File Under: "Why Didn't I Think of That?"

So someone who knows me well send me a link to this clip, which is basically some chick with a fantastic ass apparently coming out of an airport and wandering into town. And this isn't the first time I've seen this sort of clip, but I'm amazed at the psuedo subbacultcha of these amateur filmmakers who post their stuff on YouTube and critique each others' works as if they were comparing Apocalypse Now to Full Metal Jacket. Even more intriguing is the thought process that has to go into this sort of thing. In the aforementioned clip, the guy's clearly got some kinda camera hidden in a briefcase. But how long can you follow someone -- especially in, say, a mall -- before you get discovered?

To be honest, as fucking fantastic as this stuff is -- hey, it saves me the trouble of actually walking around outside staring at these asses myself -- what I'd really love to see is a secret film of the guys who secretly film these ladies' rear ends. I mean, let's learn more about the technique. How are they positioning their brief case? Have any of them evolved to James Bond-esque pen cameras? Screw wasting our valuable technology on searching Mars; what the fuck do I care about red rocks? Channel that fundage to some of these artistes and let's see how quickly they can bring the fine art of voyeur ass photography to its next level.

Okay, now that I've gotten that out of the way, by all that is holy, LOOK AT THIS GIRL. Sweet God Almighty! I've been sitting here in a puddle of my own drool for the last half hour, replaying the clip over and over again. If anyone needs me, I'm currently using all means at my disposal to identify, locate, and marry her.

I'm a Mess

OK kids, you know it's time to dig deep and give green to the "Let's Get Ariel Laid" Fund when she starts to lust after the Mac guy. When I see these ads I get squishy. I sigh and wonder how to get the Mac guy out of his carefully-worn-intentionally-baggy Diesel jeans, tug his carefully-faded blue American Apparel T off his not-quite-buff-but-almost bod. Now understand that I wouldn't give this obviously Prius-drivin', web site-designin', Belle & Sebastian-listenin, Americano-drinkin' dude the time of day in any other situation. But put him next to dorky-assed PC who represents all I hate about employment and bam. Another one of Steve Jobs' twisted schemes to keep me as his Apple bitch has worked. Again.

Found on E-Bay

Sweet. Mother. Of Jesus.

A Little Too Aggressive

As you may have suspected by now, men and women are built differently. We also, from a biological and anothropological perspective, tend to approach procreation from different angles. Men gotta spread their seed to ensure progeny. Women gotta select the most genetically promising mate to ensure survival of the offspring. Somehow, we make it all work, especially when it's last call at Crazy Larry's Saloon. Now, I'm a self-professed hussy, and my sex drive breaks more speed limits as I age. HOWEVER. As much as I would like to override my biological and evolutionary makeup, when guys do the equivalent of humping my leg upon our first encounter it makes my skin crawl. You're grabbing my boobs at the end of a first date, sticking your tongue somewhere behind my left eardrum and frantically trying to get in my jeans. And there aint nothing seductive about it. It screams desperation and the more you push the less you're gonna get. So chill out, for fuck's sake. Chances are if you just waited until the second date I'd a probly beat you to the punch.

Sorry, I Don't Do That

I'm a pretty worldly guy. Enjoy both Fruity and Cocoa Pebbles. Drink out of both sides of my mouth. And have actually convinced actual women to actually sleep with me on several occasions. Like, for free.

But for all my worldliness, there are certain things I simply will not do. Or, more specifically, one thing I will not do. And said thing is: ass play, where my own ass is concerned. Understand: I loves me the female derriere in all its shapes and sizes. As faithful readers will tell you, I'm kinda sorta into having my face sat on. But anytime a chick tries to do anything unto my own arse, I fold up the tents quicker than a 10-cent carnival. One girl wanted to give me a prostate massage to intensify my ejaculation. I lost my hard-on in 3.2 seconds and left for some coffee and a Hostess Fruit Pie.

Also: That thing with the nipples, where you kinda rub and lick mine? Does nothing for me. In fact, it skeeves me to the point that the blood actually flows from my erection and into the part of my brain that activates the "eeeew" motor.

Okay. So that's what I don't do. Now let's hear yours.

Who Says Germans Don't Do Comedy?

Who knew?

Summer 2006

It's officially on, people. And if you're anywhere in the vicinity of SoCal, it's been looking like this for over a month now. Which is fine. But just once, on the beach, can I please sit next to a trio of big-boned gals from the midwest who love White Castle and McD's a little too much, rather than the trio of gals who had pepper water for breakfast, lunch and dinner with a dollop of fat-free Cool Whip and Dexatrim for dessert?

