Sunday, November 29, 2009

"Kink"-y ditties for Crossdressers, Girly-Men, and the people who love them...

The first video is weird, but it was the only recording I could find that doesn't take you to another website... It came out in 1978!! Read the lyrics below while you listen, because it's my blog and that's what I want you to do.

Lyrics for Out of the Wardrobe by The Kinks:

Has anybody here seen a chick called Dick
He looks real burly but he's really hip
He's six feet tall and his arms are all brown and hairy
Well, he married Betty Lou back in '65 when you had to be butch to survive
But lately he's been looking at his wife with mixed emotions
You see, he's not a common place closet queen
He shouldn't be hidden, he should be seen
'cos when he puts on that dress
He looks like a princess
The day he came out of the wardrobe
Betty Lou got quite a surprise
She didn't know whether she should get angry or not bat an eye
She really couldn't call up her mother
Mama would positively die
Should she go or stay or should she try to get a trial separation
You see, he's not a faggot as you might suppose
He just feels restricted in conventional clothes
'cos when he puts on that dress, he feels like a princess
He's not a dandy, he's only living out a fantasy
He's not a pansy, he's only being what he wants to be
Now his life is rearranged and he's grateful for the change
He's out of the wardrobe and now he's got no regrets
Betty Lou didn't know what to do at first
But she's learning how to cope at last
She's got the best of both worlds
And she's really in a state of elation
She says it helps their relationship
She says a change is as good as a rest
And their friends finally coming 'round to their way of thinking
She wears the trousers and smokes the pipe
And he washes up
She helps him wipe
'Cos when he puts on that dress
He looks like a princess
He's out of the wardrobe and he's feeling alright
He's out of the wardrobe and he's feeling satisfied
Now it's farewell to the past
The secret's out at last
He's out of the wardrobe and now he's got no regrets

And another song, more familiar (I hope, for your sake), which Ray Davies claims is about one of his friends who knowingly went home with a transvestite one drunken evening...

And the lyrics to Lola (if you don't already know them):

I met her in a club down in North Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Cherry Cola
C-O-L-A Cola.

She walked up to me and she asked me to dance.
I asked her name and in a dark brown voice she said, "Lola"
L-O-L-A Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy,
But when she squeesed me tight she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, I'm not dumb but I can't understand
Why she walks like a woman and talks like a man
Oh my Lola, lo lo lo Lola, lo lo lo Lola

Well, we drank champagne and danced all night,
Under electric candlelight,
She picked me up and sat me on her knee,
She said, "Little boy won't you come home with me?"

Well, I'm not the world's most passionate guy,
But when I looked in her eyes,
I almost fell for my Lola,
Lo lo lo Lola, lo lo lo Lola

I pushed her away. I walked to the door.
I fell to the floor. I got down on my knees.
I looked at her, and she at me.

Well that's the way that I want it to stay.
I always want it to be that way for my Lola.
Lo lo lo Lola.

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls.
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,
except for Lola. Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola.

Well I left home just a week before,
and I never ever kissed a woman before,
Lola smiled and took me by the hand,
she said, "Little boy, gonna make you a man."

Well I'm not the world's most masculine man,
but I know what I am and that I'm a man,
so is Lola.
Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola.

And here's the music video to Come Dancing, because I like it:

The lyrics are fun too:

They put a parking lot on a piece of land
When the supermarket used to stand
Before that they put up a bowling alley
On the site that used to be the local palais
That's where the big bands used to come and play
My sister went there on a Saturday

Come dancing
All her boyfriends used to come and call
Why not come dancing, it's only natural

Another Saturday, another date
She would be ready but she'd always make them wait
In the hallway, in anticipation
He didn't know the night would end up in frustration
He'd end up blowing all his wages for the week
All for a cuddle and a peck on the cheek

Come dancing
That's how they did it when I was just a kid
And when they said come dancing
My sister always did

My sister should have come in a midnight
And my mom would always sit up and wait
It always ended up in a big row
When my sister used to get home late

Out of my window I can see them in the moonlight
Two silhouettes saying goodnight by the garden gate

The day they knocked down the palais
My sister stood and cried
The day they knocked down the palais
Part of my childhood died, just died


Now I'm grown up and playing in a band
And there's a car park where the palais used to stand
My sister's married and she lives on an estate
Her daughters go out, now it's her turn to wait
She knows they get away with things she never could
But if I asked her I wonder if she would

Come dancing
Come on sister, have yourself a ball
Don't be afraid to come dancing
It's only natural

Come dancing
Just like the palais on a Saturday
And all her friends will come dancing
Where the big bands used to play


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

What if your Mistress was a Vampire?? Muah ha!!

