ultraviolet hnt

This was made with a real ultraviolet light, not one of those Photoshop options that convert regular photos. I am actually rather disappointed in the result. I thought it would turn out better than it did. But considering I took like ninety pictures trying to get just one that was half-way usable, I'm posting this out of sheer frustration.

Bit of a panic last week at Half-Nekkid Thursday. Osbasso's blog was down due to some Google/Blogger nonsense on Thursday. Thankfully it was ultimately all ironed out.

photoshop wizardry

Most manipulated fake celebrity nudes have that not-quite-right quality about them where the faces or skin tones don't quite match the bodies they're morphed with. I thought some of the fakes on this site, however, were quite well done. This is obviously someone's labor of love as opposed to a money-making endeavor. If you're intrigued by that sort of thing, do check it out.

a fascinating true spy story

I heard this story on the news last week about Eileen Nearne, a real female spy who died recently. She worked behind enemy lines for the Brits until captured and tortured by the Gestapo before being sent to slave labor camps. Rather than retell the story here, I suggest you follow the link for full and very interesting details.

I thought her life would make a fascinating movie or BBC TV drama. The Brits can do these sorts of period stories so much better than the US. The real Eileen died unmarried, so of course I wondered if she had a hot lover in France who died a hero's death and she mourned him for the rest of her life. I would have to think she was rather daring and adventurous in the bedroom, considering how brave and fearless she was behind enemy lines.

soon to be evicted

As I've written here before, we've been living for quite a few months in the house of an elderly neighbor who's now in an aged care home (what we Americans call a nursing home). She's not likely to move back to her house, but she wants someone to watch over the place and care for her ancient dog. We pay no rent in exchange for our monitoring services.

Our little cottage is right down the street. We've been renting that since we moved to Australia and have not surrendered the lease. The rent is modest and most of our stuff is there.

The place has been for sale forever, and now it's finally sold. Ownership should transfer in the next few weeks, and we can expect an eviction notice shortly thereafter. Given what the new owners paid for the place and the rental value of the cottage, they're sure to tear it down and build a much larger house, as has happened frequently in this part of the burbs.

We long knew this day was coming, so we're not surprised. We plan to put our stuff in storage and continue with our semi-permanent housesitting service because it's become like our own place now.

What's most disappointing is not that we'll be losing our lease but the fact that the sweet little cottage is sure to be torn down. It was our first home together, and the idea that it'll be bulldozed in a few minutes and tossed in a dumpster is making me a little sad.

After we get our eviction date, we plan to spend a few last nights there. Then the little cottage will have a final memory of love and lust between its beams and joists and timbers.

oprah invades australia

You've probably heard that Oprah is coming here to Australia later this year. The average Aussie doesn't seem to care one way or the other, based on what I've seen and heard. She's been described on the news here as "the television goddess" with the typical Australian accent on the second syllable of "goddess."

What is getting some press attention is citizen grumblings at the four million in tax funds being spent to bring The Goddess here. A former tourism official named John Brown made an impromptu speech imploring the public not to be "cynical about the cost."

Then he added this little bon mot: "We spent hundreds of millions of dollars over thirty years without much effect, I must say that honestly. The publicity that Oprah will bring to Australia around the world is something you couldn't buy."

Yes, we pissed away hundreds of millions, but don't you little people get your knickers in a twist at this little bit more we'll shake out of you.

I wonder if I could get tickets to see The Goddess while she's here? There can't be that many former Chicagoans living down under.

the lindsay lohan revolving door circus

Lindsay Lohan was sent to jail this week then sprung almost immediately (yet again). I guess that's what very expensive lawyering gets you, a pinstriped squadron who finds loopholes within loopholes. I have to wonder what her legal bills amount to each month.

From the sidelines, it looks like logic has taken a backseat to legal gyrations in this charade and common sense was left stranded somewhere along the roadside quite a way back. In the process, the judicial system appears more absurd and convoluted than sensible. Of course, court procedures must be followed, but the laws in question seem to be about as airtight as Swiss cheese for all the wiggle room they afford.

You'd think one of these pricey lawyers might say, "You know, Lindsay, you keep screwing up. A month or two in jail might do you good. Wake the fuck up, girl. Your life is swirling the drain." She needs interdiction, not legal wrangling that only serves to enable her.

So while what happened might be within the tiny fine print of the law, it does her utterly no good. Some hard time might get her head back on straight again. Robert Downey Jr. did close to a year in jail and he still relapsed before, finally, getting his shit together.

She's supposed to appear at some point in a biopic about Linda Lovelace, which could be very interesting. The more she screws up, however, the less likely that seems.

I seriously wonder sometimes if Lindsay will ever make it to thirty.

a new threshold for horrible

You will have to click these pictures to see them full sized in order to examine the tattoos. That way, I think you'll understand why I titled this "a new threshold for horrible."

