Closed Due To Flooding?

How wet is too wet? Yes, we’ve been having lots of flooding here in the UK this month, but my topic today is about a more personal kind of wetness.

I am about to confess a small personal issue. One that many women, menopausal and otherwise, might actually envy.

I get wet. Specifically, I have a very juicy punani. In fact, I might admit to getting a bit too wet.

Too wet, you say? How can anyone possibly be too wet?

Well, too wet means slippery. Really slippery. And slippery-ness reduces friction. Friction is necessary for my partner to, well experience complete enjoyment. In fact, for the better part of 10 years or more, Ive been ejaculated ON far more than IN. (So much so that at times I felt like I was stuck in an endless money-shot loop.) I didn’t really consider it a problem until I realized that if I ever wanted to get pregnant it might present some difficulty if I never got any semen planted in my hoo-hoo.

Its not a size thing. I actually have a very tight pussy. Two-fingers tight. (No children and infrequent sex for years = tight). And as for the men – well, I mean, I haven’t ever fucked a zucchini (unlike a woman I watched on webcam once), but my partners have been more than adequate.

I cant believe I’m the only woman out there with this particular biology. I’m not really sure what to do about it. Most women searching for help are looking for the opposite – something to increase their natural moisture.

So seriously, what do I do?

Always Mind The Bollocks

I don’t know much about testicles. Sure, I remember sex-ed, anatomy, physiology, etc. But when Mr. Vanessa says my bollocks hurt I have no idea what that really means. Women arent born with a nut-pain reference scale. If its not pushing out a baby, how bad can it really be?

So, we have some lumps too, but they are painful to the touch. Now, in boobs, they say that painful lumps are not the bad lumps. I know about tits. I have a couple of those. But, like I said, I don’t know balls about testicles. I know of men who were blindsided by the bad lumps because they didn’t hurt. Can the bad lumps hurt?

For now, were resting. And were scheduled for an ultrasound. And were masturbating, trying to relieve some pressure/discomfort. (note: this didn’t relieve anything except horniness) And, if all that fails, we have painkillers. Basically, were trying to comfort the nuggets however possible.

I think it might be easier to comfort the giblets than the wife.

Gender Equity? Sounds Like A Lot Of Bull

As I write this, thousands of Spaniards are smack in the middle of the encierro, the annual running of the bulls in Pamplona.

Apparently some women there are clamoring for their own encierro, but with cows, instead of bulls.

Women demand female Pamplona bull run, with cows

MADRID (Reuters) – Women in the northern Spanish city of Pamplona, world-famous for its ferocious bull-running festival, are demanding their own version complete with cows instead of bulls. Read more

Now, I wont even get into what a completely pathetic, stupid and cruel idea the original event is. That’s a whole other discussion. What strikes me here is the idea of wanting equal time that isn’t really equal. Cows are not bulls. Any rancher will tell you that. Cows are lovely, gentle creatures lacking two critical pairs of features: balls and horns. Sure, you run the risk of getting trampled by a herd of cows, but you could get trampled by a herd of anything scared and moving quickly down a narrow alley. Turkeys, even. But cows and turkeys wont gore your sorry ass. (Or your upper thigh.)

But the request made me think of a larger issue: When it comes to gender equity, I believe we should demand it, and settle for nothing less. But cows are not gender equity.

 

I don’t believe in setting the bar lower simply because were the fairer sex. Equal means equal. I dont need special considerations. Don’t make allowances for me. If I choose to compete, it will be on a level playing field.

This year was the first year that the female singles winner at Wimbledon was awarded a cash prize equal to the male singles winner. The first year. Its freaking 2007, and this was the first year the pay was equal?

