I think I would be agitated if I knew my billets-doux were going to be published less than 25 years after my death, but this broad looks so tough, she might be OK with it
I’m beginning to explore a voyeurism fetish. It started last month with Reborn, the first installment of Susan Sontag’s private diaries, and since then I’ve spent countless hours tracking down the journals, letters and autobiographies of favorite novelists, essayists and artists. There is something undeniably delightful about drowning oneself in the minutia of another’s daily life, and reading through the journals of authors like Sontag and Plath has been quite reassuring: as far as sex and dating are concerned both women were spending their 19th and 20th years thinking about a lot of the same issues I’m currently ruminating on.
One particularly interesting find was this December 8 1909 letter from James Joyce to his wife Nora Barnacle Joyce (Ellmann 1975: 185). Within the context of some of his later letters, it becomes clear that he was writing the letter to help himself and Nora get off during their physical separation. Given this purpose, Joyce does an excellent job of employing diction and syntax to make this writing highly functional smut. Though the descriptive language is at times exquisite, its belletrism never obscures the point. Also, I imagine the plethora of short, staccato sentences and lists make this fabulously easy to beat off to. Compare with some of the shitty-beyond-belief erotic writing over at Literotica to get a better sense of how well-composed this stuff is.
As usual, the kinky stuff is after the jump.
Read more…
Amber Weekes Relationships, Sexxx
me and my obsidian handaxe in Rosengarten
Any flintknapper will tell you that transforming a hunk of stone into something that looks like one of the bifaces, blades or points found in the archaeological record is a time consuming and challenging process. Why is it then that the hominins of the Acheulian and Mousterian industries were interested in devoting so much time and energy to crafting highly-symmetrical, homogeneous handaxes when it was much easier to produce flakes or notches/denticulates, which were often acceptable substitutes for handaxes?
Archaeologists Kohn and Mithen (1999) propose that handaxes were so common at Middle Paleolithic sites because they “were products of sexual selection: they were used as reliable indicators of a potential mate’s quality by those of the opposite sex” (Kohn and Mithen 1999: 524).
Though this paper is a prime example of post-processualism gone terribly, gut-wrenchingly wrong, Kohn and Mithen have hit on percussed a rather important point about human sexual selection: we are totally into people who make cool shit. It may seem fairly obvious, but I suspect that explicitly identifying and harnessing the power of craftiness may be a real boon for those attempting to attract mates. Read more…
Amber Weekes Relationships flintknapping, handaxes, Mousterian Industry, sexual selection
After three years of living in West Philadelphia, a city where men have zero shame and drool at the Penn girl’s affinity for leggings and other butt-hugging leg-wear, I have come to learn that one must contend with many (FAILED) attempts at attention/ass grabbing. I felt it necessary to share some of the WACK pick-up lines and pick-up attempts that my friends and I have had to deal with, as we traverse the (filthy) streets of the Killadelph, and I’m dying to hear yours.
Freshman year, a Commons employee slipped me a hot pink note, as I was on my daily search for Commons’ food that wouldn’t induce my gag reflex. The note said: “If you haven’t allready noticed (yes, “already” was spelled incorrectly), I have a crush on you. Call me. I get off of work at 11” and his number. He’s been my boyfriend ever since. NOT. Read more…
Morgan Roper Relationships penn boys, West Philly
March 31st, 2009 11:06 am
Today, residents of Oakdale, California came together for a fabulous sit-down dinner to benefit the Oakland Cowboy Museum. Though most $50, sit-down dinners allow you to make the sophisticated choice between steak and salmon, this fundraiser had only one delicacy. Mountain Oysters. Sound, appealing? Before you book your ticket to Oakdale, let me tell you that “Mountain Oyster” is a euphemism nickname for fried bull testicles.
Volunteers at the annual Testicle Festival—because testicles love a good party—fried up four hundred pounds of bulls’ balls to serve to guests at the event. Last year, people travelled from all over California to get a taste of these balls, and the event raised $28,000. Not only did these crazies eat balls, they ate four hundred pounds of them. You couldn’t pay me $50 to munch on a plate full of animal genetalia, but clearly some people want to go “Balls to the Walls Bellies.”
Morgan Roper Newsworthy, Uncategorized balls
Cartoon from the Boston Globe
I have a nasty little habit of shopping in between classes. This little practice has been curbed by the fact that it’s Depression 2009, and my cash flow is now a cash trickle, but I’ll still make occasional stops into Urban. I’ve even purchased a romper/jumper/vest or other fake-edgy staple that isn’t my style because “It looked so cute when I tried it on!” In the store.
