Thursday, April 12, 2007

Mama Mia or Where you should go lingerie shopping for your girl

The list of things that can turn a guy more than seeing his girlfriend in a naughty school girl uniform (complete with pigtails and stockings) is, well, RARE and truly few and far between. But then, once in a while, not always mind you but just once in a while, you run into something that turns every turn-on logic on its head, gives it an all-mighty spin, and leaves you gasping for breath. And being the considerate human being that I am, without further adieu I shall present to you, dear girls and guys, the greatest piece of clothing ever conceived for the female form. Behold abracadara:

Yes Yes !! This is the CRYSTAL G-STRING, complete with a matching crystal bra. And as the manufacturers claim "It is fully adjustable --- fitting waist sizes 23"-38" ".

Wow!! Are you kidding me. You mean to say no more fumbling through layers of your girl's undies trying to read the tag and figuring out her exact size and then going to that damn Victoria store only to discover hey presto different brands have different ways of numbering their sizes !! And then the shop assistant would give you her million-watt-you-are-an-amateur-in this-thing-i-think smile while politely saying "first time for you sir". No you fucking bitch this isnt the first time, this is the bloody nth confusing time, and each time your fucking makers come up with more and more new and complex ways of numbering their lingerie. Damn you bitch. I wonder, though, do the girls realize how insanely fucking difficult it is for us guys to surprise them with those supposedly sensuous, intimate red-ribbon wrapped chocolate shaped boxes containing a sexy piece of lingerie.

But now, I can buy the sexiest piece of lingerie I have ever seen in my life without the hassle of working out the size conundrum. Now is that a bargain or not??

But then the bloody world is, well, bloody screwed up. So everything lovely somehow has a sting attached to its tail. In this case it happens to be the not so easy task of either getting into or getting out of the crystal g-string (with or without help), as well as wearing it with your fav pair of jeans and going out on a date. It is definitely not recommended for the faint of heart. Trust me on this.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Phoenixian Resurrection?

Returning to an old blog is like returning to a sad old ex, in more ways than one. The settings, the sights, the scenery look eerily familiar, but there is that niggling thought at the back of your head that the sex might have lost its zing. So you scratch your head, giving your nuts a well deserved break in a long long time, wondering whether it is worth the effort in the first place.

But then you wonder where else can you delve into details with regards to such deep and thought provoking, socially relevant subjects like cool dudes who love their i-pod (pod rhyming with load) or about orkut love-birds who send each other one liners representing such traumatizing bastardization of the english language as "cum on yahoo baby, im waiting for you to cum", discuss the merits and demerits of shooting your very own sex home videos, the demerits primarily being about you being paranoid about how your ass will look on tape .... not good not good at all, one piece of bloody horrific indian ass it would be..., provide expert advise on how to handle drunk girlfriends in an expert manner with minimal liability, talk about new and exciting places besides your apartment to have sex in (example an office space) and last but not the least make caustic acerbic fun of one and all.

However, SADLY, this blog has lost its once loyal reader-base. Even the bitchy feminists, the ex-es, those close to the ex-es, who would litter the comment space with raunchy comments, have moved over to greener pastures. So the resurrection looks, well, kind of iffy. But then there are just too many interesting tales being brewed up in the Jhant cafe and I am having too difficult a time keeping all of those to myself. And more importantly my balls are itching to make fun of a few chosen ones. And that in itself is worthy of a Ripley-esque resurrection.