It's official!

Roximoon has to post a picture of her in her teeny weeny pink teardrop bikini.

Here's what the polls looked like at the end of day Sunday (which was the cut-off date for all votes).

Poll on UYH:


Poll on Taste of Roxi:


Sure, she got more votes in total, but all for the good of mankind.

Roximoon, your adoring fans await your image. Thanks for playing!


We've taken it down from the site, but to verify the details, click here and here!

What's your cyborg name?

I swear that's the first and last geek thing I'll be posting!

I'm in heaven

Bikini contest.

Yum.

Happy Birthday Bastard

Happy Birthday to you,
I just had a poo,
Happy Birthday Attacking Midfielder,
Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday mate! May you have good and plentiful sex for the rest of your life!

Grumpy ol' me

Two very late nights, working, sleep at a minimum, not having fun, has turned normally-chirpy-and-full-of-fun me, into a grumpy sod. I hate clients who change shit at the last minute.

No wait, I really really hate clients who change shit at the last minute.

Grr.

Another quiz link from Laurian

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Greasy Astrologer. Where You Lived: Greece. How You Died: Hung for treason.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Greasy? Me? Only on the weekend!

Natalie Portman of the day

Perfection.

Does Timmy want McDonalds?!?

You tell me.

Is your girlfriend hot?

That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever been asked in my life. This is what some rocket scientist asked me last night when I happened to mention something about seeing a girl later.

Is my girlfriend hot?

"No, she's not. She's a dog. We're not physical because she's crippled and a leper, and the conversation isn't good because she had her mouth sewn shut my the Nazi's and now she refuses to talk to anyone, at all. She also likes to rub rotten tomatoes all over her body whenever someone says the phrase "How about that?", just because she can. Oh, and sometimes, just sometimes, she rubs her face wih a cheese grater to feel better about her 'situation'.

Is my girlfriend hot? Fuck off. Who's isn't?

Chicks kissing

Does it get any better than this? Not likely.

Well, maybe a certain pink teardrop bikini!

Roximoon and her pink teardrop bikini

In the comments of a previous "Bikini of the day" post, Roximoon said, and I quote:

Ohhh.. I have one of those!! But.. its pink.. Sorry.. I knew you were all excited about the white one.. but mine is pink..

Roxi

So now we've got a voting poll up, on the right, for people to vote to see if we're gonna get a pic or not.

Please be nice. Ta.

Bikini of the day

The little sister

I had this girlfriend once who was super hot. The thing is, her sister was slightly younger, but even hotter. I'd spend a lot more time with the sister when I was over visiting, we had more fun together because it wasn't like awkward when you said hurtful but playful things to each other, it was more fun.

For weeks I'd contemplate the possibilities of leaving my girlfriend and going for the sister, but the folks loved me, and doing that to the their eldest would've totally ruined my chances. So I decided to leave it for a while. If we broke up, then I'd give it a year or so before I set my sights on the fresh meat, I mean, younger pretty woman.

So we broke up for about 6 months, then saw each other at a club and hooked up again. My rule, stupid me, is still applying. We've been broken up, for the second time, for 7 months. I still keep in contact with the younger one, and can't wait 'til these next five months are over.

I'm counting the seconds.

Bikini of the day

This bad boy is called a teardrop bikini.

:: sniff ::

Brings tears to my eyes.

Aaaah

Nothing like a hard hour's workout to start the day off right.

You know it's gonna be a good day.

The test

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

First time I did the test, answering 18 questions, I was Mr Smith goes to Washington, then I re-tested, using all the questions this time, and got this one.

I prefer this one.

Link from Cass.

WE'RE BACK!!!

Bikini of the day

777

So was asked/tricked (you decide) by Laurian to do this question answer thing. So here goes:

7 things I plan to do before I die
1) Have a kid
2) Travel through upper Africa
3) Marry Natalie Portman
4) Be financially free
5) Be the best at what I do, in the world
6) Sky-dive off the Eiffel Tower
7) Marry Natalie Portman

7 things I can do
1) Crit movies, well
2) Make people laugh (thanks Laurian)
3) Sing
4) Flirt
5) Sound like I know what I'm talking about when it comes to technology
6) Do any handyman job that needs doing around the house (handyman job, not renovating!)
7) Love Natalie Portman

7 things I cannot do
1) Talk to people with food on their faces
2) Eat raisins or prunes
3) Handstand
4) Cartwheel
5) Ask for directions
6) Hate Natalie Portman
7) Drive with no music

7 things that attract me to the opposite sex
1) Breasts
2) Bums
3) Lips
4) Eyes
5) Neck
6) Legs
7) If she looks like Natalie Portman

7 things I say most often
1) Bro
2) Bizarre
3) Sure
4) No way
5) Yes, I'm available
6) Dude
7) Good night, Natalie

7 celebrity crushes
1) Natalie Portman
2) Jessica Simpson
3) Natalie Portman
4) That chick from Wedding Crashers (she's normally blonde) Rachel, maybe.
5) Natalie Portman
6) Madonna
7) Natalie Portman

7 people who need to do this
1) The Mad Hatter
2) Roximoon
3) Avik
4) Blake
5) Cass
6) *natalia*
7) mojoala

There, I've bared my soul! Happy now?!?

A Winning Formula

I'm normally not one to reveal my trade secrets, but seeing as I've used this for the past few weeks, I think it's time for me to share it with the world, while I pursue to master new ideas.

"The secret?" you ask. Yes, the secret of getting your partner to climax, perhaps more than once, in under ten minutes.

Some people might think I'm crazy. "Only ten minutes?" you would ask, "that's too short. I want it to last longer than that." With my formula, it feels like a lifetime.

