With a heat wave crashing across the U.S. it is perfect weather to challenge the standards of public decency. As much as I’d like to call all my sisters to go topless, it isn’t reasonable given the repercussions (think of all the automobile accidents that would result in turned heads).

Instead I thought I’d write a bit about the corset. The corset, once viewed a reality of a torture device of the repressed woman, is now considered a constant of feminine fashion allure.
Once lovers dreamed of seeing a woman, past all the hoop skirts and puffy sleeves in nothing but her corset, and unlacing it to the treasures beneath . . .

Lovers still dream of the corset. It is a piece of fashion that echoes both ballrooms and whips. Such a diverse icon even has its own professionals (corsetiers) and hobbyists.

I don’t mean hobbyist in the “My mom likes to tie-dye so let’s get the scouts together and make t-shirts” kind of way. It is an adult (at the bare minimum a homecoming gown) clothing that includes such modern variations as corset piercings. This is definitely not recommended to be tried at home. It isn’t exactly a drunken belly-button debacle . . .

I personally like the corset and tight jeans approach. It gives an impression of unintentional glamour, or the hint of naughtiness caught from the girl next door all grown up. Modern ones (perhaps, minus those pierced into flesh) are not torture devices, but comfortable and flattering shirts that suggest even the aces of A-cups could be a full house, and that a full house could be a mere handful.

Some even suggest you play the upper hand at work by donning a corset. Sounds like a brilliant way to heat up the boardroom while cooling off in this weather.

Upon entering the free tour of ishotmyself.com one shoots to the conclusion that this site is a fun, fun game. Some of the photos have a big-eyed puppy feel, some a sexy siren sensation and others the girl next door attitude. They represent an array of feminine dispositions that every woman can resemble. The site feels like any pose could be me in a given mood.

The prideful way these women wear their faces, breasts and genital hair (or lack there of) is a radiant tribute to feminism. Each artist contributes a unique feature to women’s sexuality: from a photo that could be a textbook drawing of genitalia to the creatively angled panorama.

These women are more real than silk sheets and whipped cream. They bring out a sexual tenderness that would be a credit for either sex and for any sexuality (straight, gay, neither) to appreciate. These girls have the gutsy beauty that defies the glory hole.

The play of this site is determining my game face on my own self-portrait project. Is my goal to weave a sticky seduction, to play hard-to-see (much like hard-to-get with well designed shadows) or to wow an editor and win the cash prize for a portfolio of the highest artistic standard?

I think I’ll let the camera tell me.

If reincarnation and karma exist, then I have found Kate Chopin alive and well at retroraunch.com. It refers to itself as the “thinking person’s adult site” complete with various links on its entry page to guard children from viewing their content (Net Nanny for example).

I am in full support of protecting children from adult deviance; but I must say that if (college) History had been as exciting as Retro Raunch my grade would of looked good on a transcript, rather than as a bra-size.

I did a little better in Nineteenth Century Literature, thanks to Kate Chopin. Chopin was considered scandalous due to the sexual nature of her writings (although her controversial story The Storm is a tame tale of love compared to modern-day prime time).

Retro Raunch displays the erotic art of the past century as a self-proclaimed gallery of grandparent porn (of which there is plenty in every good-old-fashioned fetish and position, and apparently they all are good-old-fashioned). What is different is not just the black and white photographic nature; it is almost like comparing the works of the Renaissance artist Titian and the cofounder of Cubism, Picasso.

Both have their pros and cons, but classical art’s — like classic porn’s — sumptuous style portrays everything for what it is. There is no silicon passing for a D-cup on Retro Raunch any more than there is a blue-triangle passing for a vagina in a Titian.

How beautiful the basics (or basic orgies) can be.

Retro Raunch’s “century of smut” is a tribute to the honesty of the forbearers of our freedom of speech and our freedom to be horny. They represent the pretty and pretty peculiar of porn pre-plastic surgeons, when an A-cup was another boob (thank God, another boob).

