Dining out in LA

American boys seem to love the gash. Really. And it's not just....

What I just deleted was a lackluster segue into the fact that I've been eaten out by more Americans in three months than I have in my entire 10 year sexual history back on Aussie shores.

Whether or not it's the ever increasing influence of porn, every guy here who I've ever talked to/dated/casually bumped into in a bar is more than willing to go down on a girl. In fact, they seem to make it their duty to really get a taste for every girl their luck should find has stumbled into their boudoir (read, any girl who has been miraculously persuaded into getting naked in their roach infested NoHo studio apartment). To make another sweeping generalization, they're even pretty good at it. They seem to know the basics and, more importantly, take their time to get it right. Must be all the girl on girl porn they've got artistically cluttering their living areas. "Lesbo Rama"? Entertaining and educational.

This..... This has been a very pleasant surprise. To me at least. Aussie boys seem to see eating pussy as kind of, well.... "gay". Which is of course, the most hilarious irony. Things that paranoid heterosexual men find "gay" is an odd & infinitely confusing list that frankly, we're not going to go into. Partly because I'm not a dude, partly because this is about pussy - something I'm actually qualified to talk about.

That said maybe it's an LA thing - I've met more skinny, slightly effeminate, 'artistic' boys with stupid hair than I ever thought possible. Dudes with scarves. Guys who actually read Cosmo, not just use it as last resort jerk off fodder. Note to self - Stop screwing skinny dudes. Put some padding on that shit. Eat a burger. My newly bruise-free pelvic/hip bones will thank you.

Back to the point. Maybe I've been lucky & am just meeting consistently considerate dudes who really, truly enjoy a mouthful of pussy & making their partner a very, very happy girl. And while I'm the last person to expect such treatment, see the intro for proof, it's great when I'm the one getting a blowjob in the parking lot after a show. But if by chance that's your face down there you can be damn sure I'll be returning the favour - and more - when it comes to my turn.

So, guys, I love it when you're a whore for my attention. It's like a compliment with a bonus orgasm. Everybody likes compliments. Everybody likes orgasms.


Me, I fucking love LA.

Girls who like boys who like boys

How do I begin to explain the strange attraction heterosexual women have with homosexual pornography..... more specifically male homosexual porn?

Gay dudes going at it? That's hot. But of course, with us feminine folk being like snowflakes with personality disorders, no two of us are exactly the same. Not all women are open to the idea of watching two men in studio lit, overproduced throws of of manual/oral/anal pleasure but you'd be surprised at the amount of them who would be curious to see/read/imagine how it's done.

Slash. No, not the Gunner's guitarist. If you don't know what slash fiction is you've obviously been ferreting 8-tracks away under a rock somewhere. Slash is a variation of another one of those new-fangled, and slightly stalkerish, internet developments - fan fiction. But with dudes. Naked dudes. You're starting to get the point right?

Turns out a predicted 80% of 'slash' authors are women. Straight women. Possibly even family members. Writing about how Marcus is about to enter Michael's puckered entrance with his throbbing manhood & blow a thick creamy load, all the while giving a courteous reach around.

I didn't say it was any good. It's like that wet patch on your bedsheets at 3am - you try to ignore it but there's no denying it still exists. And an increasing number of women seem to love it.

I'll admit, I'm not really into sleeping with my fellow women. I like women, I admire them, their softness, sensuality, excetera excetera. I'd probably have to take a few minutes to consider the situation if the opportunity to sleep with another woman arose. No doubt I'd think it over. Hell, I'd probably do it just because I'm a curious kind of girl. But in all honesty I don't really have a burning, all consuming desire to go fingerbang that hot waitress who works in the cafe a few blocks over. When it comes down to business I like dick & the only pussy I'm interested in is my own. Yet watching two dudes have at it? That's hot. Like steamy, "oh-no-he-just-didn't" forbidden fruit kind of cliche-ness that gets (some) girls all flushed & bothered.

I can't talk for men on the issue - I'm not one after all - but from what I understand, lesbians - or rather young, supple, pnematically altered play-lesbians - are the thing of wet dreams. And I get it. Guys see two hot girls going at it & he in all his testostorone laden glory, thinks it's a great possibility that he can saunter in & offer to give them a hand - or a penis - and the offer will be accepted with gusto. Two is better than one isn't it? Yet mention two boys fooling around a little & the vast majority of straight dudes are going to totally freak the fuck out. Turns out they're really, really insecure when it comes to the vague suggestion, imagined or otherwise, of another guy mining their pudding stash.

