“Following this morning’s keynote, Apple has officially announced the launch of their all-new iPad device. The tablet features a 9.7-inch high-resolution Multi-Touch™ display – allowing for browsing the web, reading and sending email, enjoying photos, watching videos, listening to music, playing games, reading e-books and much more. Wi-Fi models shipping in late March. 3G models shipping in April.” Visit here
I met Maggie through an email she inquisitively sent. Now, I get plenty of emails from girls telling me I’m disgusting, quite a few asking me out, and very rarely do those girls dazzle me enough for a reply (feel free to test that theory out yourself). She’s twenty-three, career-driven, and what most men would call a catch with a cute persona and a face you could stare at for at least seven years before you drift out of your loveless marriage. But she made a fatal flaw and mentioned wanting to get married pronto. It appears that her career aspirations weren’t enough and she wanted to work on that procreation predicament as well.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be married at 23, I got the influx of post-college, mid-grad school wedding invites just like any other person, but talking about marriage on a first date is a bit of a turn off. This is a turn off to guys who aren’t opposed to the idea of marrying either. And I honestly think that Maggie would have been a good solid three-week relationship where we got sick of each other fairly quickly, but she blew her load on the first date. So I sat there disinterested over my eggplant sandwich and wondered what the next date would bring me.
The entire (yes all of it) 2010 Pirelli Calender has arrived and graced the internet with its collection of high end “tastefully shot” supermodel ta tahs.
It was all shot by Terry Richardson who may well be the luckiest (and definately the most dodge) photographer out there.
Pics courtesy of celebslam.com, for the NSFW version..click HERE.
The 2010 Pirelli Calendar features Mirander Kerr, Ana Beatriz Barros, Abbey Lee, Catherine McNeil, Daisy Lowe, Eniko Mihalik, Georgina Stojiljkovic, Gracie Carvalho, Lily Cole, Marloes Horst and Rosie Huntington-Whiteley.
For all the images just accidently move your cursor over this button HERE.
Good times.
Especially for Terry.
Days left to walk around naked at home: 5
Hi, I hope you are all well.
My mother-in-law Caroline flies in on Saturday night. Michele and I have not seen her since April 2009 after we left Singapore on the tail end of our honeymoon. Since then, we have pretty much been on our own, with no family to speak of or rely on.
It’s nice to have Caroline around. She has over 20 years of child care experience and is armed with a genuine love for her children. She also cooks great Asian food and prepares curries that doesn’t actually stink up our house.
Caroline will be here for the best part for a year, so it’s pretty much like having a mother around, cooking for you. But cooking is all she’d do for me. As much as I love Caroline, I won’t be allowing her to do my laundry. My laundry is special, it’s private and the sight of a 60 year old handling my diamond-crusted boxer shorts is just….creepy.
I don’t know what kind of old-wives’ tales she would bring along with her, but Michele and I will gladly smile and listen to what useful tips she could contribute. We do, however draw the line at ridiculous practices that won’t sit well with us. We both have a strong belief in our own parenting instincts (whatever that is!) and will not tolerate being told how to bring up our child. I believe there will be awkward moments but I guess that’s what having an in-law around for; they’re helpful and insightful, but also a little bleh at times.
Caroline’s arrival also signals the end of another moment in mine and Michele’s quiet life. We’ve lived alone in our house since returning home from our honeymoon, and absolutely love the gratuitous nudity at home. I mean, we get to walk around the house with our blinkers hanging all over the shop and not having to cover yourself up when all you want to do is walk downstairs and make coffee is grouse! With my mother-in-law around, that’s absolutely not going to happen!
But I guess the quiet and tranquil would have ended soon anyway as Baby is due in eight weeks.
Now if you would excuse me, Michele and I wana walk around naked in the house. There aren’t many more days left.
As I trudge around the neighborhood listening to the music that plays for me and me alone, I miss the times when music was much more a shared experience. I listened to it with friends, sitting around a dorm room or driving around in a car. Sometimes we argued about the album selection or grumbled because someone always had to hear his music, but music was something you listened to with other people.
I was really reminded of that this morning when “(Nothing but) Flowers” from the Talking Heads album Naked came on.
