1. Monday, July 22, 2002

    guest blogger: 

    kitty bukkake

    Tony said in his blog today that he, as a rule, does not meet up with people who contact him from the internet. That’s not true. I guess it is if they contact him, but not if he contacts them. Tony and I met last summer, almost a year ago.

    He emailed me in response to a diary entry, he said:

    there’s not that many people, really, who know what bukkake is. and what they really truly want to see, instead, is in your diary. so help em out.

    Yeah, well, from time to time, I get a “what, no bukkake?” email, but for the most part, Tony was right.

    Is this too meta? A guest blog about blogs?

    He asked me to write about something sexy. I could tell you the whole story about how he and I met that very same night we started emailing,

    but if Tony hasn’t already told it, he probably doesn’t want you to know.

    So I’ll say this: after watching 3/4 of the Sex & the City women expose 5/6 of their tits over the course of half an hour last night, I decided that nudity is waaay too much of a Big Deal in America.

    I have been thinking about how much I wish I could hang out at a nude beach for a weekend.

    I think about seeing the naked landscape. I want to know if people walk differently when they’re publicly nude, and if the men get boners all the time. And whether personal space is different.

    I hope so. I’m not nude beach material though, and not for fear of being naked in front of strangers–I used to be a figure model.

    I just don’t think I could handle the beach experience because

    1. I sunburn easily and there’s no way I want peeling nipples

    2. I’d be afraid of creeps (had a little of that in the art classes too but in the workplace there are rules to protect your naked ass), and most of all

    3. I am squeamish as sweet FA, and I’d be so scared of getting bugs crawling in my parts. Never mind sand. I’m talking about sandfleas. Screw that.

    No pants on a beach? You get the fleas and crabs (not the disease, the crustacean) and dolphins all fighting over who gets to be up in your warm, wet stuff.

    I can’t even handle having an ant on my foot, never mind a fucking monster in my crack. So I think that’s the biggest deterrent for me.

    But that all makes me think: why do it at a beach? And why allow creepy people?

    How about a private, casual nude party?

    Sure, my college days are finally over but so is most of my false modesty and leftover, post-adolescent insecurity.

    I’m thinking nude cocktail party at dusk, no bugs, no animals, no creepy strangers, soft towels and cold drinks for everyone, voila, nude party.

    And I’m no hippie either, so don’t think it’s like that, and no drugs, because I hate drugs, and it’s my fake party.

    And definitely no “show us your tits, girls gone wild!” mentality, because that’s not sexy.

    But just having them out there, with everything else out there too, is pretty cool. I think.

    Nude party. My house. Someday.

    wanna help tony and write something for the blog? write it and send it here.