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Archive for December, 2010

A slap on the backside, a glass of eggnog, and a hurried couplimg of naked, cigarette smelling bodies in a cheap hotel room. The office party set to the metronome of twenty fevered minutes. How pathetic Ye mortals are, Pathetic and shallow. Eat grapes off a man’s stomach, bathe in Bombay Sapphire gin, and let him eat olives off your woman’s flower.
linger in a state of pleasure/agony, linger like a flame flickering in the darkness.

This particular communication is for the woman who would have two men at once and lacks the courage to ask. First invite the innocent, a virginal blond, young stud, then invite the dark and brooding man of the purple blood. Both at the same time to your door. Leave the door unlocked and a trail of red rose petals to your beautiful bathroom. Light eighteen white candles and place them all about scented with lilac or rose. Before they arrive draw a bubble bath with rose oil salts and leave one leg exposed to tantalize them. Paint your toenails licorice black and line your eyes with black kohl like a panther. Play Elizabeth Schwarzkoff’s DieKluge as you hear them arrive. Say nothing. Motion for them to come in, expose one pink nipple though the bubbles. Place the virgin in front of you, and the dark hearted man in the back. Tongue kiss the virgin and hold his pink jewel in your loving, pearlescent hands while the dark man takes you from behind with no gentleness or compromise. You shall have the best of Heaven and Hell, Ye Sly Mortal Bitch. CAROL ANN

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The Best Lover


This is Auntie Carol. Lady Lynda and I have been, and I blush to tell it, discussing who would be The Greatest Lover of All Time. For he who takes our virginal flowers is blessed indeed. One cannot be too over selective. We are sublime, and beyond reproach in our persons. Anyway, I chose Hemingway, for he wrote Old Man, and the Sea. Just think how it would be if he felt that way about a woman, and how he would ravage her with his brutal passion. I want to be persistantly courted, and I want to be overwhelmed, my senses flooded. Of course, there's the matter of the harpooning which I would never agree to, as you might realize. Lady Lynda, ever the wit, said I would do well to choose an actual man who was actually alive.
There is some merit in that argument. She chose that Dastardly Dervish, Seymour Toze. He is clearly an immoral louse and may even be a pervert for what does true love have to do with feet.
Lady Lynda and I had fisticuffs over this and then we made up and had High Tea with crumpets.

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Fisticuffs


Dear FB, this is Auntie Carol, and you're the only one I can trust right now. It's about my friend, and Dastardly Dame, Lady Lynda. I am on my way over to her domicile to have fisticuffs with her. You see, she wants to put Joaquin Phoenix as head of our men's club, a very exclusive club. So exclusive, in fact, that men frequently don't even know they're in it. I want Johnny Depp. Anyone can see he's much better than Joaquin Phoenix! I'm going to kick her ass, and I deign to use such a vulgar term. It's four hours later, and I have two black eyes, and a busted lip. I look like a very tall racoon.

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Link Exchange with Society for Dainty Damsels

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The Christmas Pixie


This be Wanda and it Christmas eve right befo' I goes over to see ol' Fat Harold fo' his party surprise,me. I gots to make some bucks but everbody wid' they famblies now. Lookit the snow fallin' like grains o' salt. It git' in my eyelashes and fall all cold and drippy behind my green scarf. I stick my tongue out to see if I can catch a flake on my tongue, and tomorrow mornin' I gon' break off one of them icicles from the roof and eat it. Lookin' so pretty wid the sun shinin' through it. Ima dress like one of Santa's elves,
striped red and white stockings, green leotard, fittin' like a second skin, and red thigh high kicky boots. I got candy canes and I gives them to all the johns, sayin"
"You lonely, baby. You gone have a Blue Christmas widout me". Like the Elvis song. Most of them just smiles and gives me a five or a ten. Then, Sammy, one of my johns, a Italian butcher wid' a big famlby invite me in the bar for a hot toddy. I knows the name of all his kids and seen their pictures. Befo' I goes back out he hand me a hunnert dollar bill, and say, "Merry Christmas, doll." And he laugh real big. I feel my heart melt like some damn caramel in the pot, and I kisses him on the cheek. People is mostly good, and Life be good.
REAL GOOD. And I goes into Macy's and buy Fat
Harold a hunnert dollar robe. Merry Fuckin' Christmas, Y'al. Carol Bond

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Computer Linkpedia.eu

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Blog up

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