A lot of people are asking me, should they go see Avatar. No, they ask me, whether they will like it.
The answer? I don’t know! I don’t know whether you will like the movie or not. I’m not you!
Watched Avatar for the third time in 3D this week. Also just found out that Avatar will not open in Japan and China until a week or two from now.
If possible, I will watch every week until this thing closes, and I’m buying the original DVD.
Love it, love it, love it!
Is it the best movie ever made? No. But it kicks ass.
There are some detractors, for sure. For various reasons. Some people just didn’t like it. They didn’t like the 3D, the CGI or the storyline. Some just hate James Cameron. I am indifferent to the guy, but hats off anyway.
Which is fine. I mean, the only important opinion for me, is my own. And I love it.
I hate people talking in cinemas as a principle, and this has nothing to do with Avatar. I will get pissed off even if it’s say, Bad Boys or Ninja.
I had half a mind to go creep behind them and whisper, “I see you.”
Anyway, all this attention and love for Avatar will give rise to an opposite reaction. Hate. I just have to post this.
There will be SOME people who will proclaim loudly how they hate the movie not because they hate the movie, but because they want to be cool. Want to be different. Wannabes!
Since when is watching movies a fashion statement? Ah, yes, nevermind. That’s very pathetic, though.
Well, fortunately, Avatar has not developed a cult like Twilight. End of the day, it’s a movie. Nothing more, nothing less. And I love it. I’m going to watch it over and over again. I hope Cameron does a trilogy. I hope it makes a billion dollars.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following is an excerpt containing adult language and sexual situations. If you are under the age of eighteen-LEAVE NOW!
Nikki Cummings was sprawled across the bed, innocent of clothing other than her corset, stockings, and low boots. Beneath her body were ruby colored silk sheets with a distinct, yet tasteful paisley pattern. Her long blonde hair was fanned out around her head like the halo of an angel. Her tanned skin shone from the effects of natural sunlight.
Her large breasts strained against the tight black and pink corset that pressed her them together, creating a deep ravine of cleavage. The cups of the undergarment fell shy of containing the full bounty of her bosom. Her breasts were thrust upward to spill out over the top, exposing twin firm mounds crowned with light pink finials. Just below the hemline of the corset her flat abdomen lay like a smooth meadow. Following the slight indentation of her belly button, that fertile plain narrowed towards the delta of her loins. Like ferns growing beside a river her golden pubic hair curled. Those small tangles of hair, like neatly manicured hedges under the expert watch of a patient and caring gardener, framed her exposed womanhood.
“Oh yes… Richard,” she moaned with pleasure as her long legs rustled over the scarlet satin sheets. The man sitting beside her on the bed was wearing a lacy poet’s shirt, snug black tights, and similarly shaded knee-high, shiny riding boots. His curly black hair fell to his shoulders and glistened in the bright candlelight of the boudoir. One hand ran across her glorious flesh as the other clenched a riding crop. He tapped the flexible leather tip of the crop against the side of his boot as he rolled Nikki’s right nipple around his index finger and thumb.
“Ah, Nikki, you’re such a naughty girl,” he whispered to her as she thrashed upon his bed. “To come to a man’s bedchamber so willingly is not proper for a woman.”
“Ah but Richard,” she cooed playing, along with him. “You aren’t a proper gentleman, to bring such a foul, crude device to our bed.” She pointed with one dainty finger at the leather crop in his hand. He looked at it and laughed as he took her point. He leaned down and covered his mouth with hers and they drank kisses from one another. His free hand roamed over her mountainous globes, down the smooth, taut skin of her tummy, and twirled the curls surrounding her dew-moistened labia.
“Ah!” she cried out as he ran a finger down the length of the tiny wet cleft. Her hips rolled deliciously as she reacted to his touch. He slowly parted the tender folds and pushed a single digit into her musky warmth, drawing a gasp of joy from her pink painted lips. A slow but steady blush of deepening red crept over her cheeks as he grew bolder with his hand.
“So willing, so ready,” he murmured softly as he eased a pair of fingers into her.
