The Jock Strap piece is another work in progress. For this project I sat nude in a men’s locker room and knit myself a jock strap, commenting on the notion of woman’s work vs man’s work and appropriate activities within gender bondaries. What activities are appropriate in any given space? What activities are appropriate within a gendered space?
Photos by Rance Palmer.
I plan to reinact this piece in a locker room that gets more foottraffic, videotape it (hopefully capturing people’s reactions), and make sure I get some footage/images of myself wearing the jockstrap this time. Stay tuned.
There are girls you drink fondly to remember. There are girls you punish your liver to forget. There are girls you drink with. And then there are girls you drink because you are with them. This was one of those dates. Right off the bat, I met her via Match.com, and should have been prepared for it, but God damn was Elise pretty to look at. Five eight, dirty blonde, and two pallid green worlds centering her face. I would have told her my name was Cash Bundren, but that was the problem with Elise, she was well read. She was the kind of well read that likes to shove it in your face. She also thought she was well read in people. I don’t fancy myself the most complicated of sorts, but I don’t think she can readily assume I drink heavily from order two Makers on the rocks in the span of three or so hours.
I couldn’t tell if her looking every which was in the bar was ADD, disinterest, boredom, a ernest desire to people watch, or an unholy amalgam of all of those. But we were talking, and all of a sudden she goes, “So talk.” I just look at her long and silent. “Isn’t that what we were doing.” I can think of nothing more inducing of silence as to say, let alone command, the verb talk. She’d talk her job, she’d name check some authors to convince me that she was well versed, but I can’t really call a lot of what we were doing as human communication. It was vapid, and it was hollow. She was looking every which way, and I was looking to the bottom of the glass.
Is it jsut me or does Lily Allen really like flashing nip? It seems like every photo set that we see of this Brit Pop singer has her topless in at least one photo. Do you remember when you use to buy packs of pokemon cards and there would be like 6 regular cards and then one rare card in every pack that you bought? For some reason that is what Lily Allen reminds me of now. Every time its a pack of hot pictures of her and one nipple picture that I consider rare.
Anyways hit the link below if you are over 18 and are not at work to see the NSFW pictures. If you fail either of those two requirments you should go buy some pokemon cards.
Isn’t it crazy, that when you’re absolutely gagging for it and (probably) more than a little bit drunk…DAMN you put them moves down good…
Now, I’m not a particular fan of ‘girl on top’, it makes me feel, well, kind of…ergh and a little nervous. The angles all wrong, it’s clumsy, thrusts take a while to become all rhyth-matic, and the whole situation is uncomfortable and completely un-sexy.
So why, just when I’m nearly a reborn virgin, and I’ve clearly got rather friendly with tequila, I become like this girl on top – goddess.
I’m pushing him down, ripping off his clothes, taking down my pants – rather sexily I might add, (despite the fact that five minutes ago I couldn’t even stand without swaying) and riding it like it’s a fucking bronco.
From what I remember of the passion, it was pretty good, and my performance – some of my best work. Compliments to me… I’d say, especially since my one night partner, wasn’t such a one-nighter after all.
And I introduce Indie Guy…
Already somewhat of an acquaintance, tequila aided our apparently blossoming friendship. I’m not sure how this story goes, but it’s something like this.
So, Indie Guy I haven’t had any sexy in a while. Fancy it?
Alright, just kidding, I remember him being somewhat gentleman-ly.
But you’ll regret it…
Believe me, no I won’t.
Wham. Bam. Thank you Mam.
I arose the next morning feeling rather pleased with myself, it (the performance) went well, and knowing that Indie Guy was a bit of a stud I presumed this was it. A night of illicit passion.
It was rather strange waking up with someone, I knew little of. Having the conversation we probably should have uttered pre bone.
Where you from?
Your, how old?! Oh.
What you studying?
He left a few hours after we woke up, we spoke the next day via facebook chat, something we had never previously communicated on. I passed it off as him being polite really.
Until two nights later where we drunkenly bumped into each other, he kissed me, took my phone number, and kissed me again. It was all very public and rather passionate too.
He began to show a real interest in me, and invited me round a few days later, for some reason I didn’t go, I think mainly I didn’t want to end up having sober sex and admitting in some way that I liked him – through sobriety.
Although Indie Guy and I have had many drunken meetings, one in fact where I think he was sober, and a couple where we’ve actually just fell asleep all cuddly (we’ve become all cuddly!).
I’m still not really sure what Indie Guy wants from me.
Or if I want anything from him.
And for now, have we just become unspoken fuck buddies…?
When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me that whatever happened in my life, would happen for the whole of the next year. So I couldn’t cry or sulk, no tantrums, no naughtiness.
If I was happy and good, then that would follow all year.
When I was about 19, I decided that if that was true, then every Christmas I was going to orgasm, because then I would cum every day!
Chest:
34 C,
Manager:
Waist:
24
City:
nebo
Hips:
34
State:
North Carolina
Hair Color:
Brown
Zip:
28761
Hair Length:
Long
Country:
United States
Eye Color:
Blue
Ethnicity:
Caucasian
Skin Color:
Tanned
