date machine : celebrities

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Do.. do women really suck in bed?

Date Machine: MORE Dating Confessions.. TRANSLATIONS..plus the Daily Throb

zeitgeisty — Mon, 06 Oct 2008 15:55:00 GMT

Again, sometimes the more direct simple answer is the TRUTHIEST... Hence my latest batch of TRANSLATIONS of some selected Dating Confessions...

"Were you telling me you are attractive b/c in reality you have an iffy self-image and were trying to impress me/come across as confident? If so you f-ed up b/c I took it as arrogance... and you made me insecure, but not in a good way."

TRANSLATION: His compensatory façade worked like a charm! Sucka!

"somewhere-between-old-friend-and-former-acquaintance guy, you have no idea. one random, casual email from you for the first time in years and i'm picking out a wedding dress and considering names for our children. i'm ridiculous. i know that. but fuck it, it feels good to even be excited at the IDEA of someone. it's been entirely too long."

TRANSLATION: Whoahh slow down!.. See this is why he hasn’t contacted you in years.

"I had a boyfriend tell me once how I looked exactly like F. Murray Abraham. He even took out a pictre. Granted Abraham is an interesing actor. But to tell a 23 year old pretty blonde woman w/ fine features ...that she looks like a craggy actor in his late 50s....I still wonder what that was about."

TRANSLATION: 2 options.. a) your boyfriend was being an insensitive prick, or b) you look like F. Murray Abraham… “Mediocrities of the world I absolve you!”

"I hate when you say you "could fall in love with me." What does that mean? Do you love me or not? What is this "could" business?"

TRANSLATION: By ‘could’ fall in love you, they mean.. if you had a completely different personality, and were just a LITTLE hotter…

"I feel like everyone I know is getting more action than me, even my little sister. Then again, my little sister likes cooking for men and giving blowjobs more than I do, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised."

TRANSLATION: hmmm…. Does your sister have a phone number?

"Oh the memories...I dated one guy who barbered his pubic hair in a way intended to make it all look more impressive. Poor buggar. He didn't know what I was used to! no amount of trompe l'oeil tomfoolery could change that."

TRANSLATION: An ultra pretentious art student way of saying my ex-boyfriend had a tiny pee pee…

"I'm 23 female. Above average looks, but definitely not a stereotypical-looking babe. Smart. Witty. Emotionally strong and independent. Can be funny and goofy. Can also be serious and intellectual and kind of intense. I love thinking about sex and I'm pretty open-minded. Always have been. But... I haven't had much sex. The times I tried I haven't been able to make a guy come, and now I'm nervous. And insecure about some things. I don't of course tend to tell people I know this. I'd love to experiment sexually with someone attractive, but I don't want an attached-at-the-hip relationship. Would you date me?"

TRANSLATION: Amboabe’s last date…

"between girth and length, i'll take both. either they're too short or they're too skinny, yes? yes."

TRANSLATION: Pleased to meet you, my name is Goldicocks…

"I hate you. I hate your stupid radio show. And I'm lying. Because I still listen and still try to analyze song lyrics to find a final trace of me."

TRANSLATION: Restraining order waiting to happen..

"You ruined Neil Young for me. I can never listen to "Harvest Moon" again. Thanks a lot, jerk."

TRANSLATION: Switch to ‘After the Goldrush’ and quit whining…

Elizabeth Hurley...actress whom I've always found hot..

TYPES

The odd disconnect between profile photos and reality

50 sexual expereiences I've never had

Dating COnfessions translations

I'm a breast man... the JUGS file

John McCain makes my peepee go limp

Video blog - 'The word on the steet' - the nature of attraction.

My dating confessions TRANSLATIONS

My internet dating advice

What we want vs. What we need and the power balance between man and women

All Porn SUCKS!!

The night PAULINA and I discussed sex

How important are someone's politics when choosing a patrner?

Nerve Confessions: It's all about the looks stupid!

Sex with someone I love - The MASTURBATION file

The Greatest Online Dating story - The PERSONALS file

'But baby I HAVE to put a profile up, it's required!!' - The GIRLFRIEND file

BITE ME! - Snark.

My first kiss...a remembrance of thing past

Feel the paste in you face - The FACIAL file

Talk dirty to me!!

