I’m calling today Justine Joli Day and am bent on filling the blog with pictures of her for the rest of the day. Why is it Justine Joli Day? You need a reason? Just a random whim because she’s so damned adorable. So, yeah. Enjoy. And do feel free to participate in the Justine Joli Day festivities should the occasion move you to celebrate.
I had an idea a couple of hours ago while surfing through tumblogs and reblogging dirty pictures. A group tumblog dedicated to 2 things: supershort (250 words or less) naughty stories, and smutty pictures. I’m calling it TumbLit Smut.
I think I just made up a new word, too: TumbLit. Making up new words makes me feel all special and smart. So, don’t burst my bubble by pointing out that I’m totally late to the party and there is already an appropriate lingo I’m not using.
Here are my definitions of TumbLit and for the purposes of the blog, Smut:
TumbLit:
250 word stories (fiction or non).
Smut:
The often grainy, sometimes out of focus, kind of artsy, very dirty pictures that you’d almost expect to find inside an underground lurid magazine of 50 years ago. No glossy glam.
Anyway, if you follow this blog on Tumblr and I like your stuff and think you might be interested you’ll probably get an invite to join. I’m not going to be insulted if you don’t want to play. So, feel free to reject the invite. If you do want to play and I don’t invite you for some reason email tumblit.smut at gmail.
If you want to play but don’t want to commit to a group I setup a nice easy submission form.
From here (via gauntlet, onemoretimewithfeeling) (via luminol)
Alright, conceded that female masturbation being taboo while male masturbation being a given is stupid and unfair to women but I think there’s another issue wrapped up in here as well. Oh look here’s my soap box right over here and guess what? I’m going to stand on it. Male sexuality in our culture is a given and it’s also a given that it’s dirty. Female sexuality in our culture is something gentle and soft and sexy. Male sexuality is dirty grunty animal nastiness. Female sexuality is art. Male sexuality is a fart. Female sexuality is a delicate sneeze. What we menfolk type males are presented with for our entire lives in our culture is that our sexuality is this gross given thing we are rough and unpleasant and constant. Then, we act according to expectation, some to a greater degree than others, and are dismissed as pigs and bastards and so forth. We are told that we are gross and so we act gross and so we are disparaged for being gross like it is something unexpected. This is something that has annoyed me for years. Males in our society are faced with dual conflicting expectations (not that there isn’t a similar issue facing women, I’m just speaking about the male side of it for the moment). On one side we are expected to be gross sex hungry man-pig things. On the other side we are expected to rise above that and that we won’t fall into the stereotype. When we rise above the stereotype, we’re treated as being weird. When we meet expectations, we’re treated like we’ve done something shocking and horrible and somehow unexpected. It is … a frustration and it’s something that few if any people seem to think is remotely important enough to look at and say “hey, maybe if we try to adjust our cultural expectations of male sexuality we will be able to address a variety of the fucked up gender issues that plague our society.”
At least that’s what I see.
So, what this quote makes me think of is not: “why can’t women’s sexuality be treated as more of a natural thing.” but rather: “why can’t men’s sexuality be treated as more of a pleasant and desirable thing. Why can’t male masturbation be soft focus sexy erotic whatnot, dammit!”
Okay … done for now … soapbox is going away.
Hottest Web Bloggers - Girls Who Blog - Hot Female Bloggers
Not really porn … I mean Playboy does feature the boobies I love so very very dearly but … I guess it is but … yeah … anyway … go vote for the female blogger you think hottest. I voted for Violet Blue (I already told you about my lil crush on her, we won’t get into that again). Not that you have to vote for her. Vote for whoever you like. Though, if you don’t vote the same way I do you’re clearly not influenced enough by my view of what is sexy and should be spending more time reading this here blog.
So, I spent this afternoon, Sunday Afternoon, catching up on porn reviews that I owe Ranchocarne.com. Surprising as it may seem spending an entire afternoon watching porn is not a typical activity of mine. Usually I only spend an hour or three at a time watching porn. Today was unusual. Really it was.
