Scent Of A Woman

Fasten your seatbelts folks, this ain’t no movie review.  To some, it might get downright disgusting.  So stop now if you are easily disgusted, especially by smelly parts.  Today, we are going to talk a bit about women and their smell.  Well to be more accurate, the smell of their womanhood.  Or ladyhood. Whatever.

I am not taking sole responsibility for waking up this topic.  No ma’am.  It wasn’t me.  I was minding my own business reading about the Boston bombing on the puter when I absent-mindedly clicked on a link that took me to a topic that read. ‘The answer to every woman’s question:  What is it supposed to smell like down there.’

Now before you ask, “Why were you reading it, you are not a woman.”  I know I am not a woman and don’t have a ‘down there’ but as I ‘eat’ down there, I figured that I should at least be interested in what and where I eat. (Sorry about the ‘eat’ thing.  I assumed we are all adults here).  So I basically wanted to find out what exactly my food should smell like so I dove right in.  No use beating around the bush.  (Again, I am sorry if I come off crude).

What did I learn?  I learned that Vaginas are not supposed to smell like roses.  But also not supposed to smell like rotten fish either.  Somewhere in between is where is should be.  So a rose with a faint fish smell should be ok. Or even a fish with a rosie smell is fine too.

Interestingly, there was a paragraph on how a woman can tell if she has an odor.  I was expecting it to be, ‘If your man refuses to put his lips close to your rose petals, even though you have a mistletoe hanging in front of it, you might have an odor problem’.  Or even, “If your man puts on a gas mask before he ventures down under, do a smell test.”

Women, did you know that you could and should measure your vagina’s ph level?  I didn’t either.  I wonder what color it turns the ph paper? Some overly eager guys have used their penis as a ph paper and test many a foul-smelling vagina and from what I have heard, it turns them red.  Don’t hate.  I said ‘so I heard.’

I will leave you girls to go read it yourself.  You might learn something.  Me, I am going to eat.  Food silly!

And hey, if you have a strong odor, don’t be too worried. Just leave it.  It makes it easier for the dogs to find you if you ever get lost in the woods.  See?  It’s not all doom and gloom.

Advertisements

Momma Said Keep Your Legs Closed Except For Maybe A Little Gap…

The much-coveted thigh gap

The much-coveted thigh gap

It is often said some girls are so tight that you have to pry their legs open with a crow bar.  Luckily for those men without crow bars or the strength to open up their women’s legs like oysters, women are simplifying things.  Men, say hello to the Thigh Gap! The latest trend among women and especially teen girls.

Girls whose thighs were once so close that they looked like mermaids, are now showing off thighs that are so far apart, you’d think they had a fight the night before.  You can see daylight through their legs now.  Easier access to the pearl.

On the serious side, our teenage daughters are starving themselves to acquire this ‘hot’ look!  Skinnier thighs equals thigh gaps.  An unhealthy practice to say the least.

I was never a fan of gap-toothed grin but a gap-thighed look? I dunno.  I have always been drawn to peep holes.  A thigh gap might be one of the best thing a wife could do for her husband also.  “Honey, you can stand in front of me if you want. I see the tv through your legs. It’s quite ok.”

So, do you have a thigh gap? Can I see forever through your thighs?  Is it naturally made or self-engineered?

An example where the before beats the after.

An example where the before beats the after.

I am not fat but my thighs sometimes rub together when I run.  This bothers me as it is a wee bit uncomfortable and stings.   Also, my ‘third thigh’ has to compete for space with two bigger and tougher muscle heads.  With a thigh gap, at least the little guy has some room to swing.  Yep, I think I need a thigh gap.

I’ll leave you with a little joke I heard way back.  At a young woman’s funeral, a man was overheard saying, “Finally they are both together.”  The person close to him asked, “Oh, her husband is dead?”  “No”, was the response, “I was talking about her legs.”

Accidental Porn

Deutsch: High-Key-Aktfoto

Deutsch: High-Key-Aktfoto (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This morning, I read one of the most interesting blogs I have read in a while.  It was from my new-best-blogger-friend Katie from sassandbalderdash.com.  (Keep this between us as she doesn’t know this yet).  Her post was about accidental catching a glimpse of another female’s posterior while in her gym’s locker room.  It was aptly called Accidental Ass Gazing.

From the topic and after the first paragraph, I was fully expecting to read about Katie’s eyes accidentally finding rest on a man’s behind.  I was pleasantly surprised and happy that it wasn’t.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that…but I wasn’t in the mood.

I am a self-confessed ass-man.  I love butts.  Female butts.  I worship butts.  I love them so much that I would gladly point out a guy with a great butt to my wife and she would do the same.  If my wife were to catch a glimpse of a perfectly shaped posterior, she would come home with, “I saw the best ass at the gym today.  You would have loved it.” And she would be right.  I would have loved it indeed.  It has nothing to do with sex although it does help something to do with sex.  I like nice butts and I cannot lie.

Anyways, Accidental Ass Gazing was so well written with vivid descriptions of a perfect ass, girl slowly stripping…that I felt a stirring in my loins.  Sorry Katie, it’s not you.  I just wanted to pee, that’s all. Unlike some of the other guys who commented and told Katie that it sounded like it could very well have been the intro to a lesbian porn.  I didn’t think so at all.  Other than the stirring, I didn’t for one second harbor any sexual thoughts. Seriously!  Even when she wrote, “So I stripped to my tank top, and then I started to unbutton my pants…” I hardly reacted.  Hardly. My pulse didn’t quicken in eager anticipation and my breathing remained even.  I even read it a few times over to make sure.  Nope.   Nothing.  Nada.  Zilch.  Cold as a dead herring.

