Somehow the fact that some men would blog for sex doesn’t surprise me. In fact, I have actually observed a few males write for just that reason, as if they could charm their way into the sack by appearing well-read or attuned to the female psyche.

Does this make the blogosphere a newer and easier to manipulate than the traditional bar scene? Perhaps on a small scale, as last summer, a local attempted to win me over in just this way. Of course once he figured out he was getting nowhere, he shut down the blog. Rather sneaky and underhanded, isn’t it? At least in the bar, the men are so drunk that they usually let their agenda slip out in the first few sentences. It’s easier to weed them out that way, if you’re the kind of girl who doesn’t drop her panties immediately.

Via a keyboard, one can woo without presenting themselves as such, but this seems like an awful waste of time. It would seem that under a cost-benefit analysis, more *productivity* would occur by just admitting they just want to get laid. That eliminates wasting time trying to convince a girl that he really wants her for her mind. Now this of course, will attract a lower-grade woman, but if the man just wants sex, how can he really complain?

Plus, while it’s not my cup of hemlock, I do admit that it takes some serious balls to approach the libido like gangbusters. Witness this posting by Skippy, which reads in part as follows:

At six-foot-one, I weigh precisely 152 pounds. I’m a gorgeous man. Or, rather, I would be…..if only I cut off my head. Several professional cosmeticians have told me this. Decaptitation would have the added benefit of making my blog more more interesting.

I’m widely read and percieved as being cute. There’s got to be at least one tawdry little slut [who is] reading this who appreciates my humour and would like to help out. In my years of blogging,I’ve gotten a couple of women tell me how sexy I probably am. Well, this is your chance to put your mouth…..well, where your mouth is.

…you should be between 18 and 80. Okay, having sex with a 80 year old sounds creepy. Let’s say 79. And you have a fully functional vagina. That’s pretty much it.

So there you have it…now if any ladies are looking for cheap thrill or several, there’s your man. Is he kidding? With Skippy, anything is possible, but he’s always an entertaining read.

Oh absolutely I make light of this silly resolution tradition… let’s see what a random resolution generator can do for the sadiemasochist:

Heh…that sounds great, but a wee bit personal (insert wink at the Lad). What else can it dream up?

Um, no. A rather lame entry in the queue, in my not-so-humble opinion. Try again.

Nope. In the first place, there is no guy next door. Secondly, the current state of banging is quite enjoyable. Next?

See…this is just in the cards for me. Yet I suspect that it is probably not productive to resolve what you already exhibit wholeheartedly.

Yeah. I really need to do that one, but not by virtue of a resolution. Just because I should. That is all.

So would you ever believe that I had nothing to drink last night? Probably not. Okay, so it’s not entirely a true statement, but for all practical purposes, one sip doesn’t much count… even for a lightweight like myself.

I am sure this comes as a huge shocker.

Of course, the blogfamily has some mixed reactions: No doubt that my blogfather will be pleased to hear this tidbit, while blogbrother will be slightly disappointed. Then there’s the blog sugardaddy, who will likely just laugh, both at his new moniker and that little mistake yesterday, when I said that Costa Ricans drink tequila.

Nope. Last night, somehow the Lad dragged me into helping his buddy out with a *ahem* deejay gig at a silly party. “It will be a blast,” they promised, and if this includes blasting one’s eardrums out, well, perhaps they weren’t entirely wrong. Basically, I did absolutely nothing of value, but I did get to observe a few things about so-called *proper* folk when they get all liquored up. Nothing like watching civilized types wrinkle their nose up when Lad’s buddy fired up the smoke machine, which has got to be the most pitiful invention ever known to the entertainment industry. Two hours later, these same respectable types, all two hundred or so of them, were doing the Macarena…and stumbling all over each other. Of course, free drinks at the bar sounded alright, until what I ordered tasted like NyQuil on Xanax.

Last night, I learned something about myself…I’m getting old at heart. At twenty-nine, I never thought that loud bass tones would make me run out of the room. Sheesh, I thought that the booming vibrations would screw up the heartbeat…it actually physically hurt to be in that ballroom.

Next year, things will likely be calmer. A nice dinner out, perhaps a margarita or two. Conversation. Smiles. Sounds calming, doesn’t it?

A Monarchist: You have two casual, non-exclusive dating relationships. Commencing the decision concerning what to do in this situation, your rigid line of thinking will allow only one of the following to occur:
[1] If pragmatism is the main concern, you shall dwell far too long on the undecided. If this is the case, you will eventually become distracted by the empirical nature of your thoughts. Then inevitably you will be unable to pleasure either lady due to a sudden attack of impotence; OR
[2] In the event that testosterone defeats pragmatic tendencies, preserving ritualistic symbolic sex will provide a link to the past. As such, you will indeed find sexual suggestion in the original Kama Sutra scriptures as opposed to the more contemporary 1000 Grrreat Nights of Sex.

A Green: You have two casual, non-exclusive dating relationships. You may not believe in feminism, but you’re looking towards the forest, not the trees. Adopting the sensitive-guy demeanor, you voice support for feminism and allow the two ladies to decide the outcome of the situation. Likely you will then witness a catfight whilst sitting on your crappy futon, sipping a smoothie, and listening to Enya.

