2002-10-20

Success = ability to mate with being of choice

I have just figured out the basest reason for wanting to be successful - sex! If you are good at stuff people want to hang around you and they want to make it with you on the off-chance that they may become successful and therefore alluring by association. Even losers can be successful, simply by being the biggest loser with perhaps one redeeming feature (like brains or the ability to cure cancer). Other lesser losers want that cruisy loser vibe and are prepared to hang around to get it. Loser guy gets cool chick by simply being self and succeeding at loser-ness (we've all seen that movie a million times).

This all comes about basically because I have had the good fortune to be involved with a couple of successful ventures lately, and my hasn't the love been coming thick and fast (so to speak)!? People I haven't talked to for over a year suddenly became best friends again (in their minds) after we won this award thingy and made some money back for a change. It made me sick to my stomach to see their sycophantic schmoozing with the director of our thing. Mind you, she is a bit of a spunk...

Recent thoughts have turned to racy sex, and a bizarre thing happened the other night when I was involved in a discussion about sex toys and seemed to have absolute recall about products that I sold in the smut shop. I could recall product specs and sizes, and even what kinds of batteries they took. Damn my photographic memory! Still, it certainly made me the object of attention, and if I had been taking commission on sales I would probably have made myself a rich woman on the basis of the "Koala Boy" vibrator review alone.

Implements aside, I really do feel that there is nothing like a good shag to liberate one's spirit and restore faith in humanity. And there is absolutley nothing like the indecent 3am tireder than hell but horny with it sleazy motel room fuck. I truly believe that 'nasty sex' can make up for all the bullshit, politically correct, be-nice-to-your-mother stuff that we have to put up with in day to day lives. "Nasty sex" purifies us, takes us to the lowest level so that we may rise again and be re-born, phoenix like, in a spray of cum and dribble and crusty sheets. With our legs sore and our breasts brusied from the kissing and the grabbing, we dress the next day for work, and have little remember dreams all through the day, our pussies still throbbing, our dicks stills sore and red-raw. We giggle at the photocopier as our hip brushes against it, reminding us of the bump and grind, the bang of bodies against each other. We smirk at the boss, knowing that no matter what he/she wants to tell us off for, it wont change the fact that our panties are dripping and our knees have carpet burn.

Oh yes! Dirty sex! We thank you for reminding us that life is short, and that the sweetest sips from the cup are often tinged with a hint of decay.

bitch - moan