Very soon we will have the strongest opportunity we’ve ever had to decide whether we want a woman to lead our country. Ive maintained for years that we will see all colors and creeds of men in the white house before the people will choose a woman. And that’s in a country with a female majority. I’m just pessimistic that way. I hope I’m proven wrong – though I’m not saying I wish it were with Hilary – I’m not yet convinced that shes necessarily the best choice. I just don’t believe Ill see a woman president in my lifetime and I don’t know how to change that except insist that we stop asking for special consideration. We don’t need it. Were not inferior, weaker, less-than. Were female. And that shouldn’t matter.

Keep your cows, amigos. If I run, I run with balls.

Muchas gracias.

This Day In England

Well, you can learn quite a bit about England from just one days news. Here are a few tidbits I have learned today about the little place Ive been calling home for the past nine months

  1. If a fire breaks out, tough. Suck it up, Nancy!
  2. We got us some pervs. actually, these guys give pervs a bad name
  3. We have a teeny drinking problem. doh!
  4. Were all gonna die in a horrible flood. again, doh!
  5. Were all gonna die in a massive suicide bombing. Did the knighthood committee really think that through?
  6. If #4 & 5 dont happen, stay out of the hospital. Those places will kill you.
  7. The Druids need your vote.
  8. London is Better Than Moscow. (but only just)
  9. If the train doesnt go where youre going, they just make shit up.
  10. The BBC is biased. Just ask the BBC.

Spammers Can Lick My Cats Ass

This was me, just a few hours ago.

I woke up this morning to find that my entire site had been suspended. Turns out some asshat had been using the contact me form to turn my site into a spam relay. The worst part was, my host (id-May ase-Phay dot om-cay) seemed to think that I was the criminal and locked me out completely so that I had no way of fixing it, then proceeded to ask what I was planning on doing to fix it.

Right.

So, after I explained exactly where I thought their heads were placed anatomically, they let me back in to my control panel. I removed the contact form, and I hope I solved the problem. Unfortunately, this means that if you want to contact me privately, you have to send me a mail to Vanessa (at talktovanessa.com). Sorry for the extra step, but I dont have any choice. Until I can get a secure contact form (is there one?) it has to go via email.

Heres the thing. Spammers wouldnt spam if they didnt think they would make money. They wouldnt make money if the Nigerian Viagra peddlers didnt pay them per hit. And the Nigerian Viagra peddlers wouldnt pay them per hit if people didnt buy their crap. (Personally, I think the Nigerian people are getting a bad rap all because of a few asshats).

Are you buying their crap? Im sure not buying their crap. Who in hell is buying this crap? Any people, and I use the term loosely, who agree to give these guys so much as one thin dime, are the entire reason spam exists. We could wipe spam out tomorrow if nobody bought their crap anymore.

Listen To Vanessa: Dont Buy This Crap!!!

Back Trouble = Sex Trouble

So, where the hell have I been? My sweetie decided to get himself a herniated disc and the resulting sciatica. Net result is lots of caregiving, little blogging, and even less sex.

And so it goesenjoy the Sugasms while we both recover.

P.S. I need an Eroscillator, STAT!!

Satisfaction

Yeah, I know I haven’t posted much lately. Its not that anything is wrong; quite the opposite. Things are actually going quite well. And its always easier to write when things arent going well. Angst and ennui make for great creative stimuli. Satisfaction and contentment are creatively boring.

A half-lifetime of sexual discontent has evolved into something much different. Im feeling sexually fulfilled. I have a wonderful partner, who ministers to my every need. Even if that need is a cup of drinking chocolate at 1am. With the little marshmallows, even.

I dont feel sexually obligated. Its no longer something I feel I have to do because, well, thats what a dutiful wife has to do. I enjoy sex with my new partner. Well, newer.

And my ex-husband has finally confessed to having started dating. He even has a girlfriend. Hes moving on. I am so relieved and pleased. The guilt of leaving someone who didnt want to be left is some of the worst guilt one can experience. But I can close that chapter now. Finally.

I apologize for not writing more frequently. But, frankly, I cant think of anything to write about when Im happy. And I’m happy.