“Yes! Oh Richard, yes!” she sobbed out as her hips bucked in an effort to deepen his penetration. He watched as her breasts lolled around the cups of the corset. He felt her hand fall from the bed and land in his lap. Without prompting she began to knead the ever-growing hardness that was springing from his loins. He removed his sodden fingers and placed them into his mouth, savoring her salty sweet flavor. He felt her hands dance around the outline of his erection as he kicked off one boot and then the other. Placing the crop just beside her, he stood up, pulled his white shirt off and tossed it over his shoulder carelessly. She rolled over and pulled his tights down around his knees with trembling fingers. His penis fell out boldly and twitched as it dangled in the cool air of the bedroom. He saw her move forward and place a reverent kiss upon the purpled head.
“Aaah,” he moaned as she took greater liberties with his member. Soon he was enveloped by her satiny lips and pulled deeply into the warm, wet confines of her mouth. She rolled her tongue around his girth and ran her full lips down his quivering shaft. Richard’s mouth fell open as the sensations overpowered him. His fingers fluttered around her spread thighs and he finally managed to generate enough thought to slide back in the fingers he had so recently removed. Nikki moaned around the fullness in her mouth, sending shockwaves of pure delight through Richard’s body. He pumped his hips with the same rhythm he used to stroke her pussy.
“Wait,” he gasped and moved backwards, tugging his cock from her lips. He pulled off his tights with some difficulty and moved onto the bed with her. Placing his knees on either side of her head he leaned forward until his face was inches from her swollen cunt. He nuzzled the hood that surrounded her clitoris, sending her into throes of passionate squirming. He plunged his tongue deep within her tender, wet folds and lapped at the nectar that moistened it. He felt her tentative lips touch his pulsing organ again and cried out loudly as she took him back into her mouth. Her hands encircled his ass and pulled his hips downward until he was embedded so deeply that she gagged slightly. He licked and kissed her pussy; they both drank at each other’s loins.
“No… I must have more,” he hoarsely stated and pulled himself away from her body and from the depths of her mouth.
“Take it all,” she breathed, with her breasts heaving over the corset. “Take all of me!”
He rolled her over and pushed her thighs apart with his legs. She fell to her hands and knees and looked over her shoulder with her face flushed with desire. He quickly untied the knotted strings holding the corset together and it fell onto the bed just beneath her. Richard pressed the tip of his shaft into her heated cleft, spreading her labia around the very end.
“No! Don’t tease, Richard,” she cried out. “Fuck me! I want you to fuck me!”
Without a word he plunged into her, slapping his hips against her ass. He grabbed onto her hips and used that leverage to thrust harder into her quivering, hot hole. Her face fell to the sheets as she screamed with delight. Her breasts swayed back and forth with each deep, rough invasion of his thick, hard cock.
“Take it! Take me all!” he roared as he grabbed hastily at the riding crop still lying beside her on the bed. Taking it in his right hand he leaned back and began to smack her upturned cheeks. Red marks began to grace the tan hue of her backside as Richard welted her buttocks with each stroke of his organ.
“Yes! I’m a naughty girl! Punish me! Beat me, Richard!” she cried out. Her pearl white teeth captured her lower lip as both pleasure and pain coursed through her body. The blows began to fall upon her shoulders and the small of her back. The snapping of the crop accompanied the sounds of his lusty groans and her occasional yelps of torment. He dropped the crop and leaned forward. Nikki pulled her head up from the mattress and drank his lips over her right shoulder. Richard’s hips never ceased their movements as he bludgeoned her convulsing opening with his firm shaft.
“I’m going to cum,” he moaned as their kiss broke off. His hips quivered, making his bare ass dance in a jerky motion.
“Do it on my face!” she commanded him. Richard pulled from her hot cunt and tried to stand upon the still moving bed. He fell upon her and ejaculated all over her red striped back painting her flesh with his hot, thick seed.
“S-shit!” he stuttered as the weakening jets of sperm pooled on her.
“Cut! Cut!” a man’s voice rang out angrily. “What the fuck happened to the money shot, Dick?!”
“Sorry Bob; I lost my footing,” the man apologized over his shoulder, as Nikki erupted into gales of laughter.
“And you call yourself a professional,” the man standing beside the camera scolded the porn actor.