A Technocrat: You have two casual, non-exclusive dating relationships. You are poor at deciding things that you do not fully understand, but of course, hindsight is…well… hindsight. Mistakenly, you apply your expertise and experience on some completely irrelevant topic…like the superiority of foreign beer as opposed to domestic. Although this has never worked for Swingers, you employ rational arguments to try and convince both girls it’s okay to sleep with both of them. Eek! Lest you forget that quasi-political decisions such as these must take into account the subjective views of both parties as well as differing human values between individuals. You are so not getting laid, my friend. Stop by the bookstore on the way home and pick up a copy of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.

A Hipster: You have two casual, non-exclusive dating relationships. The one that you eventually settle down with will be someone who "completes you" through your desire to run with the eccentrically odd and brilliant types of women. Most likely you two will have lots of sex whilst hyped up on amphetamines, and the broken bed won’t matter, since she’s into shabby-chic decor. To anyone who finds your girlfriend to be a complete freak, you will only inquire with a voice of disdain: "You really don’t get it, do you?"

Oh, but that is not the end just yet…upon a directive by the Maximum Leader, this Loyal Minion provides the following:

A Pseudo-Benevolent Autocrat: You have two casual, non-exclusive dating relationships. As you are possessed with absolute power and flanked by a tightly knit group of despots, essentially you can do whatever the hell you want. Yet you linger, skillfully wielding this power with the intent of improving your subjects’ lives–whilst nourishing the ulterior, back-pocket motive of reinforcing your own authority in the process. Such a manner would be to provide generous gifts to both ladies, and having mindblowing sex with both of them shamelessly. Meanwhile, you assure them that even if their fellow serfs call them "sluts," it matters not. Why? Reforming the entire social structure of the country allows you to recategorize the strata. "Slut" will then no longer be a derogatory term, instead it will enjoy a level of prestige rivaled only by trial lawyers. Eventually you persuade the ladies to bring you beer and nachos whilst lounging in a hammock, feeling enlightened and reading Voltaire.

Ooooh this is enjoyable writing fellows…give me more to do if you so dare.

(Orignally posted on August 13, 2004)

Ahem. In furtherance of the KTAS initiative to get Kilgore Trout on the 2008 Presidential Ticket, I present the following:

Any fake phone number a girl hands to a fellow would automatically forward all calls to her actual phone number.

Young and barely-legal girls would have taut skin and be great at fellatio.

Nodding and looking at your watch would be deemed an acceptable response to "I love you."

Hallmark would make "Sorry, But I Don’t Give A Shit. Go Fuck Yourself" cards.

Birth control would come in ale or lager. Vasectomies and STD tests would be fun.

That bloody miserable bastard who invented cell phones would have never been born.

The funniest guy in the office would get to be the CEO of the entire conglomerate.

Similarly, wittiness in excess would get any man laid, regardless of any of his other qualities.

At the end of the workday, a whistle would blow and you’d jump out your window and slide down the tail of a brontosaurus and right into your car like Fred Flintstone.

Congress would provide funding initiatives to the states on the proviso that they ban the sale of crumb donettes. In the same spirit, Mr. Pringle would replace George Washington on the one-dollar bill.

Stormtroopers would actually comprise one of the armed services…perhaps replacing the navy since they have a propensity for being a bit oversexed as evidenced by nightly pornfests and public masturbation with fifty other men.

Valentine’s Day would be moved to February 29th so it would only occur in leap years.

On Groundhog Day, if you saw your shadow, you’d get the day off to go drinking. Arbor Day, too.

St. Patrick’s Day, however, would remain exactly the same. But it would be celebrated every month.

When a cop gave you a ticket, every smart-aleck answer you responded with would actually reduce your fine. As in: Cop: "You know how fast you were going?" You: "All I know is, your speedometer is highly inaccurate because of the vector propulsion and theories of relativity. Besides, I was only spilling beer all over the place." Cop: "Nice one. That’s $10 off."

MEGA-TSUNAMI UPDATE: A concurrence with much of the aforementioned (actually below, if you’re getting ahead of the rest of us on the whole bottoms-up thing) data can be found here. Linkage courtesy of Boileryard Clarke.

On a similar catastrophic note (har har), Peoria Pundit, who apparently is utterly hilarious, proclaims that Someone peed in the Ecosystem gene pool. Yep…that’s pretty apparent from the members of the TTLB, including moi. A few points on this one: [1] MySQL Databases are the devil, and [2] If anyone should make a living at this blogging crap, it’s Ol’ NZ Bear.

Coming from the only end-of-year list worth perusing, the 27th Annual Top 8 NY Entities That Didn’t Exist:

Blogs: It was widely reported that “blog” was the most searched for term on Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary. What was not widely reported was that 99% of those requests came from a loop procedure written by Nick Denton, the English-type responsible for the proliferation of machine-blogs such as Gawker and Wonkette. When those machine-generated requests are taken out of the equation, the ranking of the term “blog” plummets to 9587, landing with a thud between “moist” and “unctuous.”

A blogosphere of idiots…that is what we all must be. Really, how many of you can claim that you looked up the word “BLOG” on the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary? Yet thousands upon thousands of postings were written upon the announcement of this allegedly most-coveted word. How very unctuous of Mr. Denton to pull such a publicity scheme, which I suppose is why he’s been so allegedly successful with his moguled blogharem.