I was living in studio apartment in Washington when the band released that album in 1988. It was the weekend of St. Patrick’s Day and my brother and my friend Bill had come down to visit. We made the pilgrimage to the big Tower Records store down by George Washington University, where I bought a copy of Naked. On vinyl. At the time I was fighting a strenuous rear-guard action against CDs, which I felt were overpriced and overhyped. (I was right on both counts.) I did not have a CD player.
Anyway, the three of us were pretty big Talking Heads fans, so we headed back to my apartment to play the album. My brother and I had also bought a bottle of mescal, so we removed the worm so we could cut it in half and share it. Yum! Mescal turned out to be a good choice of liquor to accompany an album filled with Latin-American influences. I was especially taken by “(Nothing But) Flowers,” with its chiming South American guitars and lyrics about chocolate chip cookies and 7-11s. It sounded great then, so upbeat and happy and funny, and it still does now. Every time I hear it I flash back to that studio apartment, listening and laughing with Charlie and Bill without a care in the world, just excited to have a new Talking Heads album and a whole weekend of fun and music stretching out ahead.
When the song ended this morning the silence let me hear the quiet hiss of the sleet that had begun falling shortly after I started walking. Then the Outlaws started up and obliterated all outside sound with the country rock of “There Goes Another Love Song.”
You can’t get much more of a communal musical experience than you get with a really good rock concert, and one of the best live shows I ever saw was when the Outlaws played the Cumberland County Civic Center in Portland, Maine, with Molly Hatchet opening. (The civic center’s handy list of past events tells me the show was on December 9, 1978.) I was a sophomore in a college about 30 miles from Portland at the time so I bought a ticket and decided to hitchhike down to the show with a fun-loving freshman named Webb. We filled a goatskin with screwdrivers to sustain us and we hit the road, thumbs outstretched, with plenty of time to spare in case finding a ride proved difficult.
Before we knew it a carload of attractive young women stopped and offered us a ride. They were also going to see the Outlaws that night. Crammed into the backseat with a couple of them, Webb and I exchanged wide-eyed looks of blissful amazement. To our great disappointment, though, the experience did not turn into something fit for Penthouse Forum. The girls simply dropped us off in Portland and waved goodbye. We had hours to go until showtime, with no money and nothing to do. The screwdrivers were starting to slow us down, too. So we stopped by a hotel just up the street from the civic center, crawled under a table in a deserted banquet room, and crashed.
We still had time to kill when we woke up, so we were sitting in the hotel lobby trying to figure out a game plan when a guy in a chauffeur’s livery came through the door and approached the desk. “I’m going to be picking up the Molly Hatchet band around 5:00,” we heard him tell the desk clerk. “Can you tell me how to get to the Cumberland County Civic Center?”
“Sure. Just pull out of the driveway, turn right, and go about 50 yards. It’s just down the street.”
The driver chuckled. “Right. Where is it really?”
“I’m not kidding,” the clerk replied. “It’s just down the street. You can see it out that window.”
The driver looked pained. “You telling me I drove all the way from Cape Cod to drive a band 50 yards down the street?”
“I guess so,” the clerk said.
Webb and I looked at each other. Molly Hatchet were someplace in the hotel, and surely partying their brains out. I wasn’t a big Hatchet fan, to be perfectly honest, but this sounded like the perfect opportunity to party with some real rock and rollers. “We should find them,” I said. Webb agreed.
We figured all we had to do was check out the hotel floors one by one until the sounds of smashing furniture, blasting music, and high-pitched Rebel yells guided us to the right room. No doubt the band would be glad to have us join the party. They’d offer us bottles of Jack Daniels to guzzle, and we’d flirt with the groupies, hot Southern girls in tube tops, tight cutoff shorts, and cowboy boots with names like Daisy and Loubelle. Maybe Webb and I would help hoist the TV set onto the windowsill so a band member could send it plummeting four stories to the ground. Come showtime we’d stagger, hooting and hollering, down to the lobby with the band. “Y’all come with us!” they’d bellow. “We’re making you honorary Hatchets!” We’d all cram into the limo, the driver still fuming in the front seat. “Get us to the Civic Center,” I’d order, “and make it snappy!” We’d all howl with laughter.
