Knock ‘Er Loose

As of tonight, my reign of terror on Fleshbot is over. Well, mostly. I’ve been filling in for Jonno for five nonstop days (of working from am to… am) and it has completely consumed me; add to this a very stressful wrap-up with my Best Sex Writing book that is still managing to be stressful and reminding me that being an editor is worse than herding pigs on ice. Also, Playgirl is flying me to NY tomorrow at 5am for meetings about who knows what… I’m feeling deep under water, with a lot of work and no pay.

It’s exciting about Playgirl, yet apprehensive. I love Jayme Waxman, one of their writers; she’s such a living doll and has a real sex ed background. But I’m not sure what they want from me, and I don’t know if they’ll want to hear my opinion about their magazine. I read the April issue, with a three page piece in it that slams Democrats and touts Republican values, especially in the bedroom, which I found very insulting and repulsive, even as a non-partisan person. *So* not wankable. Of course, I read this after I had agreed to write them a fiction fantasy piece, which I wrote (hot: a real fantasy about a marching band) and turned in last friday. I just don’t know what’s going to happen in NY, except that I have some pretty defined views about politics, women, sex and porn, and I only see a shadow of them in those glossy pages — but then again, I don’t see any hot porn magazines out there for chicks like me except openly gay ones, and the closest was Sweet Action (though I only saw the first issue). In fact, chicks like me have to really hunt for porn we like in general, but you know that.

It will be my first trip to New York. I’m cranky that my time will be completely occupied by work and I won’t get to sightsee or see people I know there that I really want to hang out with in their natural habitat. For instance, I’d like to see Times Square, the park, ground zero, the sex museum, the Daily Show, Steven Colbert’s banana hammock, and oh yeah, friends. Luckily my pal Carly will be there at the same time and she said she’d take me somewhere in the 2-hour window I’ll have free — anywhere! I don’t care!

As you can see by the pics, I did get time away from the ‘Bot to do some work with other bots at SRL; a much-needed respite, and a real need as we have a show coming up very soon. Inbetween Fleshbotting Wet Stewardess Orgies and Furniture Porn posts I’ve spent my time at the SRL shop getting greasy, cut, sore and exteremely happy working on the machines, getting ready for ‘the big push’ to showtime. There are a few key crewmembers missing from this show which means the knowledge falls to remaining core members, like me (and many others). Which is cool because I’m one of the younger ones there, and female. So I’m needed more than usual, which I really like ’cause I love that feeling of being needed and having a place where I belong and stuff.

About Knock ‘Er Loose: that’s basically a kind of Liquid Wrench, a liquid lube for loosening up screws, bolts and other stuck things. See, WD-40, that’s for housewives, just like those Slimline vibrators. Liquid Wrench is like those alien-looking Japanese vibes that hit all the spots at once, the kind with three prongs if you know what I mean. Knock ‘Er Loose is like this bastard lube that Mark got for free because the hardware store had to pull the product from the shelves because of complaints about the name; we keep a piece of the Knock ‘Er Loose box on the wall next to the bible with shotgun holes through it and a homemade pitchfork through the holes, left over from when we had our big bible burn. I digress. I worked over the weekend getting the Inchworm ready for its new hydropump, a 5-gallon tank of hydraulic fluid, and the gears had to be changed to accomodate the new and improved size. Because SRL machines are made as they are modified (they evolve, which is how they survive), everything is welded and bolted on as the machine breaks and modifies with new tech over the years. Getting one gear off and the new one on took two days because of the way history had decided the permanent placement of the shaft (now the dirty talk). Yes, I spent all weekend lubing up a shaft and pulling on it; a dream job if there was one.

We had to heat the gear to 400 degrees to get it to expand enough to pull it on the shaft, very dangerous and fun. Unfortunately the set screw in the gear was heated as well, making the screw seize up, and I had to get all lubey with the Knock ‘Er Loose to get the screw to move.

I’m still covered in bruises, scrapes and grease stains on my hands and arms; I hope they like it at Playgirl that I’m no manicured muffy.

So no Fleshbot for me while I’m gone, and a break will be nice — but I’m stoked that Jonno liked my work, and tonight he asked me to stay on as his co-poster. Yay! I love it. It was intense, searching for stuff all the time, making sure everything is fresh, current or unused, keeping up to the minute with sex news. (Aside: I have a new favorite blog I *love* to watch, Unscathed Corpse.) Very exciting. I even posted a celebrity nipple slip, which kinda make me throw up in my mouth a little but was still fun because I got to make fun, biting the hand that feeds. Then again, this may mean I’m on a fast downhill slide…

It was also very interesting to get so up on where and how to find this information in the blogosphere, and see the various media as they operate, watching sex stories hatch and travel around the ‘net, see how various people handle the topics — and see just how much Fleshbot is watched. I saw certain well-known sites pick up items I had posted, and regurgitate the material, post it on their own sites, and even in the same order that I had put it up, with no reference to Fleshbot. I experimented with them to test my theory. I watched sites try to slam, scoop or discredit things I posted. Facinating. Most of all it’s fun to put my POV out there in the porn world; a world that typically calls anal sex “a pop in the pooper” deserves a bit of indy punk, girl-powered, all-gender and all-orientation sex-positive upheaval. Plus it was real fun to post that Bruce Willis huffed rails off Lindsay Lohan’s ass for his 70th birthday. ‘Cause that’s what I would do. Dammit, that’s what I *will* do.