I don't understand what kind of man wants permanent memorials to other men's cocks on his body. I suspect they might be some sort of tribute to his woman, because these were posted on an Xpeeps page that included shots of her getting gangbanged. His face is obscured in all images while hers is not, so that little subtext leads me to wonder if they're still a couple.

I should add a little coda that she seems to be game for pretty much anything, based on the photos posted. If you're wondering how far, perhaps the most decorous thing I can say is "dirty Sanchez." I don't feel so bad now about my nude pictures that a former boyfriend plastered all over the Internet -- at least I didn't completely abandon all dignity.

God Bless America, where people are free to do most anything inane.

forgotten hnt

I had intended for this to be a Half-Nekkid Thursday submission a year or so ago but then forgot to use it here. I think I posted it on my Tumblr, however. I think the reason I sat on it was because of ambivalence, not certain if I liked it or not. Well, better late than never.

say hello to breast fetishism

What man does not love boobs? They may not be their favorite part of a woman's body, but they still like 'em. They love to play with them any time they can, from the fleeting touch to the full-on boobie massage during headboard-thumping sex.

Boobies are the training wheels of sex for many adolescent males, often the first part of the hidden female anatomy they will first glimpse and possibly touch during their formative years. And we girls learned very early on the key to the door of power is your breasts. If you help me with my algebra homework, I'll let you put your hand inside my sweater.

If you're male and you like titties (show of hands who doesn't), then you might find the website Hi Boobs of interest, particularly if you prefer your mammaries in the more commodious range. One particularly notable aspect of the site are the bra-size tags -- if you're in a hurry and need to see 40DD or 38DDD right now, then it's like the express lane to bazoom nirvana.

fantastic music video

I absolutely totally love this video, which just went online Sunday. I didn't see any edit points, which makes it all the more impressive. I hope you enjoy it, too.

is anyone actually that gullible?

I'm sure you've seen these ads. You're visiting a webpage and they flash incessantly, trying to induce an epileptic fit. Does anyone actually believe this, that they're really the 100,000th visitor?

I hate this kind of crap as well as annoying popup ads that somehow manage to evade popup blockers. I would never buy anything from a company that stooped to tactics like this. The same for spammers. Spam me and I'll never, ever buy from you.

But to answer my own question, I guess people still are that gullible. After all, some folks still believe Nigerian email scams.

not the brightest pornstar

This behind-the-scenes glimpse of a pornshoot is unintentionally funny. The brunette is not the sharpest knife in the drawer and might have difficulty outwitting a bag of socks. I've seen her in gonzo films where she pretty much allows herself to be used like a human punching bag and toilet. Now I understand why.

paparazzi silliness

Earlier this week I stumbled on photos featuring Angelina Jolie -- hold on for the excitement -- arriving at the airport! And then the thrills continued when she later changed planes!

With unimportant stuff like wars, famine, floods, and economic meltdowns, I'm glad this really critical news about Angelina received the attention it deserved.

A recent interview with actor Jon Hamm is germane on this topic. He said: "I'm old, I'm boring. I usually just duck the paparazzi. It's literally someone waiting for you to pick your nose or scratch yourself. I'm sorry, I scratched my balls -- who doesn't do that? You're really going to run that story? What the fuck?! Everyone has picked their nose at one point in their life too."

I'm too shocking for google

You've probably heard by now about "Google Instant Search" which begins suggesting topics as soon as you type a few letters in their search box. Type "d" and things like "dictionary" and "Disney" are suggested. The more you type, the more specific the suggestions.

Except.

Type "puss" and nothing happens. Same if you type "fuc" or "orgas." Yet some words you can type completely, like "dong" or "tit" or "virgin."

So I started typing "hypersexu..." to see what would happen. You can get all the way to "hypersexual" and it will still suggest topics like "hypersexuality in women" and "hypersexuality treatment."

But as soon as you add a "G" to "hypersexual" for "hypersexualg" and Google Instant Search stops again.

I guess that means some geek at Google knows if you type that, you'll end up at my blog or my Tumblr. And we can't have that, can we?

Does this mean I'm famous? Or infamous?

baby's got new shoes hnt

I had to wear these for a shoot and was given them as part of my fee. They were pretty pricey but I think they're somewhat dangerous and aren't particularly comfortable. I do like how they look, however. The Husband really likes how they look.

flu sex

A few days ago I picked up a flu from somewhere. I'm largely over it now, but while it ran its course, I had a low-grade fever, felt achy, and fought the sniffles. It's the first time I've come down with a bug in several years, so I can't complain.

As usually happens when I'm ill like this, I get extra horny. I had no energy but, at the same time, I was pretty much completely insatiable. The downer to all this was, as has happened before when sick, I have a difficult time reaching an orgasm. So I end up like a limp rag doll who can't get enough but I can't get off. It's like being trapped in sexual purgatory.

fatter men enjoy longer sex

A new scientific study reports that out-of-shape men last longer in bed when compared to gym studs with low body fat, while the latter group are more prone to premature ejaculation.

