The Beautiful Kind

I liked squatting to go to the bathroom. It felt so raunchy. It definitely makes more sense than sitting down to go to the bathroom. It’s just like how we do baby birthing in America - we lie the woman on her back instead of letting her squat.

I had to bring my own toilet paper everywhere, so I’m not sure if that’s what everyone does, or if the locals don’t use it. I never got around to asking.

In old Beijing, most of the homes don’t have their own toilet, so they use public toilets, which have no stalls with doors, just half walls between the toilets. I got down with the old Chinese ladies once and squatted with them, but man was that a gross scene.

I also wanted to know more about the fact that Chinese babies don’t wear diapers. They have split pants instead, so you get to see lots of cute baby ass. Does that mean parents get pissed on a lot? How soon do the kids get potty trained? I saw one leave a poo in the street and his mom cleaned it up with a newspaper.

I have this travel mug and it tips over ALL the time and spills and makes a mess.

Finally one day Belle came home and shoved a bag at me. “Here, I thought you needed this.”

I opened it up. She got me a sippy cup.

I’ve found it makes a great cocktail shaker. I like drinking whiskey out of it.

Dear Belle,

We miss you! I hope you are having fun with the blog and B-Diddle. Please tell all our sex toys hi for us, especially Biggie. In fact, why don’t you take him out for a playdate/photo shoot?

Some quick observations about China:

- the pollution is as bad as they say it is, at least in Shanghai.
- the people are small but the underwear on the clotheslines = really big.
- there are lots of hump-backed midgets here.
- nude pantyhose is popular with the ladies.
- there are lots of hip young dudes with 80’s hair.
- we are doing our best to have kinky sex here without you. I have a few good stories to share when we return. They involve things like the tour bus, a plate glass window, and a surprise wake-up call.

Love,
The Beautiful Kind xoxo

It has very little do to with sex though.

Here’s a few reasons why:

1. I drive a Trans Am and a motorcycle
2. I repair my vehicles
3. I fix the plumbing, install light fixtures, and know how to weld
4. I have superior visual-spatial skills
5. I wear men’s clothing (wife beaters, boxers, tightie whities, and jeans)
6. If you’re having a problem, I don’t know how to listen – I just want to fix it.
7. I am far more likely to be logical than emotional
8. I play X-box (much to Beautiful’s chagrin)

-Belle

I did not have my first bisexual experience until a few months ago, at age 25. Sure, I’ve hugged and kissed girls playfully, I’ve had bi girls crush on me, and I’ve groped more than a few breasts in my life.

At first, I felt a little weird about this. I wasn’t particularly attracted to women as a child or young adult. I had a crush on another girl in high school – she was creative and intelligent, the girl who got all of the lead roles in school plays – but she was the only one, ever. Nothing ever came of that aside from sleepovers in the same bed.

Women have often been my competitors. They competed with me for best friend status, they tried to steal my boyfriends by giving them road head, they complained when I didn’t spend enough time with them. A few years ago a friend of mine and I roomed together, and we would get into territorial spats over things like whose coffee table belonged in the living room. To be perfectly honest, I don’t get along with women. When Beautiful came along, I could count all of my female friends on less than one hand – even when I added my femmy-lesbian-ex-boyfriend.

So when Beautiful came along and I became a lovesick little pup, I wondered: am I really bi? Why did I not develop an attraction to women until well after all of my neurons completed development?

I was happy to read in the book The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton that 50% of women have their first bisexual experience after age 25. Looks like I am right on schedule. Whew.

-Belle

That’s right, fellow readers: The Belle Kind will entertain you here for the next two weeks while Beautiful is off hanging out with millions of cute Asians.

For my first trick, I will share with you my new favorite word:

callipygian

It means “Having a well-shaped buttocks” as in, “The calliphygian young librarian stretched to re-shelve a book on the highest shelf”. Use it fearlessly to express your appreciation for human anatomy.

-Belle

So I’m going to be in China for two weeks. How the fuck this happened is as good as anyone’s guess. I can’t wait to be a goddess over there - I hear they’ll dig my long blond hair. (Guess I’ll shave it when I get back? I haven’t decided.)

