Friday, August 24, 2012

Catapulting Penguins as Promised

Remember the other day when I was wondering whether or not the mention of sex and erotica would increase my blog traffic?  Well, I've gotten two more followers in the last two days. So I can only conclude that this blog has more magnetic sex appeal than Katy Perry wearing magnetic underwear. Thank you for joining us, new vigilantes, and I vow to maintain this page's crazily attractive appeal.  And so, as promised to my commentators, I give to you, Frank Sinatra barbeque themed catapulting Muppet penguin orgy madness....
dsfhskdhlojgpeuu002808jef,asbbkdhwhrwejwteergegbeeb(new york, new york) padoo3453460789581#$ %$^%^*^#@$@#$@(quack)%$#%WFSDFYT^HFQWERFGNKENMbnoert">?Y::::!!!!!!!!!!

My loyalty knows no bounds!

So I have to I just whoring myself? Mentioning sex, phonetically spelling out orgy goings-on, and name-dropping Fifty Shades of Gray, which I've never read, but am piggy-backing on the popularity of for my own gain? Well. Yes. And I'm oddly comfortable with it. A girl's got to get ahead somehow, and it's not going to be by phonetically spelling the mood of my meetings at work which would look like this:
zzzzzzzzzzz(Genevieve, please wake up, I'm talking to you)zzzzzzzzz(snort)?????????

or a long line at Starbucks:

or the Annual Gathering of Letter "Y" Devotees:

No, these things will never work. In fact, I think I just lost three followers. WAIT! What if I take my shirt off? There. Done...What? How did you know I'm wearing a coat under that shirt and am actually now less naked than before? Ok, I'm no good at this whoring thing, but...what do you mean you've heard different? From who?..Oh...Well, the penguins weren't my idea, the catapult just happened to be in the room. Look, my point is if you stick around, I promise you'll always have something to read. Deal? Sweet. And now, as a poetry fanatic, I give you ee cummings. It's not his absolute best, but just so you know I'm not only a smutty blogger, but I have a heart, here 'tis:

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
- e. e. cummings ~


Anonymous said...

Speaking of orgies and e.e. cummings...

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which I will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh...And eyes big love-crumbs,and possibly i like the thrill of under me you quite so new

"Electric fur." Awesome.

Genevieve said...

That is a good one. I really like this one too, though there are no electric body parts:
"Taxis Toot Whirl, People Moving"
taxis toot whirl people moving perhaps laugh into
the slowly
millions and finally O it is spring since at all windows
microscopic birds sing fiercely two ragged men and a
filthiest woman busily are mending three wholly
broken somehow
bowls or somethings by the web curb and carefully
spring is
somehow skilfully everywhere mending smashed minds
the massacred gigantic world
again, into keen sunlight who lifts
glittering selfish new
and my heart stirs in his rags shaking from his
armpits the
abundant lice of dreams laughing
rising sweetly out of the alive new mud my old
man heart striding shouts whimpers screams
breathing into
his folded belly acres of stinky sunlight chatters bellows
swallowing globs of big life pricks wickedly his
mangled ears blinks into worlds of color shrieking
O begins
the mutilated huge earth
again, up through darkness leaping
who sprints weirdly from its deep prison
groaning with perception and suddenly in all filthy
alert things
which jumps mightily out of death
muscular, stinking, erect, entirely born