My Feminist Mystique: Get Laid

After another evening in with my non-gay gay best friend, a bottle of wine and hours of pigging out while complaining about how we're stuck in my village, which has become a fort, surrounded by a moat thanks to the flooding.

I thought about the advise given to me by an article I read on Vice magazine about what a particular female journalist spent her time doing during the New York hurricane. Clue? It wasn't writing, or keeping up to date with the news.

"I own but one piece of equipment that uses disposable batteries (although I am seriously considering getting one of those yipping robot dogs that does back flips because hello, awesome), and that’s my vibrator. So when people told me to “buy batteries” their advice was more important than they would ever imagine. It was pretty hilarious advice to get from my ex-boyfriend, but terrifying to hear from my mother. Everyone was saying to me “Who knows how long you’re going to be stuck inside with no internet and no power, so make sure you have enough batteries to run your giant dildo indefinitely”. Says Vice Columnist Kat George.

So sufficiently drunk, and after my dearest non-gay gay best friend had left to brave the weather, I took to the shower. Sadly, I don't own a giant dildo or a travel sized vibrating bullet, but we all make do.

Is this the way the world works now?! Whenever we're bored, instead of reading a book or watching a good film, we masturbate? When I was signed up be female by genetics in a world where we were equal to men (horaah feminism!) I didn't realize it meant we had now also become men, who were only interested in sex.

Don't get me wrong, when it's required, it's required, and I know I'll eventually own a body-less dick, but at the end of the day, if I have a choice, I'd much rather fuck my boyfriend. Or most other tall attractive guys for that matter. Actual sex is always better, no need to replace the man as soon as we become his equal- give 'em a break, they're proven less intelligent. They don't understand why they're not getting sex anymore.

On the plus side, if you have a really shit night out and don't pull anyone, and your Sure Thing is busy with whatever, you have a back up. A back up to your back-up, that's what wanking is. 

I'm not drowning you in The Feminist Mystique, or converting you back to whenever age dildo's were invented. I'm simply stating a point. 

I prefer sex. If you don't, you're not doing it right; or he isn't, but either way, you gotta get out there. This is MY Feminist Mystique: get laid, because people died so we wouldn't get called sluts anymore. 

So this is where I leave you, after yet another rant which we all know is caused by not being out at bars for the weekend. What can do? I'm not wading though inches of water in my favorite new leather boots to sit in a flooded bar. I'll leave you to your dildo's and/or boyfriends to enjoy this flood fucking any kind of dick, weather it's attached to a body or not. 

Peace Out ♥

Threesomes, yes or no?

I remember the days when the general topic of sex was totally taboo, and the only girls performing in such an act would discuss it in secret while smoking their parents stolen Windsor Blues behind the school 's bike sheds. It was a funny time, when you were either popular and adored by everyone, awkward and unsociable, or that creepy emo kid group talking about Green Day in a dark corner of a shopping centre, ridiculing the shoppers for being "mainstream". They are future hipsters... Actually, they all are, who isn't nowadays?
Whenever sex was bought up, it was about the basics, what we would do, what the fuck is oral sex and, after discovering the answer to the latter, hilarious laughter at the number 69 for the rest of our days.

Fast forwarding a few years of loosing virginity's (not necessarily to boyfriends) and I discover my friend has participated in a threesome with a druggie couple at a festival over the summer as a rebound from her ex-man. So this is the point where we all realize:  SEX IS FUN! It's not something to be ashamed of and just because we're having it doesn't mean that we're going to end up prostitutes on the street, funding our drug habit. Thank you, sex ed teacher for that horrific analogy.

No to threesomes: It's all well and good to feel sexually emancipated as a human and to fuck men and women alike as much as your libido can keep up with- but what about the stigma? Threesomes are for couples who are fed up of each other or a drunken "mistake" at a festival; an organised agreement between a  slutty group of friends, right? Not something us normal people do! Sorry slags, but it's true.