You mustn’t fear, dear readers, I have posts lined up (I’m going sans laptop !!!), and I have our beloved BELLE as my backup - she’s going to guest post while I’m away!

Not only that, but Bossman Beau will have my beloved B-Diddle guest posting for him over on the flipside. (Can you believe he hasn’t posted since April 24? SHAMEFUL!) We’ll let you vote on whether we should keep them on when we get back, or if we should get kicked off the site (blog coup!) and rename it The Belle B-Diddle Kind…

Someone asked me if we’ll get a pic of Biggie on the Great Wall of China, but we’ve decided not to take him. We have to pack light.

I will return in all my glory June 1. And then Beau and Belle are getting tattooed! (Not matching, for fuck’s sake.)

Stay tuned for posts on Pussy Gardens, the sexiest drum ever, Crib Play, a sex addict who puts me to shame, and love, baby. Love.

xoxo

It’s been months since I posted my superhero lust review, and people keep telling me I need to see that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine in it.

I think this is a secret message. I think what they are really telling me is that I need to FUCK HIM ALREADY.

(Just to be clear, fisting is off the table.)

Speaking of, if you could have any superpower, what would it be? My friend came up with the best one I’ve heard yet: the ability to sterilize people by pointing at them.

Man o man, check out this file someone sent me, along with this message:

“Ever considered narration…you know….for The Blind Kind…”

mov00752.MPG

(audio excerpt of the Cuddle Swinging post - SO WEIRD to hear a creepy manvoice in place of my own - what a mindfuck!)

Check out this sign someone spotted and sent my way. Nice!

Pre-dawn, and I had just woken from an intensely sexy dream. I was lying there basking in the pleasure, feeling it in my core, when the candles on my dresser started tinkling mysteriously. They shuddered harder and harder, and then everything started shaking. My first thought was that holy shit, my dream was coming to GET ME, and my next thought was “earthquake.”

I woke sleeping Belle next to me and she sat bolt upright. Church bells peeled in the distance. As the world vibrated, the spring fevered birds kept singing outside our window.

Belle uttered, “Cooool,” and as the shaking subsided, she collapsed on top of me and held me, reigning in my pounding heart. I inhaled her night sweat. The candles tinkled a little longer after it stopped shaking, sounding like little soldiers marching off. We drifted back to sleep.

…

When I got up this morning I saw that only ONE of my Pez dispensers had fallen. It was Miss Piggy who took the plunge.

What about you? Did you feel it?

This weekend I had my first gin and tonic of the season.

Oh wait, I can take a cue from The Belle (see comments) and turn this into a poem:

This
weekend
I
had
my
first
gin and tonic
of the
season.

Did it work?? I am so Emily Dickinson with my drink on.

I love when The Beau is downstairs practicing his music.

When the lovely classical music floats up through the house, I pretend I am Queen and have live musicians in my court on hand to amuse me.

Now if only I had a midget and a juggler.

.

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Dear TBK,

You freak, you. I just wanted to send you a simple message to tell you… you make my dick hard as a rock. I’m heading home and I’m gonna jack off when I get there.

I hope you’re happy - knowing that me and God knows how many other guys, while thinking of your perverted little ramblings, are jacking loads of cum onto their bellies and chests.

You, my dear, are a masturbator’s dream! Stay dirty for us… You rock, lady!

I suppose this is a good time to warn my readers that it’s about to get a lot dirtier/wild around here. I’ve got some big news to tell you. Stay tuned next week.

I’m as opposed to processed food as the next hippie, but omigod those Hot Wings/Blue Cheese Collisions Doritos are like crack.

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Do you know what I like about this Hollywood picture of Diablo Cody, screenwriter of Juno and former stripper?

HER SHOES. She’s not wearing stupid silver strappy flimsy stiletto high heels.

That’s right - if a bear or rapist chases her, she has a fighting chance. Proof she’s a former stripper - no one in their right mind who is forced to wear high heels for their job will ever wear them again. Stupid high heels.

