives but with none of the feeding or interaction issues you get with a living, breathing human. For these people there are life like, full size sex dolls out there.

I should not be surprised, hell what ever floats your boat right? Masturbation at it's highest level is how I think someone in the film describes it. Freaky verging on necrophilia would have been a much more succinct summary in my book.

The phrase "Only in America" came to mind right up until I heard that Australia is listed as one of the major shipping destinations for this product. Who would have thought that with all this sun, sand and sexy booty, that Australian men would need to resort to a doll? Oh well, the more nutters locked up with their inanimate friends, the more real girls for me and the boys...

Being a practical person some questions soon came to mind. The scary part was the order the questions popped into my head....The engineer in me was asking all sorts of "how" questions before the soft, human side of my brain got over the stroke like paralysis and started screaming for deeper answers about the "why".

So I have to ask, where the hell do you hide a body in your house? Murderers have been dealing with this problem by cutting them up, burying them etc. for years. Obviously if you buy one of these things that is not an option - unless that is your thing but you don't like blood.. but I digress. These things have got to be harder to hide from guests to your home than the dodgy gut busting, thigh master thingy you bought from danoz direct during that last bout of 3am channel surfing.

Maybe the answer is quite simple. If you need the doll, you don't need to hide it.

Then there is the dead root aspect. Now I have never had patience for a lady that is not getting into it during the funky stuff. I would sooner go shopping for souvenir tea towels than bang away with a non responsive chick. This would have to be worse. Sure they have erect nipples, but just because a lady is cold, does not mean you've turned her on.

Some may argue that the doll is there when and where you want it but stopping to manipulate a mannequin into a new position is not ever going to be the same as having a lover suggest something they would like. The silence would be a bummer too, after all what is sex with out giggles, screaming (stifled or window shattering) and the odd fanny fart?

Finally, after all the fucking, sucking, tweaking and fingering you can self initiate, what is sex without both the taste of a real partner and a kiss? Hollow is the word that comes to mind. Kissing is the difference between a wank and making love.

I am not even going to touch the cleaning aspect.

So, if you ever wondered who buys these things, head on over to google video and prepare to be gob smacked for about 45 minutes. If you want to keep your job, this is probably not advised as a work safe bit of viewing.

Alternately, just go to the Real Doll website and order one for Christmas. If you really want some entertaining reading, check out the letters section on their website.

Get your freak on

Anti-social freak
A mate was telling me about how he and his wife play scrabble on the Internet via fartbook. He may be in his office and she might be down stairs watching TV or making dinner. They will call to each other to hurry up or that it is their move. Sometimes they will take turns from the same laptop and will log out, pass the laptop over to the other person, login and play a move, log out....Please Shoot me if I ever do that.

Seriously, I am going to buy them the real thing for Christmas even if I have to steal it from Steph's hands!

Dance Freak
I had the pleasure of a three hour workshop with one of the worlds best west coast swing couples and they were fucking amazing. The guy was smooth as silk and the girl was like Britney when she was young and hot. It was some of the coolest dancing I have seen up close and has given me a target. I will be that good one day...

Along the same lines, I also had my first man dance that night. Sounds a little gehy I know but it was really cool and the ladies seem to really dig a couple of metro-sexual guys swinging each other around the dance floor. I got to play the boy because to be frank, I make a super fugly girl and I have no idea how to follow a lead. I am keen to learn though because it will help improve my dancing.

Still on the whole dancing thing, I also got asked by one of the teachers if I was interested in helping out with some classes as a demo dolly. This is cool for a few reasons,

1) I get to be on stage and show off my groove thang with a hot teacher. Not that I am a fame whore but I am a fame whore and it will be fun!

2) I am a late bloomer when it comes to dancing so it is recognition that I am actually getting to a good standard. I also love to teach stuff so it is a step in that direction where I can see myself going if I ever get good enough.

3) Can we all scream "free dance classes as staff!" Woooo F'n Hooo! This should probably be at number 1 because it will save me a small fortune but I am a fame whore and finding money is easier to achieve..

