Lucky Stars

I have decided to dabble in astrology.

I have studied the charts carefully, consulted my almanacs and composed a whole new value added feature for this most varied and interesting of blogs.

It's in the Stars - Your Horoscope for the Week Ahead!

Actimel
21 January - 19 February

You will exchange money with a shopkeeper in the early part of the week. Expect to confront the raider of your dustbin. Cornflakes will be of significance after Thursday. The potato masher will turn up in the next drawer down.

Panties
20 February - 20 March

Be aware of elastic marks on your upper thighs as Pluto moves into your aura at 9.45pm on Tuesday. Be bold in your business dealings and throw away the funny smelling ham.

Hairpiece
21 March - 20 April

Expect a text on Friday from someone called Dave. Disappointment may feature in your life but you will find comfort in pies and vodka. Your lucky colour is puce.

Testes
21 April - 21 May

An old friend will spill tea on your correspondence and ask to borrow some money. The number 7 is significant this week. Those shoes will cause a blister.

Jammy Dodger
22 May - 21 June

As Saturn rises before you most weekdays you will discover there’s not enough hot water for a bath and all the towels are damp. Beards are important on Thursday.

Catflap
22 June - 23 July

You will receive a message from overseas, possibly about money or enlarging a body part. An argument on Monday will lead to unexpected chafing.

Duck
24 July - 23 August

Mars moves into the spare room in the later part of the week causing unrest and a disproportionate increase in milk consumption. A mix up with a post-it note and a tub of fromage frais leads to hilarious consequences.

Vimto
24 August - 23 September

You will put your hand in something sticky on Saturday. The salad drawer of the fridge contains an unpleasant surprise. Oven mitts are lucky for you.

Lilets
24 September - 23 October

Venus slides down the banisters this week, bringing romance and an unsettled stomach into your life. Trousers are important on Wednesday.

Sago
24 October - 22 November

The signs are promising that this is a propitious time to have a nice sit down and a cup of tea. Those spots are a reaction to your new deodorant and nothing to worry about.

Halibut
23 Nov - 21 December

A work colleague will eat the last Hobnob and trigger a chain of events that lead to financial crisis and a broken stapler by the end of the week. Listen to your heart when it comes to that spider in the bath.

Caravan
22 December - 20 January

A business deal will go favourably when you keep your cool and wear your lucky hat. The cat has left a surprise in the sock drawer.

Diaphanous

I have my softer moments. Times when I am not barbed, not clad in black and not tottering about in pointy-toed high heeled shoes.

Times when I am pulled so tautly in every direction I feel my substance thin to a sugar-spun translucence. I stand at the window and hold up a hand to the sun and gaze at the red glow of capillaries illuminated, my blood pulsing still, proving I am not yet as other-worldly as I feel. I am still a solid mass, I still cast a shadow where I walk.

How can someone who takes up this much space in the world simultaneously feel so insubstantial? Is it just my fancy that pain and problems are slowly eroding me or am I disappearing up my own most substantial and earthly backside in an agony of self-indulgent angst?

How can I be this gothy while wearing pink?

Role: Not Applicable

I don't fit into a role. I have traits, but none that I want to define me.

There are those that assume I must be Dominant, and I am.

There are those that assume I have a submissive side, and I do.

There are those who think this puts a tick in the "switch" box, but it doesn't.

I just don't care enough about these things to put in the effort required to fill the position.

When arsing around on a site like Fet Life, for example, people can expect too much of you if they assume you to be Dominant. "Tell me what you want to do to me," is a variation on a familiar cry. Well, nothing, really. Maybe send you down the shops for a Cornetto, do a bit of dusting. I dont know you well enough to have any strong feelings one way or another. What I can tell you though is that I'm not going to spew forth an erotic fetish fantasy on demand. I'm not a fucking freebie equivalent of rent-a-wank. Honestly.

But then again, I dislike the Dominant approach too, when the opposite assumption is made. When someone I don't know gives me their "approval" and tries to be all masterful. Fuck off.

I suppose the point is that there are still so many people who are not prepared to put in any effort with regards to getting to know someone. They have a fantasy and all they want to do is project it onto a willing blank canvas somewhere. "Ah," they think, "you have spiked heels! You'll do. Tell me how you want to walk all over me in those shoes, how you want me to lick them clean and then how you'll make me wear your knickers under my suit when we go to the library."

But that is their fantasy, not mine. They don't know mine because they haven't asked. Which is a shame, as it's really rather good.

Brat Trap

I'm not biting
I don't want to know
I am sure you'll tell me later
Dangled titbits
Hide the painful hook
You're such a master baiter.

Bitter emails
Disappointed texts
Comments with no creator
Pouring poison
Through your fake I.D.
You're such a master baiter.