Intermission

Hey kids, Ariel here. Well, as we all know there are times when life finds some dog poo, puts it into a non-descript paper bag, sets it on your doorstep, lights the fucker on fire, rings your doorbell and then gleefully waits in the bushes. Well, Ken is having one of those times. So he's going to take a break and will return as soon as he can. If you want to leave him a comment, or a pic of one of those rabid kittens dangling from a tree branch with the caption "Hang In There Baby", feel free to do so.

Tiger Beat Crush

And when's the last time you had one of these, you jaded, desensitized lot?
For me, I think it was during George W's dad's administration. Perhaps I've accidentally tripped and fell into a time warp, but right now I'm having the kind of crush that involves furiously popping zits and hanging out at your locker waaaay too long in case he happens to walk by. This guy...this GOD among men, knows of my existence and seems content to leave it at that. Meanwhile, I crane my neck to catch his eye, emit ridiculous high-pitched giggles when he says hi and flirt, cheat, lie, steal, use any excuse to trap him into conversation. Yep, I have become the most repulsive of creatures, the girls at the mall.

Girl Crushes

So not exactly the L-word, but I've got mad crazy girl crushes on 2.5 of the women pictured here. It's hard to explain...I don't want to be the 6 to their 9, I just want them to call me sometime. Hang out at the club. Get a Green Tea Frapp whilst traipsing through Fred Segal. Be my bff.
Here they are, in order of appearance in my twisted psyche:
1. Pamela Anderson - What can I say? I loved Barbies growing up, so this seems like a natural progression.
2. Gwen Stefani - Ooh, I just love her! I think my nose piercing was an unconscious attempt to look more like her (um...didn't work.) And did you ever see a cuter pregnant woman?!?
3. Christina A-I-can't-Spell-Last-Name - she's the least favorite, but I could see myself selling the townhouse with a 2-door garage for that voice.

The MILF Reconsidered

Watching this clip and especially this clip on YouTube (where I'm apparently spending far too much time these days) has suddenly got me rethinking the whole MILF equation. During my first job outta college, I found myself in the company of a lot of older women, and was once fortunate enough to take home a woman more than twice my age. It wasn't the porno-fied, Private Teacher moment I was expecting, but it was intriguing nonetheless.

Today, I'm hoisting one for the MILFs (not a euphimism, by the way). Won't you join me?

The Devil Made Me Do It

Hey kids,
In honor of 6-06-06, I wanted to hear from you about those times in which the Holy Spirit was on a cigarette break, your Guardian Angel was having her nails done, and Lucifer decided to set up shop in your house of reason. For me, it was the guy who had a girlfriend but just wanted someone to talk to about their problems. Let's just say I helped him work out some, ahem, "kinks". After our "theraputic" screwfest, he was so guilty and ashamed he couldn't face me or his girlfriend and ended up moving into his mom's basement. Yeah. I'm a real angel.

Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover

Everyone has that one person they've always wanted to bang... but simply cannot. Maybe it's your best friend's wife. Or your sister's boyfriend. Or your boss. Or your Aunt Hetty. Someone you know you could absolutely reach a whole new, unwritted level of Sexual Zen with, yet, because of their ties to another or some other arrangement, you cannot.

For me, it's Lisa. A woman I've known for roughly seven years. We met at work, remained friends after she left the company, and continue to chat at least once a day, be it via phone or e-mail. Her penchant for sex talk and raunchy humor rivals -- and in some areas dwarfs -- my own, she has a sense of humor that seems carbon-copied from mine, and, perhaps most importantly, she is the prowd owner of an ass that I can honestly say I'd give one year of my life to find myself buried under. And she knows this, and she playfully torments me accordingly.

She's also very happily married, and has been as long as I've known her. So while in my mind I've already violated her in ways not mentioned in the Geneva Convention, in real life, it's all hands off and polite hugs and pouring ice water on my balls after some of our conversations.

Everyone's got one. And mine is named Lisa.

Star F*cker's Diary, Chapter 27

See, the problem with living out here is that you're surrounded by celebs. A-list, D-list, reality show, 70's sitcom, occasional daytime drama. They're at the gym, the supermarket, buying dental floss at Sav-On, cutting you off on the freeway. Hey, as US Weekly says, "they're just like us!" And they aren't bad looking, either. So why can't I date them? Why can't I be referred to in the tabloids as "and friend"? My girlfriends are all busy showing me their dudes on MySpace, and I'd be all, "yeah, you can see my man at 8:00 PM on Thursdays, 7:00PM Central." I'd get freebies, swag, and no waiting at restaurants. Yeah, sure, there's a few pesky things about their crazy work hours and travel, other women, that teensy drug problem and possible STDs, but it's sooooo worth it!

That's... Gotta Hurt

From yesterday's Globe:

A man who apparently severed his penis in an attempt to convince his wife that he was faithful to her was recovering after surgery to reattach the organ at a northern Malaysian hospital, a news report said Tuesday.

Myself, I would have swung with a ring instead. But that's just me.