[Sex Toy Review] Blueberry Buzz

Aug 23, 2010

The contents of this blog are meant for those who ages 18 or older. If you are not 18 or older, I ask that you not proceed any further. (more…)

If You Feel The Need to State You’re An Adult, Chances Are You Aren’t

Aug 20, 2010

I recently had the displeasure of stumbling across a website which made me grimace in disgust—and believe me I do not say this lightly.

As with every new website I stumble upon, I immediately read over the About Me section to get a general idea of the author and to see if we have any of the same interests. What I found lead to this post, here’s why.

The about me page started out as most typically do, with a name, the age of the owner and so on an so far. It went on further to detail some of the issues the author had with their body image, the author’s taste in music, and the video games the author enjoys playing.

Seemingly harmless right? Wrong.

Here’s where it starts to get annoyingly obvious that the author is trying too hard to be cool.

I am a spoiled brat, I can admit it. We didn’t have much money growing up but I still always got what I wanted. I am everyone’s favorite, they just can’t admit it. (: I give Andrew attitude when he doesn’t buy me things like cigarettes or coffee, I know it’s not fair.

So wait, let me get this straight—you’re a spoiled brat, you know this and you’re PROUD of it? Can someone please tell me what the fuck is wrong with that picture and more so, why the fuck anyone would put up with that shit—particularly Andrew¹ who clearly needs to grow some balls and put the bitch in her place.

Oh and wait! It gets even better!

I talk about sex a lot. My boyfriend and I make perverted jokes constantly. I am what they call a nympho. I am ready to go at anytime. I like porn, I prefer girl-on-girl but I watch guy-girl too. I don’t get it nearly as often as I would like it, so I’ll probably complain about it a lot. I have been with a girl. I am experimental, I’ll try anything once. Twice if I like it. I like rough kinky sex. I LOVEEE giving blowjobs. My boyfriend’s pet name for me is “Slut”. I don’t mind. I mention this because I will probably talk about it a lot. I am an adult, what did you expect?

Okay, admittedly there is a portion in my about page in which I divulge my love for sex and my sexual preference, however that is merely a forewarning to my readers that the topic of sex will inevitably come up on my blog and to not be alarmed if it does.

I do not however feel the need to advertise that I LOVEEE giving blowjobs, that I have been with a girl, or that I am a nympho and am ready to go anytime. Nor do I feel the need to state that I love rough kinky sex or that my husband’s pet name for me is SLUT² and that since I am an adult, you should expect it³.

I am familiar with this tactic, because I have seen it countless times over the net and loosely⁴ translated it says, “HI, LOOK AT ME! GIVE ME ATTENTION NOW.”

Newsflash, adults do not do that or feel the need to. Adults do not feel the need to advertise their preferences, what they love to do and how they like their sex because at some point we all realized the need to call attention to yourself is pathetic, tired, and old. She might as well have just put her phone number down while she was at it because believe me I got the picture and so did that 40 something year old pervert who just bookmarked your website for future reference.

Oh wait, I guess she got what she wanted. Mission accomplished, you are so effin’ cool.

Not.

1. Her boyfriend.
2. No, my husband does not call me slut. He actually has respect for me.
3. I wasn’t aware adults did this. Were you?
4. Pun definitely intended.

Sex Toy Reviewer Extraordinaire!

Jul 22, 2010

Ever since I was introduced into the sex toy review world, I have been branching out a little by reaching out to other companies and offering my services. I feel I have a lot to offer to my readers given Robby’s participation in my reviews and I think it’s always nice to get the thoughts of both a man and female, especially when it involves sex.

Recently I reached out to Babeland.com as a means to expand my horizons and I am super excited to get started. I have heard wonderful things about the company from several people and the girls at toywithme.com have always highly praised them.

So for those of you who are currently reviewing sex toys and are interested in another company to correspond with, I would go with Babeland.com, given how prompt they responded to my inquiry; and while, I, myself have yet to review one of their products when I initially reached out to the company, I received a prompt response and feel that was a good indicator of the type of company I would be dealing with. I’m really looking forward to getting started and hope that I am able to provide reviews which are helpful in your sex toy decision process¹.

1. Because we all know how extremely important this is.

Time to Clone My Boobs, No?

Jun 12, 2010

Ever since I mentioned cloning Robby’s cock-a-saurus to him, he’s been a little too intent on the activity. I mean, hello we all my ego is big, but compared to his, mine is like the size of New Jersey. For the past couple of weeks he’s been going on and on about when I’m going to order the Clone-A-Willy kit and my response as always been “I don’t know,” because I really didn’t know and then I realized yesterday why exactly I have been postponing it. I had to tell him that we needed to get an immersion blender so that we could successfully mix the molding without having to purchase a kit refill. He was pretty sad about that fact and it made me realize that there is something completely wrong about my husband being so quick to what to immortalize his penis.

But then again, it is him and it is his penis and remember that ego I talked about earlier? I think he thinks this is chance at fame because it will be required and people will see it and well, I think he’s a little too excited about the fact, but I guess whatever floats his boat and maybe I should be grateful that he’s secure enough to let me do this because from what I hear a lot of men wouldn’t be 100%okay with this whole adventure—more specifically the videotaping part, but that’s beside the point.