Yes to threesomes: Why the fuck not? We're living in an age of people going to the extreme to be different, to not follow the mainstream- especially in sex. It doesn't need to be awkward; we all know guy's threesome dream is with two girls and girls is two guys, but it's okay to mix it up a bit, try something new. If you're in a relationship then do it to please you boy. If you're single, then do it to please yourself- two guys all over all of you at one time? Why aren't more people doing this? ..... Answer: Because it's too fucking awkward.

So if you haven't already been utterly discussed and ashamed of my sexual adventures (ahem... not mine) the you will when you read the fucking strange circumstances I've endured listening to just for you guys.

Circumstance 1: The Festival Freesome-to-all. "I was at a festival getting high with three boys I'd met there. The four of us went back to the tent and I was getting pretty close to this one guy. Then he asked if his friend could join in (the fourth had passed out by now) so I said okay. It was the best sex I've ever had!" Not surprisingly this girl wont let me tell you her name- but is this what people want when a threesome is suggested? In a smelly tent surrounded by other smelly tents in a muddy field? It's your choice baby.

Circumstance 2: The Ugly, Clean Prostitute. My fellow blogger has admitted that she'd say yes to a threesome if she was in a relationship and the extra girl was a clean prostitute. "I'd cook her a meal, make her feel welcome etc. But she'd have to be uglier than me!" Sounds about right. I'm in (on the circumstance, not her hypothetical threesome, jeez)!

Circumstance 3: Love? Any self-respecting Friends lover will know the story of Phoebe's mum (the one on the beach, not the suicidal crack whore). Phoebe's birth mum, birth dad and foster mum were all lovers, together. Weird huh? But it does happen, like some sort of weird bigamy where the wives love each other as well. Let it be guys, but it is one of my other beautiful threesome circumstances.

As for positions, it really depends how drunk you are. If you're wankered and are planning on having this threesome with two strangers, then chatting about it isn't really an option in between multiple orgasms. In a man's case, just shove it in the spare whole... in a woman's case, take it. It's how the world works.
If you're hiring a prostitute for you and your friend/boyfriend/girlfriend, make a night of it, cook a meal and sit there talking dirty as much as possible with out putting one of the other thirds of their dinner, discuss which key is going in what hole... I'm going to be honest and say that if there are two men, I'd say the holes at the opposite ends of the body would prevent awkward ball bashing... but whatever the fuck you're into I guess.
If it's two women, then I'd definitely suggest general objectification of the man, for all you feminists out there.... one on the face, one on the... how does 50 Shades put it? Member? Length? Dick, basically.

I think I've covered about as much on the subject as my human instincts will allow without throwing up.
Enjoy in moderation, wear a condom, drink plenty of wine and most importantly... have fun (?)

Peace Out ♥

Now here's a search I'll be deleting from my history.

There aint nothing wrong with a bit of underage.

Before I go any further, I'd like to mention that I'm refering to underage drinking and "clubbing" (if you insist) not sex. I'm not giving unofficial permission to all those strange teenage boys to go after 14 year olds. Hold your horses, pedophilia is never okay.

Secondly, to the 14 year olds of the world, this message is not for you either, fake ID or no fake ID, you do not look 18 and playing british bulldog in a bar is also never okay. Stick to your houseparties, kiddies.

This post is for all the 17 year olds out there.
You've just started second year of college; you're now thinking about university, getting stressed over exams and resits and endless emounts of homework (jeez, you're never too old for it aparently). You've been given this crucificial cross of pressure to carry every single day from the government - because our generation will be the one's to get the best grades on record, become the most successful businessman, accountants, bankers, chancellors and journalists (I had to add the latter, I ain't no failure) and bring this god-forsaken island out of the recession and in to brand new modern times where everyone dresses like Marty Mcfly and drives around in hover cars and various other examples from the PM's wet dreams of the future (yuck!)

Back to the future, you're going to university soon (or not, whatever), you've gotten your grades and there aint nothing you can do about them, it's time to face the real world, but that's easy, because at least you can look forward to the weekend, when you can meet you mates and go out for one too many cosmopolitans (a favoured cocktail of mine in case anyone wants to know).

