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On Fucking Aliens

15 Jan

(In case you didn’t catch this over at Rational Geekery – also on holiday this week, so writing is off the table)

I re-watched Star Trek the other day. Not quite the same on the TV, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.

I love the references to the old series – especially the scene where Kirk is in bed with the green chick. Anyway, this got me wondering whether I would sleep with an alien?

If the Men in Black mythology is right – that aliens already live among us in disguise – then I probably have. It’s not a case of odds (I’ve not slept with that many women), it’s just that some of them have been really weird.

I guess the question is how humanoid are the aliens? I mean, there is a reason why I don’t bonk farm animals.

Kirk’s lay in Star Trek is undeniably hot (not Vulcan hot, but still), her skin just happens to be green. So yeah, I don’t see a problem with that. I’m pretty sure I could get used to green boobies. They’re still boobies.

(Not technically an “alien”, but) What about Helena Bonham Carter’s “sexy” chimp from Planet of the Apes? Could you go with that? Me? Nah. I’m a traditionalist when it comes to body-hair. And anyway, kissing her leathery ape-face would be like sucking on a handbag. Not for me, no.

I haven’t seen Avatar, but the thought of scuttling a 7-foot tall cat-woman with a tail longer than my arm, is a bit freaky. Now I’m not ruling it out, but there would need to be beer and I’d want to agree on some firm ground rules. But, we could probably make something work.

Luckily in Star Wars, many of the Aliens look a lot like Natalie Portman and Carrie Fisher, so we’re cool. I’d make a sharp exit if I went on a blind-date with one of the Sand People though. Sparkplugs sticking out of someone’s face is just plain creepy. Finally, role play with the changeling Zam Wessell from Attack of The Clones could be loads of fun. Definitely up for some of that.

Obviously the Queen from the Aliens movie is out of the question. The whole furious giant ant/acid-blood thing is, to be honest, a bit of a turn-off. I’ll pass.

So what do we want from an alien partner?

Well certainly a biped is a good start – and arms, she’s got to have arms. That way we avoid creatures that move around using tentacles or slide along on some kind of primeval ooze. And is it too much to ask that the sexual organs don’t have teeth or squirt some sort of poisonous icky goo? Thanks.

I know others might be more liberal when it comes to body hair, but I’m saying we keep the fur to a minimum. Getting 6” long strand of Wookie hair stuck in my teeth doesn’t do anything for me (have a look).

Skin-wise I’m cool. Green? Blue? Covered in spots? It’s all cool, baby. As long as her skins is soft and not crusty, I can turn a blind-eye to a bit of exotic pigmentation.

While two eyes are best, I could deal with anything in the region of 1-4 eyes. Any more and all the blinking would put me off.

I can take or leave ears. Not a biggie. Whiskers? Meh. Not fussed. Horns are an interesting one. Small ones could be quite cute, and larger ones would double as handlebars. Handy.

So ladies (if you’re still reading…), what extra/improved appendages would you fancy in your alien shag? Maybe you’d be up for tentacles, what with all those extra erogenous zones you have all over the place. What’ll it be girls?

So all in all, I think casual intergalactic fucking could be a lot of fun. To be honest, shagging humans will probably get quite boring eventually. What with just the one vagina and no antlers. That’s probably why old people just give up.

So yeah, I can’t wait for drunken nights in an alien nightclub tapping up the local talent. C’mon NASA, where’s our interstellar sex tourism? Pull your finger out, FFS.

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Sexy times

24 Mar

The Guardian reports that pricey lingerie hawkers, Agent Provocateur, have increased sales despite our current economic clusterfuck. A surprise? Well, not really.

As Rick’s Caberet — an American strip-joint chain — proved last November with a 113% year-on-year increase in business, when times are tough, we have a habit of turning to titties.

Now if you’re an appalling rutting stag like me, it’s arguably always boobie-time. But you have to admit, while difficult times usually, in my experience at least, put women off teh nookie, stress and economic uncertainty tends to make us men even more horny.

Hell, if we can’t afford that new high-def TV or a weekly night out on the sauce, the least we can expect is a session with the Mrs., a peekaboo bra, and the lights on.

I mean, that’s free (well, sort of).

Recommended Reading: Ashamed to be English or ashamed of sex?

16 Jan

Pop over to Himmelgarten Café, where the fabulously named Costigan Quist looks at a religious conservative’s claims about promiscuous Britain.

Nice to see someone actually challenging these sorts of statements.

We do have problems in this country. We do need to do more to make sure that people take parenting more seriously. And we do face social problems because parents are overwhelmed by – or don’t take seriously – the realities of bringing up a child. But this has little to do with shagging.

