Data mining and metadata fascinates the shit out of my hubbie (I’m counting on that love to bring in the big bucks soon so that I can retire from academia and sex blog full-time).  I don’t entirely share in his fascination, but I am constantly amused by the search terms that lead people to our site.  I’ve thought of cateloging them and then trying to string them all together in sentences.  Here’s the latest:  “definition of indimidating.”  We can assume that’s a typo on intimidating there, but one dat makes me dant to dart inderted Ds indo all my dentences!  Does dat make me indimidating?

Ok, so someone just found our site, ladies, by searching for “your hairy snatch rubbing against mine.”  Hmmm.  It prompted me to hop on Urban Dictionary to look for variant definitions of snatch (I’m a geek that way!), and I found a few entries implying that snatch is perhaps the second foulest way to refer to female genitalia…after cunt, of course.  So I’m wondering which word do you guys think sounds fouler…snatch or cunt?

Maybell:  Darling, is that zucchini squash that you’re about to sit on out of your summer garden?

Cricket:  Heavens no, Maybell!  I got it from Mr. Jenkins, who lives down the road a piece!  I’m normally more of a carrot gal, you know, but I figured I needed to branch out and try new things.  I just can’t get the zucchini to grow this big in my garden.

(A gurling, squishy noise emerges from underneath Cricket’s day dress, as she fucks herself with the prize-winning squash.)

Lolinda:  Ah, Cricket, I know just what you mean.  I started off with carrots before I had my five kids, then my suggie bowl got all roomy you know…childbirth has a way of doing that to ya!  (muffled giggles)  I moved up to cucumbers next, but those only satisfied me for a while.  A squash is definitely the way to go…I applaud your courage, my dear, in bypassing the cucumbers!  Girls, let’s all give her a round of applause!

(Well-mannered applause on gloved hands)

Mary Jane:  Why, I’ll have to get myself over to Mr. Jenkins’ farm and buy me one of those prize-winning squash!

Cricket:  Oh, I didn’t buy this one…I’m just borrowing it.  He needs it back for the County Fair next week.  I told him I just wanted to compare it to the size of those in my own garden.  Size matters, my dear sisters!

(The squash disappeared under her day dress again, amid scandalous gasps, sighs, and “How could shes?”)

Maybell:  But Cricket, love, if he takes a squash that we’ve…well…”used”…then it won’t count as “freshpicked”.   If the judges suspect anything, poor Mr. Jenkin’s will be disqualified!  I don’t know that the county could handle the scandal!  I mean, old man Jenkins has NEVER been disqualified in a vegetable contest.

Cricket:  Lordy Maybell…I didn’t even think of that!  Well, girls, you’re all just going to have to help me make sure we get all the puddy off this here squash before I take it back to him!

(supportive applause and nods of agreement from every chair in the garden tent)

So I had to join in the fun with the Urban dictionary. I decided to look up the word queef because it invariably happens to me at the most inopportune moments. I almost always laugh and apologize, even though there is nothing I could have done to prevent it. I just get so wet and wild, then those vaginal muscles start contracting and pfffffffft. I’ve learned not to let it completely kill the mood but I still don’t like it. The Urban Dictionary also refers to it as a “vart.” (There are actually 27 pages of definitions for this word.) Anyhow, this definition in the dictionary really cracked me up:

Air expulsion from the vaginal area usually after sex. In the eighteenth century, it was common practice for small groups of well-to-do Southern women to each lift up their corsets and “queef” at their leisure on warm, summer afternoons. Typically performed on balconies or porches, these women would insert various large objects in their TOOTS and slowly pull them out to create the desired sound. These “porch parties” would provide hours of fun for the ladies while the men were away, and, from a practical standpoint, at times, enough air circulation as a respite from the brutal summer heat. Small wagers were often placed with the winner going to longest continuous queef, highest pitch, lowest pitch, smelliest, and wettest. There was also the queef sing-a-long; and a special prize was given to any women whose queef could attract wildlife.

Annabelle tried to conceal her queef at the governors ball but to no avail.

Wow, I kinda hope this is a joke. But then again I found out a few months ago that the vibrator was invented as a tool for doctors because making a woman come was the traditional cure for “hysteria” and they wanted to be able to get them off more efficiently.  I also loved that they called a woman’s vagina a TOOT, never really heard it called that.  (Stay tuned tomorrow for a post on names for our sacred special places.)  Maybe we should have a queefing contest at the next bisexual women’s potluck?!   

 

 

 

I’m supposed to be working from home today in an effort to save on gas. My Man Assistant is holding down the fort for me at work. Believe it or not, it’s actually harder for me to blog at home than it is at work. I just feel naughtier on the job…can’t really explain it. It’s like this old saying that my grandfather had: “Always shit at work, and then you’re getting paid to shit!” Although I’m technically still getting paid when I blog at home, I just feel like I could be goofing off in so many other ways!

Anyway, I just wanted to confess that after discovering Urban Dictionary this week, I feel like I have a new fetish toy. Writers are strange people in that we get super excited over words! Well, Urban Dictionary has me enthralled by every nasty, dirty little word that’s out there. Last night I was looking up the difference between dingleberry and twat knot. The definitions of dingleberry are hilarious:
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=dingleberry
Here’s my favorite:

A delinquent partial turd which grasps anal shrubery causing brownish crust to accumulate in ones boxers.
My wife tells me that I need to wipe my ass better because my dingleberries are making my underware a nasty mess, however I like the idea of her down in the basement doing laundry and cleaning up my foul nasty underware.

Isn’t language a beautiful thing?  I applaud his use of “anal shrubbery”…that’s just fucking brillant!

This one’s even better:

A warm, chewy, gooey vanilla center surrounded by fried lima beans on a bed of warm llama piss

Does anyone dare me to see how many puddy words I can use in one story?

I was just doing a little research for my next Asian massage story (she needs a new customer, you know), when I decided to do an Urban Dictionary search for “puddy”.  It’s hysterical what all this word can mean!

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=puddy

Better yet is the related entry for “puddy chips”.  This one I’ll quote:

The thick, gelatinized mass of vaginal fluid one finds on one’s face after a long night of oral sex with a woman. A thick sticky residue variously composed of natural vaginal lubricants, foreign lubricants, saliva, sweat, urine, etc. that, once properly set over a 6-8 hour period of sleep, can be peeled off of one’s face much like rubbery chips attached by dried pudding.