The females may gobble up the male before, during or after mating, so males have evolved various ways to cheat death. In some species, they wait until the female is busy eating and rush in to copulate while her attention is elsewhere. In other species, they even bring an edible gift to distract their intended.
Male nursery web spiders have evolved a different kind of defense. They tie up the female before copulation, immobilizing her legs by wrapping them in strong spider silk so they can copulate and escape with their lives before the female gets free.
[NYT]
"I know what you are thinking: where are the yoga pants and oversized sweater that is my daily uniform??? I want you to know that I put in the effort today..."
Alec Baldwin's wife is really into yoga.
I spent some time this morning watching a live feed of the Hulk Hogan vs Gawker Media sex tape trial of the moment. According to Reuters, one of the highlights was a debate over whether or not "Mr Bollea's penis had" any "news value." Watching the editor who wrote the post get sweated on the stand mostly made me just feel bad. Like, OMGSEX. On the one hand, I feel bad for the Hulk. On the other hand, the prosecution makes you feel like sexual curiosity is the most pathological thing possible. People are curious about others' sex lives. This is human nature. I keep flipflopping on who I think will win. Ideologically, I'm with Gawker, but they're not doing themselves any favors in the deposition department. I'm curious to see how this ends.
Apparently, a rugby player nearly lost his manhood in a tackle.
“There’s a photo of me screaming in pain, and I finished out the half. The pain was alright and then at half-time I was like, I’ve got to have a look. I checked on it and the skin is half ripped off and I was like, ‘Shit, where’s the doctor? Where’s the doctor?’
“They had to go and get the UTC doctor and he came in and checked it out and he was like, ‘Oh man, you’re going to have to go and get stitches,’ so I had to go to the clinic that night and they had to put 11 stitches around it to put the skin back together.
“I showed all the boys and they were pissing themselves laughing. In all of my career I’ve never heard of anyone having anything like that happen – 11 stitches in the dick."
[French Footy]
"Order custom jackets directly from me via DM or email lizilsleyy@gmail.com xx"
This girl makes these jackets.
There's a mildly interesting NYT article about "The Facebook Breakup." And the company's Compassion Team. And what it's like to have your relationship denouement played out live online.
“It’s not to say that Facebook shouldn’t make it easy to click that button to avoid certain painful memories,” she said. “But the reason we’re looking through those old love letters is we’re trying to work through our past. I think we just have to acknowledge the humanness of that process and be compassionate with ourselves. Life is supposed to be complicated.”
[NYT]
If you haven't seen Gaspar Noe's "Love," please do. I watched it on Netflix, I think. Not in 3D, unfortunately, which means I missed the extra impact of that shot where the guy moneys at the camera, but one does what one can. Sure, some uptight assholes thought it was gross, meaningless, and perverted, but they say that like it's a bad thing. I found it to be beautiful, brave, and unblinking. It's about a guy and two girls, and there's lots of sex. What's not to like?
An image from the "Caged Heat" editorial that Steven Klein shot for Interview magazine.
"Fatty the turkey pot pie 🐾"
The New Yorker has a semi-intriguing profile of Mexican actress Kate del Castillo's involvement in the whole Sean Penn-Rolling Stone-El Chapo saga. Now that Mr. Chapo is back in the pokey, del Castillo claims to be bizarrely unaware that Penn was doing a profile on him, despite her personal involvement in their meeting.
The piece includes some love-ish texts that The Chapo sent del Castillo.
"Amiga, if you'll bring the wine, I'll also drink yours. . . . I'm not a drinker, but your presence will be a lovely thing and I very much want to get to know you and become very good friends. You are the best in this world. . . . I will take care of you more than I do my own eyes."
[The New Yorker]
Or something like it. After several aborted attempts to refocus this blog, I'm trying here again. This time around, I'm taking another pass at sex blogging. We'll see how that goes. Thanks for your patience.
The Wall Street Journal has a lively review of the new $253,242 Bentley Bentayga.
Leaving me midslide for the moment, let’s interrogate this notion of a quarter-million dollar SUV. It’s frustrating because it brings into proximity contrary notions: luxury and utility. This has real-world consequences. For example, after climbing up and down from the Bentayga a few times to take pictures, I found mud from my shoe had smooshed into the driver’s door speaker grille (from the esoteric and awesome Naim Audio company), previously pristine as sterling. I also did unspeakable things to deep woolen floor mats.
[WSJ]
If you're looking for cool people to follow on Instagram, here are a few I recommend.
"Vegas, you're one dope-ass cunt who likes money ✌🏻"
"should I wear this to my psychiatrist appointment today y/n @_namilia_ @vfiles"
Maidenfed: model, fetishist, hater-obliterater.
"Share is one of my virtues. . . . #eroticart #arterotica #drawing#female#girl#pigolin"
Gwyneth Paltrow and co. have bought Larry Flynt's to-be-closed Hustler store on the Sunset Strip, and the Blonde Monster is going to tear the structure down and turn it into some stick-up-the-ass club for douchebags.
My fondest memory of the Hustler store is the time they asked me to do a reading there, and I gave some sort of a lecture about how to make bukkake comics. I blew up the panels so they were very large and propped them up an easel. (I think it was the prequel to this one.)
[TMZ]
