Hey, remember that time back in the past when everyone was nice and people typed things in here MULTIPLE TIMES and slowly but surely the comment count reached 30,000 and we all had a big party because Nefarious Newt won the contest, even though it wasn’t a contest? And that the weird thing about it was that comment 30,000 was actually a comment referencing the possibility of it being number 30,000? META-IRONY, INDEED. Magic, even!

Because you have always wanted to smell like dirty sex, leather and flowers while masturbating in a limo.

Hey. Remember the last time you had really good sex? THEN YOU’RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT. Yes, that’s correct – the bar has been set a bit higher now. You can keep your multiple orgasms and back-clawing and screamings and moanings and impromptu Al Sharpton impersonations or light-but-intense squeaking, because there’s a new measure of pleasure in town, ladies and perverts – coming so hard you instantly develop amnesia.

This week was a week of learning here at the Wordsmoker offices.  I learned how Mr Shoes likes things done around the office and a whole lot about Scottish culture and how that directly relates to what I should be putting in my mouth!  I also learned a lot about how to get on top in this cut throat industry of websites.  Oh and I learned that Alan Denton will step on that flaming bag poo no matter how many times in a row we leave it on his doorstep.  Yep, busy week for me in the office!

It’s Autumn here in Scotland, which means our alloted 2 hours of sunlight per day is drastically reduced to 38 minutes. Because it’s now even darker than before, and well, because we’re all romantics at heart here, we get through these dank and dreary months by getting drunk and copulating with anyone or anything that takes our alcohol-fuelled fancy. It’s a survival mechanism to be honest, and one of the key reasons why we’re not allowed a seat at the UN.

Hi it’s me, The Wordsmoker Intern!  I am trying to get as much out of my internship as possible so I am going to share all the insights I get with you!  If you have a question about how things are done around the office (how Virus takes his coffee, what kind of office chair I have, etc..)  let me know and I will find out the answers for you!

This week was my first week as the intern here and boy was it an exciting one! I have learned a lot and I can tell this position is going to open my eyes to a whole new world.  The super sexy world of power!  But least anyone get confused, I have no power.  I am just the intern.  I get the coffee.  But I am closer to the power now and that is pretty exciting!

Porn is great and there’s so much of it now, unlike twenty years ago when we only had brass-rubbings of ankles to touch ourselves to. The days of brass-rubbing rubbing are well and truly over, although brass-rubbing rubbing is a bit like wearing leg-warmers, which I guess will always be with us, somehow. Yes, there’s leg-warmer porn. Don’t act surprised. No, I didn’t look for brass-rubbing porn. Or people rubbing themselves to brass-rubbings. I have limits.

Interesting week; tons of topics begging for attention.

Shall we contemplate the fallout from the President winning the Nobel Peace Prize, with all those who cheered Chicago’s loss of the Olympics now gloom-farting at USAmerica’s latest achievement? Or muse on concern troll Chip Reid’s prediction that this could widen the gulf between the GOP and Dems even more, as though any sentient being – none of whom calls himself “Chip” – could envision such a thing?

Last weekend, my sister and I were invited to a Passion Party by our cousin’s young wife.  From the beginning, it felt like we were asked to come simply because together we’re something of a comedy act and the kids wanted to be entertained.  But I also felt like we were asked because we’re seen as an aging sexless duo in need of shocking sexual entertainment.  All evening my cousin’s wife talked to us in a voice usually reserved for toddlers: “Go ahead and try the nipple gel on your lips, it won’t hurt you!  It just tingles!  See?”

Hello Possible Donaters and Donatees! Do you dream? Do you day-dream like me? About, you know, The Usual Things – having a “Slut Army” of well-paid, well-dressed and highly-intelligent women at your beck and call who’ll help me take over the world and run it a little better while we constantly engage in the type of sexual practices that would raise eyebrows in even the most liberal areas of Amsterdam? Yes – I haz a dream!

What was most destructive about “The Joy of Sex” (1972), “Our Bodies, Ourselves” (1973), and “The Joy of Gay Sex” (1978), was that their calm, measured, earnest, “cheerful” social-worker’s tone was pathetically shabby and inadequate camouflage for a distinctly Bostonian kind of savagely repressed, shrieking and howling sexual hysteria.

Why else would people take such pains to make sex seem “nice” and “healthy” and “normal” if they weren’t constantly battling an overwhelming urge to yank down their underpants and throw themselves on the car repair shop’s filthy grimy oily floor and bellow at the leering cheesy stinky mechanic:

Animals having sex are always funny. Especially if you have a camcorder handy. Although, you have to ask yourself – why do you have a camcorder handy when there are animals having sex? If I was an animal having sex and I saw you framing me in high-definition, I’d be peeved, if not annoyed.

Speaking from experience, that little red light can be very distracting, not to mention it being a risk of giving away your position in the bushes to local law enforcement officials or wandering zoologists.

I had sex once. It was okay, and frequently pleasurable. I do remember breaking a window by accident, either during “the sex”, or directly afterwards. It may have been days later come to think of it. It was so long ago my memory of the sex/glazing events are probably mixed up together like a lonely cormorant amongst some unruly pigeons. The sex is the cormorant if you’re trying to work out the analogy for some reason.

I woke up this morning afternoon early-evening and was surprised to find a “picture” of President Obama and Comedy Frenchman Nicolas Sarkozy checking out a sweet Brazilian ass just everywhere on the media. Okay, I have a slight case of the bitters because I was going to run it as a Caption This before everybody else, but you’ll be glad to know Wordsmoker has much higher standards and won’t resort to such cheap gags in order to feed your almost insatiable need to get typey on everything you see, ever. Don’t you know that commenting is so last year?