In the light of day, outside of the hipster haven of Urban Outfitters, my newly-bought fedora, snake-skin leggings, or booty-shorts with suspenders look ridiculous, and I’m forced to contend with the fact that I spent my food-money for the month to look like a poor-man’s Rihanna. Buyer’s remorse isn’t too wretched when it involves having bought a “ShamWow” or making a poor choice of sandwich at Houston, but what about buyer’s remorse in the bedroom? Read more…
Morgan Roper Relationships
For a long time Boudica, a warrior who fought against roman soldiers in what is now the UK, has been my favorite post-Lucy, pre-Renaissance woman. A recent post on Sexoteric has me reconsidering; Byzantine empress/total Lolita, Theodora, is giving Boudica a run for her money. Sixth century historian Procopius dishes on Theodora’s super slutty adventures. Read more…
Amber Weekes Sexxx
The Onion: Cosmopolitan Releases 40-Year Compendium: 812,683 Ways To Please Your Man
One might not expect that the magazine that told you to “slip a glazed doughnut around his manhood and nibble it off” or “chill a bunch of marbles in the fridge, toss them on the bed and make him lie on them while you straddle him” has any worthwhile advice about how to get it on. However, long ago, I picked up one of my favorite “tricks” from a Cosmopolitan article. Since then, all the “bottoms” (both male and female) I’ve shared this tip with agree it’s a great way to get someone off quickly, assert control in the sack or just have fun with sex.
Warning: step by step instructions for super hot intercourse after the jump. Read more…
Amber Weekes Sexxx Cosmopolitan
March 26th, 2009 11:19 am
Still looking for that special someone? Free this Saturday from 10:30 am-1:00 pm? Love adipocere, conjoined twins and pickled organs? You might want to think about joining Meet Market Adventures for their singles tour of Philadelphia landmark The Mütter Museum. I know from personal experience that folks who ♥ spending weekends with skeletal material tend to make fabulous lovers.
Amber Weekes Uncategorized
The Shenis and a few other select female accessories
Being a boy is easy. You don’t have to deal with periods, mean girls or childbirth and when you go camping, you can pee without the risk of getting poison ivy on your nether-regions. Men take for granted the fact that they can take a leak (and aim!) out of car windows, in corners and behind trees by simply unzipping their pants. If I have to pee in the wilderness, even if that wilderness is the parking lot behind Fiso Lounge, it’s a whole production. I have to think: Squat. Don’t pee on pants and/or feet. Don’t lose balance and fall back on bare ass into puddle of own urine. Ensure purse is above pee-level. These are all of the concerns that a woman must face when she simply wants to relieve herself outside of a bathroom!
Kiki Curry, a freaky-looking red-headed Texan decided that it was time women had the right to urinate without sitting down. She created the Shenis, a $21, gold, twleve-inch, penis-shaped funnel that women can use to pee, anywhere. Standing up. Does anyone else find it disturbing that Kiki was engaging in so much public urination that she needed to invent this contraption? Do they not have bathrooms in Texas? Kiki has also invented the She-Nutz, which come in a variety of different colors and are great for your keychain, truck or bike! They are fake balls made of plastic that serve absolutely no purpose. What. The. Eff? Penis envy does exist.
Morgan Roper Sexual Health
Virginity rates of certain majors at Wellesley College. Source: Counterpoint Magazine
According to Isaac Newton’s Law of Motion, “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” For every push, there is a pull, for every up, there is a down and for every flaming skank-whore, there is a virgin. On Penn’s campus, where many co-eds tend to hump around like un-neutered puppies, the virgin seems to be a rare breed of college student. However, one curious NYU undergrad conducted an unscientific study, asking 4,593 students to submit their college majors, college years and V-card statuses—swiped or un-swiped—and got some very surprising results.
Eighty-three percent of math and chemistry majors are struggling to lose their virginities, art majors must be having orgies on the floors of their studios, for inspiration: zero percent of them were virgins. Clearly, sex is a pre-requisite for Drawing 101. English majors fared decently, with fifty percent of the students admitting virginity. As an English major, this doesn’t surprise me since half of the kids in my major are weirdo-freaks that would rather have sex with a character from a novel or with Shakespeare—fictional and dead, respectively—than any actual, living human.
The study also gives broad statistics about the percentages of virgins in different years of college. For those freshmen who can’t even watch 40 Year Old Virgin without cringing in fear that that could be you, feel comforted in the fact that 64% of college students polled still had their “flowers” during their first year of college. You don’t have to start “Operation Prostitute: 2009,” just yet. Plus, the percentage of virgins drops to 28% for seniors, so your chances of boning gets better with each passing year! Take a look at the chart and see how virginal/naughty your major is. If your major’s stats aren’t looking good and you’re eager to jump off of the “virgin wagon,” don’t fret, you can switch. Penn does have a fine arts major.
Correction: the study was conducted by Counterpoint Magazine at Wellesley College.
Morgan Roper Sexxx virgin
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