Maybe that's why we like boy on boy - because it so obviously freaks 'straight' men out. Same reason it's always funny when another guy hits on your boyfriend. Maybe it's because our soft pink parts are clearly not needed in a M/M situation - it's kind of like a holiday for your vagina. Maybe it's just because everyone is a little curious as to what everyone else is doing/how they're doing it. Either way, real, non-fictionalized man-loving men don't give a fuck. They're all too busy nailing cute WeHo bartenders.

Pineapple blowjobs

I read a lot of... stuff online. I'm like some sort of compulsive reader - for example in the last week I have read the entire history & character backgrounds for both the Mortal Kombat game series & the X-Men universe. I like comics. Sue me.

However mostly I find I read about sex. Because I like sex. A lot. It's fun, I like having it, like writing about it. And I like learning new things. Sex combines a lot of things I like (especially if you're an adventurous soul like myself) - bottom line, it's fun and can quite often be educational.

Hence the reason I have Semenex bookmarked. Partly for the curiousity value, partly because I find the premise absolutely fucking hilarious.

"Anciently, semen was revered as the magical "Elixir Vitae," offering healing and rejuvenation to the adoring female devotees who drank regularly from the male "fountain."

Today, sex research has proved that healthy semen actually possesses "as-yet unknown properties" that provide females with truly "wonderful health benefits."

Note they only mention female devotees. What about those stereotypically fashion conscious young men who like a little male fountain action? Are they apparently doomed to miss out on these afformentioned 'wonderful health benefits'? Apparently they're a little homophobic over at Semenex. Either that or they've really overlooked a major portion of the dick sucking demographic.

I particularly like the 'scientific research' that states semen has some kind of depression busting organism that instantly makes women feel terrifically happy to have a mouth full of nice, warm jizz. That's a therapy method that might be a little hard to sell to the general public.

Now what I find most curious is the fact that none of our Semenex friends seem to be able to pin down an actual flavour. Pineapple, banana, strawberry, broccoli, and celery are all mentioned (in the same sentence no less - what a wonderful flavour combination) And pumpkin pie. Really, What. The. Fuck. If I wanted anything to taste pumpkin pie chances are I'd go eat a slice of pumpkin pie.

Blow shouldn't taste like pumpkin pie. And unless you're giving head to a pina colada, it shouldn't really taste like fruit salad either. Or broccoli.

Look, I really don't care if it works, if it tastes like magical fairy dust or if blowjobs really are the cure for depression. What intrigues me the most is who the hell buys this? A quote suggests one group of potential customers...

"Semenex is where to go for delicious sperm guaranteed. Finally, an answer to the 'I don't like the taste' argument."

- MAXIM Magazine

Ever thought maybe she just doesn't want your day long sweaty cock in her mouth? You think buying this product will what, prove her wrong & force her to suck your dick on principle? Take a shower then ask politely fuckwad. If that fails go down on her with the condition she return the favour. As for any ladies who may think wonderfully fruity semen in a jar is a good idea, save your cash. Buy a strap on or something.

Semen is never going to taste like chocolate dipped sunshine but really - provided he's not eating garlic coated asparagus - I personally don't find the taste that unbearable. But if you're really that worried/unable to stomach the amazingly bland taste, simply make him stick to the rules (Believe me, you're not going to have an argument - the mere suggestion of a BJ is a terrific motivator for any guy)

Good
Fruit, chocolate, sugars, candy, icecream,basically anything sweet

Neutral
Pasta, breads, milk products, meat products.From experience most healthy semen tends to taste like flour paste. And you really shouldn't be blowing any crackheads/walking pharmaceutical incubators so make sure he can stand up before you start going down on him.

Bad
Asparagus (yes, that one's very very true), garlic, onion, strong tasting fish, excessively salty foods, pretty much anything with very strong flavours. Keep away from those. Really

And for the love of all that is holy - shower first. I understand that it's a huge turn on for guys to come home after a long day & recieve a little oral loving from your (here's hoping) obliging partner. But even as a girl who freely admits to enjoy giving oral sex, there is nothing - nothing - worse than being confronted with a penis that has been imprisoned in your pants and fermenting in ball sweat all day. Shower shower shower - can't make that important enough.