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Date Night: The Wine Bar as the End of Civilization

Celebrity Confession: Tom Brady's Love Handles

amboabe — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 08:40:00 GMT

To celebrate the start of another NFL season, news broke on Sunday that Tom Brady, the man-hunk quarterback for the New England Patriots, used to have love handles. Some guy that owns a pizza place in some random Palookaville that Brady once danced through on his way to Olympus has been quoted as saying that the college-age Brady used to eat ham and cheese grinders with a fatty side of onion rings. To back the claim, a shirtless photo has surfaced of Brady from his rookie weigh-in with the slender but doughy physique of a cubicle surfer.

I imagine seeing stories like this satisfies some need for prurient gloating inside our collective cultural psyche. The man who has been leveraged as an ascendant molding of raw male ambrosia used to be that regular guy in old gym shorts nursing some cheesy fries at the end of your dorm hallway. The key to Tom Brady the sex symbol is his body; the key to Tom Brady the regular guy is the layer of fat gently covering over his physiology with the faintest hint of sloth and youthful gluttony.

That schism is disturbing to me. The sex god Tom Brady, with his hulking triceps, hairy chest, and chiseled jaw might as well be an animatronic sex doll. That's not a slur on the human being the doll was based on; I have no idea who he is (though he has at least partially consented to this presentation of himself as a glossy object of desire, based exclusively on physiology). Attractive people are nice to look at and all, but there's something pathetic about the creation of some superhuman version of a person just to stoke the interest of the Sex & The City culturatti who need a new pet name for their vibrators. (There is a male analog to that pith, but I'll leave it to you to customize your own pithy snipes)

I realize protesting about the image of Tom Brady is sort of absurd because this kind of dehumanization through sexual iconography has been the yoke born by women in the public spotlight for years, decades, centuries, millennia, and beyond. There's nothing particularly tragic about Tom Brady's ascension to swank material. But it did remind me of feet.

I hate feet in general. I can't think of anyone I know off-hand that I would say has nice feet. I have one lovely friend who has an unfortunately permanent toenail fungus and she takes great pleasure in torturing me with her feet. That's as concise a way as I have to characterize my aversion to feet: they're the part on a person's body where things inevitably fall apart and begin to decay. So it's surprised me over the last few months to notice just how much I miss my ex-girlfriend's feet. She didn't have particularly nice feet, but I sometimes find myself staring off into odd corners remembering the knobby pink bunions on her third toes. I miss them.

It's not the body that matters. It's what the body says about the person, how it comes to be an effigy to the spirit inside after you've come to know someone. In the glut of celebrity media that has come to embody our aesthetics and consumerism, we've somehow lost track of the fact that there are actually people inside of those blank celebrity automatons moving across the pages of People magazine. We punish celebrities for breaking from their idealized image. But the image is always the least interesting part of anything; a person, a place, or a moment in time. So take the time, for a moment, to enjoy the gap between rookie-Tom and the man who's become Giselle Bundchen's real life vibrator. Alas, Tom, I hardly know you, and I hardly even care.

[Source – Boston.com]

Previous Posts:

Crying In Public: The Sichuan Night Train

Love machine: How I Date On The Internet

Celebrity Confession: In Which Kevin Spacey Bangs Ass

Sex Machine: Zeitgeisty's Ass Bangin'

Sex Machine: Rate My Blowjobs

Crying in Public: My Cubicle

Feel the paste in your face...the FACIAL file - plus the Daily Throb!

zeitgeisty — Thu, 04 Sep 2008 13:46:00 GMT

I’ve yet to shoot a load in my girlfriend’s face.

It’s a bit of a drag, as that’s something you really need to establish early on in a relationship. After all this time, it might seem to come a bit out of left field. Moreover, I’ve noticed lately that most women I’ve been with in recent years don’t really enjoy a good face frosting. I think they find it demeaning – at least that’s the excuse I’ve heard on more than one occasion.

The funny part of all of this is that ‘the face finish’ was my signature move in my 20s. Now, it seems to have vanished from the menu. I miss it.

The face finish is the fucking Mc DLT of sexual perversion!

Of course, spraying jizz in a woman’s face is not without its drawbacks. You see, there’s always that possibility of getting them in the eye, then you have to hear them whine about it for the rest of the night…

“Oh!! My eye STINGS!! What’s with your AIM.. can’t you do anything right???? LOSER!!!”

