Author Archives: Steffani Cameron

Oh, Mr. President.

Take note men. Even the President gives his coat to his woman when she’s a little chilly. In this cute shot taken by the White House photographer on the way to a ball Inauguration night, Michelle’s given his coat because she’s a cold. I love this shot. Love, love, love.
Chivalry might be dead, but maybe, along with civic service, old-school national pride, and a possible economy, maybe it’ll be yet another thing given a healthy boost by Obama. Enter: The Era of Cool.
Sure as fuck beats the era of Blowhard we’re just exiting.
I like my men old-fashioned when it comes to etiquette. I want please and thank you. I want eye contact and a heavy dose of gratuitous complimenting when I put a tasty plate of pot pie before him. I want the door held open, and I want all the old-school manners I was taught in private school.
I want him to be able to be a little bad, too, but only after he’s held the door open for me, y’know what I’m saying? A nice well-timed dirty leer in the middle of a long night goes a long way sometimes.
Oh, Mr. President. I swoon for your community-organizing, big-word-speakin’, coat-givin’, wide-smilin’ ass. This is gonna be a lovely four years. I imagine it’ll be a while before I tire of the contrast between him and W.

slide_888_15461_large

Pride is Overrated: Of Muffins & Poisoning

There’s probably no greater equalizer of mankind than food poisoning. Everyone can remember That One Meal that left them a gut-churning shell of themselves for 24 to 48 hours.
I had my Lesson in Humility yesterday. I couldn’t even run up to the store for Pepto-Bismol because of the unpredictability of it all. I spent about 25 of 36 hours asleep.
It’s hard not to accept your humanity when some evil meal of shellfish is waging war upon you for an ungodly length of time.
But I believe these things are good. Food poisoning knows no age or class or race. It’s indiscriminate. So’s bad luck, adversity, broken hearts, and broke-ass syndrome. Continue reading →

7 More Things You Maybe Didn't Know About Me

I got tagged for this meme for a second time, this time by JamieLD. The first time was here. And why not just brush it off and say “But I did it already?” Huh? Why?
Well, I’ll tell you. ‘Cos, like, there ARE 14 things about me you don’t know. How do ya like them apples? I know, you’re thinking, “Dude, this is one seriously vast chick.” We’re so on the same page. Here’s just some of that vastness, my fabulous minions:
1. Well, you know I’m funny. In fact, I’ve been told on occasion that I’m even, gasp, “really” funny. I’ll accept that answer. But you know what’s also funny? I don’t watch a lot of comedy. You scour my DVD collection and there are very, very few comedies. Maybe 10% of what I own can be classified as funny. Continue reading →

Recording a Moment(ish)

I had a moment tonight.
My best friend GayBoy (@mr_tits_pervert on Twitter) was over tonight and we were drinking, doing the Silly Thing, and I was off in the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror and I just remembered my mother and how I always thought she was so beautiful. You know, when she wasn’t wearing her black-&-hot pink industrially-thick socks with too-short pants on “lazy days”, that is. Continue reading →

The Start of Something Good

My plan is coming together.
Like last year, the first thing I’m doing is in-depth trying to get my home back under control.
My place has been under siege from cockroaches for a while. I’m winning, but I know they’re still around. I’ve been living in chaos because of it, though. For instance, since the start of November my dishes have all been in a Rubbermaid container on the floor. That contributed so much ambiance at Christmas. And while I tried to get organized after the back injury before the holidays, well, the holidays undid it all.
Continue reading →

The Museum of Penis

This morning Urban Gypsy, aka Tess, posted this ever-so-brief diatribe against The Museum of Sex and its fucking moronic public relations campaign featuring the ads found at this link. Thanks, Tess!
245_sexmuseum2Where to start? Well, I guess it’s official, I’m unlikely to ever, ever be interested in the Museum of Sex if it’s going to be this misogynistic before I even put foot in the door. I mean, if there was a woman anywhere on this creative team, I’ll eat my bra. And it has an underwire!
But let’s go to the big issues first, shall we?
Bad sex is better than good sex with yourself? Is it, really?
Last bad sex I had, in August, outraged me, because it was casual, something I don’t typically do, and over in an instant. My thinking was, “If I’m going to risk STDs and whatever else you’re risking by sleeping with a casual partner, then a) it better be GOOD fucking, and b) it better last a long time. I mean, I better be SPENT after taking that chance.”
It’s the old adage, anything worth doing is worth doing well. I think that adage needs an asterisk from here on out, and a perma-footnote that reads especially sex. Continue reading →

A 2009 Wish for Smut Writers

[Note: These opinions of mine are strong. Aren’t they always? But it should be said that I think it’s with irony, too, as the majority of sex bloggers I’ve followed on Twitter tend to speak of condoms as necessity, not options. I believe the sex blogging community is indeed having responsible sex more often than not; this posting isn’t about their personal practice, it’s about the image they’re portraying in their writing, which I would like to see more match their reality.]

I know the perception is that condoms aren’t sexy.
I know it fucks with the cadence in real life, stopping the action to fumble for protection, but putting on a condom CAN be hot. It CAN be incorporated into the play.
So why don’t smut writers include donning protection during casual sex scenes they write?
People are using less protection than they were 10 years ago. In fact, reports in the UK are that a staggering half of over-30 singles regularly have unsafe sex.
How fucking dumb are these people? Well, pretty dumb. If you’re having casual sex without a condom, I think you’re a fucking moron. Continue reading →