In the end (I'm tragic for obvious puns) you've got yourself some options - spit, swallow, don't let him come in your mouth in the first place. It's not as if you're using his semen as mouth wash so suck up that gagging reflex a little longer & allow it sit on your tongue for 2 minutes - it's not going to kill you. Hell, you might even collect on some of those mysterious "wonderful health benefits" on the way to the bathroom sink

Spring cleaning

Urgh. There are times when I'd trade my whole life-incubating reproductive system schtick for a shot of bourbon & a pack of oreos.





Look uterus, go read a book or something. There's nothing to see here so go back to hibernating dammit.

Eagles Of Death Metal & The Hives @ The Mayan

Drummers are hot. That is a fact. Another is that I just moved to Los Angeles so The Willowz/Eagles Of Death Metal/The Hives was actually my first real show here. And what a show it was. Yes it took me forever to find the Mayan even with my friendly GPS but I guess driving anywhere here is an adventure in itself. By the way, traffic in Downtown LA can eat my balls. If I had any balls in the first place that is.

First up was The Willowz. Yes I've heard of them, or more specifically their drummer Loren thanks to the Buddyhead grapevine, but I'd never really heard anything from them - I come from a great mysterious land down under where we don't have cosy little club shows for great little US bands. Was a pleasant surprise, bluesy & rocking, short but to the point, with enough kick to start events off nicely. Dug the songs, sounded together & the chick bassist was kickass. Chicks are cool. All in all a nice introduction to a surprisingly good outfit. Richie could probably use a burger though. So be nice, support a great little band & feed the kids.

Next was the reason I drove through 2 hours of traffic. Eagles Of Death Metal. Which calls for the next fact - Jesse Hughes is unbelievably sexy. I honestly never thought I'd say that of a man not only sporting greaser hair, looking like an extra from Happy Days, but who has balls enough to top off the look with a 'tache that puts David Crosby's to shame. Oozing confidence, he gyrates & croons, making girls swoon, all hips & testosterone soaked swagger. Like the illegitimate child of an Elvis, Little Richard & Mick Jagger threeway. Or something to that effect. Strap on a classy white Maton & in short, he makes everyone want a piece of the action. And a cigarette for afterwards. I swear if I were a little drunker I'd have thrown my underwear at him like some other smitten girl did. Superb.

Sure, you know when it's the last night of a tour, you're in LA, the place is packed & the night before was the Devil's birthday; something's a little special is going to come up. The crowd was expecting big things & were rewarded with not only one Josh Homme (aka Baby Duck - the greatest alias ever) but with the wonderful bonus of Joey Castillo. And this was no skin swapping gimmick but two hands working as one hell of a solid team. Shit was better than sex - and with less cleanup involved. Joey hits hard, I swear you feel his every strike ricochet off your ribcage. And while Josh Homme may be one of the most charismatic characters around, it comes as a bit of a surprise that he's a smooth, down to business drummer. No grandstanding, no banter, just getting the job done. But with a consumate showman like Hughes out front I guess it's hard to try to wrestle any form of attention away anyway.

As always Dave Catching is a wonderfully quirky presence which automatically makes him a hero of mine. Striking some classic 'rockstarrr' poses he carved out his own space stage right & owned it with style. Somewhat embarrassingly I was wearing the exact same outfit as their bassist Brian - except I guess I accessorised mine with breasts. Felt that maybe I should have stuck around & bought him a drink for that little faux pas.


Guys with accents are hot. True, I'm an Australian in the US so everyone has an accent but just like christmas, it's the thought that counts. And so we come to another fun fact - The Hives are Swedish, hence, they have accents.

I haven't heard of The Hives since I was 18 or thereabout - yes I'm ignorant & no, I don't really give a damn that I let my interest in them slip away some 4 years ago. Sorry, I was busy doing shit. Apparently they had an album drop last year but you really wouldn't have known it from the show they played - seemed as if there were probably only 3-4 "new" songs, or at least, songs I hadn't heard off their previous releases; don't get all specific on me. But hold back, that's not saying it was bad - it was quite honestly a breathtaking show & even as I type I'm filling my ipod with as many of their songs as will fit on the little silver demon. Slick, tastefully tailored & tight as a nun's snatch, frankly they rocked a lot more than I think they deserved to for a band I admittedly discarded along with that season's shoes. Which I suppose is girl talk for a damn good job guys. Points for the matching white suits & red neon sign too.