Also, once you’ve just finished the act, and you’ve still got your semi-hard salami swaying in her face, the sexiness lasts but a brief instant before that moment of awkwardness sets in, quickly followed by the inevitable school-girl giggling on her part and of course the mad dash to find something to wipe her face off with. Hey! I thought it was good for your skin! Let it marinate for godsakes.

Sometimes they wanna kiss you right after!... I think they do that shit on purpose, I really do!

So… I’ve yet to decorate my ‘ole lady’s face with my vanilla coating, and I think time’s running out to make my move. Anal’s got a few more weeks left for expiration, but I need to hose her in the punim soon. She’s not really uptight about anything, so I’m hoping she’ll take it well. Like I said though, a lot of women don’t take kindly to it. They think it’s ‘porno star’, and ‘degrading’. I suppose I can see the point, but if you bend your opinions around like Gumby every two seconds, you can see anyone’s point.

Sometimes in life, you just need to grab your cock and aim for the whites of the eyes… Consider me the fucking Colonel William Prescott of sex. My gal’s pretty good in bed though, I have no complaints...well maybe just one – She likes to be on top. You see, I don’t like fucking with the gal on top. My shit always gets bent. It’s inevitable, my partner gets all excited hopping up and down like the fucking easter bunny, meanwhile, I’m desperately trying to get a hold of her hips to stave off the imminent disaster and then AAAaaRRrrGGhhh!!!…my cock goes all pretzel.

‘Are you ok.. god I’m sorry..’

'No I’m not ok, you just broke my dick.'

Of course, the rest of the session becomes muted, as I’m wondering whether or not my johnson’s gonna activate. It’s just not a good position for me, which is odd, because I do like the whole tits bouncing in your face aspect of it. Maybe my schlong’s too long, or maybe I’ve been fucking a string of klutzy women.

I much prefer fucking from behind, from the side… even missionary as jejune as that may be. This way I have some control, and I can wield my pork sword like the Count of Monte Dick-sto. Plus, I have better access to the clitoris. Have you ever tried manipulating a clit with the girl on top? It’s very awkward. It’s kind of like the feeling when you’re spooning, you know you have the one arm draped over, and the other arm, uncomfortably squished into her back. When you’re pleasuring a love button with the girl on top, your arm is accordion-ed in the same position. I think that’s why women are always grinding their snatch so much when they’re on top, to stimulate their wangdoodles...and don't even get me started on...

Reverse cow girl.

Most women should not even attempt this. They just don’t have the coordination. This will not only leave a man’s wang in knots, it could also cause major damage to his internal organs - especially if his partner has put on a few pounds. Again, this is why I like banging from behind, the woman could be a total porker, and it wouldn’t matter. In fact, it would even add to the proceedings. Ramming your rod into a big warm ass is probably the most fun you’ll ever have without laughing.

You know what’s the worst? - when you encounter a klutz that doesn’t now how to give head. Ugh… Be prepared for a long and painful night. First you start off by having your stuff chewed up in her gaping maw, like some sadistic praying mantis, then she jumps on top and proceeds to render you sterile by twisting your manhood around like she’s working a Rubik’s cube with her snatch.

No joke, I’ve had some women that literally had no clue how to handle a penis. The ironic part, is it’s usually some chick that talks a big game about how hot she is, and when it comes down to it she attacks your knob like a corn on the cob.

Give me the girls that seem quiet on the outside… they’re the ones that come alive in the sack. My girlfriend knows when to shut her mouth – gives her a touch of class.

The dangerously sexual...Asia Argento...actress and daughter of horror legend Dario Argento

In case you missed it... The Zeitgeisty Chronicles Archived.

Talk dirty to me!!

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file

Celebrity Confessions: The Queen!

airheadgenius — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 22:21:00 GMT

Well, sort of the Queen, but more like Helen Mirren. An article in The Guardian a few days back explained why she gave up snorting coke. She was quoted as saying:

"And I read that in the paper, and all the cards fell into place and I saw how my little sniff of cocaine at a party had an absolute direct route to this fucking horrible man in South America. And from that day I never touched cocaine again. Until that moment I had never grasped the full horrifying structure of what brings coke to our parties in Britain."

How honorable!!! Giving up hedonistic enjoyment to spare those poor child drug runners and to stop making a horrible man even richer! What a woman. Did she simultaneously switch to fair trade coffee and start recycling? Maybe a percentage of her earnings goes to poor Indian children?

