Porn: You're Doing it Wrong

*** disclaimer:  I WILL be talking about (whispers...) sex in this post.  Proceed at your own risk. ***

My BFFF and I were having an inbox discussion about things that we found porn-y that were not porn (ie:  things that get us hot that are not your typical bow-chicka-wow-wow things.  Further, bow-chicka-wow-wow rarely works for me, but that might be a post for another day, like, when I am 80 and I really don't give a shit about what I write or, who reads it.)


My friend says that Charlie Hunnam punching out Robert Pattinson would do it for her.  My answer to her about that is where I got this post title.  

"Porn:  You're Doing it Wrong".  

I mean, sure.  I was totally rooting for the werewolf in Twilight.  And this is coming from someone who LIKES vampires.  At least, I used to, until Hollywood got ahold of them in recent years.  Christopher Lee as Dracula?  Yes, please.  Tom Cruise as Lestat?  Dear God, no.  

And yes, I realize that Interview with the Vampire came out in 1994.  1994 IS recent when you are old. 

Maybe if that Twilight werewolf had had a smidgen of acting ability, it would have been a little porn-y for me.  Alas, the in-my-head, book version of Jacob was way hotter.  Yes, I read the books.  So, who I am to judge anything?  

I find it more-than-mildly porn-y listening to Jason Statham's Cockney sarcasm.  It doesn't hurt that he is nice to look at, though, not what you would call classically good looking.

mmm...

This all started because I mentioned that they were making a Magic Mike 2.  I mean, I get that Channing Tatum is cute AND a good dancer, but I don't find male strippers, even ones that look like 

Channing Tatum

and Joe Manganiello, 

attractive.  Okay, maybe I said that wrong.  They are attractive, but I don't find stripping and dancing around in g-strings to be a turn on.  I really don't need to see that thing flapping around in my face. 

 Seriously.  

Penises are like little aliens attached to men's fronts.  They seem have minds of their own and I find that unnerving.  

There are plenty of parts of the male body that I find attractive, but that thing?  Yeah, it's just a tool, for me.  Get to work and quit waving it around.  Yes, I see it.  God.

Then, we got on the subject of another movie coming out:  Fifty Shades of Grey.  

I could never write a review as hilariously accurate as this one, so I will link to it.  I have probably read it fifty (har har!) times and it makes me cry with glee every, single, time.

Suffice it to say that I did not find those books, scratch that, BOOK, since I only got through about six chapters of the first one before I started skimming, to be a turn on, at all.  I did find them silly and annoying, though.  I kept texting the BFFF things like:  "Is she for real?"  "Oh, yes, a 21 year old virgin.  That's believable" and on and on until I finally threw the book across the room.  

Maybe I am a snob.  Maybe I am a prude (not likely, but sure.).  Maybe I just don't get the attraction.  Maybe I just don't like smarmy guys who think money can buy everything.  Maybe I don't identify with weak women.  Maybe the whole thing just went over my head and yanking a woman's tampon out is super, wildly, sexy.  

Maybe.

But, I doubt it.

Part of me is wondering if this is going to become like The Rocky Horror Picture Show and people are going to bring tampons to the theater to throw at the screen.  THAT, I would pay to see.  Actually, I might just start that trend.  

Anyway, if you hear me snickering in the back row, try and ignore me and remember, it's what you think that counts, not me...(weirdo).

This is Nothing Important

My dear husband and I were talking about dream "visits" the other day.  If you have had them, you know the kind I mean.  If not, they are the kind of dreams that feel as if you have spent time with someone that you love that has passed on.  I feel lucky that I have them, even though they usually always make me cry upon waking.

Occasionally, I have "place visits" in my dreams and these make me cry, too; mostly because I am usually dreaming of some wonderful destination that I am longing to be in; Paris, the pyramids in Mexico, or my grandparents' old house that has long since been demolished and turned into two family homes.  If I could time travel, I would go back to the brick front steps of that house or to huge swing in the backyard just to have another conversation with them.  God, I miss them every day.

This morning, I had a visit of another sort.  I woke up suddenly to the sound of crashing from the living room.  Since I have cats and am used to being awoken thus, I just figured I would survey the damage when I was good and ready (it was not the Christmas tree as I had feared, only some heavy cookbooks).  I managed to fall back to sleep almost instantly and immediately fell into a luscious visit with a 6'4 WWE wrestler.  It was the kind of dream that made me feel like I needed a mental shower upon waking; or a long soak in a hot bath for real.  It was a very nice dream.  It was so nice, in fact, that it made me feel guilty enough that I needed to write up this post; as a kind of confession.

I know I can't control my subconscious.  My rich fantasy life is as deeply embedded in my DNA as graying, mousy brown hair, blue eyes and irrational guilt.  They are all parts of me that I am learning to embrace.

Whatever it means and however it makes me feel, it was nice to wake up with a smile on my face, for once, on an otherwise dreary Monday.  Now, if you don't mind, I am going back to bed.

Holy Wolverine on a Motorcycle: I Love Hugh Jackman!

Today was the perfect, rainy day for a movie, so I took my younger two boys and a friend to see "The Wolverine".

I'm not gonna lie.  I LOVE the fact that I can go and watch Hugh Jackman in his sideburns and his white t-shirt and his claws on the big screen and not feel like a huge perv because it's an action/superhero movie and my boys, like most boys, love that crap.  Love it.

But for me?  It's porn.  Totally legal, awesome, PG-13 rated, all American porn.

If you asked me about the story, my answers would range from "What?" to "I don't care."

I think it took place in Japan, mostly.

Don't get me wrong.  I think Hugh Jackman is super hot in a tux singing show tunes and dancing, too.

 

Or, sweaty and riding a horse in the Outback.

Or, toothless and pulling a ship with a fat chain around his neck, while still freaking singing his lungs out.

Hot, hot, HOTTT!

But, the sideburned, leather jacket and jeans wearing, ass kicking, angry, claw having Wolverine is my favorite.

 

Hell, I don't even care if the gay rumors are true.  He can be RichardfreakingSimmons gay for all I care, as long as he keeps playing Wolverine.  

It's not like I'd actually have a shot in any case.  Or, that I would even consider committing adultery with anyone...even if Hugh Jackman did beg me to jump on the back of his motorcycle.  (You know that, right, Honey?!?)



Okay, let's not exaggerate...I'd totally jump on.  But, it would be a one time thing, I swear.  

And then, the next time he wins an Oscar/Grammy/Tony/GoldenGlobe he'd look straight into the camera and say "this one's for you" and mean me.

Going to sleep with a smile on my face, now.  :D