Betty Dodson with Carlin Ross

Better Orgasms. Better World.

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So... I think I'm about to become one of those whiny bloggers who beg for money, but label the incoming funds as "donations." My laptop is dead and gone. I'm mulling it over, but I likely won't ever do it.

I hate feeling obligated to give something to someone just because they're CHOOSING to provide me with something (whether it be entertainment, food, sex, or otherwise).

So, anyway, have you ever thought about how you feel after an orgasm? Not after the yummy contractions die down and your heart rate has returned to normal, but IMMEDIATELY after you hit that pinnacle pleasure?

Should I even bother telling you that school/writer's block is the reason why I've been gone? No? You already know? Good.

Also, my laptop is going to ABSOLUTE SHIT. This piece of shit is missing four keys and a few of them are super glued so they'll stay attached. Writing papers/doing study guides is a fucking NIGHTMARE, so you can only imagine how horrible blogging is.

Anyway....

Carlin wrote an entry about sexting. It got me thinking about how awesome it used to be back when I was a teenager.

I try to blog immediately after an orgasm. This only works maybe a fourth of the time, but I make an honest effort to start writing when the orgasmic afterglow is still radiating.

I masturbated naked today. That's something I rarely do. I took a shower and went from my bathroom to my room, sprawled out on my bed, and went to town. I always forget how good it feels to feel skin on skin, especially when it's still a little damp.

So, while I'm feeling all glow-y, inspired, and freshly cleaned, I thought I'd write about Carlin and Liandra's fisting video.

So, my gynecologist appointment was today. I left school (and went back after; talk about dedication) and drove over. I didn't have to wait nearly as long as I did, which is good, because I was on the verge of having a case of nervous diarrhea.

I Google weird shit all the time. Really, I do. I get curious about things that are probably inappropriate to ask my peers (or anyone, for that matter), so I run to my trusty search engine to find answers.

Today, while I should be knee-deep in study materials, I Googled "I regret having children," just so I could see if my ideas of parenthood are as absurd as people lead me to believe. They aren't.

Not dead, writer's block, nursing school ruining my life, blah blah blah. All that good shit.

I'm worried about my boobs. So worried that I made an appointment to have The Amazing Dr. G give me my first exam and get my yearly PAP later this month. The last time I went, I was freshly 19, so I suppose it's time for her fingers to enter me anyway. I didn't want to go under these circumstances, though.

Y'all... I have a confession. Please don't disown me. I deserve to be spanked (in the bad way) and to be punished, because I have done something so horrible, but I didn't have any other choice.

I... I... I BOUGHT A BOX OF "U BY KOTEX" TAMPONS.

I know, I know. I'm sobbing because I am so ashamed. Not really, but I am not proud of myself by any means.

For anyone lost as to why this is even a problem, read this. I rant about how awful the marketing is for this product and shit on their idea of cute packaging. No regrets, either.

I have several.... tens of blog entries that I've started but I haven't finished for several reasons. I either get stuck, lose interest in the subject, or realize that I've already talked about something too much akin to the topic that it would almost be a rearranged re-post. The following post is a mash-up of about four entries that I've started and never finished. It was pretty irrelevant for me to tell you that...

Taylor Momsen rocks my fucking socks. I didn't know kids these days had such fantastic ideals (says the moderately sexually liberated freshly twenty one year old masturbator). One of my good friends linked me to this quote by her:

Nope, I'm not dead; still a suffering nursing student who has writer's block.

You may never think of me the same after you read this list, but I really think I have long surpassed the normal level of weirdness a person can safely be at without being committed.

1: My standards for sleeping with men are EXPONENTIALLY lower than my standards for sleeping with women. So low that they're almost nonexistent. Like, if you're not mentally challenged and you can put on a condom.... I think all systems are go.

2: I masturbate so often that my fingers are often prune-y from always being in contact with my pussy juice.

3: I will make out with pretty much anyone.

4: By default, I love you if you're a lesbian. Seriously.

Hey, so, yeah. School is ruining my life and I've yet to actually write a complete entry. I have about two more weeks, though (and there's SEVEN tests stuffed into those two weeks) and then I'm back at my keyboard.

I read this quote by Dr. Northrup. I LOVE that she said this:

Some women call their men "Daddy." Not just during sex, but in regular conversation and as a term of endearment. I could never envision calling my male partner anything other than his actual name, with the occasional "baby" or "darling" thrown in.

Some people think women who have "daddy issues" call their men by that name, because they're clinging to the nearest authoritative male figure. Others think it's simply just synonymous with "sweetheart" or "honey." Whatever the reason, I can sort of understand why women choose that name in particular for the top male in their life.

Because it's Monday:

Ten things I would do if I had a penis:

• Pee standing up. Not just pee, but get piss all over the fucking place just for the hell of it. I would pee on cars, houses, people, sandwiches, in the potato chip aisle of a grocery store, in the free clinic, on doorknobs... God, my surroundings would constantly smell like fucking urine and I would love it.

• Masturbate everywhere. That's a given, though. I would beat off constantly. My balls would be shrunken prunes because of constant orgasm.

I went to visit a friend. We had a short little chat and I was surprised to learn some things about her.

One was that she had acquired? another sexual partner. She, like me, had been waiting until marriage to start getting it in (it was a common pattern amongst our group, and no one has made it... I guess I'm the next best bet, but I blew a guy, so mine won't count). Now, we both have done 180s and she wasn't even in a relationship with the guy she had sex with. Whenever I am told anything like this, I ask two questions: "Did you use protection?" and "Did you have an orgasm?" Most of my friends are pretty logical when it comes to sex. We have ambitious educational goals and we know we don't want kids complicating things.

The month of May has been a fucking whirlwind. I have never had so many positive things happen to me in such a short amount of time. I'm feeling all empowered and shit, so just stay with me here. All of this excited ranting has a point.