Don't you fucking dare try to strip my language of its passion

A brief missive in reply to Carly's post about swearing. Here's my expected reply - what utter bollocks. Quit swearing? I happen to like my language as it is, thanks.

'I had a friend in college who used to say that if people swore then it proved how incapable they were of communicating their feelings without swearing, that it showed how poor their vocabulary was.'

This is tripe, to be blunt. I'll fucking swear as much or as little as I want. One can argue that ones actions will always alter peoples perceptions of you. True - frankly, a person who's scared of the word 'fuck' isnt one I would choose to associate with. If one can't communicate without swearing, thats a different matter.

These are powerful words, yes - that doesn't mean we should be scared of them. I shudder to think of a world where people have no 'extreme' vocabulary. And as for never swearing in front of your kids? They can't be sheltered from the real world forever. I'd rather teach them about the power of language, and how to use it effectively. Call me a fucking hippy if you like.

Filth

Judging from some of the conversations I've had in the past week, it seems as if we're all pretty much as uptight as each other about self-sex. The difference is, women don't seem to me to be made to feel dirty for masturbating. As I was saying to a female friend who shall remain anonymous, 'You lot can walk into the local plastic cock shop on your lunchbreak and no-one gives a damn. In fact, the Ann Summers in Birmingham is right next to the Teddy Bear shop. Us men either have to go to a 'Private Shop' or look like dodgy bastards in our local newsagent just to get a bit of *ahem* visual stimulus, unless we steal porn from the internet, and then what would happen to those poor starlets and their crack habits? You lot can walk round with a plastic cock in your handbag.'

(On that last point, seriously, what the fuck is up with that? Can you girls seriously not stop touching yourselves for 5 fucking minutes?)

Chatting to Carly, I brought up the Fleshlight, which she's written about here. I'd like to approach this with a bit of dignity, so I'll try to keep my giggles away from the keyboard. (There are two good looking girls sitting next to me and I'm about to look at the Fleshlight website. The things I do for England....)

Here we go. This is the thing thats been on my mind for the past few days. Sex in a Can. I have 2 points to make about this. Firstly, the beer can. My mind completely boggles at the idea of this. Personally, I don't fully understand the idea of hiding your sex toy in a beer can. I don't think its gonna fool anyone.

'Hey, mind if i grab a brew?'
'Sure.....SHIT NOT THAT ONE! That's......er......my favourite beer.....yeah....'

Now, I know it's not as if there aren't.....shall we say.....discreet pleasure solutions for the shyer lady......mini lipstick dildos and whathaveyou, but I'm almost certain that you don't have anything that screams 'I PLAY WITH MYSELF AND AM EMBARASSED ABOUT IT' like 'Sex in a Can'. Hell, I'd be embarassed to own a Fleshlight too - but if I've got to the point where I'm fucking a piece of rubber, I think embarassment would be the least of my worries.

Secondly, I'd like to talk about the way this thing is marketed. 'Sex in a Can'. Think about what this means. This isnt being marketed as a tool to assist with someone's sex life, it's intended to become someone's sex life. Long story short, you fuck this because no-one will let you fuck them. Perhaps it's a self-fulfilling prophecy? Shit, son, if you buy this you're pretty much admitting defeat. Now, I'm aware that womens 'toys' (lets be blunt, its a plastic cock that you shove up yourself. No ifs, no buts, sugarcoat it all you want but thats what it is) are sometimes marketed tongue-in-cheek as 'man replacements' or whatever, but I think this is hardly the same thing. This seems to me to be completely marketed as a 'shag this cos you sure as hell aren't gonna get a REAL woman' kind of device.

Bottom line is, while you lot might well feel as embarassed as us about masturbation, no-one forces you to. Most people could not, as far as I know, give a fuck about female masturbation one way or the other. However, talk about a man whacking it and people are disgusted. It's seen as the pastime for lonely, sad bastards. Frankly, that ain't fair. You think the idea of a sweaty bloke alone in his room furiously pounding away is funny? Well, the idea of a girl doing herself with a plastic cock (remember, I like to use nice simple terms) is as funny to me. (Well, a little hotter, but I am a straight male, after all.)

As I said in my last blog, you women are no better, no purer, and no less worthy of ridicule than us men. You just seem to think you're above it.

*remembers he has more female than male friends at uni, fucking SCARPERS*

Whackin' it

Here's a touchy subject. If I'm not careful things could get a bit sticky. I'd better not beat about the bush any longer - this week we have to discuss pounding one's parson. Now, I'll keep this short, as I'm writing this before the week's lecture. First off, lets all own up to it. No need to make a song and dance about it, but, speaking as a man who knows other men, any man who says he doesn't manhandle his man handle is a damn dirty liar. Now, we all know we do it, so why is there such a stigma attatched to it for men? It's perfectly acceptable for a woman to go into her local Ann Summers or whatever and buy herself a plastic cock the size of a fire extinguisher in her lunch break, but catch a bloke with a porn mag under his mattress and I guarantee you'll never let him make you a sandwich again. (By the way guys, I know you want it as close to your bed as possible, but don't be deluded into thinking that it's a well guarded secret.)

So what's this all about? Double standards if you ask me. Yes, girls, we know you do it, but its nothing to be proud of. Nothing wrong with having a fiddle, but dont fool yourself into thinking that when a girl does it its really any different from when a bloke does it. I suppose the mental image of a sweaty man (and I quote Chris Morris) 'vigourously ransacking his dignity' isn't too appealing to everyone, but the idea of an old sweaty woman doing herself with a cucumber doesnt exactly do it for me either. If us blokes have to suffer the red-faced embarassment, then you lot bloody well should too.

