Thursday, 25 September 2008

Dress Me Up

In a little over a month it will be time for my annual Halloween party.

Oh, how I love Halloween. The carefully selected playlist, the props, the food, the atmosphere. I love the fake cobwebs, the rubber spiders and those crappy little bottles of fake blood. I enjoy the bad sound effects, the scary pumpkins and the sheer creativity of it all.

The dressing up, however, is my favourite part of the occasion. Over the years I have donned my devil horns, been a dark angel with a halo of thorns and black bat wings, cavorted as Catwoman and been the Nurse Who Makes You Feel Worse.

This year I have set the theme as Heroes and Villains, but who, I ask you, who shall I be? I have already been a wicked Cruella, perfected my stony glare as Medusa, and danced a magnificent Timewarp as Magenta. I have been casting my mind back over all the literary and cinematic heroines (and anti-heroines) I can recall. Perhaps I shall be Ripley and run around in just my vest and knickers, periodically lobbing my cat in his carrier through random doorways. Or maybe I could have a cyber session and be the Borg Queen. I just can't decide.

Tell me, talented and creative readers of the Boudoir, what would be your fantasy fancy dress outfit? Have you ever tried to create it, and if so did it meet expectations? Did you look like a real Starship Trooper or just a twonk in a foil covered cardboard box?

Monday, 22 September 2008


They say "don't get mad, get even"
But I think I'd rather get ahead
I'm not going to revel
In just drawing level
I'll be putting my foot down instead.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008


I have never favoured a bastard over a nice guy. Treating me mean has never kept me keen. I'll opt for a considerate, thoughtful, compassionate man every time.

Yet there are still plenty of other women out there who, inexplicably, find total bastards irresistible. This in itself is not news and the loneliness of the nice guy and the success of the bastard has long been lamented over solitary drinks in late night bonding sessions between entirely pleasant, yet single, men.

With the advent of the internet and the increased popularity of blogging you no longer have to go out to the pub to see the allure of the bastard. This phenomenon can now be witnessed on your very own monitor in the comfort of your own home.

Along with the sad online tales of women done wrong, yet still in love with the cad in question, you can now read the thought processes and strategies of actual blogging bastards. You can read about how they are driven to do what they do because their missus has let herself go. You can learn about how they only accept offers from those with perfect bodies. You can read about how clever they are in their deceits, how many women they have on the go simultaneously, none suspecting of the others existence. You can see firsthand how little respect they have for women, how self-centred and unlikeable they are, how shallow, vain and dull. None of it is left to guesswork or chance, there is no doubt, no speculation, no "he's just a rogue" or "he just hasn't found the right one yet". No. It is there, in inarguable pixels, on your screen. He's an utter cunt.

What I find bewildering and perplexing though is the vast numbers of women commenting on these sorts of blogs in a frenzy of knicker-wetting hysteria. Not only do they quite obviously find this kind of cunt-like behaviour appealing and arousing, with their heavy handed flirtatious remarks and hearty slaps on the back for bad behaviour, they also turn on their own with a vicousness I find remarkable. "She sounds like a total bitch" they will say, of some poor unknowing woman who has had her failings blogged by a bastard. "Ditch her," they cry. "She deserved it," they screech, after a tale of shabby treatment unfurls.

If you have ever wondered what the kind of women who enjoyed taking their knitting to executions do in today's modern world I can tell you. They comment on bastard blogs. They wait for some cunt to virtually put his woman in a cart and parade her past their unsympathetic gaze so they can throw their abuse at her. "She's a witch," the bastard proclaims. "Burn her!" cry the harridans, wishing they could fling stones too. "Burn her and then fuck me, big boy!"

It is a strange competition for the approval and attentions of a total fuckwit. I don't really understand it, given my preference for the nice guy.

Someone enlighten me. What is the appeal of the bastard? Am I alone or are there others who find they prefer somebody who is pleasant to the women in his life? Or is the desire to be treated well by someone who genuinely likes you the last remaining kink? Is it now out of step to get wet for respect?

Edit: I am away for a couple of days now so forgive me if there is a slight delay in responding to comments.

Sunday, 14 September 2008

Tactical Blogrolling

There's a lot of it about.

I can glean an awful lot about behind the scenes maneouvres from a change to a blogroll.

It's a bit like reading tea leaves or divining the future from chicken entrails. I see a name added and think "ah, they're chummy. I wonder if they'll shag". I see a name removed and think "ooh, they've fallen out. I wonder if they shagged?"

My imagination frolics, wild and free, across all possible permutations. I know many blogs are added to lists simply because the author enjoys reading them. Many are removed simply because they have ceased to post. Yet, still, it is far more entertaining to ascribe Dangerous Liaison style motives to such public declarations of favourites.

Tell me, truthfully - other than a blog closing, what would lead you to remove someone from your blogroll?

Friday, 12 September 2008

Procrastinate For the End is Nigh

I pinned quite a lot on the possibility of the world ending earlier this week.

There were so many things I thought I would leave because if the world ended it really wouldn't matter any more. Now that it hasn't I am left with the following which I will now actually have to do something about :
  • A forgotten birthday
  • A voice mail about the forgotten birthday
  • Several texts wanting to know if I want to meet up next week as a belated birthday celebration
  • A big fuck off overdraft
  • Road tax
  • That funny intermittant whistling noise from the front wheel of my car when I drive at certain speeds
  • Shaving my legs
  • Pretty much anything work related you can think of
This is the flaw in the theory of living each day as if it were your last.