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Friday pussy blogging guest spot

31-vi.jpgMy pussy has a first name. It’s B-r-i-t-n-e-y. It’s okay, she can’t spell. My pussy does not have a last name, for obvious legal reasons. And today I found out that my pussy can write. To my great dismay, she wrote me this letter:

Hey Violet, hihihi!

Omigawd, how are you? I’m like, totally fine and stuff. Yesterday we went for a walk and that was rilly rilly fun because you wore that black denim Dickies skirt, y’know, the one that’s kinda tight but comfy and short even though you almost NEVER wash it, and I totally watched the ground go by which was kinda cool ’cause we walked through the Castro where all the gays are and I feel totally safe there, and plus the sidewalk is really clean ’cause they practically have rugs from Dax on the sidewalks. OMG — that would be SO COOL!!! I wish they would cover the sidewalks there with Flokati rugs, that would look so neato through your panties, cuz I totally peek out your thong all the time when you’re not looking. See, you’re not the boss of me… [read more]

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Sorceror’s Apprentice

Last night Jonno gave me the keys to Fleshbot and cut me loose — I’ve been totally freaking out and shaking like an heiress’ inbred pooch ever since. He’s on his way to LA to cover the GayVN’s, and after a week of me feeding him 4-6 posts a day, with him as a sassy human filter, he’s having me take over for almost a whole week. It’s really scary; not just the extremely buggy old-world version of MT Gawker uses, but the pressure is intense. I think the chances are pretty good that I’m not quick enough on blogging celebrity nipple slips and sex tapes, mostly because they’re, like, so hot. But you do have to love it when your boss signs off his email with, “…and feel free to call if there’s an emergency or whatever (lawsuit, Lindsay Lohan bukkake video, etc.)”

You must be thinking, who is this Jonno guy and how do I know him? I first met Jonno via email when he started Fleshbot and emailed me to see if I’d be interested in offering up a quote for the then-fledgling site’s front page. Typically I’m pretty guarded about giving up quotes; while a flattering request, I often perceive it as a cheap-ass way for authors and “critics” to get their names on movie/book packaging, and I only will do it if I like the item in question (which doesn’t always make me popular). But I loved Fleshbot from the start, gave him a quote to use, and in a matter of time my quote got bumped from the front page by fancier quoters like The New York Times and Wired, whoever they are.

Anyway, I occasionally heard from Jonno in the way that frequently posting sites with connected/overlapping content do — shared links, “hey did you see this, it goes with your…” Until this year’s AVN convention. My dear, dear pal Carly had arranged a big sex writer’s dinner in Vegas for a bunch of us to meet each other, and while I met lots of people I’d only emailed with previously, two people were missing due to flight mishaps: Tristan and Jonno. Over dinner I learned from Carly that Jonno was, in fact at that very moment, sequestered in her hotel room in a robe with a bottle of something very alcoholic, tethered to a phone trying to find his lost luggage. After dinner I tagged along with Carly to her room and the meeting between Jonno and I was one of those things: the kind of instant recognition between friends, where you both swear you look familiar, finish each other’s sentences, etc. Striking. And surprising to discover at the world’s most superficial convention. The next night we found each other at a big, awful porn star party, and I wrote about the rest of my fobiles running around being fag hag for a weekend. A few things stay marked in my memory. I have many gay male friends, but Jonno is the most affectionate and warm gay friend* I’ve ever had — lots of close contact and warm hand-holds in crowds. He went out of his way to introduce me to people he really likes. And once, in a crowded taxi, the conversation went, “Oh my god, have you seen (blank)? She’s such a …” and Jonno cut him off and said, “Stop! Don’t you ever say a bad thing about a woman in my presence, ever.”

And today, sometime in the middle of the night before my first post, Jonno went and wrote ( this about me!

So now I’m the sorceror’s apprentice, and Jonno is teaching me the evil ways of Fleshbottery. Well, don’t let me do all the informing, check out this (not too recent) interview with him here.

