Fetish Week: WAM

Come one, come all to the grand opening of Fetish Week! I’ve decided to devote one post a week to a fetish I find on Wikipedia, because that is clearly a good use of my time. Besides, it is really hard to run out of things to write about with all the, um, sexy fetishes out there. I decided to start Fetish Week off with a non-creepy one: WAM!

WAM is “wet and messy” fetishism, which is not as gross as it sounds (or is exactly as non-gross as it sounds, if you don’t have a dirty mind. Which you clearly do, because you’re reading a post about fetishes, you filthy fuck). WAM-lovers just get off to people covering themselves [Ed. note: I totally typo’d that as “them elves,” and I’m pretty sure that’s a whole different fetish] with messy things, like mud or whipped cream. It’s not even weird, really. Like, what guy doesn’t want to see his girlfriend rub oil all over herself?

Plus, the best part? WAM doesn’t include anything disgusting like “wet and messy” kinda implies. No bodily fluids, no puke (apparently that’s a thing? Thanks, Wikipedia), no nothing. Mud is pretty much the grossest thing on there, and since mud wrestling is about as common as a ladybug with spots, even that doesn’t faze me.

So, now that you’ve learned and adopted a new fetish, enjoy jerking off with ketchup like one WAMmer did! Or, you know, stay tuned for next week–but put on your seatbelt, because I’m going to pick freakier and freakier ones until your minds explode. (That’s called brainexplodingophilia.)


Do You, Unattractive, Take Handsome to Be Your Lawfully Wedded Husband?

I think everyone knows an “unattractive guy, pretty girl” couple. It’s just the way of the world. The Unattractive Guy is probably funny, and failing that, he is probably sweet, nice, and doesn’t mention his thing for BDSM choking on the first date. And the Pretty Girl is sick of hot douchebags, and so she goes for personality instead and lives happily ever after with Unattractive Guy.

If they turned around, you'd be shocked by how ugly he is.

It’s just life. Boys are shallower, and girls care about personality more. And there are exceptions and blah-blah-blah, but the general rule is that the dude is going to date the hot chick, and the chick is going to date the nice, funny guy. Every time some (usually hideously ugly) man posts on Facebook: “The good guy never gets the girl,” I think to myself, “Well, sweetheart, even she has limits.” I mean, a pretty girl will date a nice, plain-looking or even slightly-ugly-but-plays-it-off-well-with-a-beard guy, but if you’re fugly and fat (and nice), that’s a whole new plate of pie.

But the Unattractive Girl, Handsome Guy couple? That is way less typical. If you see a pretty girl walking around with a plain-t0-slightly-ugly guy, you probably don’t do a double take, unless you’re turning around to stare at her butt. But when you see a plan-to-ugly girl walking around with some handsome, muscular fellow, you think to yourself, “Whaaathefuck?” It’s weird. I mean, I’m happy for Unattractive Girl, although if I was dating way up I’d be constantly afraid someone not-ugly would swoop in and steal my man.

If you haven’t seen the UG-HG coupling in nature, well, you’re in luck, because last night I had the good fortune to witness the very beginning of an UG-HG relationship! That’s right, folks–The WildHearts strapped on her explorer hat and headed into the wild to witness this all go down. (Or, you know, I was at the bar casually sipping the world’s most expensive Appletini and saw it all play out.)

Handsome Guy was not my type, but he was definitely a lot of other girls’ dreamboat: tall, cropped blonde hair, handsome face and big muscly arms, one of which had a non-tribal tattoo on it. He was good-looking in that all-American Army boy kind of way, and he knew it. And all these little drunk sluts were flitting around him like whore-moths to a light, and what did he do?

Mack on the Plainest of Janes next to him at the bar. I mean, I am not exaggerating when I say that this girl could’ve stepped into a wallpaper and faded away completely. The only reason I was even aware of her existence was because it was so shocking that Handsome Guy was hitting on her. She had really lank, limp hair the color of mice poo, a plain, tired face, and a weak chin, which all matched her hideous grandma sweater and bad posture. I mean, she could be sweet as pie and all that shit, but that is what she looked like, before anyone accuses me of Level 10 Bitchiness.

And Handsome Guy LOVED her. I am not kidding; he wanted to drop to one knee and propose to her with a bottle cap. He didn’t even seem drunk. He laughed at everything she said, never so much as glanced at any of the twats screaming with drunk excitement a foot away, and basically looked like a little puppy wiggling at a new bone. In fact,  Unattractive Girl actually seemed less interested.

I guess my point is, it was weird? And everyone should date who they love, but if you’re so funky-looking that some bitchy blogger writes a post about you the next day, you should maybe not go to crowded bars in SalVo sweaters that probably smell like mothballs? And everyone should drink Appletinis if they have a $20 to spare?

Wouldn’t It Be Strange…

…If you suddenly had to go by your middle name? Just scrap the first one and go with Humphrey or Lynn or Eidenhopper, if your parents are the sweet ones who gave you some dead grandparent’s surname as your very own? Maybe you would be totally different.

Or, you, know, exactly the same.

Don’t Hate Me, Sexy Internet People

I know, I know, I suck. I’ve become one of those blogs who never updates until you think, “Fuck this shit,” and take them off your favorites list (WAS I ON YOUR FAVORITES LIST AT ONE POINT?!?!?! THAT’S EXCITING, LET’S TALK ABOUT IT OVER SOME CREPES SUZETTE).

I could explain that I am a busy busy bee, off doing things a busy busy bee does (like…being more black-and-yellow than a Wiz Khalifa song? Or…pollinating?). But who cares? The point is, I suck, and I will try to write more.