She would hunt you like the innocent prey that you are! Stalking around you, smelling your scent, like you were a piece of pulsating flesh and nothing more!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Victorian Discipline Rules Sooo Hard....

I don't normally do this, because frankly, most people's blogs bore the fucking crap out of me. But Wynter is a true connoisseur, and a true lover of all (most?) things kink. If you've ever been to her house, you know. So she posted a list of Victorian-era schoolroom discipline rules- meaning, a list of possible transgressions and their consequences- which makes me want to cream myself. So here it is (for anyone here who still does not read her blog- naughty, naughty!!):


By the way, she does have this up on her fridge, which is very funny. Also, you need to follow her right now.


Blue ballin it...

Forced bi guys suck


Thank you, Chillball. Now I can listen to "Back Dat Ass Up" whenever and where ever I want!

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Bono sucks so much, let me count the ways...

Hmmm... Well, I really don't have the time or interest to do that (it's a daunting task), but I will leave you with a video to watch which helps illustrate my point. The PEPFAR clause was about to be renegotiated this January, but Bono and his minions helped shut that down. Watch this video to see how little he knows about helping women of third world countries

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Manufacturing Consent...

This is a video that goes along with my previous post. I know I seem to be contradicting myself here, and I also know that a lot of people dislike Noam Chomsky, etc, etc. But, if you have strong feelings about this video one way or the other, let's

Thursday, November 5, 2009


I bet Arod spent all morning doing that...

Check out my new blog header! Of course, how could you miss it? I call that my 'cat who caught the canary' look.

The Yankees won last night, and I was at my favorite old man dive bar to witness it. Testify! Oh, there are few funnier things than watching geriatrics ignore their arthritis by jumping up and down and high-fiveing eachother. The Phillies were stupid for thinking Pedro Martinez could actually pull off another win (I'm a Mets fan, so I know these things). Ha ha! Phillies suck! (The Mets suck more... but go screw, naysayers!)

Speaking of baseball...

I am reading Moneyball right now, by Michael Lewis. Beside there being a ton of statistical minutia that I could care less about, there are a bunch of revealing tidbits about the culture of professional baseball and it's reliance on superstition and pseudo-science when assessing player's performance. One thing about the book that has struck me so far was that looks used to be a factor in determining whether someone should get drafted. There was (is still?) a certain kind of "face" that scouts would look for when choosing ballplayers from colleges and highschools. There was also a certain type of preferred body (ooh, the homoerotic undertones!) aside from any actual proof that it had any bearing whatsoever on how someone could play. There are a bunch of other quasi-interesting facts in the book so far (I'm halfway through), including some great arguments on why some statistics (that are still used) just shouldn't even exist, ex: errors. It is also the story of Billy Beane, the general manager of the Oakland A's who was a pro ball player in the 80's, and who did fit all of the bullshit statistical facial/body requirements, but still never had a successful career. Apparently, this stuck in his craw a little, and as an adult, he became fascinated with choosing players based solely on real statistical data- that being chiefly on-base percentage, and slugging percentage.

Jesus, I'm even boring myself talking about that crap. It would be interesting to know where the facial requirement came from, though. Lewis doesn't go into it, but I'm sure it probably has something to do with physiognomy (which I wrote a paper about in college) and other such racist hogwash.

Anyhoo... I am going to really embarrass my boyfriend right now, and tell everyone that I shaved his cock, balls, and ass last night. Ha ha! It was tremendously intimate and fun. And sooo needed. Phew!

In other news, as I was walking home last night, a lady freaked out on me because she thought I was someone famous, although she could not say who. I am going to go out on a limb and say that she probably thought I was Tina Fey... I am getting a lot of that lately (weird!). I don't know who she thought I was, because I promptly ran down into the subway. It's the glasses. I used to get a lot of, "Oh, you look like that Lisa Loeb!" when she was popular as well. Yick. This was the first time I actually had someone scream and freak out on me, though. Although now I think I should have tried to sign her tits.