It’s impossible not to notice that some areas of
For around $1.50 you can have on of these beauties, potted, for home use, as we've done:
Now there is another type of exotic flower, images of which I love equally. But of a quite different genus. Often with a more pungent and intoxicating odor.
Anus Vulgaris
Anus Athleticus
Anus Recepticus
Anus Reflecticus
Anus Oblongata
Anus Deliciosa
I remember coming across this photo a while back and being somewhat unsure of why I liked it so much.
On reflection, I realized it had some thing to do with the fact that his jeans were round his ankles. And then it occurred to me that it was this mild trussing up that was getting me hot. And I recognized pretty quickly that I was a trusser rather than trussee.
Over the last couple of years I’ve seen Master-Slave stuff about – personals at the back of gay magazines, parties offered at Headquarters, and so on. And have been a bit curious. But not acted on it in any way.
Then more recently I ran across the following pic and understood I’d made a whole lot of unexpected progress in my M-S development.
Though maybe it was just something to do with the cuteness of the guy and the thick pulsating veins in his feet.
I was not so sure bout the tape over his mouth. But perhaps I only liked him tapeless tohear the yells of protest as I slid my cock between the firm juicy buns! Just kidding. I think.
We’ve booked in for the three months of our stay into a unit at Manansala, Rockwell Centre, a gated estate in the
All of which extend out to a small forest, in case you wanted to … well, you know. This is the Attendant of Trees:
And here are some of the Denizens of the
And a typical woodland activity;
Adjacent to the pool complex is a four-storey mall, an old converted factory. The Power Plant has three cinemas, a bowling alley, a super fab serious bookstore, every well-known clothes designer (Salvatore Ferragamo, Kenneth Cole, … ), luxury goods stores of every conceivable kind, restaurants serving the widest range of fare … you could live out of it. A monument to high-end consumerism.
We’re on the 27th floor of the Manansala building, with balcony views like these:
Now just to give you some idea of the insane level of indulgence here, each intersection has at least two and up to four police to smilingly assist you cross. And any shop in the mall will russle up at least two boys to assist you home with the goodies you purchase.
So after a hard day working your credit card half to death, you can collapse on a chair on the balcony to catch the knock-out sunset:
And gobble down your dins of squid and tocino:
But when the revolution comes and the poor rise up and slit the throats of the rich, we’d better bugger off back to Oz!
Particularly as poor persons impersonating the enemy.
Just back in the metropolis after a couple of days visiting Aussie friends in Marilao, a small country town thirty kilometres outside
The scale of the place is lovely. Small low-rise houses, many in a 1950’s international style. With a sprinkling of well-preserved older houses, some dating back to the C18:
We arrived the day of the annual town fiesta, so lots of parades and processions, rivaling those of Semana Santa (Holy Week). Some of the icons in the church waiting to wend their way through the streets:
So, our arrival:
The welcoming band or, alternatively, the local band in parade for the fiesta:
Miss Earth, 2007 visiting from
Anticipation of some serious cake work:
Curiously, we didn’t see this guy in Marilao:
Or even this one:
This one is definitely not the Mayor of the town:
And these are not two of his councilors, working on a hard community project:
But maybe these are a couple of tourists, relaxing after a strenuous day's sight-seeing:
Finally, back in
Hey guys.
In the air over the
Pigged out on vile airline food. Not an oxymoron – I was just bored. And it wasn’t that bad. Maybe.
And have just seen ‘Becoming Jane’. They’ve run out of novels to translate into movies and are now cannibalising her life for material. But a mix of fiction and fact – the basic outlines are there but racy and fast. Authors can draw on their own lives and, then, to a greater or lesser extent. So it’s interesting the screenwriter/s have put the two together. A kind of what-if autobiography-fiction.
Jane Austen is pursued by a hunting-fishing-fighting-rake type and a dullard. And accepts the latter sort of to avoid the difficulties of the former. But within 24 hours takes up spinsterhood. All with some intense snogging and at a cracking pace.
Not quite the Jane I know, but the film would have been pretty killing if the ‘authorized’ version. Though it must be said of the author that she was not the ‘narrow-gutted’ spinster of D H Lawrence. But aggressively critical of the construction and of the social and legal position of women in early C19 England. For example, giving strong focus in a number of the novels to the laws of inheritance disallowing property descending though the female line.
Jane Austen's brother (not!):
