Keeping It Klassee One Boob At a Time
They say the internet is a big space. I disagree.
If it was such a wide open wonder how in Gawd’s name would a Canadian mommy blogger trip over a video of some dude prancing around with his nuts hanging out singing to one of the most annoying songs ever find his way onto my laptop screen?
Besides the fact I spend hours online searching for amusing and interesting links that are slightly pornographic to fill the gaping void that is my soul?
Hence a friendship was born. So when Karl asked me to guest post for him this summer, I couldn’t really say no. Doing so would only show the world I’m a classless bitch who refuses to expand her national and cultural borders within the internet.
I may be a bitch, but I like to think of myself as KLASSEE. The box of dollar store red wine in my fridge proves this.
Besides, Karl has a thing for mommy bloggers and it’s no big secret he has a crush on me and I aim to please boys who like me. Of course Karl likes me for my stimulating intellect and not because I’m a natural blonde:
The reality is, (and huge blow to my ego when I realized it) Karl only likes me because I have these:
I know this because the dude keeps sending me email and twitter requests to show him my boobs. Or to do a naked video post. Or simply call him and talk dirty with him while fondling myself. Karl. What part of KLASSEE did you not understand? 
I mean sure I may tweet topless during the summer and talk about beaver fever and the blue thunder but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to up and show you my guns.
You’re no Avitable dude.
Still, Karl persisted. And persisted. Aaaand persisted.
Filed under Guest Post, No Ads, Sex | Comments (44)Drugs to the Right, Hookers to the Left
So there’s Black Belt Mama’s Summer Serenade Contest going on. Someone you know (cough cough hint hint) might be participating with a video. Go vote. I think it’ll very clear WHO you should be voting FOR.
So my mom left this morning before I awoke. She’s outta here for a week, off in Daytona Beach doing arsty craftsy drunky retreaty things with some of her lady friends.
Yeah.
I have the whole house to myself. (This is the part where you say, “Karl is the only fucking nearly 43-year-old in the world that can pull off living with his mother and make it look cool.”)
There will be hookers, drinking, smoking, narcotics, copious amounts of Brittinis, Rastafarianism, orgies that make Caligula look like a virgin, rocking music, lambs and lions getting it on together, breaking of windows, flatulent pyrotechnics, bongs made of Mountain Dew Code Red cans. All for the next. four. days.
Yeah – THAT Girl
Hellooo, Everybody!
(Dr. Nick? Anyone? Anyone?)
Anyway, I am Sybil Law, guest posting for Karl and his Summer Of Love – a day late. He sent me an email weeks ago, gave me the date, and forever in my head, I had, “August 5th”. Turns out, it was supposed to be August 4th. So I came home from work to find a gentle email from him (much like you’d talk to a slow witted child), like, “Babe – you know you’re posting today, right?”, which we all know is slang for, “Stupidass! Where’s my post at, bitch?!” Whatever. He knows I am slow. I don’t really know where the 5th came from in my head – I even managed to ignore the followup email he sent, because I, in all my certainty, just thought I already KNEW what day I had, and I didn’t really read it. D’oh!
So again – sorry, Karl!!
Let’s move on, okay?
I was really, really nervous about posting. I mean,I think Karl’s a fine writer and I? Am not. I barely even get around to posting on my own blog, much less someone else’s! So I had this bright idea to just do a picture blog, and leave it all lame like that. I thought I’d take pictures in nature, of objects that spell out Karl’s name.
Have any of you ever tried to find a fucking “K” in nature? I mean, I could’ve bent a worm around or something, but that went against the whole principle of the matter. (And yes – I do have principles and morals, why do you ask?)
Ahem.
But then, Saturday night, I went to a party. At my friend’s house. My friend the photographer. Let me tell you, after a gazillion shots out of an ice sculpture owl (doesn’t everyone have ice sculptures at their parties?), and many beers and mixed drinks, I got this bright idea to have ME make these letters of Karl’s name! And for some reason, in my underwear! By the campfire! (Actually, I am not sure whose idea it was for the underwear, but regardless… here it is..)
(Yes, I am a freak. It’s why Karl loves me. And me, him.)
(Please note that those poses are supposed to be the letters of Karl’s name. But I am not sure what some of them are, actually.)
Filed under Guest Post, No Ads | Comments (62)