After this afternoon I don’t know that I could tolerate another pussy until … wait. Nevermind, I just went off and looked at xxxstash.com. Apparently it didn’t effect me that much. Still, I think this afternoon qualifies me for some kind of gynecological license. I’d offer to start giving out exams but that would be creepy. Probably.
Yeah, that would be creepy.
I don’t recommend spending an entire afternoon watching porn. You’ve got to pace yourself. Have some porn at breakfast, some smut for lunch, and then a sensible dinner. A sensible dinner of porn. Maybe have a snack of porn in between. Then, after dinner you can have porn for dessert. Just pace yourself kids. Pace yourself. You know what they say: “you can have too much of a good thing.” You can also have too much porn.
Okay … first person to bring me a bottle of Jameson and a dozen donuts get free porn. Seriously. I have porn here. I will give it to you if you bring me whiskey and delicious donuts … or roast beef … maybe some prime rib? Okay … to revise … I have free porn for whoever brings me some delicious red meat or donuts or both and a bottle of whiskey.
If you show up topless you can have a donut and spend an hour basking in my corpulent presence.
I’m on the MySpace, if you’re on the MySpace we should be friends. Unless, of course, you’re ashamed of our relationship. Are you? Are you ashamed of me? Do I embarass you?
Oh.
Really?
Yeah, well … I never like you anyway …
Seriously though, go be my friend. Then I can read your blogs about your kitten and how LaShaneeqwa and Farrah are skanky hos who are totally fake. They said you were bffs but they lied. They lied. (hmmm … okay that didn’t end up serious, did it?)
While I wasn’t paying attention Tumblr added some more functionality to tags. Now, you can click on a tag in one of my posts and are take to a page filled with other posts tagged the same way. I’ve been waiting for this kind of functionality for awhile. Unfortunately, that means I have to go back and tag all the old posts. I’ve made some headway but I post so damn much that it will be a very long time if I ever manage to get all of the old posts tagged. Still, there are a few things I’ve finished tagging, like text posts. If you want to read any of my little ponderings and pseudo wisdom all you have to do now is either click the “text” link under the Tags menu on the right or just put the URL: http://www.blogoporno.com/tagged/text in your browser. I also recommend the funny tag, because I am so very very amusing. Hopefully if you are stopping by and are looking for a particular flavor of something this will help you find it just a bit easier.
As I like to experiment and am always in search of ideas and feedback I added a “Suggestion box” link. Actually, I did it a couple of weeks ago and am just now getting around to mentioning it. The purpose of this here blog is to share and I like that to go two ways as much as possible. So, share your opinion with me, it’s anonymous if you want it to be.
Of course, you can always comment on posts or email. This is just another way to let me know what you think.
I like sifting through which posts are getting the most attention. I also like sharing those posts with you. Here are the top off the feed and off the site for the last 30 days:
Feed
Site
This isn’t a personal blog so I try not to get too personal too often, it gets in the way of the boobage, which I assume is the reason most of y’all end up here. Still, this is my corner of the web, so the price of boobs is that sometimes I’m going to vent or ramble at you about the Nazi Lizard Men who live inside the hollowed out Earth like an inebriate Uncle at your cousin’s wedding.
Anyway, I’ve mentioned before that I am moving to New York City in the near future (probably around November or December). I’m going to film shool so I can be the screenwriter behind mediocre movies (you know, the sort they release in late August if they get a theatrical release at all), maybe even be responsible for the 30th re-write of some novel adaptation or summer blockbuster that I’ll never get credit for. I’m very very excited. However, until I move I need to make money. This means a regular job. A job I have to wake up and get dressed for and everything.
I am really not used to this, and very much not enjoying it.
See, I was unemployed for 6 months. I could get up whenever and sit around in my underwear half the day. I like that.