Join the site for the good karma juju (Chopin’s spirit thanks you), or for its sheer sex appeal. Or for both, and call it a package deal.

“Lovely weather today. So, about my boobs . . .”
This is not a quote many conversations are begun without, especially without a mammogram involved.
Aboutmyboobs.com is about as sexual (except for some links to sexy fiction and laundereie) as a mammogram, and is about as essential as a tongue depressor during a mammogram.
The site tries to act as an index on sites for women about breasts and breast care (bathing boobs is endorsed by Red Riding, Booble and Sir Rodney, Sir Randy doesn’t care unless they are man-boobs). There are pages categorized by subject mattter listing links on breast enhancement (also advertising stuff4free), breast reduction (also advertising Russian brides) and breast cancer (including an online car paint directory).
It seems that aboutmyboobs.com has lost its way (much as a stripper who would use D-cup implants as dual billboards advertising Cheetos and Penzoil).
Despite this, there still are some sites listed that feature items such as herbal breast enhancers and various doctors.
This site is worth exploring (mostly for its unintended humor) but does not live up to its name. It does not appear to be about my boobs, your boobs, or anybody’s boobs in particular. The only boobs seem to be the site’s creators. Maybe they should rename it about my ads?

Last night I witnessed a biography show on Brad Pitt.

It was a rare glimpse into the internal workings of this handsome male specimen who, well aware of the carnivorous paparazzi, hides away his personal musings like a beast with amazing camouflage.

Pitt’s betrothed, Angelina Jolie, faced the one-eyed cameras with the white-haired Anderson Cooper. The sultry saint Jolie, a UN goodwill ambassador hidden in the body of a porno temptress, talked more of human rights than of personal intrigue. That she sat down and talked is more than Pitt has done in a while.

This isn’t about talk; this is about photos. If I recall correctly, Mr. Pitt’s photo appeared in Playgirl about ten years ago. Can you imagine a naked Brad Pitt now, let alone 10 years ago? Can you imagine him years before the Hilton sisters found it fashionable to wear baseball tees with the word Team Jolie or Team Aniston (those bitches undoubtedly caused a wrinkle on his lovely face)?

Years ago, Pitt was a player-player, in a please-play-me-next kind of way . . . much like now, except a girl felt she had a chance without Jolie and the Aniston baggage.

And so I hunted down that magazine. Hunting for photos of Pitt on the web was like hunting for a straw of hay in a haystack. Though I did learn that the Playgirl photos might have been from the paparazzi, causing quite a controversy.

No surprise in getting a hit from e-bay right away. At this point the magazine only had a bid for 99 cents. I know his motor may be a bit used now, but that’s a used Volkswagen price for a used Lamborghini.

Today I had some trouble using the ebay link, so I also found copies on ioffer.com at more appropriate (around $50) prices.

Speaking of prices, if Jolie is so concerned about raising money for the refugees has she considered auctioning off a night of playing refugee with her betrothed?

If any price is too much, there is this fortunecity site that has lots of Pitt photos, though it makes me feel rather stalker-esque, and the site is overloaded with annoying pop-ups. It may be worth it to look at those round . . .

A less creepy and annoying Pitt site is bradfans.net though they did used to go by the name The Brad Pitt Center, which is creepy and confusing. (What was this center for? “Kids who can’t read good” like in Zoolander?)The site is a polite and organized fan site that could make the most maniacal stalker feel like an avid acting fan.

Another great specimen of male watching who is talented in the arena of avoiding scandal would be Johnny Depp. Despite his new Disney appeal, we all remember that Depp had “Winona Forever” tattooed on his bicep. Too bad he didn’t get kleptomaniac inked on, then he wouldn’t have had to modify it to “Wino Forever,” which must be fun to explain to his children. Well, either way, I’ll drink with him anytime.

Now, if I could just find photos of him naked . . .