Well, we tried, but every floor of the hotel was as hushed as a church, with nary a Rebel yell to be heard anywhere. Maybe the band had consumed too many screwdrivers. It happens.
Anyway, we eventually made our way to the civic center. The place was packed and buzzing with excitement. As a cartoon chracter would say years later, it also smelled like Otto’s jacket. Some people were tossing Frisbees around the big hall, and a few people had even brought beach balls that bounced and soared from section to section. Webb and I pushed our way slowly through the people standing on the floor until we were right up near the stage. At one point I was so tightly mashed in by the crowd that only the toes of one foot touched the ground. But it was a big, happy mass and we were all having a great time together. Eventually we even ran into the girls who had picked us up—and once again, nothing happened.
The passage of time has dimmed the details, but I know Molly Hatchet—no doubt refreshed by their quiet afternoon at the hotel—played an energetic set that included “Gator Country,” “Flirtin’ with Disaster,” and “Dreams I’ll Never See.” Then the Outlaws, with their triple lead-guitar attack, came onstage and blew the roof off the joint. I’m sure they played “There Goes Another Love Song” and “Hurry Sundown” and closed with an epic version of “Green Grass and High Tides” with all the amps turned up to 11. I’m equally sure that at some point thousands of people in the crowd held flaming Bic lighters up high over their heads and howled with delight.
Thinking about all this as I walked put me in a pretty good mood despite the grim gray weather, and then “Roadrunner” by the Modern Lovers started playing and my mood improved even more. I may have even done a joyful skip like the one Charlie Brown does after he decides he’s going to decorate his little tree all by himself. I don’t have any specific “Roadrunner” related memories; It’s just a great song. It’s also about how music ties us together, even if you’re driving around alone with just the radio to keep you company.
It helps me from being alone late at night
It helps me from being lonely late at night
I don’t feel so bad now in the car
Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on
Like the roadrunner
That’s right.
Turns out that you’re never alone when you have the right music playing.
Just for you on this fine Friday morning.
“Ladiiiiiessssss”…….some Jesus Luz crooked wanger to go with your coffee. With a Madonna biscuit (already dipped in tea) on the side.
Thats from the W Magazine shoot they did last year.
You wanna see his wang don’t you . You don’t really want to. Inside. But you can’t help yourself.
Relax with your overexcited self.. just Click HERE and scroll down for the NSFW image over at DListed.
Now take another sip of coffee and say:
“Ahhhhhh..good times Savage”.
Anyone following my blog do know I love smoking girls so thought I would have some cigar-loving girls today. Found these lovelies and oh my god they are gorgeous.
Click on the smaller pictures to see the awesomeness of the pictures.
A college student in China who said his studies suffered after he discovered Internet porn has been awarded 10,000 yuan (1,466 dollars) for helping the government crack down on sexual content online.
The unidentified student at an unnamed college in northern Shaanxi province (陕西省) reported 32 websites that contained pornography, winning a nationwide contest that has encouraged web-surfers to hunt down porn, state media said Monday.
“In the past, when I was in middle school, I used to get grades that were good enough to enter a really good university,” the Beijing News quoted the young man as saying.
“It is because of the influence of pornography on the Internet that I was only able to go to junior college,” said the student.
The nation maintains strict censorship of the Internet to curb what the government deems to be unhealthy content including porn and violence — a system known as the “Great Firewall of China”.
Officials have offered rewards to Internet users who report pornographic websites.
In the first month of the effort, nearly 62,000 websites were reported, the paper said — an indication that a hefty number of web users were on the lookout for porn.
The winning student’s porn-spotting ability had also won him monetary awards from local Internet censors in the cities of Beijing and Tianjin, as well as Hebei and Hainan provinces, it added.
Chinese authorities arrested more than 5,000 people in a crackdown on Internet pornography in 2009, officials said earlier this year.
Internet use has expanded at a dizzying pace in China, which now has the world’s largest online population with at least 338 million users.
bron: news.yahoo.com
As hope dwindles for the fulfillment of New Year resolutions, perhaps there’s one common personal goal you will want to keep, unless you don’t mind strangers seeing you naked.
