Yesterday I read an eye-popping story of a young man who was born as a she but didn’t feel too comfortable in the ‘she’ skin so he changed to a ‘he’ Well, well, well…This guy got my vote on being the hottest pre-transgender and post-transgender human I’ve ever seen! So hot that I had a crush on both of them! And they say I’m straight…
Anyways, as I read the story and saw how beautiful he was before the sex change, I got to wondering if when he looks back on the photos of him as a her in lingerie, does it excite his fancy? Would it? Should it? Or would it feel incestuous? I dunno but I would like to know. Anyone? Bueller?
One of the most common reasons people give for choosing to change sex is that they just didn’t feel they were living as they were supposed to. They were living a lie so to speak. So here’s another of my questions, if as a woman, they had the mind of a man, how does that work for masturbation? Or do they even do it? Ok, I am getting confused and maybe a tad hot and bothered, but if you know the answers to any or all of these questions, drop me a line. I would be happy to hear from you. And you there young fella, do whatever makes you feel happy.
Please read the story here and see what I’m talking about.
I didn’t know it was possible for a person to choose their sexual orientation. That’s not all, one could also get their kids to grow up as a…a…uhm…thing? No wait, an unassigned-gendered organism or being. Yup! yes siree!
I just read, that in British Columbia, (That’s in Canada for you Mercan folks), a baby was giving a ‘U’ for sexual orientation on its health card on the request of the parent who wants to raise the kid as a sex-fence straddler. (I made that word up by the way).
The parent thinks it infringes on the baby’s human rights to be forced to live like a duck boy or girl. Parent X wants baby Y to choose whether it wants to continue on as a male or female once Baby Y is old enough. (Let’s use X and Y here for clarity). Being gendered without a choice is socially crippling to Baby Y, according to parent x. (Not exactly their words but mine sounds better).
So all these years, I could have been a gir/woman, boy/man and later on pick my sex? Imagine the naked girls I could have seen as I changed in their locker rooms! Or the hung men! My oh my! I’ll take that and that and that! Who the heck decided that I wanted to be male anyways? Who thought I would rather boxers over G-strings? Or be a husband instead of a wife? Or play on a boys’ team instead of a girls’? Or even be on top instead of…oh never mind. Hell, I even attend an all-boys high school!
I love this new world order. Wrong is right and right is wrong. Male is female and female is whatever it wants to be. No boundaries! I tell ya, things, they are a changing…
My oh my, the joys of being young. And drunk. And on a plane. And having sex with someone you met on said plane. I guess you can call it a ‘one flighter’ or as it is popularly referred to, mile-high-club sex.
This is so ironic but a young virgin on her way to sin city, apparently couldn’t wait to get to Vegas to lose her virginity, so she end up having what I will call premature sex on a, wait for it, a Virgin Airline! Let me come clean, at least somebody is coming, and tell you that I am not sure she was actually a virgin, I just added that bit, but she was young and she was drunk and she did have sex with a guy she met on a Virgin Airline. Oh and she was going to Vegas too. I can only imagine what the little whore had planned for when she got there. Oops! Did I say whore? I actually meant slut virgin.
Crews were alerted to the washroom happenings after the slut nice but drunk young lass couldn’t keep her mouth shut, screaming like a banshee, thus alerting the crew. They probably thought there were snakes on the plane and the girl, if she was indeed a virgin, probably thought the same. Turned out it was just two young mile-high-club wannabees.
Why do people get so scared when the topic of discussion is racial? I am a black man married to a white woman and we have mixed kids. Of course they are curious about their culture. Whenever they do or say something that is funny, I post it on Facebook and quite interestingly, everyone shy away from it. They like my food pics, my lame stories about nothing, my YouTube videos but me saying my kids said they would rather be black than white, is not likeable.
So, let’s knock down some barriers here. Don’t be a wuss, we are all humans. who gives a crap about color? I don’t. I make jokes about blacks, whites, red, yellow, whatever. You don’t like it, then you have a problem. Trust me, if we can’t laugh at these things then we are in a whole heap of trouble.
Your uncomfortable silence when I talk about my color is troubling. It bothers me. It makes me notice that I am indeed black and then I feel different. So come on, lighten up. Let’s talk race. Come on, tell me a black joke. What’s the worst that can happen? I punch you in the face? Nah…
English: Close-up picture of billiard balls (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Women, did you know that if your boyfriend/husband has big testicles he is likely to be a dog? Well a cheater that is. Yeah, that’s what a recent survey says.
The survey, here, states that men who have large testicles are more prone to cheating. Gimme one sec, brb…talk amongst yourself. Ok, I am not a cheater. I checked. Maybe a tiny bit but that could also be due to something else. Maybe when I got kicked in the groin by my ex when she found out that I…wait a minute! Oh never mind! Damn, the survey was right!
How does big sacs and cheating go together? Glad you asked. Well as you know, the bigger the sack, the more it holds right? Following me so far? Now that means it holds more. More what? Don’t be so slow, more semen! What else? Christmas presents? You think this is Santa’s sack or something? Anyways, more semen apparently mean us big ballers need more avenues to empty our sack. Once in a while with our wives just don’t cut the mustard. No sir. Makes total sense, doesn’t it? You could say yes buddy, your wife’s not watching.
So men, what are you waiting for? sneak a look at them balls before your woman does. You know how they could be when cheating is even remotely mentioned. “Look at the size of your effing balls!! You cheating on me, aren’t you? You effing cheater! I know I couldn’t trust you! You better grab your shit and drag your semen-filled bags out of my house!” It’s not going to be pretty. Not that your ginormous balls are a thing of beauty either.
English: Mariah Carey performing live in Las Vegas (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Did you know that if your blog contains sexually explicit material it would show up on the new blogs page? Yup, I read it myself. I was not too happy when I found this out because a lot of the posts on Funny Side Up are sexual in nature. Accidentally of course.
When I found out this bit of information, my first thought was, “What? There’s goes my chance of being Freshly Pressed. If my blog gets pushed aside because of sexual innuendos, how would anyone find it?.” Because I’m all about being FP, I have now decided to stay on the straight and narrow. No more alluding to sex. No porny talk. Family friendly here I come! Talking about come… Oops, never you mind!
So starting immediately, I am going to keep it clean and family friendly. I am going to make a case for Freshly Pressed consideration. If a celebrity was caught with their pants down literally, you won’t hear about it from me. If Rihanna shows her crotch or Miley has a nipple slip, you can find that out on your own. Even if my girl Mariah has a wardrobe malfunction, I won’t touch it. The topic I mean…I am done being the potty-mouth one.
To you my loyal followers, I apologize for switching gears in midstream but being Freshly Pressed is very important to me. As you can see, even more important than sex.
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’?