So Downright Wrong

I had no sooner posted my previous entry, which alluded to hot nasty leather sex with Colin Farrell, when I was greeted with the dulcet bleep-blop-bleep of a new e-mail message.

I've been waiting for this message for weeks. I've checked my e-mail first thing in the morning and last thing at night...waiting for a message from the object of my obsession.

I knew he was up to something.

And every day, I wondered if this would be the day when I got some news? Would I find out what's going on with him? What's he doing?

And yay!

My favorite porn star, Arpad Miklos, is in a new movie!

I met him last year in New York and I've been following his career with even more...um...fervor since then.

And the e-mail that arrived at that moment told me that I could pre-order his new film right now! And it's a movie about hot nasty leather sex -- but not with Colin Farrell, of course.

He, like Tom Cruise, is not gay.

I will warn you that this is not porn for the faint of heart and it is by no means suitable for work -- even for those of you who work from home. If porn were coffee, even you Fill It to the Rim with Brim drinkers might not like this blend of nasty hardcore.

I'm really not so sure it's my thing, either. My feeble attempts at hardcore lately have ended with blood poisoning and embarrassment. And in all seriousness, a date at Starbucks followed some heavy petting will get my attention and probably my affection. I can never get caffeine or sweet kisses. The trouble with me is that I have the emotional depth of a rain puddle and even then I can drown in my own sentimentality.

Sometimes I just like to pretend that I can totally detach myself from my emotions. I like to pretend that I'm still not vexed and bewildered by men, by dating, by sex. I like to pretend that there's not a guy that I'd rather hear from -- and all I get are promotional messages from a porn star.

But that's my nasty imagination, for ya.

And its nasty way of playing tricks on me.