“Ease off, man,” Dick Rodman replied as a gaffer tossed him a white hand towel. “I didn’t pace myself right… we’ll get it in the next take.”
As the man cleaned off his trembling member the gaffer tossed another towel to Nikki Cummings. She caught it and began to mop up the warm sticky deposit that her co-star had left on her.
“I guess we can print that one,” Bob Ziegler groaned. “We can use some of the footage during the editing phase.”
“And how was my performance?” Nikki coyly asked the adult film’s director.
“Fabulous babe, absolutely fantastic,” he told her. He turned around as she squealed with delight and rolled his eyes skyward.
“God I’m still horny,” she complained like a spoiled child as she stood up from the tangled sheets.
“Reign in your hungers, babe,” Bob told her as he took a cup of coffee from the Best Boy. “If you get sated it will show up on film. I don’t want a lackluster performance like we just had from Dick.”
“I don’t know,” Nikki giggled. “Dick wasn’t bad.”
“Thanks, Nikki,” the male lead replied. “Give me a second and I’ll see if I can rise to the occasion.”
This sentence evoked a collective groan out of the cast and crew. Even in the porn industry it was a lame joke, unworthy of a man of Dick’s stature.
Want the rest of the story? Click on the link below and buy “Get Into the Spirit, Baby” from Dark Roast Press:
We, at The LOPG, don’t give a shit about volleyball or women’s “athletics” in general. However, when Penn State’s volleyball team won their 102nd consecutive match and 3rd straight National Championship – it did get our attention. That is impressive!
What’s more impressive is volleyball shorts. Enjoy!
My Best Blow Job has been from girls that were on the over weight side, and let me explain…
The myth is that big girls tend to love food, and savor it more; so when they get a dick in there mouth they really know
how to work it! the feeling is warm, soft, delicate, passionate, sloppy and wet! and if you get the right one they will lick your balls, your taint, and your ass.
For all of you guy that sit there and go ewwwww. fat girl… send them to me! I Love it!
Now I’m not saying that skinny girls don’t know how to suck cock… but the best ones are the ones that were fat and lost the weight!
Click here to be forwarded to the video outside the blog.
This is for over 18’s only or whatever your country says or doesn’t. It’s very NSFW, unless you work in the porn industry or somewhere that’s very liberal they don’t vilify sex and actually appreciate it, like the Loft965.com office. This is a scene from his new movie called Before I Self Destruct. At any rate, enjoy!
This is your Captain speaking……………….welcome aboard fuckers.
Isn’t it convenient how women like to brag about how they don’t need a man, especially when it comes to the raising of a child (although they sure do need the man’s money). We often hear about a woman’s right to choose. A woman can get an abortion without consulting the father, even if she is married to the father. Parental fraud is perfectly in this country and if a woman sabotages the condoms or “forgets” to take her pill or switch her patch, or just plain lies……….it’s all perfectly legal and considered to be a woman’s “right”. Now I am not anti-abortion, I am very pro-abortion! Hell, I say find a random pregnant chick and talk her into one!
So since Miss Independent can choose to get pregnant and keep or (not keep the baby) against a man’s wishes, then the man should have the option to an abortion of his own. He should be able to “abort” all rights and obligations to the child and the bitch that is trying to get her paws into his wallet.
Some would say that this unfairly shifts responsibility to the woman, but yet women have no problem with this responsibility during a divorce and she can use the children to hurt the man both emotionally and financially. Women fight for custody so that she can hold control of the children over the man. So I say give her this responsibility right off the start……..at conception. After all, they choose who gets them pregnant, the reason you hear about so many deadbeat dads is because women keep spreading their legs for deadbeats.
If the woman knew that she couldn’t trap a man or his wallet then I bet there would be less “forgetting” to take the birth control pills. I also would bet that there would be a lot less allergies to latex and suddenly women would magically make use of the 11 forms of birth control that’s available to them.
Take the financial incentive out of these bitches cranking out kids, it’d probably even help the crime rate since most of the gang-bangers and car-jackers are products of single mothers. Its a win-win situation.
