Sex Tape Derby, Round 24
In the wake of mind-crushing misery and despair unfolding in Louisiana, Alabama and (my birthplace home of) Mississippi, Sex Tape Derby saunters into town just a bit older and sadder and -- hell, let's just say it -- dismissively pathetic, but perhaps such a survey redolent in the air of sex, voyeurism and bodily fluids is just the magical balm needed to soothe the Big Easy.
By now, you know the drill. It's time to watch a full-on, steam-clouded, leather-and-lace extravaganza on videotape or DVD. You select who you'd rather watch do it like the little bunny rabbits do it, and you then post your selections in the comments section below.
For the idiot's explanation, click here.
1. Oh, my, how we must start with ...The question for the ages: Ginger or Mary Ann?
2. Paul Rudd or Vince Vaughn?
3. Twin Peaks ... heh heh: Lara Flynn Boyle or Sherilyn Fenn?
4. Monster mashing: Dracula or the Wolf Man?
5. Samantha Morton or Tilda Swinton?
6. Cat's in the cradle, baby: Young Kirk Douglas or young(ish) Michael Douglas?
posted by Chase McInerney @ 12:02 AM
5 comments
5 Comments:
1. Ah, the timeless argument -- the movie star or the girl next door? (By the way, I'm assuming we're talking about a sex tape starring these women in character and in the era of the Island.)
Ginger is sexy, no doubt, but when one's relied on looks for so long (speaking from experience), there may not be much effort in the sack. Mary Ann, on the other hand, is walking out of the barn, wiping what looks like milk, but could be the man seed of a farm hand, from her mouth with her forearm.
Give it up for the girl who has probably been literally cornholed, Mary Ann.
2. Vaughn is funny, but I don't need anyone mugging for the camera in a sex tape. Rudd can pull in the hot tail and act serious enough that I don't laugh away a good stroke (also speaking from experience). This fight goes to "The Octagon" as well as the finest named testicles of all time, James Westfall and Dr. Kenneth Noisewater.
3. Fenn has all the hot and none of the violently jutting bonespurs of Boyle. I like a little meat in my barbecue.
4. Dracula is going to be a little too prim and proper. And he's probably secretly gay. Wolf man, well, he's got the hair, he's got the testosterone -- I think he's got the stamina that would make "The World's Biggest Gangband 14" look like an Oscar short. Give it to the coked-up werewolf.
5. Tilda. Don't ask why, just try Bud Dry.
6. Kirk was hitting everything back in the day. Don't make a mistake, if it had a shake, he added the all-beef patty.
Michael is boning The Zeta-Jones, but let's be honest -- you know daddy probably hit it first.
Chase, you might be the only one who might possibly pick Ginger.
Once again, Pants beats everyone to the punch. Way to hog the Anchorman line, Doc. I'd like to punch you in the ovary. A straight shot, right to the babymaker!
Lara Flynn is the exception that proves the rule: Chicks can't be too thin.
As we all remember from Travolta's SNL skit, both Dracula AND the Wolf Man were gay ("ignore me...i'm not even here..."). I'll go with the Count, in hopes that it turns out to be Lauren Hutton.
I don't know who the chicks are. Since I'm at work, the IT Nazis prevent me from looking at their pics, but I'm willing to bet I'd like to see nude video of either of them.
There must be a variety of preverted uses for Kirk's Khin Khasm.
Mary Ann guys are up to the challenge of overcoming 18 years of Kansas puritanism, lonely farm life, bible study before the 7:30 p.m. shut-eye, a father who kept a Remington handy in case those filthy college interlopers from Lawrence came a-calling, fear of randy Uncle Randy and his hungry king snake; and the fact that before she first covered her scoops of milky flesh with her first pair of shorts on the eve of her escape from the drudgery of farming life, she had to wear the Laura Ingalls Wilder Burka -- an ankle-length, neck-high denim farm dress and a Holly Hobby bonnet.
Her overprotective, shotgun-wielding daddy always told her that a boy could get her pregnant from just thinking about her "panty clams," so she did everything to cover herself -- not even her sainted mother ever saw her in less than earlobe-to-toenail covering, even during harvest season, when the perspiration would drip between her creamy breasts and she would yearn for a cool breeze to offer some sweet relief for her stifled flesh.
