Plugged In

Happy Monday everyone!  I am at work, going through my email and setting up the day ahead.  Fruit salad and coffee work to stimulate the brain matter. I noticed that my ‘spam’ folder had exceeded 100 and opened it to begin the task of deleting everything. I open it simply to check because sometimes a legitimate email ends up amongst the ruins.

The usual array of junk sits unopened.  Several Russian women want to ‘meet’ me.  There are several emails from people somewhere in Africa who’ve apparently got 10 million dollars that they just can’t get to and need my help to move out of the country and of course all the ads for an enlarged penis or for men to have an extended hard-on.

As I marked them for the trash bin I considered who actually responds to these ads. Someone must otherwise they would not exist, would they?  It is hard to say.

I would never give out my personal banking information to anyone, let alone someone who was apparently left millions of dollars but due to unseen circumstances they are unable to attain it legally.  Help them move it and they will reward you handsomely.

Well, as you might imagine, those who have participated in these scams find their bank account empty and at times their identity now partaking in fraudulent activities that would curl your toes. Of course, they simply wanted to help out another poor soul and the idea of having a cool million or more for their trouble had nothing to do with the decision to offer up their financial information.

The dealio with the women has been going on for sometime. I think they call them ‘bots.  They have had some odd tags over the years.  Being a woman who has no interest in women on a sexual level I suppose they are simply covering their basis.  The tags are often weird saying things like ‘Russian beauty wants you’  or ‘Sexual married woman wants you’ and the more vulgar ‘Bored housewife wants to fuck’.

It denotes that there are just boat loads of sexually frustrated women out there who simply was to have sex.  Curious.

Then we have the penis enlargement ads. I look at the tag ‘Do you wish you were bigger?”Do you want her to beg for more?’   Personally, no, I don’t as I don’t have that particular appendage being that I am a woman.

And again I wonder who responds to these ads.  Men have been saturated with the belief that all that matters to a woman in this area is size.  Apparently we want some foot long pistol banging into us. Not so.

If I see some guy with a foot long wanger coming at me I am heading for the hills, baby!  I prefer the average 5-8 inches variety and more than anything a man who knows how to use it.  Penetration is the grand finale so to speak. Do I want the guy to pop a few pills and have a hard-on for hours?  Nah.  Think I’ll pass.

There is a host of other things that should occur during sexual relations with someone.  The biggest turn on for me is my fertile imagination as it wades through a variety of scenarios and sensations that build to the point of orgasm.

And yes, I can certainly have an orgasm without a man’s physical presence.  I can do so just by looking and imagining.  And just intercourse isn’t particularly exciting.  I like to have something of a story unfold, a discovery, a journey during the process.

There is something so completely erotic about a man gently drawing circles in the palm of my hand, first with his fingers and then with his tongue.  Sometimes its great having that slow build and other times the idea of it being fast and furious has an appeal as well.  It all depends on a variety of factors.

But size wise, for many women, a man with a huge penis could be very uncomfortable to accommodate.  More importantly is having a partner who is just as responsive to her as she is to him.  It is, after all, a shared experience and should be appreciated and enjoyed by each participant.

Of course, now that we are in this electronic age where apparently image is everything,  men have gotten into the habit of taking pictures of their penis and posting it online thinking that this will somehow entice women?  Strange.

I don’t shop online for my clothes nor would I want to find a penis online.  I would ideally like to get to know the man possessing the penis before I am actually introduced the appendage itself.

Last night the Emmy’s were on.  I love how everyone slams the award shows the next day.  They aren’t really all that exciting to begin with. They are designed to promote and celebrate film and TV, a very obvious pat on their own backs. Now it has become something to watch and rip apart as it unfolds.  I found it rather annoying that as soon as an award winner opens their mouth, the music it seemed was cued to play them out.

Award shows are by design a rather curious animal.  The women have the pressure of looking phenomenal.  They need to have the designer gown and be blinged out to the max.  And the styles that they show up in….interesting choices at times.

We never prattle on about how the men look.  Does the suite fit or doesn’t it?  I actually liked that Will Farrell showed up in  shorts and a T-Shirt with kids in tow.  In any case, we are an image driven bunch, aren’t we?

Time to get back to the workday at hand.  Earn my daily bread and all that good stuff.  The ‘spam’ folder is empty.  In a week from now it will once again house the now familiar crap that it always does and I will once again clear it out.

I was thinking of when I got my first computer and the excitement of email and being immediately plugged into the world around me.  That I could talk to someone in real-time that was halfway around the world.  That I could correspond with relatives long distance without additional cost was something of a marvel at the time.

Technology has since exploded and engulfed us and our quest to have the world at our fingertips.  We want it faster and want to be plugged into our homes, our work space, our friends, our family.  No longer is it acceptable it seems to not be able to contact someone immediately.  And if they don’t answer, if we don’t hear back immediately…anxiety kicks in.

And somewhere in a dingy little apartment, some guy with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth who hasn’t showered in two or three days is sending out emails to lists that he has purchased describing himself as a ‘hot and horny Russian beauty who wants you’ waits for some lonely guy who forgot how to hold a conversation to respond.

Happy Monday everyone.




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