They all have ridiculous names they go by which frankly I can't remember & can't be assed to look up. But their drummer was ace, the dude goes through sticks like a hooker goes through dime-store rubbers. Pretty sure he must have been a trick bartender at some stage; all kinds of shit went flying into the air. Pseudo epileptic guitarist with shoelace issues was entertaining - shouldn't he know to knot that shit by now? But you can forgive the guy after laying down the Hendrix moves to much applause. Yet front & centre is where the action is, lying squarely with a dude named Pelle. You can see why the guy is on a few 'greatest frontmen' kind of lists - the kid's like an electric shock, something he told the audience numorous times & lived up to through the night. Flinging himself from one side of the stage to the other, microphone whirling maniacally, pushing himself bodily into the front row; you got to taste his sweat & knew he was serious - there's guy who knows how to manage one hell of an energetic performance & just keeps on shining. One point though, dude needs to learn to use his inside voice when speaking. It's like 2 hours after the show & something he said about LA or giant purple buses or cosmetic dentistry is still echoing around my skull cavity.

So to recap -
1. Drummers are hot.
2. I just moved here. Don't shoot/mug/run over me.
3. Jesse Hughes can probably father children with a well aimed look.
4. The Hives are much better than I gave them credit for.


Top score of the night has to go to Eagles though - and not just because I caught Dave wandering around taking photos after their set. Nice guy. Nice tie. And also not because Jesse flashed some flesh - us girls love that shit. It's because they did their thing & just rocked. Period. And that's what it's all about isn't it?

So I moved. To Los Angeles. Hooray me.

Using that as my excuse for doing absolutely fuck all the last few months. I did, however, stumble upon the friendly neighbourhood pornography peddler so now I have this burning feeling.....




It's called inspiration smartass.

Age of experience

Let's say a big woah for guys under 20.


Seems they're getting cockier & cockier with every shitty minimum wage job that comes their way. For example swinging into a record store (Yes, they still exist! Support the hard copy!!) not one, not two, but three almost pubescent males, one of which was in a catholic school uniform, made separate passes at my now increasingly confused self. Wasn't sure if it was some form of bizarre pedophilia sting or I'd simply stepped through into an alternate dimension

Now I'm 25 & honestly, not really into the whole younger dude thing. In fact I've only ever dated one guy younger than me & that was because I was on holiday & he (and his junk) were in the same geographical location my drunk ass found itself (no comments on the quality of my relationships thank you)


I'm not trying to make a snide comments on the experience level, or lack thereof, of younger guys. It's more the fact that when I was that age there was no way in hell I had balls enough to approach an older individual of the opposite sex & strike up a conversation, let alone drop in a few cliched pick up lines. And that's not just because I'm a girl (and don't have balls in the first place). That's because when I was 18 people with their shit together SCARED THE HOLY FUCK OUT OF ME. They were (supposedly) responsible, they represented seriousness. And I wasn't ready for serious. Maybe it's something to do with my appaling record with self esteem but I was a waitress back then & living on ramen in an apartment with no windows - I couldn't ever see myself being stable enough to even keep a job for more than 3 months. So what did I have to offer a guy with *gasp* a career? A car that ran? An apartment with windows? (I know now - boobs. Offer a guy boobs & you'll get almost anything you want. I was apparently a little dim when I was younger) But back then I was far too intimidated by people with goals that extended past the middle of next week & were secure enough to know where they were going. Or at least appeared to know.





So what was the point to this? I don't know. I guess I just like saying I get hit on by younger guys. Booyah.

I wanna be your dog. Or not.

I used to date a guy who could only get an erection if I told
him how small his penis was.

From $500 lingerie, feather paddles-leather paddles-studded
paddles, PVC nurses uniforms, riding crops & foot massages -
nothing got the same response as telling him I've seen bigger
cocks on chihuahuas. And after trying everything from the
physical, the chemical & the emotional (proving to him, very
intimately, my aversion to underwear) a girl begins to think
that maybe she's the problem. Yet as soon as I'd raise a
voice to him, belittle him, tell him that he wasn't even
hitting the sides, he'd reply with a burst of enthusiasm
that'd leave a girl open mouthed, trembling & very, very
breathless.

