Assholes can *kiss my ass*!

So I was chatting with an old friend of mine who moved to a different university recently… Having thrown themselves into a totally new town, he reckoned he’d try some time in residence on campus, get the gist of the people who he’s studying with and will be cahorting with before getting himself a bachelor pad…

He ended up in what we South Africans like to call “A Jock Res”. This term has a different meaning to its American counterpart. A jock is not necessarily a man who spends his life on the football (or whatever other sort of sport’s) field.
The term is used more broadly here. It refers to brutish, Neanderthal-esque jerks. Keywords are: mean and stupid/ inconsiderate of their fellow human beings.
I prefer to call a spade a spade, though I may occasionally get caught up in my linguistic environment, so I just call them assholes.

You know, I try so hard, remind myself so often, to respect absolutely everybody’s right to be the way they are and to be on the planet…

But these assholes make it really…
REALLY hard.
The real problem right now is that beneath my roiling, boiling anger…
I’m actually terrified.

Please forgive me, but I knew to purge myself of that fear right here, right now. Fears are extremely dangerous creatures when left unattended, unacknowledged. They can grow completely out of proportion, and fangs and horns… And they can grow so powerful that they can control your life.
I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t take kindly to that sort of thing.

So here’s what I was told that’s been shaking up Yours Truly so bad…

So my buddy’s chilling in the tv room, sitting behind a whole bunch of mates who’ve clearly been in this res for some time… They’re all watching some random show and commenting on absolutely everything in the way that can be expected when a bunch of guys are socially asserting themselves…you know what I mean.
And then this particularly hot chic takes centre stage in the show.
“Wow that chic is so hot I’d rape her”
My buddy blinks a couple of times, checks his ears aren’t clogged up with wax and lint.
“Whoah dude, that’s not cool… I mean… she is seriously hot…and I sure wouldn’t mind seeing her in some bondage or something but…”
The assholes butt in: “You’re into S&M?! Are you fucking sick or something?!”

Holy shit.
I can’t believe it.

So these guys think you’re and deplorable if you have an alternative sexual identity, but it's perfectly okay to want to rape a girl?
Fuck, I feel ill to the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach.

I have a request of the male readers of Wet Your Lips *Here*...

Please let me know, via the comments or email that these [resounding shout:] ASSHOLES are merely terrible, terrible anomalies...the spawn of some sister who got it on with her uncle, who both belong to a family so inbred its members resemble maltese poodles...who all live in a town 3 kays away from a nuclear testing site.

Please tell me hearing comments as described above is not a normality you've had to learn to live with when in a men-only conversation.

Please tell me you'd rather tie me up or something weird.

Please tell me you won't tolerate men like that in our society.

Please tell me its not just a bunch of broken or outraged or militant-feminist women in the anti-rape marches and campaigns.

Please tell me you'd never verbally or physically assault someone for being different.

Wow.
This is, without a doubt, The Most Serious Post *Here* Ever...But I really needed to do it.

Now, to make amends, one last favour to ask of you...

If you find one of them blokes that fit the description of "asshole", as stipulated previously, please tell them this:

"Lady Lipstick says you can kiss her ass!!!" (bet it would bruise their ego to be forced to put on the lipstick first too...)

Hmm... And if it's with extra sensuously slick lipstick... They may as well put their back into it...














So now y'all have seen my ass. You're welcome to disagree with me, but I still think it's cute... *Especially* now that I'm seeing it peppered with pouts of silky colour :-) Yay! I'm going to do that more often...
P.S. In case you were wondering, they're still there while I'm typing this. And I added a bouquet to my one nipple for good measure. And one around my belly button. Because I could ;-P

The Problem Of Susan

Once upon a time...

