Guess what!

I'll be at the Everything To Do With Sex Show in Toronto all weekend long! Come and visit, buy a t-shirt, blow some kisses, and give me a high five! I'll probably post some pictures next week. Oh, what to wear, what to wear... See you there!

Hi gang!

I have been super crazy busy with life, and I apologize for disappearing for a while (extended apologies to a certain someone who I've been having fantastic conversation with - we'll talk soon, when I have a second to sit down and collect my thoughts, I think you know who you are)! Anyway, I'm alive and kicking, and I have newsssss:

Keep your pretty eyes open for a new set in member review! Should be going up any day now, and should be fucking swell!

Talk soon, much affection and love.

When did it turn into August? What did I miss? When lots of things are happening without any sort of break between them, it can start to feel like nothing is happening at all. And so many people come and go and I stay in the same spot to watch them all.

I found this really sweet tattoo artist. This website is like a candy store to me. No, better than that. It's like Roald Dahl's chocolate factory. On a similar vein, does anyone know anything about getting a retainer for a microdermal?

You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair

You live in a fancy apartment
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pines
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs

When the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon Brandy
But you never get your lips wet

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh

They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
'Cause I know you still bear
the scar, deep inside, yes you do

I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head

Hey, all!

A friend of mine has this webcomic, which is totally awesome if you're into things that are fantastic. I'd find it incredibly sexy in a feral, no-rules-anything-goes kind of way if you would take a few minutes to check it out and expose yourself to pure, undiluted, straight up awesome.

On a more serious note, it really is worth checking out. Since my creative talents have gone to bed for the night, here's a bit of a synopsis that was shamelessly lifted from the site:

"From Daredevil to Rainman, we’ve never really seen a movie or TV show about disability that spoke to our experiences. If your only encounters with disability came through the media, you would have some pretty bizarre expectations of what life in a wheelchair must be like. But what if we could watch and listen to and read about disabled characters that didn’t spend all day either whining incessantly about how their penises don’t work or improbably rescuing a bunch of kids from an underwater bus wreck? That’s where the idea for Cripz was born. That, and Beverly Cleary’s kind correspondance to a 9-year-old Jeff Preston, recommending, “why don’t you write a story about a regular little boy in a wheelchair?”. Granted, Rhett and Griff aren’t exactly “regular”… but neither are most people. But Rhett and Griff aren’t weird because they’re disabled. Or disabled because they’re weird (whatever that might entail). Ultimately, they’re weird because they’re two teenage boys growing up in the magical place that is London, Ontario, home of the Great and Muddy Thames River, Adventures in Sex City, old men who obsessively watch 18 year old boys duke it out with one another every Friday night, and two university students with too much time on their hands who decided to do a damn Webcomic"

The gentleman who co-created this site is a close friend of mine and nothing short of wonderful (and politically incorrect) ever escapes from his brain. Trust me.

Pigeons themselves aren't all that bad, really; it's just that their feet are so damn ugly.

So, you know, not a big deal or nothin'... But my new set is currently queued for member review and I expect everyone to love the shit out of it