Adventure freak
More adventures are also afoot. At the risk of narrowing the field for you stalkers out there. I am doing that big yacht race that starts on boxing day in the town with a coat hanger and with some luck will end in a drunken mess on the shores of Hobart town.


As such I am in the middle of bits of running around in preparation as well as our final days of race training over the coming weekend.

Some smart arse once said that to train for a yacht race you just stand in a cold shower and poke $100 notes down the drain. I have to agree but because we have a few sponsors, it is mostly someone else's cash we are burning. Yipee!

I am getting really excited because this is it for ocean racing, many sailors dream of doing this race and never get the chance. 628 Nautical miles of generally bad weather, broken boats and hard racing. It is known as one of the toughest races in the world because of the high winds and steep swells in Bass Strait and the Tasman that pound the yachts on the trip south.

Blog freak
A fellow blogger, Phish, has been interrupted by some stalker so she is going private with her blog. Don't forget to send her an email to get the keys to her chastity belt...er blog. She is always good for a laugh, a cry and a spank of the monkey when she is writing smut.

Another blog thing - the ever sexy Steph and her Supertards awarded me 2nd place for saying something clever about a mate of hers in a banana suit. Here I was taking the piss about her beloved KRudd and I get a podium finish.

Kyoto freak
KRudd is off and running. Our new Pm has done the one thing the Australian public has been cringing about for years. He signed the Kyoto Protocol, leaving the USA as the only major first world country with it's head up it's bum about the reality of climate change.

Don't get me wrong, I am not in love with this guy and his party. I still suspect that for all the social change and love that people are dancing about, those same people will be crying when the wheels fall of out economy. He strikes me as a dangerous little git that i just don't trust.

The good news is that I am not so one eyed when it comes to politics to actually care what badge you are wearing. If I am proven wrong and the new guy does a good job then I will be more than happy with the result. Schools for our kids, hospitals for the sickos, our troops at home and out of harms way, economic and environmental responsibility. That is all I ask.

Your freak
So what are you folks up to in the festive season? Anyone got a cool holiday planned? Going somewhere exotic? Sitting at home playing scrabble on the net rather than talking to the person next to you? Let me know your plans so I can come and crash your party!

Reader beware...

I have been outed folks so it is time for that post...That person has been very cool but this post is for others that may follow and to spell out my own thoughts on the subject.

Blogs are interesting things, if you are reading this then you probably already have that figured out or have been pointed here by someone who stopped reading before the end of this post.

Some bloggers are just out there, you know who they are, what they, their family, their boobs and even vayjayja or pee pee looks like. Others are a little more secretive and only show their boobs, vayjayja or pee pee.

We all talk crap to anyone who will listen and often we are writing for ourself and it does not matter if nobody reads it. It is an outlet for creative and emotional guff that like a bottle floating in the ocean, grows a little island of life around it.

There seems to be two groups of bloggers out there. Those who have offended a friend or family member with a post and those that are going to.

I have often wondered what the reaction would be to some of my posts. They are drawn from real life, the names are changed to protect the guilty and in the telling, the volume is turned up to 11 to set a scene or highlight the best or worst of the action. When I write a post, I turn off the mouth/brain filter. I let the raw thoughts cascade through me and then massage them into a hopefully coherent missive on x, y or z.

The downside to that is that when you are outed, people will attach meaning and pain or joy to the words. The challenge then is how will they deal with it and how do you deal with it?

I have made the decision that for me this is like a diary. I scribble down ideas, moments in time, thoughts and feelings. It is a diary that is left open in a public place and I don't care who reads it but there is one caveat that applies to any diary.

Read it at your own risk and in this case, read it as a work of fiction.

Attaching the real names and places to the stories is dangerous in the way it is dangerous to read a private diary or the private emails of a lover. You will find out stuff you did not need to know, stuff that in knowing will change things at a personal level. Some of it will be for good, some of it will be for the worse.