New body scanners have been ordered by Canada to comply with heightened security in the United States. As you might have heard, these scanners can see right through your clothes. No first date, no foreplay, no nothing.
Airport security can see whether or not a person is carrying plastic explosives and dangerous items. Your image cannot be saved on the device, thankfully, but groups are still concerned about breaches in privacy. Honestly though, I’ll risk a person or two seeing me nekkid in exchange for my (relative) safety.
As a suicide net on a bridge can convince someone to jump elsewhere, this new technology, I’m sure, will not stop potential terrorists and conspirators from finding creative ways to wreak havoc.
In terms of privacy, does this security device make you feel more self conscious? Is it crossing the line regarding our personal space and privacy or is it a worthy sacrifice?
Should airport security receive training on how to keep a straight face while looking at naked bodies all day? I know I would need it.
So many questions, so many readers. What do you think?
It’s January and at this time of the year I always get the big question.
In the Adult industry I often get asked at this time of year why I am not at the Adult Entertainment Expo. Well I just say it like it is. My profession is not as a porn star. Now would I like to try it? Sure. But the truth of the matter is I have a pretty decent job that has its own benefits that I value very much. I spend most of my day doing that. It’s half my life. Quite frankly when in Vegas this time of year, you are more likely to find me at the Consumer Electronic Show instead of the Adult Expo even though they are right next to each other.
I wish I could say that I could dedicate to my fans my whole day and I try, but that is all I can do. Last year when I spent a day at the Adult Expo I got the chance to meet some real pros and talked to them. it was amazing to hear what they do. Extremely hard workers!
I even got to meet one of my personal favorites, Gianna Michaels. We spoke for 20 minutes and she even looked at my own photos and gave me a kiss. Wow!Anyway, what I am trying to say is that I think there is room for both amateurs and pros. With the awe I felt for some of these women , I can really say they put a full effort into it.
So when someone asks me if I will be at the Adult Expo and I say, “No”, it is because it is a donference for the pros. I have my own profession with conferences that I go to myself. I respect anyone who is a professional in their occupation.
This also became clear when I just entered a “Social Media Divas” contest. Contests are hard to enter because you need to keep on marketing to your audience all day. Some of these girls spend all day on camera in the nude talking to people on their computer. Truly amazing! Of course I can’t do that and this contest was a perfect reminder. This morning I was in first and this afternoon I am in 4th place. The competitor in me says to try and win it, but the realist in me says that I’m lucky to be in 4th place. I don’t have all day to commit. If you do want to vote for me though, please feel free to do so at http://bit.ly/8Wd4Bg . The voting is in the bottom of the far right column through the 25th of this month. it’s just flattering enough for me to be in this contest at all.
Greeters at the Adult Expo
My favorite: Gianna Michaels
Dreams: What a crazy night. I had the most fun feelings about my dreams. The one I can’t remember now (darn it!): there was a flutter of excitement in my heart to run and tell people the news. It was a deal of sorts. Just can’t recall what you have to do or what you get…darn it! The other one however involved going on a walk though a park of sorts though there was a booth to pay or at least check in before entering. They gave us a pill each (it was S-B with me) and when we ate the pill music played in our heads. The pill contained the music and we needed no headphones. There was also a euphoric feeling of being high on ecstasy which I can only gather is related to my association with pills that are supposedly fun.
But speaking of day dreams, I have been day dreaming about cock again. It’s been a while since I had some and it’s starting to drive me up the wall. This may be directly related to my exposure to porn recently as I’ve desired a little more visual stimulation after fights with the girlfriend. So…I think I’ll make a concerted effort to forgo anymore pornography for now and see what happens. I think a lot about having my escort service again and about sucking dicks, and about gangbangs, and about video taping all of it. It’s either that I’m really cold or really hott in this department. In addition, my perversions have also related to this site. I’ve though of adding naked pictures of myself. Why? We’ll let go of porn and see what happens.