According to the researchers who conducted the study, men with excess body fat develop more female sex hormones called oestradiol that help them last longer during sex. In contrast, fitter men with lower body mass index scores were more prone to blow their wad too fast. You can read more about the study here (and the comments to the article are quite amusing).

Now I've never conducted any scientific studies on this, but having slept with quite a few men, I will note that the ones who shot their loads pretty fast were usually in great shape. That's not to say, however, that all physically fit men have hair-triggers. I've also found that men with commendable cum control are very fit, including the one I married.

I also have to wonder if this study surveyed too small of a population. And, they apparently only questioned men in one country. As well, too much weight leads to other health issues. So it's a glass half-full, half-empty situation.

their honeymoon

My good friend Bee back in the States, who frequently writes witty comments to my posts, is getting married soon. The ceremony will be quite simple with only a few friends and family attending in a friend's home followed by a small party. The whole event will probably not set them back much more than $100.

They're taking a rather long and somewhat pricey honeymoon, however -- two months in New Zealand and Australia. Neither she nor her future husband Mark have ever been down here.

To save on costs, for part of their trip, they'll stay with us (actually in our tiny rented cottage while we continue longterm housesitting for our elderly neighbor a few doors down). So we'll be seeing a good bit of each other for several weeks while they're in Sydney. I'm very excited because I haven't seen Bee since I left Las Vegas.

Several of her friends and family, however, think it's odd they'll be staying with and visiting friends. A honeymoon should just be about the two of them, they're told.

Quite frankly, I think it's entirely up to a bride and groom what they want to do on their own honeymoon. If they want to go on a safari or work in a soup kitchen or herd cattle, that's their choice. It's not like the "old days" when newly married couples were trying out the whole sex thing on the honeymoon. Bee and Mark have been living together for quite a long time, so they don't necessarily have any ground to break. It's their honeymoon and they're more than welcome here.

Why do some people insist they need to mind other people's business?

blog anniversary & birthday

Today is the second anniversary of this blog and also my twenty-fifth birthday. When I started this, I honestly didn't think I would end up blogging this long, but I'm glad I did and will continue steaming ahead. I've managed a new post every day -- 730 so far.

I was reading over some of my earliest entries the other night. I think the me at twenty-three would be surprised and amazed (in a good way) at the me at twenty-five. I've changed quite a lot. I don't know if this blog has conveyed that, or if it was even necessary to do so, but I feel I have. I like the person I have become.

I am truly happy now, something I never really experienced before meeting and marrying my one true love. Not that I was unhappy, but the glass is much fuller now. I think love has really helped me grow in so many ways. It lifts me up while at the same time keeping my feet firmly on the ground.

And as of today, I will be closer to thirty than to twenty. That's a little scary. I remember my tenth birthday well. At that same distance of time stands my fortieth birthday. I can't even imagine myself then. I hope I am even happier than I am now.

driving while blonde

You may have seen something like this before, a compendium of real-life "dumb blonde" moments. Some of them are obviously faked, while the obviously real ones are the funniest. Hopefully this will bring a smile to your face, too.

The one below is my favorite. She's just wrecked the car spectacularly, but she still has her priorities in line and blithely tidies up her hair.

the stripper & the swindler

I've been reading about Kenneth Starr, accountant and financial manager to many celebrities. He now sits in jail, unable to make bail, for allegedly swindling millions from his clients. (Although the names are the same, he's no relation to the famous prosecutor.)

His fourth wife has been variously described as a pole dancer, stripper, and exotic dancer. There is considerable speculation in the press that his purported crimes were fueled by his desire to shower his trophy wife with bling.

In all honesty, the woman doesn't sound like the sharpest knife in the drawer. For example, she actually believed that pole dancing could evolve into a competitive Olympic event if promoted properly, an idea put into her head by her husband.

For her part, she seems to have been wowed by the cash he spread around while wooing her and while still married to his third wife. (You can see a picture of her and her rack here.)

I was regularly amused when I was dancing at how many of my coworkers were so easily lured by sugar daddies with a bankroll. Money topped looks, personality, charm, access, power, you name it. If he had cash, it didn't matter that he looked like beef jerky with a bad combover.

sunburn hnt

We had beautiful weather this past weekend with highs in the seventies. Spring is definitely in the air, although it won't begin officially until later in September, the same time the Northern Hemisphere changes to fall. I sat a little too long in the sun, as you can see, and fried myself a bit. No peeling fortunately. I get so pale in the winter months, but by summer I should be more bronzed.

tediosity

The good news is that I've been getting a lot more modeling work lately. The bad news is I've been getting a lot more modeling work lately.

