http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060331/ap_on_fe_st/sketch_pad_nudity_1

Christopher Teague, owner of titty bar “Erotic City,” thumbed his nose at Boise, Idaho’s restrictions against nude dancing last year by handing out sketch pads and pencils so the patrons could draw the dancers, who presumably had left off their usual required-by-law pasties and g-strings. Predictably, authorities aren’t buying the ploy and he now faces a minor fine and six months in jail.

He has a point though, when he says “What are they doing on stage? It’s dancing. Is it an art form? Of course it is.” Humans have made artistic expressions (including dances) to represent and provoke emotional responses throughout the history of the species. Some would say that it is the defining characteristic of our species. In the recent past however, we have allowed artists free reign to incite every emotion but one - sexual arousal. A work can be aimed at frightening us, enraging us, making us laugh…but if it’s aimed at arousing us, it’s considered “obscene” and unworthy of being called art.

The week from hell turned out to have a rather glorious ending. After several months of hard overtime, during which Sgt Knickers has not been available to take naughty pictures of me, I was way behind and had literally nothing left in my photo stockpile. Then, just when the OT was supposed to be ending, Sgt came down with a REALLY bad stomach virus (I was quite worried). So instead of an extra pair of hands with kids & housework I had an invalid to tend and extra laundry. Then to top it all off, my pc succumbed to some equally noxious bug (think it was a spyware issue), which took me the better part of two days to sort out.

The turning point came on Friday, when Sgt was still too wiped out to work but not too ill to hold a camera. I got to get my hair & nails done - a rare treat as good as a vacation! - and we shot some great pics.

Sgt really liked the series of me as a southern belle in a minidress, but my personal favorites were the series of me “at work” in my garden, my pride and joy.

Have I mentioned that planting things turns me on?

Here are a couple of pics of my pride and joy…

Ya’ll remember what I was saying about the girls gone wild t’other day?

Check this out

Undercover police are now going into bars in Texas and arresting people for public drunkenness, the rationale being that:

“We feel that the only way we’re going to get at the drunk driving problem and the problem of people hurting each other while drunk is by crackdowns like this,” she said.

“There are a lot of dangerous and stupid things people do when they’re intoxicated, other than get behind the wheel of a car,” Beck said. “People walk out into traffic and get run over, people jump off of balconies trying to reach a swimming pool and miss.” - Carolyn Beck, spokeswoman for the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission

Maybe I should have titled that last entry More Practical Prophesy.

Ok, it’s been pointed out to me that I probably ought to be putting some pictures in this thing, to break up all my dry boring rants. *grin* So I thought I’d start off with a video capture from the infamous cucumber show where I broke the stage with my orgasmic thrashing.

Yeah, I know it’s blurry, but I was falling at the time!

So there I am, with a cucumber stuffed in my snatch and a vibrator pressed against my clit, tearing into my fourth orgasm, when I feel the ominous sensation of the “stage” giving way beneath me.

I guess I should have known better than to sit right at the weakest point of a platform I already suspected of being rickety. The little plastic clips holding the two sides of my stage together wiggled loose during my previous exertions and just as I reached my thrashing, moaning peak the two halves decided to part company. I’ve not yet examined the footage but I can just imagine what it looked like as I abruptly dropped from view, accompanied by loud crashing noises and flying debris.

Did I mention that I was in mid-orgasm?

Up until now my most embarrassing on-camera moments have been the times when my dog comes nosing around (don’t get your hopes up, she’s never part of the action). But hey, somebody still said it was hot. I know I will always vividly remember my very first vegetable encounter. *grin*

I wonder if “fat girls busting furniture” is a marketable niche?

So I’m reading in the news about how the AMA has done a study which revealed a lot of college women like to get really drunk and have less-than-careful sex on spring break trips. The AMA, naturally, feels obliged to warn young women about the health risks involved in these activities and to urge college administrations etc to endorse “alternative” activities.

Now, leaving aside the small detail that only 27% of the women surveyed had even gone on a spring break trip (which shows that no matter what the perception of these trips is, they are definitely not the norm for college women), what troubles me is how, in our society, the “powers that be” seem determined to stamp out every occasion that gives license to carouse. Back in the day (and I’m talking about really back in the day, through thousands of years of human history - not just the last couple of industrialized centuries) there were publicly sanctioned occasions for riotous celebration, often involving drink or drugs and promiscuous sex: May Day festivals and harvest fairs, courtship processions and Saturnalias celebrating the pagan gods of every culture.

I would not deny that there are risks involved in the modern celebration of spring break, and certainly it’s commonsensical to urge young women to take care of themselves at all times. Still, in today’s world a public health warning is a small step away from legislation (how many states have passed laws against public smoking, even in bars?) and I have to wonder what harm we are doing, to our culture and to the human spirit, by denying the need to cut loose. It seems to me we’ve always had these occasions because something in us needs that break from good sense, that opportunity to disregard the rules of respectability.

I’ve had a noxious ear infection growing all weekend (silly me for not going to the doctor last Friday!) which has kept me from doing damn near anything. Including sleeping. That’s the bad news.

How much does it hurt you ask? Well, you know how in horror movies there’s always somebody with a huge, throbbing boil that at some point explodes, spraying gore everywhere and releasing some kind of horrid beastie? I suspect one of those beasties has taken up residence in the vicinity of my right ear.

The good news is that about the only thing I’ve been able to do is stare mindlessly (and without moving my head too much) at the computer screen, and since Sgt’s been around to play houseboy I have spent the whole weekend in bed doing so. Progress is slow as I am about as doped up as I can be with non-prescription medications, but I’ve managed to finish (more or less) my boudoir redesign.

It’s nice to see how my coding skills have grown over the last year.

Anybody who thinks a woman can top 200lbs without having stretch marks at least on her belly and probably on her thighs, tits, and arms as well, is a right nutter. Still I have noticed that most bbw porn websites and magazines will airbrush them out. It’s all about the fantasy after all, isn’t it?

When I started out doing this a year ago I airbrushed the fuck out of every little blemish. Of course, at the time I was very conscious of competing with a bunch of skinny coeds for the worn-panty market. Nowadays I’ve gotten a lot more relaxed. Oh, there’s plenty of stuff I still touch up - with my fair skin every bruise and bug bite is dreadfully visible - but I no longer bother about the stretch marks snaking down my belly or the little furrow between my brows. I still hate that wrinkle (and I’d get it “done” in a heartbeat if I could afford it!) but I always rather liked my stretch marks. They remind me of lizards, little pinkish salamanders sunning themselves on my skin.