Fighting Your Instinctive Cowardice

OK, this has taken me long enough to write the first sentence, so here it is, to break the ice for me as much as for you. I've been trying to address the 'hypothetical scenario' that I've thought up and is in no way related to my personal life really I mean it. Lets say you fancy someone who already has a partner. Do you hold your tongue, sit alone in your bedroom with the lights off crying yourself to sleep because no-one will ever love you, or do you grow a pair (ladies, grow a pair of your own kind) and say your piece in the face of certain embarrassment? This is one of those decisions that sorts the men from the mice, the women from the.....er......mice.

'But I can't abuse the sanctity of someone's relationship!'

Why not? In fact, why are you even thinking of it like that? You bleeding tit. I'm all for morals, and being a good chap, but don't be a mug. This person may be Mr/Mrs Right (or maybe Mr/Mrs Alright, or Mr/Mrs Notright, whatever takes your fancy), and you're gonna let your morals hold you back in your purrsuit (meow) of happiness/getting laid? (I'm kidding, I'm kidding.....I'm not talking about just wanting to play naked leapfrog with them, not just wanting to play doctors and nurses with them, not just wanting to slip in as much innuendo as I can, I mean you're fucking smitten, you can't understand what life was like without them (you're not a stalker, you're just emotional), and yet you JUST CANT TELL THEM BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING IDIOT.)

Morals are all well and good, but fuck, I'd rather have a happy life with no regrets than have been as honourable as a saint, as emotionally repressed as a......me, and as sexually active as a eunuch with a chastity belt. I'm not advocating arseholery, but don't sit on your feelings either. Say your piece and roll with the punches if they come. If you want something, get off your arse and make a grab for it. Advice from Connery in The Rock:

Stanley Goodspeed: I'll do my best.
John Mason: Your "best"? Losers always whine about their "best"! Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.

You don't need to feel like a bastard for going where your heart leads you. (I did not just write that.) If they like you back, all good. They'll break up with their partner (no cheating if you can help it, lets have a good clean break with as few tears as possible) and go off with you and you can both live happily ever after in the land of bunnies and sunshine. Or you'll get a 'Ugh, fuck no' or similar polite rejection, and you can go back to your bedroom to mope (you big girls blouse.) Whatever happens, suck it up. If you can't face the fear of defeat, you don't deserve to bask in victory.

IF THEY LIKE YOU ENOUGH THEY WILL BE WITH YOU AND THEY WILL BE HAPPIER WITH YOU THAN THEY ARE WITH THEIR PARTNER. That's pretty much it. So you're gonna break their current partner's heart by stealing their one true love? Newsflash, shithead: it takes two to tango. Sure, it's not an ideal situation, but would you rather them be happy or you? Fuck 'em, let 'em take care of themselves. Altruism isn't gonna get you anywhere.

In short, it's not a bad thing to steal someone else's boyfriend or girlfriend. It's not even stealing, they're choosing you over their current partner. Be good to yourself - you get one life, so live a happy one.

Oh, and if their significant other is Dave the Strangler, 6'2" semi-pro bear wrestler and part-time stuntman who only does it because he LOVES the danger? Find someone else to fall in love with.

*squeak*

First and Worst

Well, it can only get better from here on. As per Mark's notes, I'll start with an idea of where we should go for a class trip. Amsterdam. Yeah, unoriginal, but lets be honest, if we're gonna be opening our minds to the potentials of debauchery, we might as well go full hog. Either that, or we can all go and see Bernard Manning live and proceed to drink ourselves into a stupor to try to forget what we all experienced.

Joking aside though, my idea for a class outing would be a day at paintball. Not just because I'm itching to use my Automag again - theres food for thought here. Allow me to elaborate, and quite likely lose myself in a tangent. For some reason, it's fun to shoot at each other. Detractors say it's just grown men running around in a wood playing army. They're bloody right too, thats why it's so damn fun. To be honest, it's just like playing Day of Defeat with much better controls. Which brings me on neatly to the next point of my post - why is pretending to kill things (say, in paintball, or video games, or children playing army) fun? Smooth writing style, eh?

Civilised people probably shouldnt get their kicks pretending to kill things, right? I mean, it all seems so barbaric when condensed into that small idea. Well, I'd argue straight off that its the fact that we know its all make believe that lets us do unimaginable things. When there arent any real consequences, it doesnt really matter what you do. Sure, there will be some deranged individuals who actually want to go merrily-a-murdering. Lets not judge us all by the extreme loonies. I'd like to believe that we've come far enough as a species to be able to mentally seperate fantasy from reality. Of course, that doesnt mean that a game such as Battle Raper isn't vile muck, but, again, the extremes needn't be taken as representative.

For my last point, I'll touch on smoking. Most people that I know smoke, whether the regular or 'electric' cigarette. (Come on, you can figure it out!) Is the act of inhaling smoke that contains carcinogens and all sorts of other bad shit into your body bad for you? Of course it bloody is. But shouldn't we all be allowed to wreck our bodies in the manner that we see fit? My mothers boyfriend has, to be blunt, kicked the shit out of his body through smoking. I'd love for him to quit, but who am I to take away something he enjoys? He knows the risks, and chooses to smoke.

I realise that I haven't covered either topic in much detail, but I can do that at another date. For now, all I wanted was to post a few thoughts I've had. Hopefully I can start bashing these out a bit quicker too! More soon!