I've primarily been doing commercial modeling at trade shows, which is the very definition of tediosity. You're basically a glorified piece of set decoration standing around smiling and gesturing at some vehicle or industrial product.

The idea is that if the manufacturer plops an example of their new server or turbine or whatever at the trade show by itself on a rotating platform, nobody will give a shit. But if you put a piece of ass next to it, smiling at the thing like she just got the fuck of her life from it, well then you'll get some traffic.

Smiling for eight hours like a bubble-brained moron while standing next to the new model X217-J and rubbing your hand back and forth lovingly on its cold metallic surface over and over again ad infinitum gets old real fast.

There are moments of humor, however. I did a trade show recently for industrial heating and cooling products and was posed next to some kind of very expensive emergency generator that cost like a half million. I had only the vaguest idea what the thing did, but that didn't stop men from asking me the most complex technical questions about its specifications. Apparently they thought I had a PhD in engineering and had made the thing all by myself in my garage.

The worst was the auto show. Men were far more interested in the vehicles and asked me to move out of the way so they could take pictures of the car.

orgasmic aftershock

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

underwater porn

This porn site IMHO seems like it's targeting too small a niche market to survive: underwater porn.

Tthis just seems inherently unerotic to me. The whole intimate tactile vibe of sex would be lost with people drifting around underwater. All of the fun of sex would be missing. Imagine gasping in the moment of climax and accidentally gulping a huge mouthful of water.

I wondered how often they came up for air, but my professional diver husband explained they're brought oxygen regularly on a hose by assistants out of camera range. It's a very old trick dating back many decades to live faux mermaid performances at water parks.

the anonymous stallion

I've been saving up the reader photos some of you guys have sent to me for a future post. This one, however, couldn't wait.

He insists it's really him, but he refuses to give me even his first name. Quite frankly, I don't know how I'm supposed to react to this.

I wonder if he's into pony girls.

the art of farting (or not)

The always-thoughtful David over at The Rest Is Still Unwritten posted a meditative (literally) entry recently on the joys of farting, primarily by the male species. When noting that flatulence is always hilarious for men, he adds "for whatever reason, most women don’t seem to share that same sense of juvenile humor."

Yes, you are correct. Funny does not trump stinky.

The way I see it, boys fart in the company of women, while men do amongst their gender but not amongst women. As for me, I have always preferred the company of men as opposed to boys.

My husband may scratch his balls and burp and sniff his armpits in front of me, but he never farts in my presence. For that I am thankful. In our two years together, I haven't been in his presence more than three or four times when he let out with a fart, and that was when he just had surgery and thus a valid excuse.

The most egregious place I believe for a man to fart is in the bedroom. I don't mean the accidental toot during sex. I mean the too lazy to give a shit variety before sex has commenced. Nothing kills romantic chemistry more than when he lets out a foghorn blast with the odoriferous qualities of a New Jersey landful on a muggy August day.

(After writing this my husband reminded me that I wrote a post on the same subject early last year which I'd completely forgotten. Obviously he's been paying attention!)

strippers in the news

This is a development since I left Vegas and the exotic entertainment business: strippermobiles. While they're called that, they're really more just dancermobiles because the girls simply prance around in bikinis and never show all the goods.

I imagine these are fairly new girls, too, as the club wouldn't waste one who generated good tips on stage, because of course the house always gets a cut.

I would not want this detail. You're creating a dangerous distraction while dancing in a giant fishbowl balanced on the back of a glorified pickup truck. Some horny bozo gets so excited gawking he plows into the side of your strippermobile, and the EMTs have to scrape you off that glass like a bug on a windshield.

food court hnt

I was at a food court recently waiting for my husband and reading a book to kill time. One table across and down, several teenage boys were becoming increasingly loud and rowdy. After several customers complained to no avail, I thought an "accidentally on purpose" flash might shut them up.

So I turned my chair a bit -- it was one of those bolted-down swivel jobs -- and gave them a full-on glimpse while never taking my face out of my book. It took about ten minutes to get one of the crew's attention, but once that happened, they hushed up pretty quickly. The only noise they made was muffled whispering and snickering. To make sure they continued to keep quiet, I shifted my legs every few minutes and occasionally scratched the inside of my thigh.

The husband arrived a little later and captured the event for posterity after the boys lift. I never let my audience know I knew they were watching.

your inner seedling

When you were a child, did you ever wonder if a seed could grow inside you? And did a parent, teacher, or some other adult tell you that was impossible? I know it certainly happened to me.

In reality, however, those seeds really can grow into plants inside your body if they end up in your lung.

Here's a man in New England who had a pea plant growing in his body.

Then there's the baby in China who had grass growing inside her.

And the man in Russia who had a fir tree growing in his lung.

I swallowed some orange seeds the other day, but I think I'm safe.