My biggest sex toy - the man behind the ropes - my Daddy Dom - has his own blog now. You can find it here - he has a link in the top navigation and joins two of my other dear subjects - my daughter, and animals. Except I write all the shit on this blog, and this is going to be all him.

When he first read my site last year, he had no idea that he would someday become a part of it. In fact, as he read it (the whole damn thing, mind you) he kept thinking he hoped the woman he was with someday would be down with discussing all the crazy topics covered.

Little did he know.

He’ll be teaching us a thing or two - how to be a good man, how to be a good Dom, cowboy ethics, chess strategies, what it’s like to tame a whore, how a musician’s mind works, the weird habits of a caveman, and if we’re lucky, how to tie up women and make them your cum slut. Oh, and tits. He’ll be talking about tits a lot. And philosophy.

Now that I’m going all femme, I have to tell you about this cupcake bar here in St. Louis. I’ve been meaning to check it out for a while, and finally did. We all know how I am about cupcakes.

(I snagged this pic from a cupcake blog that listed Jilly’s. I couldn’t get a pic from Jilly’s actual website because it’s a work in progress and sucks right now. Why do people balk at spending money on a decent website? I mean we spend money on some stupid shit - video games, designer handbags, a massage that only feels good for 10 minutes after it’s done…A website is like a pair of glasses - you don’t want to cut corners on something that is right there for people to look at everyday and is part of your identity.

I hate when people get a friend to build a website for them and then it looks like shit and you can’t read the text, or they pay some amateur $100 for a design and it looks like Frankenstein’s Monster. Just hire a professional to do it right and pay the $400+ and be a woman about it for chrissake, you get what you pay for.)

Speaking of paying, the cupcakes at Jilly’s cost $4+ a piece. But they’re huge and hedonistic - they are the LUSH version of baked goods. I mean, some of them have a piece of cheesecake in the center, or a chocolate covered strawberry. The s’mores cupcake has a perfectly toasted marshmallow on a stick, and the stick is a chocolate covered pretzel, and it’s next to a chocolate dipped graham cracker and the whole thing is drizzled with chocolate and it has a white gooey center. I’m getting turned on just thinking about it.

My favorite one was the bee sting - it was all lemony and honey and had a white chocolate honeycomb piece stuck on top, next to a delicate little bee made of sugar. Yep, I was freaked into heaven.

I have a huge thing for crafty women. I feel like an old man pervert when I go to those indie craft shows because I ogle the chicks who make all the pretty light switch plates, jewelry, and sock monkeys. They’re always quirky and wear glasses and are cute and sweet. And talented, too!

Just LOOK at this clever purse a local crafter made:

She claims my blog inspired her, and I’ll go ahead and take the credit, thank you. So what would you call a purse like this? An undie clutch? Bloomer bag? Tighty whitey tote? (this is the best thing to do with tighty whiteys, by the way - men certainly shouldn’t wear them, although they might look cute on a girl with a wifebeater.)

My fav name is one the crafter herself came up with - Rocketbook Pocketbook. And I HAVE a Pocket Rocket to tuck inside! The best part of the clutch is that there’s a little peep hole in the front with a button closure so you can stash little treasures there. Yep, this is a great bag to stash your junk.

You can find these (and all the hot crafty women) at the Indie Valentine show Saturday night.

Oh wow, someone just sent me this video - HOW TIMELY!

The Monk has his own blog!

An excerpt:

Sex Monk is probably the most unique feature of this blog. I’ve sub-titled it ‘further exploring the endless connections between sexuality and spirituality’ as a nod to Rob Bell’s fantastic book Sex God.

This feature is all about exploring a topic many Christians are afraid of in a spiritually safe and modest, yet meaningful, way. I’m not an expert on this subject, which is why I’ve opted for ‘exploration’ instead of ‘answers’.

I’ll be adding to this section on my own, but any questions you have are more than welcome. Are certain kinks okay? Is any kink okay? Whatever. Don’t be afraid to look sheltered or slutty, we’re all trying to find an elusive paradigm.