Here's how it goes:

Get your music player of choice into the room, make sure it's loud. By loud I mean really loud, I'll explain why later. Now, make sure you have 'Angel' by Sarah McLachlan and 'Run' by Snow Patrol written on a disc, or in a separate playlist in your iTunes, WinAmp, whatever.

Get that ready. Shit. Get it ready a week before you know you're getting any action, 'cos when it happens you don't want to be fart-arse-ing around trying to 'set the mood', it should be set in advance.

Now, when you and your partner decide it's time for action, start the foreplay. Let it go on until you're both very naked and very aroused. Then press play. 'Angel' is a great track for slow, sensual foreplay. Everyone knows it, so you know where the highs and lows are, and it's familiar so it makes foreplay a lot easier.

The best music player would be a laptop, because you can fade tracks between each other rather than waiting for a track to start after the previous one finished, but if a CD player is all you have, don't worry, it'll still work.

Now, when 'Run' starts, that's when you go for gold. Foreplay stops, and you spring into action. Make sure you know the song.

Learn it.
Dream it.
Live it.

Because when it starts, you want to know every high, every low, every change of pace, because that's how you are going to perform. You're going to perform like the band is inside of you, and you're orchestrating every word, every note, every little drumbeat.

The funny thing is, your partner will actually feel that way. You will be the master of the music, as well as the master of the bedroom. And it's not just for guys, the ladies can do it too. As long as you're in control, it'll be a night never forgotten.

And I repeat, make it loud, extra loud, because your moans, screams and bursts of elation will be louder (because you're not worried about anyone hearing).

By the end of the most powerful ten minutes of your life, I can guarantee a huge orgasm, and a shared cigarette.

7 women. 7 exact same results.

Go forth and try it, please. And let me know if it works for you. I'm off to find the next big thing, I love the weekend.

One thousand baby!

Ok, one thousand and seven. I missed the big turnover. Now, I could've edited it to make me look cool, but then people might've thought that I sat and refreshed the page over and over again until 1000 clocked over. But not me.

Homey don't play dat game.

Thank you to everyone who visits regularly, and to the new visitors as well. We enjoy all of your blogs, hope you enjoy ours too.


All our love hugs and kisses,

jimmer and Attacking Midfielder

Word veri'fu-u-u-uck'ation

I've been having some serious issues with Blogger's new 'word verifuckation'.

I type my comment, type in the stupid letters, publish, then...

it reloads with a new image telling me I fucked up, and need to type it out again.

I fucked up? No no my friend, you fucked up.

I typed it correctly, letter for stupid-fucked-up-letter, and you tell me I fucked up.

If people are having trouble with comment spam, why not move to Haloscan? It's quick, easy, and a helluva lot easier than typing in stupid stupid stupid letters every time you comment.

Word verifuckation, please die!

Natalie Portman of the day

She's just incredible isn't she?

Toilet spray

Sticking with the 'toilet humor' from below, I've been trying to find the perfect toilet spray.

And in 'perfect', I mean,

the toilet spray that erases any trace of shit-smell.

I'm convinced it doesn't exist. No matter how hard you try, how wide you open the window, how vigorously you wave the door back and forth or how much you spray, the smell lingers on like that one pimple on your forehead on photo day when you were in school.

I try. God knows I try. But to no avail. And I'm a guy, so ma' shi't sta'nk!

Why does the smell of shit overpower any smell on this earth? Why would we be created to excrete such a foul-smelling demon? Are we being punished? Or is God laughing at us up in the clouds? Why? Why?

Is there any miracle spray out there that erases any trace of the dreaded shit-smell?

Bikini of the day

Ok, so it's not a reaal bikini, but it's still hot.

Breaking up is hard

Sometimes it becomes difficult to just "let go" of old relationships. As an example, read on about this guy who writes to his old beloved. It will bring tears to your eyes.

Dear Terri:

I know the counsellor said we shouldn't contact each other during our "cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact.

In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does. Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says... "There's no one like you, Terri."

I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at the Rainbow Room and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.

She was young, Terri, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just perfect body. Tits you wouldn't believe and an ass like a tortoise shell. Every man's dream, right?

But as I sat on the couch being blown by this coed, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so surface. What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes.

But you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person?
Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive Terri?
I doubt it.
And I'd never really thought of that before. I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little.

Later, after I'd tossed her about a quart of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some niggling feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there, Terri, to watch.

Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you, baby. Jesus, Terri, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you. Do you remember Carol, that single mum we met at Mt. Sinai Baptist Church? Well, she drops by last week with a pan of lasagne. She said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant till later, but that's not the real story.

Anyway, we have a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know we're fucking in our old bedroom. And this broad's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you know like a real woman does when she's not hung up about God and her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad too. 'Cause I can't help thinking, "Why didn't Terri ever put the mirror on the floor?

We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex aid." (Some of this I thought about later.)

You know what I mean? What happened to our spontaneity? You get so caught up in the routine of a marriage and you just lose sight of each other. And then you lose yourself. That's the saddest part of all for me.

But I keep thinking we can get it back. I know we can, because I only want this stuff with you. Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Shannon's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders. She's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's given me lots of good counsel about you and about women in general. (She's pulling for us to get back together, Terri. She really is.)

So we're drinking in the hot tub and talking about happier times. Here's this hot girl with the same DNA as you (although, let's face it, she got an extra helping of the sexy gene) and all I can do is think of how much she looks like you when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.

And then it turns out Shannon's really into the whole anal thing and that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fuelled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside the steaming hot Dutch oven of your sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, baby. In your heart you know it.

Don't you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances and start fresh? I think we can. I keep thinking that I think if you'd just try it, I wouldn't have to pressure you so much. Because who needs all that bitterness, Terri? It just tears us apart. And I can't be apart from you.

Because I love you, God help me but I do.

Beautiful.