When I was a little girl I came upon some books I loved to read by the author C.S. Lewis. The books in question were "The Chronicles Of Narnia". I've always read a lot. For different reasons as you veterans of yon Lipstick Fetish blog know ;-)
And as I've grown I've been in utter awe and wonder as how some stories grew with me. I grew wiser and the tales grew deeper. One such book that has never let me down, that always made me pause each time I came to reread it again and reconsider my view of life, the universe and everything, was one of the title "The Little Prince", by Antoine de Saint-Euxpery. Sadly, I've had to exclude "The Chronicles of Narnia" from this list.

As a child, I had loved these stories because they told me that was more to the world than the eye can see... that there are worlds in worlds and it can be a great adventure to explore them... But as I grew older, people started telling me that the stories' author had another story to tell us, under the guise of the childrens' adventures in the lands of Narnia. It was a story about Good and Evil, Christianity... They told me the lion Aslan was actually Jesus Christ. At first, I was angry at the people who told me this (remember, I grew up in a stake-burning, pitchfork-toting, religious-zealot town), I thought they were imposing their beliefs on the stories (which should be inviolate and allowed to exist in their own right)...
But I've grown a little more now, though in many respects I still feel like I'm a child, and I've had to redirect that first impulse of anger.
They were right.

And, in realising they were right, I've realised why there was one part of the story that has always lingered in the back of my mind troubling me, feeling like it didn't fit...
I refer to The Problem Of Susan.
It all makes sense now.

In the last of the seven books, "The Last Battle", Lucy, Edmund and Peter return to Narnia...and are even granted passage to the land of "further up and further in", Paradise. Heaven. Susan, the oldest of the girls is excluded. And the only reason we are offered as to her exclusion is because... you might want to sit down before you read this... "she's grown too fond of lipstick and nylons and invitations..."
Yeah?
Well, with all due respect, fuck you C.S. Lewis.

The problem is not that she's lost "the innocence of children" (a rather weird concept in my not so humble opinion, who says time has to rob us of aspects of our being? Who says learning more is a sin?) because if this were the case Peter would have been excluded too, being the very oldest of the four.
"Lipstick"...
Her exclusion is gender specific. Her feminine sexuality is dawning, golden and strange and wonderful on the horizon. She is being excluded for "the sin of Eve".
I could never understand why she was left behind...

Furthermore, towards the end of the book, we find out the rest of her siblings were killed in a train crash (being the reason why they get taken to live in the glorious land of "further up and further in"...hmmm... sounds like kinky-speak to me :-P ).
This made me think, even when I was just a child, that our girl Susan, mentioned but once in this concluding book, was also left to identify the bodies (which could only be a traumatising event), and left to live alone, family-less. Why? Why did Susan deserve such punishment?
And now I know the answer. C.S. Lewis wasn't punishing her. He left her to live through these tribulations to give her time to repent for her sin...

You hear that girls? Throw out your lipsticks immediately! Stop enjoying life! We must suffer this life in order to repent that we may be granted passage to Paradise!

Ye gods, this is lunacy!

I think I may have tangent-ily referred to this issue in the previous post; regarding the "idiotic concept of hell".
Mind if I share my point of view?

The way I see it, whatever your spiritual beliefs (including anti-spiritual beliefs) there's no point in there being a heaven or a hell while we are beings belonging to the realm of the living. They are all happening right here, we don't need any more of them.
We don't need to paint a heaven or hell above or below our picture of existence because we are the creators of human life here on this crazy little geoid. We create our own lives, and if enough of us create similarly-driven lives, then we create life situations on a global scale. We're *perfectly* capable of making *heaven* and hell right here. And the evidence is all around us. It surrounds me when I wake up to my room, my sancto sanctorum and the view of trees and sky outside my window, every morning. It blares at me from the news channel on the tv.

If C.S. Lewis thinks I should suffer, oh wait, but he thinks it grace... that I may have time to repent, he can kiss my cute, nicely-shaped ass (pics in next post, actually). Yes, I think my ass is cute. It's mine to think whatever I please of it, so there. And it didn't get to looking that way because I was busy on my knees praying for my soul and not engaging in "unspeakable acts with members of the opposite (oops and the same) sex". Does wonders I tell you. And you won't believe how many calories you burn...which is great to think that there's a form of exercise out there that one can *only* enjoy. I suppose that was an accident, huh?

