Still trippin.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The BSD is Aroused
Ummmmmmmmmmm............. yeah.
Wow.
She's something else.
The BSD is confused and very aroused.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Great Moments in Homelessness & Ingenuity
Mr. Wendel has freedom, a free that you and I think is dumb,
Free to be without the worries of consciousness or sobriety, cause Mr. Wendel's a bum.
The BSD Approves: Installment 14
The BSD is back and hornier than ever.
Let's skip the formalities and get it in. Grab your gin. Hold it tight. Put it in your mouth.
While on a recent deep sea fishing expedition to the treacherous North Atlantic, many truths were revealed to the BSD. When one is on the high seas, one comes to know oneself (and the local Icelandic women) very well; at least well enough to know that Gillette or Nair could make a killing.
Despite the hirsute natives and their heartbreaking tales of desolate isolation, the BSD's newly found demagogue status and his hard-earned VDs, times were good.
The land was fruitful and the sea full of bounties.
With TSSTGT docked and moored for the season, he took to the icy, undulating waves in his newly purchased deep sea vessel, the "Putting From the Rough".
Horrible paint job and crooked handle notwithstanding, the BSD headed out with a crew of twelve (three fishermen, two experienced yachtsman, two men of both questionable and Nordic origin, four handmaidens to wait on the BSD hand and foot and loins and junk, and one licensed barkeep) with no set agenda or charted course.
His playboy status and charming aura lead to immediate ingratiation with AQUAPOL (for those of you not in the know [and really, why would you even be reading this if you were not in the know, you provincial fuck? Really?], Aquapol is a European partnership of water police forces and inland navigation inspectorates. Its areas of responsibility are inland and maritime navigation [professional as well as recreational- and truly, nothing is more recreational than the BSD at sea], transport security on the waterways and in ports, and fighting crime. Fortunately, demonstrating the Bionic Seahorse (c) to 17 year old models and renowned DIQGs in international waters is not yet a crime) and soon enough, the BSD found himself captaining a secretive and highly jeopardous mission with the PFTR in tow, listlessly drifting at the stern, Moroccan market lights twinkling precariously over the gelid brine, the loose women seen as no more than heaving pastel caricatures through the foggy glass, lounge music almost inaudible over the languid screams of ecstasy and Nero-Claudius-Caesar-Augustus-Germanicus-inspired lawlessness, the BSD peering over his shoulder at the PFTR, and then, throwing not only caution to the wind, but also care, reverence, and piety, he stormed from the bridge and snaked his way betwixt the dark corridors of AQUAPOL's ship, karate-chopping and neck-punching, leopard-like in his quickness, deft in his proactivity, sensuous in his movements, cunning in his quickness of thought, eventually making his way to the perilous cavity between the ships- the worlds of international maritime espionage and lascivious lovemaking on the high seas separated by a dicey divide.*
He hung on the precipice of what could be his finest moment- risking everything- the houses, the cars, the motorbikes, the blossoming friendship with Rue McClanahan (who, in recent news, is apparently recovering from a stroke, bless her), the spectacular record of sexual conquests- everything, for what appeared to be the most Earth-shatteringly titillating fete.
It was everything he had hoped it would be, and more.
Three weeks later, the BSD washed ashore in Nantucket and without hesitation headed immediately for the Summer House, a shower, and some really lazy sex.
But fear not, I have returned- a bit bruised, a bit wiser, and a shit-ton more concupiscent.
Without further ado, the BSD Approves, baby.
Yes, we're starting with Art. Deal with it. Approved.
Mickey getting his rocks off with Minnie. Mickey fucking like a Champ. Approved.
This is Ron (or maybe Raan), one of the really irregular but marvelous Nordic-men who accompanied me at the inception of my holiday sojourn. He's holding one of the epic sea bass which, like so many women before it, was caught by the BSD.
That's a big fucking fish.
That's the kind of shit the BSD catches.
Approved.
Right back 'atcha, homie.
Keep it gangster with them fucked up teeth. Approved.
The BSD's been thinking of upgrading the mirrors in his boudoir. We may have found a solution, though I'm still thinking "bigger".
Watching yourself while you Cirque du Soleil? Approved.
Who needs tea when you just had the BSD?
You're welcome.
Approved.
The only reason it's wasted is because it isn't in my lap or on my face right now.
Hop on the Shane Train (It's like Night Train, but cheaper and with a higher alcohol content).
Approved.
Approved.
Yeah man, diggin' this look from the most recent DSquared2 show. The BSD needs a chainmail tank top.
Holler at that. Approved.
Yes, so nice. Approved.
What the fuck, way better. A-fucking-proved.
As her chubby, unemployed hot mess of a boyfriend drifted away, Sarah could only dream that her cigarette was the BSD's pantler. Suffice to say, she sucked and swallowed like never before.
Approved.
Unfortunately, drifting in the North Atlantic is very hard on furniture, and this masterpiece went the way of the thylacine.
Still, if it were in the BSD's downtown loft, it would be Approved.
In so many ways, this is the best picture ever taken, not the least of which is that it's post-coital, recent, and absolutely nihilistic.
Notice the ample amount of cigarettes and the carpet.
Approved.
True story.
The BSD is BACK.
And REALLY feeling himself right now. I'm in season; a man in full bloom.
LADIES, MY MERCEDES!
* Note the deftness of phrase and looseness of tongue with which the BSD made that paragraph one continuous (and inarguably a "run-on" but single and cohesive) sentence.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
The BSD Apologizes
...but only a little bit.
Fear not, fair patrons of the BSD Blog- Your leader in erudite frivolity and absent-minded licentiousness has been busy living the very substance of his posts and therefore has been unavailable for comment, but do expect the following in the coming weeks:
The BSD's Holiday Update!
A Very Merry and Not-So-Subtly Sexy Shanemas!
Innovative Sensual Positionings!
Painful, Libelous Truths!
The BSD's Resolutions for 2010!
Continued Good Looks!
Better Abs! (Is it even possible??!?! Stay tuned to find out, motherfucker!)
Melrose Place Body!
Loyal followers, forgive me the past 2 months, devoid of work-delaying pleasures of the senses, mindless meandering internet wonders, and previously undiscovered and not-oft-mentioned lasciviousness.
We'll resume normal scheduled programming shortly.
In the meantime, the BSD needs a G&T and DIQG to go all Patrick Chewing on.
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