Aly from Calling People Names is perfect for starting off this week of women and their words. Her blog and style punches you square in the mouth and you keep going back for more. Then she surprises you with some pretty heartfelt stuff. Aly is someone you want fighting for you and I'm glad I was able to sneak in from this blog universe and get to know her.
If you ever needed a reminder to buckle up, consider yourself warned.
-TYF
FETISHES
When Jerrod asked me to guest post for him, I was very excited. We’re likethis you know. Once he even peed on me. There’s a picture of it on the sidebar of my blog.
You’re going to look now aren’t you? Perverts.
Anyway...
Its ladies week here at The Yellow Factor and J-licious gave me free rein to talk about whatever I want. (Sucker.) It took me a long time to decide and I almost chose my topic based on what would horrify him most (ex: menstrual issues or childbirth). But...I didn’t. Instead I’d like to talk about fetishes. (I’m sure that won’t horrify him at all.) Sometimes you might be afraid to admit to a lover what exactly turns you on for fear of being rejected. Or maybe you just aren’t sure how to bring it up. So, for the sake of happy genitals, I’ve listed a few fetishes with a little personally gathered back ground information and a few helpful hints on how to painlessly introduce them into your bedroom routine.
Fetish #1. You want to lie still and/or pretend you’re dead.
I knew a girl once that was like that. Strict Catholic. She figured if she didn’t move with them, it didn’t count as participating and her soul would be black mark free. Fucking loon. They called her “corpse cunt”. I didn’t feel very sorry for her at the time, but now that I’m older and wiser I can spare a little pity. After all, she’s just another one suckered in by false information and Hail Mary's.
From what I hear, it also seems to be a common fetish for married women and lazy men.
Helpful hints for women: Fuck a man that never gets laid. He could care less whether you lie still or not, he’s just happy to be sticking it in something other than his hand. Or if that’s not possible, pretend you threw your back out.
Helpful hints for men: Fuck a chick that never gets laid. She’ll ride it till the cows come home while you recline with your arms folded behind your head. Or pretend you threw out your back.
Fetish #2. You want to be called derogatory or ridiculous names.
I’ve found that the majority of these fetishists are women. You’ve got your simple choices...such as whore, slut, and dirty liar. Then you’ve got some that are a little out there. Like my previous next door neighbor that liked to be called “skinny bitch” during the act. I only know this by accident, mind you. They left their windows open and as luck would have it, I had to pass right under them on my way to and from my other neighbor’s house.
What’s ridiculous about skinny bitch, you ask? She was somewhere around 275-300lbs and he was a 7ft tall bean pole. Skinny bitch indeed. They lived there for about three years and I’m afraid I heartlessly referred to them as Cow and Chicken.
I’ve only known a handful of men that liked to be called names in bed. (What they expect us to call their penises, however, is another post in and of itself.) Unfortunately there just aren’t many acceptable choices for them. This must be why they insist on being called things like “The Shump Daddy” or “King Kong”.
Helpful hints for women: Get drunk. If you can’t tell him you want to be called Slutty McNasty after half a bottle of Tequila...you’re on your own.
Helpful hints for men: Find another fetish and stop snorting the blow.
Fetish #3. You want to be slapped.
There is a distinct difference between S&M brutish beatings and a well placed slap. I can’t give you much insight on the brutish beating fetishists as Whitney and Bobby were unavailable for comment...and I’m not a black eye junkie myself.
A lot of men and women like a crisp smack on the ass while they’re making the beast with two backs. It’s pretty common. Maybe not so common – a stinging slap on the face.
Men tend to avoid this one since it reminds them of their mothers (unless they have a mothering fetish, which I refuse to cover due to its vomitous nature) or they see it as a sign of anger rather than excitement.
Helpful hints for women: Get him drunk. He’ll be more likely to take a swing at you if he’s good and belligerent. If you want to slap him, make sure he’s not a blabbermouth and won’t tell everyone you know that you’re a man beater...then just go for it. Never underestimate the element of surprise.
Helpful hints for men: Call her fat...or call her by her best friend’s name mid-bang. She’ll box your face like Oscar De La Hoya. Taking it back later is your own problem...I’m not Dr. fucking Phil. If you want to slap her, either suck it up and ask or slip an Ambien in her drink...at least she won’t remember it later.
Fetish #4. You want anal sex.
Taking the dirt road...gross. This is the 21st century people! Everything is paved!
Unless you’re gay...or Michael Bolton, you really shouldn’t be taking it up the ass. What would your mother think? Not only that but it’s, I hear, extremely uncomfortable in a “gotta go” sort of way. I don’t know about you, but my bowels are like a well oiled machine...like clockwork. I just don’t need another bathroom visit of that nature on my schedule.
If you absolutely must try it...
Helpful hints for women: Take a muscle relaxant, drink a bottle of wine, and don’t eat any refried beans. Also, pick a guy with a small penis. If you have any problems finding one, I know plenty. LUBE.
Helpful hints for men: Lube. Grit your teeth?
Fetish #5. You want a golden shower.
According to Sex and the City, this is a favorite among politicians. I’m guessing because they’re already so dirty.
Personally, I’m not quite sure what the appeal is. Pee smells like....well, pee. If it’s the warm liquid feeling you want, you could always try warming lube or teriyaki sauce...which is a little thicker, but not unpleasant.