Anyhow, enough bitching. I've got my lipstick and nylons (and an invitation to be a girl's gothic/Victorian date to her Graduation Ball) and I have every intention of making my own *paradise*...
*Right Here*.
Life's too going-on and wonderful to let it go to waste on hunting for a mysterious pot of gold at the end of some rainbow. Go out there and take what you've got and find what you need... to make your life wonderful, happy, healthy and magical. It really is all there.
There's no need to go sticking your nose in a hundred thousand wardrobes...

And I'm off to go *play* with these two lipsticks of mine...
In a bed of purple and pink bougenvilia flowers I've spent some time making.
And I promise you, not once while I'm at it will I feel like I'm "not innocent" or "old" or being promiscious or something stupid like that.
And I'll giggle as I'm about to come.
And then I'll sigh and close my eyes afterwards... with a smile of pure joy dawning all over my face.

Missing images from last post....*and* gratuitous bath photos :-)

So here are them missing photos I was distressingly trying to add to the last post... They might not seem like much to be stressing over, but I personally really, really like the one above this text. Took me the blink of an eye to upload these...
Previously, since my very first post, the procedure was: -begin upload
-slick on some lipstick (may as well look and feel sexy while you work on a sexy blog ;-) )
-make a cup of coffee
-check that the servers are still talking nicely to each other (restart if necessary...this can happen up x times)
-enjoy the cup of coffee with a cigarette outside under the stars
-go perform menial housework chore (eg drying the dishes)

Did I mention it makes all your everyday chores seem more fun if you do them feeling like happy little sex kitten? Works for me. Tori Amos was my first inspiration to try that out way back when I found out she likes doing ironing whilst gleamingly lip-colour-clad. Tori makes me purrr.

Anyhoo, this list is no longer the case. Just in the nick of time too...my nerves were getting totally frayed. I've finally got my hands on the niftiest little compressing program and I'm soooooooo happy I'm posting on gratuitous bath photos I hadn't intended to post. I'm afraid they aren't the greatest because I didn't have much choice as which to post because about the entire set has my face in.
(For the record... you'd be really, and I might add *very happy* to know that it doesn't even take a special kind of lipstick to cling to your lady's lips while she's taking a nice long soak... I'm sorry, but that makes me feel happier than a kid on christmas.)

But I hope these will give you a measure of the happiness I'm feeling now... :-)

On to my next post! (This one's my favourite photos I've taken this week, t'was a happy day in *paradise*)

Welcome to 2007!

“I… I will begin again” –U2, “New Years Day”

Here we are at another fresh start. I love January…so *very* much more than December.
I’m so glad xmas-ing crap is over and packed back away in the boxes at the very back of the cupboard. The month of December seems to me like the entire world is holding its breath, putting life on hold for the sake of two, fleeting events.
In January it starts to feel like life is going on again, restarting, shifting into 5^th gear so to speak. And as a result, there’s a silent, pervading hum of people anticipating a new year and filling up to the brim with ideas as how to spend it, what they wish to achieve and stuff of dreams and
drive.... and I *love* feeling the reverberations of that hum. There’s a vitality back in the air, the globe has exhaled the last of the xmas-strenuousness. There’s a beat of pacing forward rather than of preparations for a couple of isolated events.
“A long December and there’s reason to believe/ maybe this year will be better than the last”… (which does not necessarily imply that last was bad… things can just get better and better, if you’ll pardon the personal interpretation)- Counting Crows, “A Long December”

Anyhoo, I imagine you’re all expecting the typical “New Years Rant” post, wherein the author rants about their righteous “New Years Resolutions” or else lengthy bitching about how much these resolutions suck and bruise one’s sense of self worth when they are not achieved or totally botched up… Maybe even the prolific “I Wanna-Be A Nobel Prize Speech When I Grow Up”
odes to new beginnings…
But nah.
It’s been done.

