“That’s child abuse of the worst kind,” I blurted out during a departmental picnic. My colleague had just described the Hallowe’en Fairy, an annual apparition who does more than don striped stockings and an orange micro-mini skirt before embarrassing herself in public. Continue reading
I did not have to look far to find a powerful vagina. One was within arm’s reach. Continue reading
Can tits ever really be bad? The short answer is yes. But I am not going to give you that concise reply. Instead I will blather on about the history of breasts, Freudian theories of desire, and the politics of breast implants, all the while waxing poetic about my own lovely lady lumps. [What again?]. Continue reading
First let me admit that the title of this post is meant to attract attention. Then I should apologize, for the text below does not recount my brief career as a mud wrestler. It does, however, discuss my nude photo shoots, past and present. Continue reading
Pick your favourite colour at the pee store in the Carrousel du Louvre shopping mall. Rue de Rivoli bitches!
When in Paris, a girl’s thoughts naturally turn to urination. ‘Do I smell pee?’ asked the guiless PDDs, sitting beside me on the metro as it pulled away from Charles de Gaulle airport. ‘Of course,’ I pompously asserted. ‘Just wait until we get into the city. There will be rivers of urine flowing by, as French men wearing berets and holding fresh baguettes under their arms shamelessly pee in the street.’ Continue reading
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