Before I was unemployed, and this is what makes the situation worse, I was working out of my house for about 4 months. Again, I could hang around in my underwear all day (I am actually pretty disciplined as far as working from home and getting up at a particular time for work and not getting too distracted, etc.). Before that I worked in a rather lax office as far as work time went, and I didn’t have to keep a strict eye on my hours as I wasn’t really billable. Before that I worked from home for a year.
I’m not used to normal employment.
I’m not used to putting on pants before 10.
As much as I like the people I work with at my new job (they are all very nice folks) I absolutely hate my work.
I just have to keep repeating to myself that it’s only for a few months, then I’m gone. Off to pursue my dream of banging out ideas on a keyboard in my underwear for money.
Also, I remind myself of the absurd amount of money this company is paying me. Really, the work I’m doing is not worth this money. It’s a good thing they are unawares of my plan for leaving. Actually, that’s probably a big part of the reason I hate this work. I am so very stressed about them finding out my plans and then getting canned. Then, I’ll need to find a new job.
Alright, enough of my whining. Thanks for letting me vent … back to the boobies and such.
Men are declaring that condoms are “no fun”, an “annoying distraction” and a “mood killer” with one gent going so far as to tell me “it’s like having sex in a plastic bag”. Others muse that the sex becomes more clinical and less intimate when protection becomes an issue. And with everyone lying about the number of partners they’ve had anyway, (it seems there’s a common belief that if you take the bashful approach, they’ll have a better chance at getting laid), many don’t seem to think there’s any risk in going without any protection.(via)
Ha! We’ve been talking a lot recently about Gen Y boys (otherwise known as “boys these days”) and their dislike of condoms (or so i’ve been encountering anyway) and, more importantly, their dislike of lady-bush. Talk about growing up in a time of privilege!
Depending on how you measure I’m one of these Gen Y boys. I have had the occasional habit of having the unprotected sex, but I didn’t make an excuse about it. Nothing wrong with a condom, I didn’t notice any vast difference (a little but nothing to write home about should I write home about such things). I was mostly just too lazy or distracted to make a point of wearing one those couple of times. Every other time (until the girlfriend and I decided to dispense with them due to our monogamy) I used a condom.
BUT that is not what I wanted to comment on. I want to comment on this lady-bush business.
I don’t get this shaved obsession. It strikes me as a little creepy. Yes, I’m aware I post the naked pitchers sans bush … but … shut up … Anyway, it’s creepy because it seems to be like a weird pre-pubescent obsession. Lady bush is a lovely lovely thing. I’m not talking about landing strips or the forest run wild type bush either. I’m talking about the nicely trimmed but full bush. Honestly, I dig the 70s bush you get in some european B-Movies of the 70s. The sort of bush you see in vintage porn. This shaved crap is crap. Let’s get some 70s bush going on ladies.
Hmmm … just had an idea… we need to make it somehow trendy to have bush … only the classy dames have bush … we’ll call it “Classic Bush: The Classy Dame’s Pubic Grooming Style.” We’ll sell it in the expensive shops and include a cute little patent leather purse in red, blue, or hot pink. Then, we’ll get a classy famous woman to come out with a sex tape … I mean some classy famous woman will have a private use only tape of her intimate life stolen and she’ll be sporting the “Classic Bush.” Then, all the ladies will want to have the Classic Bush and all the men will want the ladies to have the Classic Bush! We’ll make millions, I tell ya! MILLIONS!
… or … I could just do a Bush Week as a theme week …
decisions decisions decisions
Ack! I was busy all weekend and didn’t take time to post the boobage … oh well …
Anyhow, time for another theme week. This week is glasses week! I love a woman in glasses (to the point I’ve strongly encouraged girlfriends that their eyesight was terrible and that glasses were really in their best interest … I did not, however hold open my girlfriend’s eyes while she was sleeping and point a laser into them for an extended period of time … that’s just a nasty rumor). Of course, what’s better than a woman in glasses? A naked woman in glasses! So, that’s the theme this week. Feel free to point me towards appropriate sources if you have any favorites.
Today is garter day! Why? Because I says so, that’s why! Post garter pictures, damn you! Post! Post! Post!