At the very least, there should not be a limitation on the time allowed to take a paternity test, in many states a husband is responsible for whatever flies out of his wife’s hole. A man could come home to find her riding the pool boy and then she poops out the kid from the pool boy and divorce the husband. Then to top it off she can divorce the hubby, move in with the pool boy and the now ex-husband would have to pay her child support for 18 years for a kid that isn’t his and the courts don’t give a damn. Hell, if they were married long enough, he’d also have to pay the bitch alimony too. How’s that for justice?
Give the men the same choice that the women have, after ladies…….don’t you want to be equal?
You’re now free to play pocket pool about the cabin.
Your final Miss November is Playboy’s November 1991 Playmate of the Month, the lovely and talented Tonja Christensen. She is last because, next to Monica Tidwell and Bebe Buell, I think she is the prettiest of the girls of November. Someday I will examine my feminine beauty ideals, but not today because I’m busy. Anyway, I am afraid that, though I saved her for last because I thought she was beautiful, it is a mixed blessing; she bears the brunt of my boredom and busy-ness, because I’ve not got time nor inclination to say much about her. Going to let the interview with her do most of the talking.
Photographs by Stephen Wayda Blonde, blue-eyed and gutsy Tonja Marie Christensen, who just turned 20, has come a long way in the past two years — 5800 miles, to be exact, the distance from West Valley City, Utah, a sleepy suburb of Salt Lake City, to cosmopolitan Barcelona, Spain’s second largest city. There, while the Catalan capital gears up for the 1992 Olympics, she’s diligently pursuing a dual career in modeling and acting. (“A Blonde in Barcelona,*” Playboy, November 1991)
Dang, I forgot there even was a Summer Olympics in Barcelona. There are new ones coming up, you know. Everyone hurry and get jingoistic about sports! Also, buy Doritos!!
*Gracious, that is just a damned ridiculous title. Barcelona is from where many a blonde Spaniard hails. Everyone knows that there are tons of hot (and not) fair people in Spain. With over 3 million people living in the city at the time of Tonja’s residency, I sincerely doubt she stood out because of her hair color in any way, shape, or form. You may just as well have said, “A two-legged person,” or even “A person from another country who lives” … “in Barcelona.” Jesus. What a stupid, Americanized view of what Spanish people look like to advance. Shame on you, Playboy: I expect you to be more international and dashing and man-of-foreign-knowledgey than that.
Our Miss November was one of nine children, an example she doesn’t plan to follow. “I believe families should be three or four children at most,” she says.
An intriguing viewpoint for a girl from Utah. Goodness knows, I know the playmates do not like it when assumptions are made about their religion (see last entry for a brave girl who was not embarassed to be of an identifiable faith and culture) … but … come on. Hint, hint, ya know?
Two things weird me out totally about the above shot.
Her arm hair has, like, its own set of dewy crystalline eye lights shining in it.
Her pubic hair has been either dyed or cell-painted to match her fake (though lovely!) head-hair color. In the previous shots it is dark.
See, I have a couple rules of thumb for gentlemen who want to imagine ladies sans clothing — I know you are few and far between because that is like, so gross, what with our widely-documented girl cooties and all, but bear with me for the sake of those perverse and unhappy freaks among you who actually picture women naked — and I am happy to share them. First, a lady’s pubic hair is nearly always the same shade as the coarse hair of her brows. So lay the drapes aside altogether, discard their color completely, and, unless you are pretty sure the gal you are gawking at has bleached or somehow cosmetically altered them, her eyebrows are your best bet as to the color of the carpet.
Similarly, the color of her lips without the aid of gloss, lipstick, rouge, permanent surgical lining assistance, or any other type of makeup is your leading predictor of the color of her nipples. Finally, a few shades darker but in the same family of hues as the lips and “nips” follow the labia (those can get rosier/darker brown depending on her arousal level and whether she is Northern European or has stronger Sapphardic Jew DNA — Caucus mountains and Eastern/Southern Europe are less pink and more browny-purple, and obviously your ladies from Africa and its subcontinent follow suit in deeper shades as well). Take those tips to the bank, y’all. You’re welcome!
Wow, I did not even realize there was a time when LaToya Jackson did not look like a total freak made of 90% post-consumer recyclable parts. She looks comparably human here. You’d think one of her psychic friends would have warned her of the Madamism syndrome of too much plastic surgery! Better luck in your next life, LaToya.