And this young Lady would rather be busy living and *playing* (which, you bet, is part of living) so instead I wish to share some food for thought. Of the stimulating and uplifting variety…
Because, seeing as it is indeed, a new year, hope and optimism are valuable tools to give one an unfair advantage in the journey into 2007. Consider this an upgrade of your gearbox, let’s elatedly cruise into *this* one in the 6^th gear folks!

So here’s the deal.

You need to go take a good long look at the pictures in this post *right now*. And enjoy them till you smile your head off. Pun intended.
Then, body *playtime* done, you need to move on to brain *playtime*. Get your ass over to this website pronto: http://edge.org/q2007/q07_index.html

There’s a reason why bad news is News and good news isn’t published… but it doesn’t mean it’s not happening, even bountifully at times. That URL over there is where to go if you like being world savvy or are in desperate need to be reassured that this planet isn’t going straight to hell (who the hell came up with that idiotic concept anyways?). This is an *amazing* collection of essays by scientists and others from across the globe and across the various disciplines,
containing a wealth of insight and hope.

Enjoy this round too ;-)

Happy, happy, happy new year *everyone*…

And if you all really want to know, mine got off to wonderful, plentiful-lipstick-frollicking start. I could purr *so* much right now you could make your girlfriend sit on me instead of using the
vibrator.

Much, much thanks to the lover that knows how to unselfconsciously and happily *play*…and how to just *be*…

(P.S. I've been trying, intermittently, though frequently nonetheless, to attach the last two photos I chose for this post for the past 24hrs plus and my patience is completely frayed and worn and my second best tube of luscious colour has been worn down to uselessness. Thus I am begrudgingly making this post. Mayhap the morrow will see Blogger giving me less grief... I really, really, really hope! There's 2 texts and 11 pictures, plus the remaining, better 2 from this set, ready to go... Fneh. I'm off to go offer more silken sacrifices to the Goddesses Of Lipstick...)

And Happy Yuletide! ;-)

While on the subject of Christmas, I very much would like to share with you some information regarding this celebration. For the purpose of: a) sharing information, a wonderful, empowering practice I very much wish more of us were engaging in and b) because it’s also an amusing historical tidbit and I think it would be wonderful if y’all would do your young Lady the grace of sharing in a sort-of *private joke* with me at the end of this year when they start putting up all the lights again.

I got this information from the ever-knowledgeable Edd. Author of one of *The Sexiest Lipstick Fetish Sites Online* run by *The Sexiest Brain*.

*Much* thanks Edd ;-) (And even *more* for that delicious post on that vixen LizViscious… purrrRRRrrRRRrRRrrRRrrrr… I got snog-attacked, on more than one occasion, by a girl who looked just like her… Not to brag or anything :-) )

Lady Lipstick lassoes her wandering mind and reels it back in kicking and screaming.

Right, information…

“Yule Lights (ie, Xmas lights) came from a Norse practice of placing a light in ones window while celebrating Yule in the traditional way - which was having sex (Yule was a bestial fertility god). So next time you see bible-bashing types with big silly displays, notice that it's an esoteric billboard which means 'we're humping right now', they just don't know it.”

Oooh, also, “The Roman version was Saturnalia, the festival of Saturn, where much civil law was retracted for a week, and things like adultery and cross dressing were not illegal during the festival (and wildly popular)” That morsel’s for my much-ly appreciated T/S readers :-)

I wonder how shocked and deep into denial the Christian zealots (the scary, militant, uncompromising, self-righteous, crusading ones) would be and go if they knew this. Reckon this holiday’s become such a stressful, aggravating, greed-mongering commercial event that it couldn’t hurt to tell them. Spread the word if you feel so inclined!
*Change (/development/growth) is the universal law of survival*!

Oh, and before you rush off to do so, please consider the following photos your Lady’s premptive gesture, on all of your behalf, that we may all be celebrating Yule “the traditional way” next time round…

With much silken colour gleaming from lips and all sorts of other wonderful places ;-)