I’m awake and alive! Lots of people on Facebook enjoyed my posting about being born again each morning from Buddha. “Each morning I am born again. What I do today is what matters most.” This is good because yesterday I had a meeting with a prospect who set up a follow-up appointment and then backed out of it via email in the same day. Who knows why? I’ve asked for feedback (haven’t received it yet) and I’m letting it bug me a bit. Need to move on! HA! There are lots of fish in the sea and I’ve done a good job of getting in front of them. Keep the pipeline going because that’s what it’s all about. Add more to the pipeline each day and you’ll be well upon your way 
First, A (mild) disclaimer…
With that said and out of the way, here is my blog, whose quality I am suspicious of. Its central topic is garlic, and it is a food and recipe blog because I really like food and recipe blogs, but I feel there aren’t enough (or any that I can find at least) that are devoted to the most wonderful, pungent, and repellant lily ever to grace the bountiful green-ish Earth, Allium sativum.
My grandpa absolutely loves garlic, and I absolutely love my grandpa. When I was little, I used to associate the musty, kind of sour, kind of sweet smell emanating from my grandpa with dentures, oil-paint, and hats, and I still do. But now I also associate the wafting smells of my grandpa to garlic and the odors created by ingesting garlic in the not-so-distant past. They’re not exactly pleasant aromas, but in some twisted, nostalgic way, I revel them.
In his life time, my grandpa has collected some, for lack of a better word, interesting books. He is an artist of eclectic mediums, from pastels to fruit peels, and he has acquired an equally diverse library of books, from a collection of naked baby photographs (not in a perverted sense) to a multitude of cookbooks and Farside anthologies, which is where I draw my inspiration for this blog… The cookbooks, not the naked babies or Farsides.
This morning, while I was eating cereal, I began perusing an older cookbook that my mom nicked from my grandpa several years ago,The Garlic Cookbook by David DiResta. When I was a wee pup, I remember my grandpa was obsessed with this cookbook, largely because he was obsessed with garlic (hence the acrid Grandpa-musk).
In this book I learned that garlic not only clings to your palate and therefore breath, but its aroma is also emitted through your pores (which I’m assuming mingles with and is increased by your sweat, further discouraging the consumption of garlic on ‘promising’ dinner dates). This is due to garlic’s containing diallyl sulfide, “a sulfur compound that is activated by contact with oxygen and permeates the lung tissue” (hence why mints, mouthwash, and brushing your teeth post-garlic feasts only make small dents in the facade of the powerhouse that is “garlic breath”).
Don’t get me wrong, this is a great cookbook from the early nineties (though it looks like it was published in the seventies and has since been updated) filled with delicious recipes and quirky garlic facts; however, most of the recipes are quite unhealthy, despite the vast quantities of health-promoting garlic used in them. So without having read the 2000 version of The Garlic Cookbook, I am setting out to update the 1994 edition with healthier and more eco-friendly recipes for Guys and Gals, chicks and dudes of the double-digit-millennium (a.k.a. 2010) that keep their mind’s eye on what they’re consuming. With that said, a huge chunk of the book has to be omitted entirely, since it deals with recipes containing veal, pork, lamb, and certain fish.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no veggie, and I love (lovelove!) meat, but it’s not very good for you or the animals it comes from. And I must add that I really don’t like PETA (fucking extremists), but I do like animals, so I don’t eat much meat simply because it’s not very good for you in vast quantities, which is the way it is ingested in the US today. I try to eat meat keeping in mind the diets of hunter-gatherers, which we humans originally were (now we’re pretty much only consumers). They had to actually track, hunt, catch, kill, and (sometimes) cook the meat they ate, which didn’t happen everyday, let alone every week. The rest of the time they sustained on plants, berries, fruits, grasses, nuts, seeds, fish, whathaveyou. So I try to eat in a similar manner, and it makes me happy because when I’m squatting down, rummaging through my fridge’s crisper looking for berries and greens, I picture myself dirtier and more unkempt than I already am, wearing a lion cloth, picking berries from twigs like a cave man. Which makes me smile and love my chosen everyday diet. Because I love being naked, and loin cloths are a close second.
With this blog I hope to inspire more people to smell like my grandpa as well as eat healthier, garlic-rich, diets while wearing loin cloths and rarely bathing. It is a beautiful, smelly world I envision, and I seek to create it by posting at least one new-ish, healthy, garlic-laden recipe each week, along with some sweet facts and anecdotes.
I really hope that my other entries won’t be as long as this one.
For now,
Terry