If you think you know me and choose to read these words with my name attached then you have to do it knowing you may not like what I say, who I do, or just how dark the my inner monkey can be.

As for why I would allow that to happen, well I blame that on you kind folk out there. Your blogs are too funny, inspiring and good to read that I can't help sharing the love with my friends.

Having dropped the name of Miss Smack, Capitan Smack, Kitty, Fingers and Steph to a few friends it was only a matter of time before someone found me in your comments and recognized me.

I am cool with that. If I was not, it would be an invitation only blog or written in a password secured document offline.

Will I change what I write? No. You the reader have the option to turn away, choose not to read. If you think you know who I am, then you have the option to not open the diary on the dresser.

If you do read it then you must respect that here is an anonymous and fictional tale written by someone while naked and uncaring. Enjoy the stories for what they are and take the ride in the same way you would a novel or a movie - draw all the parallels you want with people you know or things in your life but do not hold those people accountable for what happened in the tale as it was told.

If you think you know me do not go running to others with news of the open diary because they to will read it out of context. Keep it as a secret for yourself. I don't need to know that you think you know my dirty secrets or that you think that you have found me.

It is not my reason for doing this. Enjoy it or leave. I don't care, I am happy. Welcome or farewell....

Budmo!

Time for me to fess up. I am not a big drinker. I like to be in control.

A few nights ago I was not in control and shit happened. Lots of naughty but cool shit. I think I need to drink more often.

A few posts back I mentioned a drinking and dancing session with some Polish and Ukrainian people. It was good fun, it was mostly under control and I came to learn that a girl there I liked the look of was actually married to a guy I did not like the look of.

Such is life.

The problem was that there seemed to be a little spark. There were times when we seemed to lock eyes across a room for just a little too long and yet when we spoke, the conversation was just a little too awkward for no good reason.

I thought I was imagining all this. Hell, she is married - to a grumpy, unhappy looking person, but married all the same. I was thinking I had been single a little too long and was starting to read more into situations than was warranted.

So here I am again a few weeks later at another event and there they are. The same couple. The same grumpy dude and the same vibrant, attractive Ukrainian girl. After a few days It was getting obvious. We just both always seemed to know where in a room the other was.

Fast forward to yet another end of event party with large amounts of alcohol to be consumed. Beer, sake and shots of mysterious liqueurs from all corners of the globe mixed with huge amounts of bullshit being talked. Then there she was. Alone.

She slid through the room like a shark and dropped down onto an already crowed couch beside me, almost ejecting another person from the other end. As we made small talk in the crowded room she lent in closer, the eye contact was intense.

Her husband was sleeping, "He does not party, as you know. I hoped you would be here." she said.

Time slid by, the room slowly spun under the influence of the mixed poisons. There were too many bodies crammed into a hotel room made for two so we escaped into the hall way. It was not much better. There were people everywhere but we had a little more room to talk without too many ears.

"I feel like you understand me, I could talk in Russian and you would know what I mean."

She was gently squeezing my pinkie finger. It was an intimate touch and loaded with intent despite the subtlety.

"You are married, this is going in a really bad direction isn't it?"

"I am not happy, that is bad, if not worse?"

Fuck it I thought. I have had a conscious for too long. People make choices and I can't be held responsible for what I know or don't know. She is stunning, her eyes are like deep and mysterious pools of dark water and in that moment I make my choice.

"Is it the drink or is this more?" she asked.

"The drink plays a part but we have been arching like a short circuit for weeks." I said.

"Yes, I felt it also. I smile when I see you. Lets walk, no?"

We made our exit to the stairwell. It was well into the morning and the party was thinning. As we walked down the stairs her hand reached out for me. I squeezed her hand softly and it bought her to a stop. I took one more step down so we were eye to eye.

There was no hesitation, we leaned in together and kissed deeply. Our hands pulled our bodies together and we embraced tightly before she gently pushed me back.

Looking back up the stairwell, her eyes were wide with excitement, her cheeks were flushed and breathing was short.

"What am I doing? How do you do this to me? What if we are found? Kiss me again."