It’s perfectly possible to get laid every night, with multiple partners, and then live a perfectly healthy life, with or without collecting an army of sprogs.

It’s called using protection (and I don’t mean praying every day and wearing a cross).

Also, I might add that humanists and agnostics are no more or less moral than religious people. We just don’t necessarily believe in an all-powerful space alien who hasn’t done a day’s work in over 2,000-years. Capiche?

the irregular quote of the day

19 Oct

From angry mum, Earthpal: –

Spice Girl apologists are coming out with the usual tosh such as them being healthy role models for young girls and great ambassadors of girl-empowerment, blah, blah . . . but Girl Power was nothing but a massive marketing ploy aimed at young girls to get them to spend their hard-earned pocket money (and their parents money) on all the cheesy merchandise and those bloody awful records. And they did nothing for female empowerment except to commercialise thousands and thousands of young girls and give them hollow expectations of what life is about.

I don’t know how much the tickets are going to cost. No doubt the figures will reflect their exploitative greed (and that of their manager). But do you know what? If their reunion was in aid of a respectable charity I don’t think I’d have a problem paying but when it’s just to feed their fading ego’s and their bank balances, they can bloody well whistle for it. They failed abysmally as soloists and their only motive in this reunion is gratuitous greed and a sad effort to reclaim some of their long-lost celebrity status.

For the record, I really fucking loathe Victoria “Posh-spice” Beckham. Never has someone so uniquely talentless, been so successful. I love the fact David screws around with any bit of skirt he can get alone in a room, as Posh appears to me to be the most obnoxious and precious cow on the planet (apologies if this post comes across as somewhat misogynistic, but I guess if I really cared I’d change it).

us government abstinence advert

19 Oct

via Oliver’s Blog de Nuit

sex education, nintendo stylee

17 Oct

via: Ariel Waldman

is it safe yet to carry a manbag?

4 Oct

Have you ever stopped to realise how much stuff you’re carrying around with you these days?

There was a day when all a guy carried was a few keys, some money, and maybe, if he was feeling particularly lucky, a rubber. Woman, always the carrier of useless tat, would of course have a handbag full of makeup, tissues, gloves, an address book, sanitary towels, and maybe, if she was feeling particularly lucky, some paracetamol. There used to be a definite division of the sexes.

Today, as with most things, the divisions are blurred. And the question on many people’s lips: is it now okay to carry a manbag?

Mr. Zhisou asked this very question back in January of last year (was it so long ago?).

He received short shrift from me: under no circumstances should you consider a ‘man-bag’. This blurring of the sexes is just what we should be cautioning young men about; Prada, Gucci, et al will do anything to ensnare the gentleman in their seasonal merry-go-round of leather accessories.

But I wonder if this subject shouldn’t be re-evaluated? Maybe Mr. Z was right? Should we not reconsider the usefulness of a medium sized personal carry-all for us gents?

Yesterday afternoon I was out. As the work-day hadn’t finished I had my field-equipment with me. I was carrying: –

12” Laptop
Nokia cell phone
BlackBerry
business cards
keys
iPod
camera
pens
diary
notebooks
cables

Ok, so I had a laptop, cables, and notebooks (things I wouldn’t normally carry), which are carried in a small case anyway, but even without these I still haven’t got room for everything else about my person. I only have a few pockets – and I look a proper gimp with them bulging awkwardly as I amble down the street. So how can I carry around such ‘indispensable’ things such as my BlackBerry, iPod, business cards, keys and diary without resorting to some kind of man-bag? The truth is I can’t.

The problem is, I don’t feel brave enough to carry a manbag. No way. I’m always reticent to try new fashions, this is why I still wear cords.

No I have a single choice. Do I cut out some of the gadgets, or do I brave a potential sartorial faux pas and plump for manbag?

So what can I lose?

Nokia? Probably, I only carry it because I have the matching hands free kit in the car. The business cards are a must but they’re not so big anyway. The BlackBerry is a necessity, as is the iPod (I hate waiting in queues or walking somewhere without my iPod – it’s such dead-time). I suppose I could dump the Moleskine diary and use the facility on the BlackBerry, but I so hate computerised diaries – they’re so unintuitive and slow. I could lose the camera, but I just hate seeing something that demands capture, only to be without a camera. It’s no good – I need all this stuff!

You see? I definitely need some sort of manbag – there is no other solution.

This commercialised world has finally destroyed my last drop of manliness. Anyone care for a white wine spritzer?