Then, when her rich, libertine aunt who owned a sugar cane plantation on Molokai sent an 18th birthday card with a airline ticket, she knew she could stand it no longer. She squirreled the ticket away in her keepsake box, knowing that Daddy hated the one sister who escaped their prairie hell. Every time Aunt Hortense sent a post card, he tore the cardboard into tiny, unreadable scraps and scattered it in the swine slop, screaming into the black night sky horrible curses to "that Hawaiian Punch-swilling island Jezebel."
There was one boy who worked in the feed store who was always courteous, who never tried to look up her burlap skirt or wolf-whistle and yell out for a "taste of yer sorghum, pussah-pie!" Young Ezekiel Purefoy would've done anything for his favorite New Testament-hugging honey, and when Mary Ann whispered to him that she would "give unto him what she hath never giv'n to any man" if he would drive her to the Topeka airport, he put on his nicest bib overalls, pumped some Ethyl into the '51 Mercury pick-up his daddy let him drive during harvest, and he waited on the farm-to-market road at the very end of her father's property at one in the morning.
Then he spotted her, crawling out of her window with her sainted mother's suitcase -- God rest her soul.
He barely recognized her. Mary Ann wasn't wearing her bonnet or the farm-dress with the full-neck collar anymore, not even those awful Korean War surplus boots her father made her wear while planting crops. She had pulled her auburn hair into teasing pigtails, stolen one of her brother's gingham shirts and tied it underneath her giving, supple breasts, and cut off some of his battered Levi's just below her hallowed nethers.
Young Ezekiel Purefoy had not seen such an enticing display of perfect alabaster flesh since he found his daddy's stack of Esquires, and his heart raced as he pitched a ferocious tent in his bib overalls and gunned the engine on that old Mercury, making certain it would not stall on the dusty road as they made their moonlight getaway.
Just as Mary Ann reached the edge of the property and, panting with sugar-sweet breaths, threw her sainted mother's old Samsonite into the truck bed, a shotgun blast cut through the night.
"Git yer Godless sin-stained hands off my pure young daughter, you spawn of Mephisopheles!" The old man was a good shot and had proved it at Inchon in 1950, but providence intervened that day, and the bullet hit the tailgate, not the bald Goodyear tires on the back. Mary Ann jumped in the passenger side, grabbed a ready bottle of orange Nehi from Young Ezekiel Purefoy and yelled, "I'm sorry, Daddy, but I cannot hold back my passions in the name of Our Savior Jesus Christ any more. I'm off to suck the juices from freshly picked pineapples and feast on the nurturing meat of the coconut."
They reached the darkened airport just before sunrise, but while Young Ezekiel Purefoy had hoped that Mary Ann would undo what little she was wearing and wrap her downy legs around him in a tantric act of ecstatic gratitude, she only gave him a chaste kiss before boarding the Braniff jet that would take her to Oakland International, then to Honolulu.
She explained, "I'm sorry, Zeke, but I'm saving myself for a man of thoughts, of ideas, of science. Somewhere, there is a man waiting for me wearing crisp white shirts and khakis, who can turn bamboo into a radio, can power that radio with a wicker exercise bicycle and can fend off the advances of fat seafarers and their clumsy, rugby shirt-wearing underlings. That is the man who will taste my sweet, corn-fed nectar."
1. Mary Ann. Making sweet love to Ginger is too much like making it with a mentally challenged 9-year old.
2. Could you pick two less heterosexual men on the planet? Rudd wins though, Vaughn has the whole balding alien thing going on.
3. Fenn is all woman. Although I'm distressed of your non-mention of Madchen Amick, who would have been #2.
4. Wolf Man. Drac is too close to Mr. Burns to be able to sustain an erection.
5. Samantha Morton, as long as she kept the short hair and In America bod. Tilda Swinton has the body of Dakota Fanning.
6. Gotta go with Mike. It's probably because when I picture young Kirk, the whole slurring thing is a bit of a turn off. The stroke was apparently retroactive in my memory.
nice post love it
Womens Leather Coats online
Post a Comment
<< Home