Wednesday, 10 September 2008

Fully Dressed Thursday

As I mentioned in last week's comments box, I have become bored with HNT so will not be participating for the foreseeable.

Creating a badly focussed image of my own arse, cleavage or shoes each week was beginning to feel like a chore rather than a pleasure and I just couldn't find the time or inclination to respond to all the vacuous "Happy HNT!" comments with vacuous "Happy HNT!" comments of my own.

Also, it seems to me that each week the "half" part of "Half Nekkid Thursdays" is increasingly abandoned as HNTers post ever more explicit images and positively pornographic click-throughs. I love the idea of body confidence and some of the photography you find on HNT posts is just stunning, but, equally, there are an awful lot of pictures that look distressingly like butcher's shop windows. I really don't know how to comment on those:

"Lovely flaps"?
"What a charming shade of pink your insides have"?
"Great foreskin, clever composition, loving your hairy nads"?

What the hell is all this willy-waving, flange-flashing all about? What the yellow rubbery fuck is half "nekkid" about that?

So, given my disenchantment I think I shall retire my cleavage for a little while and go comment on posts where I don't have to unwittingly see the contents of anyone's undercrackers while trying to eat my breakfast.

Monday, 8 September 2008

Another Raunchy Review

Being a Top Sex Blogger of 2008 (official) you would think the free sex toys would be thrusting, gyrating and vibrating their way through my silicon-lubed letterbox in their droves, wouldn't you?

But no. I have received fuck all on the freebies front. So, if, like me, you haven't been sent a free sex toy to review because you haven't littered your blog with adverts and are prone to honesty, despair not! I am here to help you make an informed choice as to what everyday household items can also be used as sensual playthings.

Leaving aside the obvious choices (cucumbers, electric toothbrushes and sitting upon the washing machine when set to the spin cycle) there is much to be said for exploring more obscure yet creative options. Yes, today we look at the erotic potential of the humble tea towel.

One of the big selling points for the tea towel is that most of us already have one, they are easy to clean (simply toss into the washing machine - then sit on it for the spin cycle if you are still hot to trot despite all your hot tea towel action) and come in a variety of colours and designs. Feel like getting kinky with something adorned with the legend "A Gift from Cornwall" or pictures of steam trains, kittens or maps of the county? No problem. Want to do something unspeakable with a piece of fabric embellished with the butterflies of Britain, London buses or scenes "Frae Bonnie Scotland"? The tea towel can meet your needs, no matter how bizarre or specialised.

Folded over they make a wonderful impromptu blindfold. If you have a drawer-full of tea towels languishing unused, why not go for the full BDSM Tea Time Scene? With your partner securely bound to a dining chair with tea towels, blindfolded and gagged likewise, you can then torment their helpless and vulnerable form with a flick of the wet tea towel you now brandish. With a bit of practice and a quick snapping action of the wrist you can arouse them until you can hang your tea towel off their nipples. If you want to play out the entire scenario you can then move onto fun with sugar tongs, biscuit crumb torture and hot and cold play with chilled teaspoons which you then warm up when stirring your hot tea.

NB. Do check your partner was up for the BDSM Tea Time Scene and didn't just genuinely pop by for tea. The vicar still won't meet my eye these days.

Friday, 5 September 2008

Perhaps I Am a Sex Blogger After All

I am honoured and surprised to find that the lovely Rori of Between my Sheets has placed me on her list of Top Sex Bloggers 2008!

I am in most excellent company, reading through the rest of the names included there, though I do feel a bit of a fraud. Wasn't I the one who boldly stated "this is not a sex blog"? Didn't I mock awards, Half Nekkid Thursdays, sex toy reviews and, well, the whole sex blogging community?

Yet just this week I have been reviewed and found myself included on a list of top table, A-list sex bloggers! Plus of course there are my two Fleshbots. Two. Oh, and all the HNTs.

Have I been assimilated? Am I losing my edge? Or is it more that not all of the sex blogging community is afraid of, or feels sullied by, a little bit of satirical sniping now and then? I would hope it is the latter as I would hate to think I am no longer the grumpy old ratbag you have all come to know and tolerate. Do tell me if you think otherwise though.

Monday, 1 September 2008


I have been reviewed!

Over at Your Girlfriend's Diary you can now read for yourselves what The Reviewer thinks my blog is about, what I do well, where I go wrong and, most importantly, why I do the mean things I do.

Your Girlfriend's Diary is a recently established blog which aims to demystify the workings of the female mind through the medium of sex blog review. Having rejected conversation and excessive alcohol consumption as ways to communicate, the only remaining option to learn what your woman is thinking is to read her diary, apparently. But failing that a random sex blog will do. If you ever thought that perhaps what women really want is a range of household items inserted in various orifices, to overuse the words cunt and fuck, to write hyperbolic descriptions of mediocre shags and to have it away with pretty much anyone rather than you, then this site will confirm your suspicions!

(To be fair, the author does acknowledge his Flawed Premises. The simple truth is you will never, ever really know what anyone else is thinking or the motivations for their behaviour, as so few of us are honest with ourselves, let alone anyone else.)

So, do go and take a look. Let me know if you think he's got me banged to rights, or not.

My only real criticism is that nowhere in my review does it mention my fantastic shoes. Oh, Mr Reviewer, you still have much to learn about what women really want!