Have you seen Wonder Woman yet? If not, don’t worry, this post doesn’t contain spoilers. However, potential viewers should know they’ll be sitting through, yet another, two-and-a-half-hour-long superhero flick with no surprises.
In fact, the choice to purchase an extra-large beverage might provide the only suspenseful moment of the evening. If I make a dash for the bathroom a the ninety-minute mark, will I miss anything? No, probably not.
That said – the fact this movie allows “everyone” to soak up a boilerplate narrative and the usual CGI battles makes this movie a success. Yes, I think that’s right: the sad truth is what makes Wonder Woman’s truly remarkable is mediocrity.
The cartoon below is a re-blog from an artist on Tumblr. Most of her other pieces aren’t my cuppa, but this one got my attention straight away. After a few moments to taking in, I shrugged and moved on. But I found myself thinking about the image occasionally afterwards and wanted to find it again. Fast forward a few days, and I was actively hunting the cartoon down. Why? Because it’s sexy, compelling, and gets to the heart of how I feel as a submissive despite one undeniably uncomfortable element: the submissive is depicted eyeballing a knobby strap-on that’s nearly half as wide as the boy’s entire body.
I’ve been working around this Indian guy and his speech patterns and accent have worked their way into my cerebral cortex. All evening long, my inner voice has sing-song bounced along neural pathways, replete with preposition-jammed-into-verb clauses that make my head hurt.
Nice guy – but fuck if this isn’t an annoying ear worm.
What makes it worse is this: early in life, I moved so often that I ‘accommodate’ quicker than your average bear. I used to call myself a chameleon because of this tendency. However, over the years, different slang terms and dialects stowed away below decks to emerge at inappropriate times.
As a result, I stick out even more.
You make me remember my youth and many pleasurable times spent in the back seat of a car. I spent many hours going down on girl friends in the back seat. Yes, back in the early 1950’s the girls loved getting their pussies licked. It was the best birth control available then.
Lol, good memories. And by the way, we still love getting our pussies licked.
It’s a fact that nearly all panel beaters these days only know anything about painting from painting their missus’ toenails. Nothing annoys me more than taking a car to a beater and having some jumped up nancy boy going on about my motor and the paint job he’s going to do like I am going to deflower him on it after I am done. It is a car and needs to be driven. Much like the women other guys think they own. You never what a car can really do until someone else is driving it. Nothing better than a hot purring engine
Very true.