I seem to be hearing about more and more people wanting to give this fetish a try, to see what it’s all about. I wouldn’t even pee on my own leg when I was stung by jellyfish (twice) no matter how much they shouted at me. One onlooker even went so far as to untie his swim trunks to show he’d be willing to take away my pain and suffering. Bless him and his perverted, urine loving heart. I only waved him away. Truthfully, I’d rather have it in the brown eye...and that’s saying something.
Helpful hints for women: Get him drunk...he’ll pee anywhere when he’s drunk. Works both ways...he’ll pass out and you can give it a whirl yourself. Just go for the leg, you don’t want to drown him.
Helpful hints for men: Offer her money. If it’s just a leg, maybe she’ll let you have a go when you’re in the shower. If you want her to pee on you, just ask. She’ll probably do it just for laughs and the story to tell her friends.
And last, but definitely not least:
Fetish #6. You want to role play.
It’s one of the most common fetishes...yet for some reason, one that a lot of people have trouble asking for. Some find it hard to pretend to be someone or something they’re not.
Starting off with something simple is the key. Like the first meeting scenario...meeting them at a restaurant like it’s a blind date. “Hi. I’m _____. Nice to meet you.” Sexy bedroom eyes and footsy under the table...blah blah, random inconsequential conversation. “Let’s go back to my place.” AND scene! That’s all there is to it.
Or you can get into the real character roles. Like boss and secretary, cop and criminal, doctor and nurse, french maid and lord of the manor, or one of my personal favorites...President and the people. But if you’re going for that last one be prepared for a real screw...none of that nicey nice campaign nonsense. Just teeth shattering, CNN worthy pounding.
Helpful hints for women: You shouldn't have any trouble getting him to participate in this sort of thing...as long as there aren’t any tights (on him) involved. But if you do...there’s always blackmail or bargaining. If you’re willing to take it up the ass and walk like a duck for a day, he might throw you an English accent and brandish a fake sword over your head. Tally ho.
Helpful hints for men: Don’t suggest porn stars, cartoon characters, or your parents.
I hope this has been helpful.
There are many more that I didn’t get a chance to cover...so this might just have a sequel.
I will now take questions, comments, and offers of sexual favors. Go.
Here is a special post that everyone needs to read. EVERYONE. A bunch of us blogger types were asked to spread some awareness for juvenile myositis. I hope you take some time and read it. Also, take a look at his blog and the links below for more info.
Kevin - Always Home and Uncool
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Our pediatrician admitted it early on.
The rash on our 2-year-old daughter’s cheeks, joints and legs was something he’d never seen before.
The next doctor wouldn’t admit to not knowing.
He rattled off the names of several skins conditions — none of them seemingly worth his time or bedside manner — then quickly prescribed antibiotics and showed us the door.
The third doctor admitted she didn’t know much.
The biopsy of the chunk of skin she had removed from our daughter’s knee showed signs of an “allergic reaction” even though we had ruled out every allergy source — obvious and otherwise — that we could.
The fourth doctor had barely closed the door behind her when, looking at the limp blonde cherub in my lap, she admitted she had seen this before. At least one too many times before.
She brought in a gaggle of med students. She pointed out each of the physical symptoms in our daughter:
The rash across her face and temples resembling the silhouette of a butterfly.
The purple-brown spots and smears, called heliotrope, on her eyelids.
The reddish alligator-like skin, known as Gottron papules, covering the knuckles of her hands.
The onset of crippling muscle weakness in her legs and upper body.
She then had an assistant bring in a handful of pages photocopied from an old medical textbook. She handed them to my wife, whose birthday it happened to be that day.
That was seven years ago — Oct. 2, 2002 — the day our daughter was found to have juvenile dermatomyositis, one of a family of rare autoimmune diseases that can have debilitating and even fatal consequences when not treated quickly and effectively.
Our daughter’s first year with the disease consisted of surgical procedures, intravenous infusions, staph infections, pulmonary treatments and worry. Her muscles were too weak for her to walk or swallow solid food for several months. When not in the hospital, she sat on our living room couch, propped up by pillows so she wouldn’t tip over, as medicine or nourishment dripped from a bag into her body.
Our daughter, Thing 1, Megan, now age 9, remembers little of that today when she dances or sings or plays soccer. All that remain with her are scars, six to be exact, and the array of pills she takes twice a day to help keep the disease at bay.
What would have happened if it took us more than two months and four doctors before we lucked into someone who could piece all the symptoms together? I don’t know.
I do know that the fourth doctor, the one who brought in others to see our daughter’s condition so they could easily recognize it if they ever had the misfortune to be presented with it again, was a step toward making sure other parents also never have to find out.
That, too, is my purpose today.
It is also my birthday gift to my wife, My Love, Rhonda, for all you have done these past seven years to make others aware of juvenile myositis diseases and help find a cure for them once and for all.
To read more about children and families affected by juvenile myositis diseases, visit Cure JM Foundation at www.curejm.org.
To make a tax-deductible donation toward JM research, go towww.firstgiving.com/rhondaandkevinmckeever or www.curejm.com/team/donations.htm.
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If it's not already on there, please put this on your blog and help spread the awareness of JM.