She was quoted in GQ too. There, she said that she was was locked in a room and forced to have sex "a couple of times" during her college days but did not report the incidents because "you couldn't do that in those days".

"It's such a tricky area, isn't it? Especially if there is no violence," "I mean, look at Mike Tyson. I don't think he was a rapist. I guess it is one of the many subtle parts of the men/women relationship that has to be negotiated and worked out between them."

She went on: "I was [date-raped], yes. A couple of times. "Not with excessive violence, or being hit, but rather being locked in a room and made to have sex against my will."

The actress also explained that she "loved coke" [cocaine] during her younger days but stopped after learning of the drug-dealing success of Nazi war criminal Klaus Barbie.

First of all, she was concerned about some nasty South American. Now she's got her knickers in a twist about Klaus Barbie. The two quotes were all but interchangeable though. Does she think the two are connected?? Was Klaus on his holidays or something and set up a drug cartel because he was bored of making sand castles?

(What is mind blowing is that if you google dear Klaus, the FIRST hit is Helen Mirren. Nothing to do with his Nazi war crimes, but all to do with some daft bint from England!)

But forget about the drug thing, what about the date rape thing?! Oh yes Hels, date rape is most certainly one of those little subtle nuances of behaviour between the male and the female. Oh yes indeedy. What a tool.

And let's not forget, way back when, that HM got her kit off in those Peter Greenaway movies. She claimed over and over again that she only embraced nudity in film if it was central to the theme and not in any way gratuitous.

I don't care about celebrity behaviour. It makes no difference to my life. It just irritates me when their baser instincts are elevated to celebrity status also. Like, I gave up doing drugs because it was affecting my work and I couldn't afford to get fired. She did it for the greater good.

Her ludicrous confessions are the latest in a long long line though. Remember these? "I tried marijuana once, I did not inhale." Well then, dear Bill, that was a bit of a waste of effort wasn't it?

or

"I did not have sexual relations with that woman." Again, barely worth the scandal if you're not even going to get your end away.

Why can't Mirren just fess up and say "I like getting stoned, I like getting laid and I like getting my tits out for the lads" and be done with it. And why couldn't Bill simply have said "I get stoned to cope with Hilary who happens to be a man and that's why I fucked Monica" and we would have all just said "of course you had to Bill, it would've been rude not to."

Here endeth my celebrity confession.

Date Machine: You're Not My Type

spjv840 — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 19:29:00 GMT

Stepping away from the ass talk for a moment, I was reading an article recently which was talking about the type of guys we fall for and how to go about changing our routine of always falling for the same type of guy if it isn't working out for you.

When it comes to men, I know my type and I'm OK with it. They're usually emotionally detached, with a drug/alcohol problem, have spent time in jail and/or have a record, bar room brawls are the norm and generally, just don't give a shit. Basically, you wouldn't want them on your bad side. Physically, they're tall, slim, dark haired and have tattoos and really nice cocks. The kind you write home about. What can I say, I know how to pick them. They also usually leave me wondering if I should get a shrink or not.

For the most part, these guys are a lot of work, mainly because of the emotional damage that they can do on a gal's heart due to their hard ass aloofness and lack of any kind of sensitivity. Then again, I couldn't deal with an emotional, sensitive guy. This may piss some folks off, but I can't stand seeing a man cry (unless he's listening to Johnny Cash or Willie Nelson). But a man who cries over romantic-comedies or during fights or anything like that – oh hell no. That's what the cool kids call a deal breaker (see below for more deal breakers).

Perhaps my type isn't the ideal type out there for most women. There are usually consequences that come along with this type of man, dangerous situations, jail-time (in my case, spending Christmas night behind bars), etc. A lot of women would either run at the first sign of this kind of man, or try to change them. That whole thing about changing men being impossible is pretty much true. It won't happen, not permanently, anyway. I never really understood women who try to change men. What if it was the other way around and the man was trying to change the woman? Do you really think the woman would even change slightly? Again, I have to reference “Sex and the City” and that whole episode where Samantha tries to change that bald, short guy with bad breath they nick-named the Turtle. She cleaned him up and gave him some new, fancy clothes and dined at trendy restaurants. But in the end, he was the still the same Turtle, just slightly better dressed.