Katie seemed a bit rebuffed by the insinuations that her innocent gym blog was soft pornish in nature.  She said it was an insult as she could done a better job if she had intended it to be.  Still waiting Katie…how about ’50 shades of something’? 

Friday Folly: Don’t Patronize Me, Doc. And Get Your Hand Outta There!

thI was ready for him when he walked into the room.  “Hi, nice to see you.”  He says.  “I wish I could say the same but I’m not happy to see you.” Was my rehearsed response.  He laughed but I was serious.  If the doctor only knew what was going through my mind…

Seriously doc, I am here for you to  give me a cortisone shot in my shoulder with a big ass needle, should I be happy to see you?  No.  And you shouldn’t be either.  Come to think of it doc, I should never ever be happy to see you.  Ever!  You stick your hand up my butt while fondling my nuts for goodness sake! How disgustingly embarrassing and humiliating is that? Well unless you are into that sort of thing…Then you would be indeed happy to see me.  What? You said it’s not your hand?  Well pardon me for being a tight ass but it sure does feel like your hand.  And you never grab my scrotum while you are inside me?   Doc, please don’t say ‘inside me’.  That’s just wrong.  Makes me cringe.  And you are right, manipulating my balls while digitally testing my anus just seem a bit creepy and unmedicinal.

When you look or peer into my eyes with that gadgety thingy, does your face, especially your mouth, have to be that close to mine?  Seriously? It makes me rather uncomfortable.  What if our lips brushed?  Let me tell you, I would be traumatized for life.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  Two men’s lips brushing, that is, not the peering into eyes.  

As you can tell, I am really not too fond of our meetings.  I actually come on my wife’s insistence.   Doc, why do you insist on talking to me while taking my blood pressure? You ask me questions while looking down my throat.  News flash!  I can’t answer you except to make alien-like sounds.  Why don’t you tell me about your family instead?  Actually don’t.  I am quite fine with the silence so don’t feel compelled to start a conversation. Let’s just get this over with as quickly and painless as we can. Dispense with the patronizing chatter. 

Oh, last time you groped my sack, you said you couldn’t feel my nuts and was worried.  Don’t be worried.  My nuts recoiled when you touch me down there.  I recoil too but you never notice. Just like how I clinch my butt cheeks when you try to invade it.  My balls  turtle on you doc!  They recoil somewhere up into my stomach in embarrassment and humiliation.

If the next time you stick your appendage in my exit, I go, “Oooh yeah! That feels good, doc.”  Would you still be happy to see me?

More Friday Follies:

Friday Folly:  World Naked Bike Ride 2013

Filling My Ass!

Oatmeal

Oatmeal (Photo credit: desegura89)

 

Oatmeal is great as a breakfast choice as it’s very filling and makes you not feel hungry for  the better part of the morning.  Yeah right! Filling my ass! (And you thought the topic meant something else. Boo!).

 

I have been on this ‘eat oatmeal porridge every morning’ kick for some time now.  There must be something wrong with me because the ‘filling’ part of it is missing.  Or maybe I need to add a few pieces of toasts, couple slices of bacon, because bacon goes great with everything, and maybe some sausages and an egg or two.  Then it would be filling for sure.  After my first bowl, I am usually still hungry and the ‘filling’ doesn’t kick it  until after the third bowl.  In the time it takes to make three bowls, I could have had a real man’s breakfast.

 

So claim debunked.  It’s a myth.  Oatmeal is not really filling, unless you are an ant.

 

 

Undesired and Uncontrollable Orgasms

The topic of this blog could make you go, “What? There’s no such thing.  Orgasms are always desired.  Maybe uncontrollable but who’s complaining”.  Well the women who suffer from the rare disease, PGAD, which means Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder are complaining.

When I first read this I thought it was a joke.  I am sorry because from reading about it, it’s definitely not a laughing matter.  It might appeal to the voyeur in you but to those suffering from PGAD, there’s nothing sexy about it.

Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder or PGAD, is an ailment that affects women. They suffer spontaneous, persistent and uncontrollable genital arousal with or without orgasm.  Failure to relieve the symptoms usually results in spontaneous orgasms, so it is not uncommon for a woman to engage in frequent masturbations.  These can occur in buses, hair salon, while shopping, work, etc. so imagine that for a while.  It is of course painful and in many cases, sufferers end up forgoing sexual relationships.  This affect the ability to carry on a loving relationship.

I first came across this story about a week or so ago when I read about a woman who committed suicide after a prolong fight with PGAD.  Read her story here.  There are many more like her and their stories are no less sobering.

Who would have thought that a story about women having orgasms and having a vibrator for a bff could be so grim?

Related articles

Gang Kills Man. Gangnam That Is.

thIt was bound to happen sometime.  I saw it coming and you did too.  The most over-hyped thing to hit us in a long time has turned into a killer!

Before I go any further, I will first acknowledge the poor guy that died leaving his three kids and wife behind.  (Well it’s not like they wanted to go with him).  May his soul rest in peace.

My work is having its Christmas party tomorrow, Saturday and knowing the dj was of course going to play Gangnam style,  I was actually planning to do a dance spoof of it..  Yeah, I know, I hate the darn thing but so what?  I hate broccoli too but sometimes I eat it.

I am thinking that the newspapers’ headline for that poor guy could very well have been mine.  ‘Father of three dies while doing the Gangnam‘.  I am a father of three in case you missed that.

I don’t want to make too many funnies about this because someone lost their life and that’s not funny.  Like seriously, what if a family member was to read my blog about it? How would they feel?   Sounds like the deceased was a real fun guy, busting a move at his party and all…totally sounds like me.  I’m glad he beat me to it and halted my plan in its tracks.

Moral of the story.  Hmm…I dunno.  There is no moral.  Well… maybe dance like you are dying because you might really be? You choose.