He was a toe sucker too - a sensation that, personally, makes
my skin crawl. (If you really want to creep me out, lick the
soles of my feet - guaranteed to make me run screaming into
the night after involuntarily kicking you in the face &
possibly taking an eye out) And he'd cry during sex, a
godawful experience in itself - what the hell are you
supposed to do when he bursts out in tears at orgasm? Give
him another to make him feel better about himself?

The question remains - WHY ARE THEY NO 'NORMAL' MEN LEFT?
Seriously, I'm not asking for much am I, a man who burps,
eats pizza, drinks out of the carton & puts his feet on the
coffee table - one who doesn't want to pull on the kink for
every single living moment of his life. Sure it's fun to
experiment, to play around & try new things & I'm an active
advocat of trying (almost) everything once. But jesus fucking
christ, I don't want to have to come home every day & let my
handcuffed diaper wearing 'friend' out of the locked 5x4 box
at the end of my bed.

What if I go on holiday? Do they operate boarding kennels for
the sexually malcontent? Filled with row after row of little
cages complete with handcuffs & feeding tubes? Or can I just
ask my neighbour, a sprightly woman of 74, to come over & let
him out for a run once a day?

Oh I'm sure the same probably goes for high maintance women -
I just don't sleep with as many of them so that's not really
my problem. Same goes with the type of guy who spends more
time in the bathroom than I do. If he's not in there jacking
off & if he owns more beauty products than I do then buddy,
we have a problem. Personally I solve this by just not going
there in the first place; I like my boys dirty & smelly -
makes me feel all the prettier. But if by chance I find
myself in the company of a guy who's bedroom is cleaner (and
better designed) than mine I automatically assume that if I'm
not on top of my game that night, he'll most likely be gay in
the morning.

What happened to little effort, no frills casual sex? I don't
want to have to hire a fleet of hairdressers, makeup artists
& train like a triathlete just to withstand one night of
overly indulgent sexual decadence with a guy whose most
likely going to steal my concealer in the morning. And I
don't want to have to have a compulsively submissive partner
reliant on me for every decision, including toileting habits.
If I wanted that I'd have popped out a baby or two already.

Maybe I'm just lazy but all I want is a dirty sweaty boy
who'll beg me for sex, make me utter all the appropriate
noises & when we're done, will simply roll over & fall
asleep. Throw in a 10 second cuddle before the snoring starts
& I'll be a happy girl. Who knows, maybe I'll even get to put
that $500 worth of lingerie to good use someday....

FYI - It really wasn't all that small. Apparently masochism
comes in all sizes.

Blowin' in the wind

My 'friend' (read ex fiancee/still current sack buddy - a girl has needs after all) D, is a firm believer in oral sex. Or more to the point, the recieving of oral sex. Which puts him in the same category as, lets see.... 99.9972% of all men on the face of the planet.

Blow jobs - men may like to think it's a male dominance thing
but in truth they only tell themselves that to give
themselves a sense of reassurance when they realise that in
fact their fleshy pride & joy is nestled ever so precariously
within a nest of shiny white enamel. One bite & it's all over
Rover.

Oral sex truly breaches the wall of sexual diversity. Gay,
straight, tri-curious, male, female, not-too-sure-but-close-
enough - everyone loves a licking. Sure, we girls get all
fancy & call it cunnilingus but what do you expect from the
percentage of humanity that buys $400 heels? Put a pretty
label on it and we'll be fighting like cats to get us a
piece.

There's a whole ettiquite to the deed as well - and it goes
well beyond the age old swallow/not to swallow debacle.
Depth, teeth, pressure, breathing, hand position......
there's a lot of thought & effort that goes into a good blow
job. They should give out awards for the really good ones &
little 'Thanks For Participating' ribbons for the ones who
tried..... but just didn't quite get there in the end.

It was a 6"5 blonde transexual who first taught me the fine
art of prostate stimulation. I was intregued, curious even,
to find out that this red taloned individual was offering to
provide me with the dark secret to what 'she' guaranteed was
the key to almost instant gratification.