And because I've recently been asked a few times what my “dealbreakers” are, here you go:

Small dicks, mama's boys (the bad kind – you know, can't make a decision without asking mama first), the family man, anti-alcohol (supposedly, there are some out there), short men (anything below 5'6), metrosexuals (please don't wax/pluck your eyebrows, get facials, go for manicures/pedicures, go to tanning salons, worry about calories/working out, or other general girly man behavior), vegetarians (they taste funny..too green), men who wear pink or other “pastels”, the John Lennon type, overly sensitive, listens to Rhianna. That's just a few off the top of my head.

But what if you keep falling for the same type of guy and it's really not working for you? Is there anything you can do to change your predictable man routine? According to dating coach and founder of Cablight, Nancy Slotnick, there are five steps you can take to change your ways.

1.Go after qualities.
2.Don’t think you have to change yourself.
3.Get out of your head.
4.Have dealbreakers.
5.Last but not least, chemistry comes first.

Related posts:
Personals Drama: I'm Not Cupid
Sex Machine: The Butt Sex Bandit
Sex Machine: Hot Sex vs Bad Sex
Celebrity Confession: David Duchovny is a Sex Addict
Celebrity Confession: Jessica Simpson thinks she has the perfect guy
Of Bag, Baggage and Confessions

Talk dirty to me!!! - Plus the Daily Throb...

zeitgeisty — Wed, 03 Sep 2008 15:43:00 GMT

Right off the bat, let me state for the record I'm a big fan of the randy, ribald, filthy, sleazy dirty talk during the act of sex - that is… as long as I'm not the one that has to do the talking.

In all my relationships, there's just never been any parity as far as that's concerned. I don't really know why this is, as I'm quite verbose. I'll gladly chatter on like a mina bird at length on any number of topics, yet for some reason I clam up 'in the clinch'. That's not to say I'm totally mute, I mean I do a lot of moaning, 'oh god-ing', and such, I just never really get into specifics.

I guess when it comes to talking in the sack, I'm more 'Rain Man' than 'Baudelaire'...

'uh oh... 5 minutes to coming... 5 minutes to coming... uh oh'

I suppose this is all terribly unfair, but hopefully I make up for it in the nuts and bolts.

This is why I've never been a big 'phone sex' guy. First off, I hate talking on the phone under any circumstance. I hate the sound of my voice, and I just wind up grunting banalities like...

'aw yeah baby..' …or the ultra clichéd

'What are you doing right now?'

Truly, I'm a lame dirty talker.

Still, I expect it out of my partner. I enjoy hearing that torrent of filth spewing out of her mouth whilst we make the beast with two backs. Of course once you've been in a relationship awhile, the dialogue does tend to become a bit on the predictable side. That's OK though, I mean, if I enjoy a movie, I'll see that fucker like a hundred times and never get bored.

All this being said, one arena in which I excel or rather, used to excel - as I'm currently in a relationship - is cyber sex.

As a writer, the venue is particularly suited to my sensibilities. I mean what other way can you get off whilst practicing your prose? All my skills are put to the test, as my one hand types away furiously like the main character in ‘My Left Foot’ - only with more drool, and perversion. Women on the other hand tend to prefer the phone sex, as they're always whining about how it's too difficult to diddle themselves while typing.

I never had this problem as I'm an excellent multi-tasker – especially when it comes to masturbation.

I guess when I think about it, I'm pretty selfish when it comes to the 'sauces and pickles' related to sex. For one thing, I've never once taken a nude photo of myself, yet I've happily received a few over the years from some kind and willing models I've known. I always would feel guilty about this unfair disparity - of course this never prevented me from accepting the generous offerings.

Now that I'm in a relationship, all this stuff makes you wonder...

Who else has she said these things to? What other photos of her are floating around the electric corridors of the internets? If you think about it, all of this tertiary sex play is even more personal than the act itself! I mean, the mechanics of sex are pretty standard - it’s everything else that goes along with it that makes it unique. The ‘sauces and pickles’…

I guess these are thoughts we all push to the backs of our brains, like that horrifying snippet of the 'boy with the 160 pound tumor' I accidentally landed on while channel surfing the other day.

It's just not anything you want to think about.

I guess there are dimensions to everything, and layers that don't need to be delved into. Who knows... Maybe that's why I just shut my mouth and moan.

the succulent Helen Mirren...actress and GILF-alicious Brit...

In case you missed it... The Zeitgeisty Chronicles Archived.

The unvarnished TRUTH about dating on the internet.

Pontifications on the bangin' of ass - The ANAL file