But seriously, People of the Internet, make like the old tune and give me something to talk about. I am just one [extremely attractive, awesome] girl. I can only use so much of my brain, and since 99% of it is usually focused on shoes there’s not a lot of time to come up with winningly interesting blog topics. You can even just type random spam words into the comment box and I’ll do my best.


A Movie Review About a Misleadingly Named Movie (Hint: It’s Drive)

I went to see the movie Drive last night. In case you haven’t heard of it, Ryan Gosling is the main character, and Carey Mulligan is the lady-friend main character. I don’t even know how to sum up the plot, so I’ll just let IMDB do it for me: “A Hollywood stunt performer who moonlights as a wheelman discovers that a contract has been put on him after a heist gone wrong.”

Okay. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but a few things about this movie led me to believe it would have lots of car chases. First and foremost, “drive” is right in the title. It is the title, in fact. Secondly, there are cars on the posters. Third, the words “stunt performer” and “wheelman” and “heist” are all in the description, which sound like fast, car-driving words to me.

So I bopped on down to see this film, because hey, Ryan Gosling driving cars fast! Plus, it got 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, which is no mean feat. Now, to be fair, I should point out that I was pretty stoned, but if anything I think that should’ve added to the viewing experience.

Anyway, this movie was basically No Country For Old Men with the hipster levels jacked up, and the same amount of driving (which if you haven’t seen No Country, that’s my way of saying there was NOT A LOT OF DRIVING IN DRIVE). No Country is about this guy who stumbles on some big money at the site of a shootout, snatches it, and then gets tailed by the people who quiero their dinero. It’s really, really quiet, with lots of long, dramatic pauses and staring and landscape cut-scenes, but it also has Javier Bardem and is a pretty decent movie.

He doesn't look like this in the movie, I apologize.

Now, SPOILER ALERT, Drive is about this guy (RG) who is a stunt driver, who falls in love with his next-door neighbor (CM), who happens to have a husband in prison. Hubby comes home and apparently owes a lot of money to some scumbags, who beat him up and tell him they’re going to come after his wifey and kid if he doesn’t do a job for them (robbing a pawn shop). Since there were lots of long, silent scenes where Ryan Gosling was either bonding with Casey Mulligan & Son or plotting how to serial-murder them, he was upset. So he was all, “Let’s rob this pawn shop and you can pay them back for good!”

But, spoiler spoiler spoiler, the robbery goes rotten, everyone dies, and somehow Ryan Gosling gets a bag with a million dollars in it, and then the people who want the money won’t stop tailing him (even though he totally offers to give it right back). You see the similarities now? And that’s pretty much the movie, because it just sort of tails off into nothing after a lot of silences and a truly horrifying scene where Gosling steps on some guy’s head in an elevator until he is just stepping on bone/brain chunks. It’s pretty gory in some other places, too.

After I left the theater, some rando said to me, “Did anybody else understand that movie at all?” which I think is a pretty good indicator of how it made me feel. It was just kind of pointless, I guess? I feel like I got tricked into seeing an indie movie when I was trying to watch The Fast and the Furious. Also, no one is that quiet. Someone would say something and NO ONE would respond, and that was just the norm. If I said something important to someone and they just sat there like a meat Popsicle, I would be all, “Hey, um, I’m trying to have a conversation, so do you maybe want to fucking TALK? Also, how about going on a car chase with me?”

But I somehow didn’t hate it. I feel mixed-up about it, like falling in like with your stepbrother. Go watch it for yourself, maybe, and see what you think? (And also, don’t hook up with stepsiblings. It was just a joke. Don’t take them on a date to see Drive, either, because that’s just weird.)

Life’s Great Little Good Things

If you like charming things and socially awkward French people, you should watch Amélie. Because it totally has both those things.

My favorite part about the movie, though, is the way they introduce the characters. They say a few important things about them–like their job, or where they were born–and then they say really specific, weird things that they like or dislike. Amélie’s mother, for instance, likes to clean and organize her purse. Amélie likes the feeling of putting her hand into dry grain (which feels great, in case you’ve never had the pleasure). Seriously, though, why doesn’t everyone introduce themselves this way?

Honestly, I care way more about if a person hates birds chirping or loves using stencils on construction paper than about their political views. Because it’s wacky and interesting and plus, people would like each other more! Not a lot of chit-chats about abortion rights lead to enthusiastic high-fives, but everyone can get behind how awesome the first bite into a fresh apple is (SO GOOD, right?). And then instead of being like, “Yeah, I do remember your friend Dave, actually. He’s the dick who believes in [insert controversial topic people like to blather about here], isn’t he?” people would be all, “Ohhhh, Dave! I love that guy! We both like to put black olives on our fingers before we eat them.”

See, these bitches bonded over their love of opening a can of Tab.

Oops, I think I just figured out world peace.

For real, though, can Weird Things About Oneself be the new handshake? Then it won’t have to get all awkward when it’s the dirty-looking guy’s turn to go around and rub his hepatitis all over you (oh, what, you don’t hang out with people who might have hepatitis?). Instead, he can just be like, “I enjoy contracting diseases!” and you can yell back, “One of my favorite things is the feeling of clean untouched hands!”

You know. Or you might be normal and none of this applies to you. I DON’T KNOW. This whole post was just supposed to be a short little segue into my List of Odd Little Things I Like and Dislike, but I got carried away. And I used up all my brainpower blathering, so now I can’t even remember the LOLTILD. I’ll just do one of each: I don’t like the smell of double-brewed coffee (e.g., coffee made partially from old grounds), and I like the feeling of warm grass under my bare feet. And since nobody likes negativity, here’s a bonus Thing I Like: being picked up and spun around by someone who is genuinely excited to see you.

Fuck, life is full of good great little things. Now go do some while I sleep.