So then I got to thinking and realized you know it would be so much cooler and more useful if they had a clone-your-breasts kit. I thought that maybe it would be cool to be able to clone my vagina for all of 5 seconds before I realized that that would probably be very uncomfortable and just not smart, given all of the holes and stuff that would be involved in the mold. Okay that just made me shudder, you see that? No cloning of the vagina, no thank you, we’ll go back to my clone-your-breasts idea.

I don’t think it’s fair that Robby should have all the glory and be the only one to immortalize a piece of him—plus, how awesome would it be to wake up every morning to my boobs just hanging out doing their own thing. Oh and the best part! I could use them as key ring holders—the nipples that is because they would be all perky, and erect and I could just slip my key ring on them and they would serve two purposes, okay three purposes, immortalize my breasts for they get all saggy and old, amusing the hell out of me, and holding my keys! That totally beats the clone-a-willy kit. I mean come on who cares if it’ll give me multiple orgasms and what not—oh wait, I do.

Okay so maybe the breasts kit isn’t that great, but still it’ll give Robby something to squeeze on, when it’s that time of month and he thinks squeezing my already swore boobs will make me feel better.

In case you men didn’t know—it doesn’t.

New Decree: Blogging Entertainment 101

Jun 11, 2010

So I’ve come to the conclusion that getting more sleep is actually causing me more problems than not getting enough sleep. I know that’s odd, but hello it is me we’re talking about here—weirdness is like my middle name.

I’m going to test my theory tonight but staying up until about midnight and getting up at five, which I have been trying to do for the past few days and have failed miserably at. Typically for me, 6 hours of sleep is enough and if I get more than that I am sluggish and slow and just down right boring (see: yesterday’s blog)—so we’ll see if my little switch up works and if it does, I guess when I do have kids, I’ll be good to go, right?

Now, that I’ve managed to (hopefully) crack the code on my little problems, let’s move on to more pressing issues, shall well? And when I say, pressing, I mean pressing¹.

So lately I have been visiting a lot of blogs in an attempt to network and share my awesomeness. The one thing I find that has annoyed me the most is stumbling on a blog post that’s more than 300 words and full of drab. I’m not even kidding guys. If your blog is more than 300 words and just talks about mundane every day things without humor or at least sex to keep me interested, I stop reading– generally after the second paragraph and then bitch to Jenn about how boring it is and move on.

I mean I get it, not everyone has my stellar abilities at keeping the masses entertained, so word of advice, if you don’t have those skills or at least have not yet quite perfected it: boring, mundane, every day shit should be kept at 300 words or less—less if you’ve managed to make me want to jump out the fucking window out of sheer bedroom within the first few sentences².

For a great example of the type of blog I’m referring to, see my blog post yesterday. That was full of FAIL, I’m woman enough to admit it, but I needed to blog about something to keep up with my daily blogging ritual so you got boring, unentertaining crap—and for that I apologize, but hey at least I made up for it by posting a blog that is now full of win³.

So now that I’ve managed to stroke my ego to the point of orgasmic portion, let’s recap shall we? Boring, mundane, every day shit that I clearly don’t care about should be limited to 300 words or less unless it’s humorous or full of sex—and by sex, I mean good sex because boring, mundane sex is much worse than every day, mundane, shit because come one its sex! It takes a special, kind of someone to make sex boring and come on you don’t want to be that special kind of someone—do you?

Now that I have yet again managed to make a seemingly sexless blog, about sex—let’s remember minions, by decree of the Queen all boring, mundane, every day blogs should be kept to 300 words or less unless it is humorous or full of sex⁴; so the Queen has spoken and so shall it be…

or else⁵.

1. It’s pressing because it happens to annoy the shit out of me.
2. I suppose you’d have to know what qualifies as boring right? If I’m not entertained, it’s boring.
3. Agree or die.
4. The good sex remember? Not the boring, mundane sex.
5. My guards will hunt you down and make you pay for your treason!

24 Going on 50 & Sex Because It`s Always About Sex

Jun 6, 2010

So I’m sitting here contemplating the fact that I’m slowly getting old and feeble because of the damn back brace that I had to put on because my back decided to say, “Fuck you, Angel. Die you bitch, die.” It’s really rather depressing and as a result I feel like I’m 24 going on 50, if not older because I’m really not sure what the standard is for people’s backs going on. Oh God, maybe it’s 25 and I’m screwed and the youth that I thought I still had left is really just an illusion.

Christ do you hear that? Neither do I because my ears are going out as well. Though this isn’t really as a result of old age, rather a result of Jenn who decided to blast music loud as fuck when I’m wearing earbuds. Way to go bitch, not only is my back going out, but now thanks to you whoremonger, I’ve lost my hearing too.

Maybe this explains why I’m so fucking tired all the time and would much rather sleep than have sex. Yeah, I said it, sleep has just outnumbered sex on the things I need to live. Oh crap, something is wrong, quick someone help, hell has officially frozen over.

Okay, maybe I’m lying a little when I say I’d rather sleep then have sex, okay maybe I’m lying a lot because honestly when it boils down to it, I’ll push through excruciating pain for the satisfaction of sex– ask my husband who seems to have this obnoxious habit of hitting my cervix without even trying. You’ve seen images of men bawled up crying on the floor after being kicked in the balls, it kind of feels like that, well at least I imagine it does– you know after the sex part, cause the sex is great, it’s just the aftermath that hurts.

Now that I’ve effectively managed to turn myself own with lovely images of my husband and sex, I think I’m going to go do that… the sex part, not the crying on the floor part, cause that’s just not fun.

It would figure I manage to bring sex into an entry about how I’m getting old.