So I did and it was great. It was forbidden fruit and for one moment only. There was no sex but it was every bit as intense and the connection as strong.

It was the answer to the question of what if the time and place were different, would it be as good as it looked from afar? The answer was a resounding yes it just might be.

Will we ever meet again? maybe in a year or so. Who knows. All I know is that I have a warm memory of her eyes and the feeling of her lips on mine that will stay with me for a long time. I feel alive and I have no regrets.

Cops are tops.

I live on a busy road. On any given day there is a metric tonne of traffic flowing past and while I sure would not want to have small kids zipping around here on bikes, I can live with the nose.

What I am struggling with are the pricks that chuck rubbish out of their cars as they drive along. Nearly every day when collecting the mail I will pick up various drink bottles, fucking MacDonalds wrappers and other assorted rubbish deposited on the verge.

Yesterday I was mowing said verge and picking up yet more crap before it got pulped in the mower. As I stood there with another handful of bottles a passenger in a car driving past tried to collect me with his donation of a MacDonalds drink cup. He missed me but put the container square in the middle of the grass with a cheer and a wave of his hand.

My first reaction was to throw something at the fucker but he was doing about 60km/h and it was all a bit futile. Then I laughed. Indeed I laughed so hard I nearly pissed myself.

A few cars behind him was a copper. As they accelerated past me the lights came on and the female officer in the passenger seat gave me a big grin and a thumbs up. The road has bit of a bend in it and I did not get to see them tag him but I went back to my mowing knowing that there was good chance his day was not going to be as good as mine.

About 40 minutes later the cops pulled up in the drive way for a chat.

They wanted to know if I wanted to take it any further, file a complaint or something because the litter was thrown towards me and at some speed. I asked them how far it had gone already.

The female officer (Cute one too!) giggled and got a dirty look from the obviously more superior and straight bloke.

It turned out that the driver was driving while disqualified. Thanks to his passenger he got a free ride to the police station and now had a court date as well as a fine for littering to deal with. I figured that was funny enough to leave it at that.

It made my day.

Go the toe.

There is nothing sexier than a pair of pants with something to say.

I am not sure if it was an early exposure to a Jane Fonda aerobics video or just growing up in the 80's where lycra and leg warmers were the go but I have been warped into an appreciation of the mumble pants and that much maligned camel toe.

For years, guys who were growers rather than showers have been resorting to the old sock in the jocks. Even most girls seem to have tried the chicken fillets to increase the boobage at some point but advertising the clam has until now been purely the pleasure of fashion victims and dependant on the ability of their snatch to gobble the cloth.

Until now.

I found this little ad that should bring a blush to any camel toe loving guy or gal.

I think I will apply to be a distributor. What do you think? Will it sell?


I think it is time to head on down to Jacksons on George to get myself a Cougar with a Cougar.

Cultural observations

I consider myself a pretty lucky guy.

I get to travel a fair bit and while it is technically work, it is really play on a grand scale.

As I type this I am sitting in a funy little internet cafe booth in Japan. The booth is about 9 feet long by 3 feet wide and has the generic Dell computer, a TV and a funny little chair that has no legs. I am sitting on the floor in my socks as is the custom.

I love Japan. It is a crazy place full of contradicion. History battling with technology, youth fighting against tradition.

While I don't speak Japanese, like many others it is a language under seige to the advance of English. Every time I come here it becomes more apparent. Even cha has beome tea. One word at a time they are loosing one of the things that makes them so different. It makes me sad but they do not see it. They are too close.

Tonight I am drunk blogging. The event I have been at is over and number of us have hit a club to have a boogie, have some Japanese water and laugh about the week passed. I am currently trying to sober up a little before going home to pack for the flight back to OZ in the morning.

The thought about language came up because the people I was hanging out with were Japanese, Polish, Hungarian and Ukranian. English was the common language between us other than pointing, waving and laughing. I wish I had a tallent for languages...

Even english is a problem right now so I think I will leave it at that. Too much sake has made my fingers and brain numb.