Talk about it
How they've done you wrong
Hell hath no fury greater
It looks tasty
But it's poisoned meat
You're such a master baiter.

World of Pain

Pain needs to be balanced with pleasure.

Things in Luka's Boudoir are unbalanced right now. My pain/pleasure divide is uneven.

At the moment it is hard to give me pleasure, I know. Even a hug can make me wince, while a playful slap on the arse makes my nerve endings sing Ave Maria. Spontaneous physical attention is banned from the Boudoir until further notice. It's just not worth the screaming and sobbing and wretched cries of "what the fuck did you do that for?"

I cannot bend and flex and throw my heels above my head. I cannot twist or turn or dismount athletically. I move very, very carefully and weep with frustration and lack of sleep.

The pain and the tiredness spins my mood endlessly, uncontrollably. One moment I am a brave soldier, the next I am full of blubbering self-pity and comfort-eating all the biscuits. But sometimes, sometimes I am a vicious ratbag, bristling with venomous spines, and those times lead to excellent blog posts.

This isn't one of those times.

Eye to Eye

Did you just give a wink?
Or a one sided blink?
Did you flutter your lashes a bit?
Is that twinkle pure sex
Or the light on your specs?
Is that love in your eyes or just grit?

A Year of Barbs - The Review

So, a year of barbs.

It's been a fascinating and abuse-filled twelve months.

In my very first post I explained why most sex blogs are crap. Looking back over a year of discourse and drama I can now say, with the benefit and wisdom twelve months of enhanced understanding brings, that most sex blogs are still unmitigated crap and everything I wrote then was incisive, brilliantly well observed and holds true today. Indeed the points I made then are now being espoused on other, more literate, blogs. That's how influential I am. Eventually everyone realises I was right all along.

Over the following months I went on to take a swipe at Sugasm with my hilarious Shitasms, had a pop at Fleshbot (WobbleArse/Wank Week Wound-Up), was rude about memes, ran a series of HMT (Half Mental Thursday) HNT rip-offs and posted numerous Fun Quizzes.

Despite my varied mix of topics and targets the search engine enquiry that brings more readers to the Boudoir than any other is still that for figging.

My uncontrolled glee at discovering this practice, with accompanying pictures, led to Blog Drama of unprecedented proportions. I still fail to see how me saying that putting something up your arse, photographing it, and posting it on the net is a funny thing to do is somehow more damaging to one's reputation than putting something up your arse, photographing it, and posting it on the net in the first place, but that might be because I am cursed with an annoyingly inarguable sense of perspective. And reality.

I then turned my attentions to the more literary school of blogging and pointed and laughed at that for a bit. This incomprehensible, narcissistic school of sex blogging is still alive and well and looking, dewy-eyed, into its own legume-plugged arsehole as I type. Endless posts on "why I blog", "why I am not like ordinary people", "conversations between my split personalities or with lovers who are not there", "observations on my cunt" and "words people use to describe me" (um... "self" and "obsessed" spring to mind) abound. I am very fond of these. They give me the most pleasure and are the most fun to lampoon.

I have posted about smelly people (which caused Blog Drama), being respectful of your spouse (which caused Blog Drama), online appeals, both for charity and for oneself (which caused Blog Drama) and then, who knows what gave me the idea, about Blog Drama.

I have been added to and removed from blogrolls more times than I can keep up with.

But it's the doggerel I love the most. A bit of jaunty, bouncy, bumpalong rhyming to let you see what is thrumming through my mind at any given moment in time. I never plan them. I never draft them. I sit down and bang them out in a matter of minutes. They are immediate and rough and unpolished. They don't get as many comments as me getting my cleavage out, but what can you do? People like bosoms. That's why you don't have Page 3 Poets or Ditty Bars.

So, here I am a year later posting my own wobbly bits in HNT each week and getting Fleshbotted. It's almost like the end of Animal Farm (the George Orwell novel, not the porno flick where someone fucks a pig.)

Those who say "but Luka, you used to mock these things mercilessly and now you are buying into the system" are correct. To a point. I comfort myself with the thought the the self-proclaimed elite of the sex blogging community still don't really get what I'm about and won't dirty their cum sticky fingers with typing comments to the Boudoir. Not when they are so busy giving each other awards and blowjobs and then posting about it and then winning an award for their blogger blowjob post. So I will never be truly assimilated. I am too wanky and annoying.

Plus I have the best commenters online. I am lucky enough to have people who will let me know if I start believing the hype and start down the rocky road to hits fever and total tosserhood.

Thanks, you guys. I know that every time you tell me I'm a twat, it's with love. At this rate I must be the most loved blogger online.