"It's easy pumpkin" (Somewhat disturbingly my grandmother
also calls me pumpkin - a mental image that's sure to scar me
even further) "Just wait until he's ready to blow then stuff
him with a knuckle load."

Valuable advice from a man who can dance all night in 6 inch
stilettos. Needless to say, I still wonder how many
individuals had experienced an encounter with those
formidable false fingernails. And just how many times 'she'
had to replace them after a mysterious disappearance during
the night.

But, all asides aside - back to the point. No matter what the
language, the setting, the participant; There's always
someone jacking off to some skanky blonde bobbing like
there's no tomorrow & copping a load in the cheek - thank god
for internet porn. If more people were out there
giving/recieving their chosen oral sub-genre there'd be fewer
problems - we'd all be too content to give three shits about
the fucked up state of society. Hell, we'd all be on our
backs getting blown so there'd be no one to explode buses &
bludgeon baby seals in the first place.


So reach out to your fellow man. Give someone you love a
blowjob today.

Filthy mind.

I am constantly asked questions about sex by friends. How I achieved this dubious/illustrious position as sexual councillor I have no idea - sure I like to bump bones as much as any other girl but I hardly allude to leading a life filled with as much sexual deviancy as you can fit into a one-size-fits-all PVC gimp suit. I just figure my unwavering sense of sarcastic wit just puts people at ease.

Go figure.

But hey, I'm a girl - breasts, x chromosomes & ovaries - and we talk about cock almost as much as we talk about shoes. As soon as your back is turned, out comes the girl's guide to all things phallic & testostorone fuelled. Basically everything is open for discussion - size, orgasms, whether or not he wants you to diaper him & calls you mommy. We're mercenary. Chances are that behind the innocent angelic face of your girlfriend/sister/mother lies a profoundly perverted princess. Yes, your mom; try that on for trauma.

First things first, this will never be a 'how-to' guide - If you don't know how, you probably shouldn't be doing it in the first place. Actually scratch that - I'm all for new & inventive ways of ridding humanity of the less intelligent & preventing them from breeding further stupidity so go ahead, see if you CAN be the first to pull off the backwards facing monkey position while balanced on the edge of a cliff-face. In fact I dare you.

Think of these more as friendly chats, albeit one-sided, with your open minded neighbourhood girl next door - except I'm far less gullible, more sarcastic & that ubiquitous box under my bed probably doesn't contain old school year books. Feel free to ask questions if you feel so compelled - I enjoy a good laugh & I need a new hobby since my pyschotic neighbour stopped screeching at her much maligned boyfriend in the middle of the street.

For example, meeting up with my long time friend & fellow deviant, J, for lunch last week, she asked if I had any experience with the world of watersports.

Watersports??

Personally I like waterskiing. It's fast, wet & you get a tan while you're doing it. But fucking a guy who wants me to take a leak in his mouth while he's tied to my bed with a red rubber dildo up his ass - well that's kinda fucking weird. And a whole bucket full of 'what the hell?'. But hey, I'm open minded, I attempt to understand all fetishes. It's just that this girl's set her limits and in no way shape or order do they encompass (supposedly) erotic urination. My advice? Get a hobby dude. And perhaps some plastic sheets.

A question I've also been asked innumerable times by male acquaintances - why is my girlfriend hesitant to let me in the back door? Well heads up fuckers - it hurts. Putting something in the outbox, without the proper clearance, is always going to cause a few issues. That said, with adequate notification & the proper clearance.... [Insert awkward pause] But I digress. You'll find that most girls are open to the idea of a little walk on the darkside - simply be a gentleman about it. If not pile more & more pressure on her until she can take it anymore & guilt trip her into doing it to save the relationship. Hell, you're shallow enough that your relationship on reliant on anal sex so my guess is that you're going to ditch her anyway. You may as well get what you want before you're made into a crude vodoo doll & lined up in the windscreen of her SUV the next time you step outside your apartment.

That sounded a tad bitter didn't it? Anyway in the spirit of a more caring, sharing, touchy-feely kinda vibe around these parts, feel free to ask me anything that's been bugging you - be it about girl things, boy things or all-things-in-between things - I know a lot of odd people, have bucketloads of sarcasm & a big-ass dictionary.