Back to the present, LET ME DRINK! In life, you're either lucky, or you're not. You're either born in the term before Christmas (in which case New Years is one hell of an event for you) or you're born in the summer months, when the suns out and is the best time for parties and at least everyone's 18 by then, right? But what about before that?
While friends who have just turned 18 join friends who have already turned 18 and go for casual drinks in Spoons between lessons and when amature gigs and parties become a thing of the past, making way for "the nights out" and the "over 18 events"; Other 'summer babies' and I, sit back and watch... and then listen on Monday morning while they chatter about the venue, the bar, the hot bar tender, the lovely people they met and the guy who bought them drinks all night after they spotted each other in the basic smoking courtyard as my 18 year old friend smoked a menthol Vogue, because she's worth it.

"What did you do this weekend?" ..... "I sat at home with my good friends Ben and Jerry, watching Sex and the City repeats until 2:30am when I, and my lopsided cat, turned in for the night."

Am I sinical? Yes.
Is it because I don't like Sex and the City? No.
But am I jealous that my 18 years (that's 6556.5 days) didn't come sooner than there's? Of course! I sit at home watching Sex and the City, while they're out having sex in the city, are you following?

I can shag who I want, I can drive where I want, and I can bet on me driving to a guys house to get laid.... and yet I can't go out for a drink. Well fuck you. (literally, because I can do that).

Fake ID
So after that cynical rant comes my sollution, I take a leaf from Marty Mcfly's book (the PM would be so proud) and fast forward time... sort of.
You're now talking to an 18 year old, looking back on her very short year of being 17 and pitying the poor bugger.

So here's the overall message. If you want something, get it, because no one's going to get it for you, and don't expect it to appear if you sit around and wait. Common 17 year olds, the worlds about to get fucking scary, so do yourselves a favor and savour these last few months, don't wait, it'll only be a waste of being underage. We were put on the earth to be 18, the number 17 means nothing!
After all, it's not like you're going to do that homework anyway.

*A last little note, if you're reading from America or anywhere else:

• Spoons is short for Wetherspoons, a chain of pubs around the UK.
• Ben and Jerries is an ice cream brand, like Rocky Road, but better (sorry, it's true)
• Term is a semester to you guys, a period between school/college holiday's
• I hope you know what Sex and the City is, if not, watch it. Same goes for Back to the Future, in reference to Marty Mcfly.
• University is college for you. College is your last two years of high school.
• PM refers to our Prime Minister, you can replace that with the God that is Obama.
• Also I'd like to mention that you should change the ages 17 and 18 to 20 and 21 for obvious reasons.

Got it?*

Peace Out <3

Mwahahahahahaa!

I had never celebrated Halloween before last night.
There, I said it, and now you know. I don't know why it's never taken my fancy before, I guess I've never been that into dressing up and scaring people; I guess I'm just too nice (ahem...).

That all changed last night. I was invited to a friends Birthday/Halloween party and everyone was making a tremendous effort with their costumes and extra's so I decided to join in - I would not be the one left drinking the death drink for not looking spooky enough!

Since I'm shite at organizing outfits and fancy dress costumes, I ended up as a very pale, blonde goth with a green sparkly mask. Make no mistake, I was pretty freaky-looking.

Other costumes included Black Swan, Lana Del Brains, Little Dead Riding Hood, a cracked china doll and various other witches, wizards, cats and prime ministers.

So time for scary music, punch with strawberry laces and shots of Raki (a 70% alcoholic drink traditional in Crete- aka, best birthday present from me!) expensive Vogue's in the garden and breaking down Beyonce style in our cold bare feet- now that's how a party should go!

After mummifying two friends with toilet roll in typical Halloween party style, we proceeded to shots of peach schnapps, apple sourz and fish flavoring; gossiping between girls and slut dropping to Azealia Banks, 212 and general photo madness with the makeshift photo booth. It really doesn't get any better than that!

Photo Booth FUN!

A change into boyish pajama's and transforming the dance floor into a bed for everyone, out came the sleeping bags and duvet's and on went Moulin Rouge called for the end of the night at 2am. We all fell asleep on the cold floor, spooning for warmth and avoiding feet from parallel sleepers. True sleepover style.

OUR PARTY THROWER! 

'Till next year!
*Photo's by Ellie Prichard*

Peace Out ♥