The Pornado Cometh

While Rollie has been endlessly obsessing over flavored waters and lobbying for what we should put in the snack machine over here at Voltron Central, I have been working my little ass off and neglecting you, and that's got to stop. The working my ass off and the neglecting you. Working involves pants and warpaints and happy tap-dancey smiles for the punters. We all know my love/hate relationship with THE PANTS. You always think pants are going to be nice, and then you put them on and wear them for a while and you realize the freedom to endlessly masturbate to PRONs on the Internets has gone too...and suddenly you realize you have let your life slip through your fingers to the point where you can't even masturbate to double penetration porn. And that my friends is a sad, sad, sad place to be. Take my word for it. Day, oh, I don't know, 200 and something of celibacy, and I'm kind of sick of it all. Connecting to a real person is fairly terrifying though because they are real and right there and you HAVE to open up enough to have some kind of emotions to have sex, and that shit becomes even more terrifying, and by "that shit" I mean the caring about people when you've been all-too-often disappointed in people and their behaviors in general, but it has to be done. Or I will go mad, and we can't have that. Then who will pay the mortgage? Then who will help form Voltron? Wait, don't answer that! If you're answer was Sven...you can just shut it right now. He's busy weeping softly in the cargo bay while I polish the blue Lion, and if you think that is a sexual euphemism you may just be right.

Amidst all the working and the endless putting on and taking off of pants and brushing one's hair and teeth and slathering on the warpaint...which becomes a little tiresome I must say, I have actually been seething and stewing and working on some posts. Rollie and I gave each other "assignments" NOT a sexual euphemism. It has been all flavored-water sports drinks all the time up in the breakroom and that my pets is what we call a theme. Our next theme is a thing of which I often touch upon SEX. Or things that are sexy in nature or erotic or profane...why dress it up? SEX.

I can finally finish up that Blue Dildonics review post. I can show you horrible things the like of which shall scar you for ever and ever. I did after all used to run the COF, the Circle of Filth. It was stunningly disgusting and all user-generated. I was merely the aggregator of the glory. Though since this was back when stileproject wasn't just a bleeding mass of viral hatred that will immediately crash any browser, it just seemed easier to find the crazy or maybe I am jaded. I think it's equal parts of both those answers, let stew and simmer with an icing of celibacy, and boom you get the Princess reserving the right to keep this in her deck:


I'll be back, and it might get a little NSFW, or Not Safe For Work, around here. I have after all had my account deleted from myspace for reviewing the "ExtremRestraints.com" catalog. Of course I included pictures. Have you seen some of that shit? And I call myself kinky! I am vanilla spice. Those people are for real, so are the people that vomit on each other and shove dead fish in their vaginas. Oh the glorious infections that must cause *bleah*. But seriously I can't look away because it's like looking into the heart of a dark star. I see you. I see you all out there. And, I can't help but wonder what your story is. I can't help but make them up, so I need to write them down or go mad. Or choose pants. Or have sex. Or maybe all of the above in varying degrees. Gotta go now, well talk more about this later. Sven's not just going to peg himself you know.

ps. You're all fucking terrifying too, and yet somehow I still love all of you. Jesus wept for a reason.