All Posts – Page 3

On the awkwardness of ‘girl’ on the net

This blog has been running for ten years now. Ten years! Christ. There are kids who were born when I started writing who already know how to swear! When I began, I was in my twenties and it didn’t feel that weird to keep calling myself ‘girl.’ But fuck it, that girl had no idea that this might turn into her job, and certainly no idea she’d be doing it long after the word ‘girl’ started to sound a little optimistic. Over the last few years, understandably, the comments I’ve had about my choice to remain ‘girl’ on the net (as opposed to, say, ‘woman’) have become more numerous, so fuck it I’m going to have a crack at explaining myself. Here’s why I’m going to be ‘girl’ on the net until the day I finally hang up my blogging cap for good.

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Vaginal inspection: the most intimate thing I ever did

This isn’t sexy. OK, it might be sexy. If you like cunts. But then if you like cunts, the way I write about them is going to seem bizarre and maybe even horrible to you. So I may well be about to take something you find sexy and absolutely ruin it. Here goes: I am disgusted by the inside of my body, and therefore I’m disgusted by my cunt, and so what I’m about to tell you is the most intimate thing I have ever done.

This post about vaginal inspection involves extreme and sometimes gross/shamey descriptions of the human body, especially (obviously) the vagina. 

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Guest blog: Getting paid to pee isn’t as simple as it seems

I’ve had some serious fun with golden showers/piss play/water sports in my time, but today’s guest blogger has something way more helpful and specific for those of you who’d like to try it yourselves: tips! Using stories from her time as a dominatrix, when she was getting paid to pee on people, Uncensored Kiss is here to bring you a trickle of joy in the form of some pissing top tips. How to pee standing up (if you don’t have a penis), and the best ways to practice so you don’t get stage fright.

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You can’t say anything these days!

Today I’m going to tell you an old, old story. Guy meets girl in a workplace. Guy tries to chat girl up. She finds his comments overbearing and creepy. Guy continues, despite her discomfort. When the inevitable HR investigation happens, he explains to the boss that it was ‘only banter’. Starts jumping in any time other colleagues make jokes of any kind: “you wanna watch out, mate! You’ll get reported for that! You can’t say anything these days!”

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Love is an addiction

Love is an addiction, and I am not good with addiction. I’m writing this post so I do not send a text: it’s that simple. I sit here at my desk, legs crossed on my office chair like I know I really shouldn’t because it’s bad for my back, and I press the buttons on my keyboard that will keep my hands busy so I do not send a text to my ex saying ‘hey, how are you? I was wondering if you fancied hanging out?’ Earlier this evening, I pressed other buttons – on the microwave, to heat up my dinner, so that I wouldn’t send a text. Later, when it’s reasonable enough that an adult might call it a night, I will brush my teeth so I don’t sent that text, go for a pee so I don’t send that text, roll my mattress out onto the floor and take a sleeping pill and have a wank and put on a podcast so I do not send that text. I will do all this extremely mindfully. With the focus and dedication of a powerful woman who will – under absolutely no circumstances – send that fucking text. Love is an addiction, my friends, and I have no willpower.

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