Tag Archives: books

The perils of reviewing a book called Bonk.

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I should have known there would be a price to pay for excerpting passages from a book about sex.

I should have, but the flood of … how shall I say, related products… now polluting my screen is prodigious.

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Mothers Day gift anyone?

😳

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Technically that’s not a sex toy, but the algorithm’s mind went there anyway.

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I really need to be more careful with my book reviewing.

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Random thoughts….

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Have you ever visited a military cemetery and wondered why there are coins on top of the headstones? I get asked this a lot and thought I’d share.

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I once saw a bratty little boy removing coins from graves in a veterans cemetery and while I don’t normally interfere with parents and their children…. you can bet I did that day.

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Judging from the ad photo, I’d say that one.

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I could do without a lot of things in this world, but never my books.

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This is one of our large backyard apple trees. It’s a Granny Smith and has provided us with 20 years of spectacular autumn pies. But last year a massive wind storm ravaged the right side of her and we had to have an arborist in to give her a massive prune. He assured us all would be well but the harvest will be nonexistent in 2022. Sadly there wasn’t a single solitary bloom this spring …. which means a lot less pie this fall.

😫

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Bonk… part 7.

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You know the drill, crazy excerpts from a book about sex, read at your own risk.

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I can honestly say I’ve never owned a vibrator, but if they can drive me to the grocery store and keep the conversation sparkling? I might have to reconsider.

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Reading this list has left me almost speechless. I say almost because I’m dying to know why the plantain needed a condom.

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I am now seriously rethinking the amount of time my husband spends on the throne.

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I enjoy the feeling of a clean and minty mouth…. but not that much.

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While at first glance this doesn’t seem like a bad thing, I can see how it might keep you distracted at work.. or little Susie’s ballet recital.

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Bonk… part 6.

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Same book about sex, same warning applies. Tender hearted readers take note.. it’s about to get weird.

First up in today’s excerpts are tales from the factory floor.

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Being a porn star isn’t limited to (and I use this term loosely) acting in films. Apparently you can make money recreating and selling your penetrable parts. Who knew?

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Wise choice Maria. No need to make daddy feel inferior.

Leaving the body part factory, we get a history lesson in contraceptives.

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I suppose a cat liver ankle might dissuade the foot fetish suitors.

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I don’t know about you, but I’ve met many a woman with a furious womb.

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Is it any wonder the womb is furious? Geesh. No one wants to be compared to a badger.

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Bonk… part 5.

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Required sex warning – the following contains explicit excerpts from one seriously wacky book. Continue at the risk of disturbing mental images.

As you already know, the male member, its malfunctions and various cures feature heavily in this series.

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Because sometimes you feel like pumping, and sometimes you don’t.

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I’m not a man and therefor have no physical frame of reference… but is perpetual half mast really where men want to be?

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The Smithsonian has a penis bone collection? Why doesn’t this surprise me..

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It seems Thai women are not to be screwed with. Or Thai ducks either for that matter..

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The little man in the boat? I can’t even….

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It makes you wonder just how much suction one man could need. And remember, I did warn you about mental images.

🤣

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Bonk… part 4.

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You know the drill. The following excerpts are from a Mary Roach book about sex. You have been warned…

While Viagra is a relatively new treatment, cures for male impotence have been around for a long time. Two testicles not getting the job done? No problem, just get yourself a third.

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Yes, they really did have an add a testicle procedure, though it was not without its issues.

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Ponder that for a moment.

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Feel free to whip up that cocktail at your next dinner party. Gin, orange juice, grenadine and absinthe. Not sure what that recipe has to do with the family jewels, but I’m sure it will be a hit all the same.

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If that’s not trivia to impress your friends, I don’t know what is.

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Sodomization does seem a trifle extreme for pilfering a tomato, but clearly the Romans took their gardens more seriously than I do.

( If you want a good giggle? Do a Google image search on Priapus. That is one massive cucumber. 😳 )

Bonk … part 3.

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You know the drill. This book is about sex… proceed at your own peril.

The first fun fact will thrill men and relieve their locker room anxiety in no time flat.

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This next item will come as no surprise to women.

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Seriously, we never doubted this.

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Now there’s a recipe I never thought I’d share.

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I didn’t feel the need to watch Iron crotch, but if you’re so inclined? Please write a review.

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Nose erections. Tell me how glad you are to be my blog follower now.

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I hear volunteering for public service is good for the soul. Perhaps I should include a sign up sheet…?

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Bonk… part 2.

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The warning still stands. Graphic ( but funny ) sexual content to follow.

Read at your own risk!

Remember the days when you agonized over your Halloween costume? Dressing up and getting it just right was important.

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I don’t know about you, but a Grim Reaper penis is not likely to heighten anything for me except anxiety.

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Yes, there’s an entire section of this book devoted to Napoleon’s great grand niece and her crazy theories on female orgasms. I’ll spare you the details.

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I admit to shuddering slightly after reading this footnote. Rock salt and shredded newspaper? I have never in my life been so glad I don’t live in Indonesia.

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Sorry Betty. but I shall be referring to it as the Whipple Tickle from now on.

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Book memories.

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Retrieving our two boxes from the husband’s uncle’s attic last week resulted in a few tears from yours truly. Bittersweet memories overwhelmed me as I unpacked a few of my favorite childhood books.

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I’m not sure how I managed to hold on to these over the years, but flipping through Moldy Warp the Mole immediately transported me back to my father’s lap, listening to that story being read in his marvelously deep and melodic Scottish voice … and I admit my eyes started to leak. No matter how old I am, I’ll always be a daddy’s girl at heart.

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The other books in the box were all over the place subject wise. Civil War buff? Yup. Sap for everything James Herriot wrote? Most definitely.

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As evidenced by another childhood book…Man, Myth and Magic…. I was a strange child. This was a 24 volume series of the supernatural that came out in the ‘70’s. My mother refused to let me have it, so naturally I found book #1 and hid it under my bed.

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Judging from the current listing on eBay, I should have smuggled in the whole set.

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Apparently any attic will do.

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I think I may have mentioned my husband’s obsession with crap useless vintage items. I’ve spent nearly four decades watching him sort through dusty boxes at yard sales, flea markets and antique stores…. but last week he surprised even me.

When we moved back to Maine 20 years ago he had to start a new job before we sold our house, so I stayed down south for a few months while he bunked with a relative. Since he didn’t want to make the trip empty handed, he filled his truck with boxes and stored them in an uncle’s attic. I thought we’d collected all those boxes long ago, but after taking his uncle out to lunch last week we were told some of them were still upstairs.

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Did we find the boxes? Yes, after 3 seconds of scanning from the top step I pointed them out. Did that stop my treasure hunting husband from searching someone else’s junk for a heretofore unknown copy of the constitution or a Honus Wagner rookie card? No. It did not.

I’m happy to report he found nothing but junk which thankfully stayed where it was. And after opening our leftover boxes, I would have been happy to leave some of those there as well. They were heavy as hell and mostly filled with books and clothes.

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It was a bit like a time capsule. My Pat Conroy phase reared it’s head.. and 20 years later I had to wonder why I felt the need to schlepp those all the way to Maine. But it was when I examined the clothes that a little piece of me died.

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Because it was at that moment I realized I am literally twice the woman I used to be, and not in a good way.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten helped me sort when we got home, though to be honest it wasn’t a tough job.

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Not one single thing fit. I mean, hell… it wasn’t even close. If there’s anything more depressing than being smacked in the face with your weight gain by a box full of size sixes and eights, I don’t know what it is.

😫

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Oh, well. I did manage to dig out a few pieces of long lost jewelry … and they don’t care what size I am.

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