* Why do I make this distinction? My straight male friends/family in SRL and the Marching Band are very, very affectionate with me; lots of hugging, arms around each other because we’re standing in proximity, etc. For some reason that’s missing from my relationships with gay men. (I don’t know if Michael Soldier’s parting lip-kiss after I interviewed him a few weeks ago counts, oh the tension…) But then again, the SRL/Band guys aren’t exactly your regular straight guys — in fact, not at all. There is quite an interesting history of bisexuality among the ranks of SRL men (a history always in the making, I understand), and gender/sexuality has always been fluid and a non-issue among core members. We’ve all shared near-death experiences at every show; our priorities in the way we relate are vastly different than, say, someone from Hollywood or the Marina district in San Francisco. An SRL sex map would be very amusing; Kinsey would love it. And while I don’t profess to know much about the preferences in the Marching Band, again, gender and orientation are a non-issue. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here, except that this type of open affection and acceptance is a value to me, and I’ve never experienced it in the “straight” world, and very little in my gay cirles, too. But you know, I think the word “straight” should always be in quotes anyway…

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Building destruction video

Sent to me just now: cool time-lapse video of the death of the Chicago Sun Times building. Begins with men, ends with machines, all destruction, yay! Warning: sappy music, but evokes a nice meditative mood…

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Suicide rejecto girl

44.jpgI’m procrastinating that thing I have to write for Playgirl. Not because I don’t want to, not because I’m out of ideas (not by a longshot), not because I got my shuffle and it takes like a thousand hours to charge (but — w00t!), and not because it’s hard to tone down my fantasies for Playgirl. Okay, the last part is true. And even though my nose is sore from ejecting beverages every hour reading your captions for the Laura Bush photo, that’s not it either. No, just because procrastination is the porn writer’s friend. Gives us more time to wank off.

Not that I’ve been a total wanker — I at least did an interview with Web MD today (I’ll post the link when it goes up next week). I’ve been a busy Fleshbot bee; at the end of the week I’ll be posting by myself while Jonno goes to the GayVN’s — yikes! And upon finding out that Suicide Girls rejected my first photoset (they say it’s common for first sets to be rejected), I edited the hundreds of photos down, cropped and posted them as a striptease vignette here. SG told me it was because of the quality of the photography, but haven’t replied to my query email with a recommendation on who I should shoot with next — and it’s been several weeks since I asked them. I’ve technically been accepted and have a profile (not live yet). I’m just too busy Fleshbotting and doing the unemployed writer hustle to kill myself to find a photog for a session that may or may not work, and would result in $300 that would likely go to pay the photographer. I’m not too discouraged, just mulling things over. So enjoy the photos — they’re all mine now, and yours, too.

Now I must write dirty things. Here’s a too-weird-for-Fleshbot link: Amputee of the Month (don’t worry, it’s all fake).

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Caption contest!

This picture needs something. Don’t you think? It needs your love. Look, I’ve read some of the hilarious things you’ve written in my photo album (many times making my nose into a water/coffee/wine shooter). So here’s the plan:

Give this photo a caption. I will pick three hi-larry-us winners: the winners, in tribute to the (Bush regieme’s) Attorney General’s new promise to crack down on porn, will get mystery porn packages sent by me and will be featured here and on my front page. Mystery porn packages will contain all the lubricious promises that a package packed with hours of masturbation can possibly provide, meaning some good porn and some lame porn. Then again, one girl’s lame porn is another guy’s hot wank session… I promise that there will be boobies, people humping, grunting, sweating and spurting, there will be naked genitals rubbing on things, and I guarantee that every piece ‘o porn would make Condolezza Rice claw out her own eyes in abject horror at the sight of actual human beings celebrating being human, because she is a she-Terminator powered by tiny demon monkeys from hell running on little rusty hamster wheels within her hollow metal chest cavity. Ew, sorry I mentioned Rice and porn in the same context, ew, ew, (rinsing eyes with gasoline)…

So do it. Take your hands out of your pants for a minute. Just a minute — it’s okay, I do it, too. Tweak your nose (and other sweatier parts) at the Bush administration and win a weird/scary/hot/alien/mystery porn package from a girl whose books have been banned and targeted and protested by Focus on the Family. Think about it — what is Laura thinking? What is that man saying? Where should that alien probe go?

Send me: your caption, the name you want me to put on my site in association with your caption (your privacy and confidentiality are utmost), and any website you want me to link to. Then, if you make me cry and cringe and spasm with horror and delight over your caption, I’ll email you and ask for the snail mail address to send your mystery porn package. Special thanks to pjk for the pic!

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Up Late, With Port

I’m really sinking my teeth into my job as a Fleshbotette — what girl doesn’t love trolling weird porn sites all day and seeking out visual sex adventures going on tips and hints? But here is the fun side effect I know you will love: some things are just *way too weird* to go on Fleshbot. And dear readers, I will share them with you. Kind of like how sometimes you share your photos and videos of your penises with me. Not that I’m complaining…

My days have been spent in tangents of slightly hallucinatory pornographic threads (it feels like being on mental porno acid, anyway). I follow come-drenched big-boobed Manga link threads and seek out evil hotspots, looking for hard and delicious memes to spread. I’m really just trying to justify a porn habit, but to you I’m trying to justify how I ended up in The Doll Album — a Fotki or Flickr for owners and lovers of RealDolls. Spend a little time with the over 13,000 intimate and lovingly constructed photos by doll afficianados and you’ll see why it’s so fascinating to me. Yet I just can’t help but scrutinize the furniture, the stuff on the floors and on the bookshelves of the doll owners, how they dress the dolls, what their houses look like… what they do with their doll collections… People, this is exactly what will happen when Pris-like fembots hit the market.

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