The Art of Name Dropping
It appears to me that few have followed our tips, and that can be clearly noted with all the new (and rather boring) sex blogs cropping up, so I’m here to suggest another tip, and it’s a useful tip because one of the most successful sex bloggers uses it all the time, and I think if it can work for her, then it may possibly work for you. The only thing you have to do, of course, is create a glam career.
Makeup artist, assistant film director (of crap B grade films), scriptwriter, something that has a Hollywood feel, a field that allows you to rub shoulders…who am I fooling here, a career that let’s you look at the backside of celebrities, because they have no time for you unless you have a vagina, are reasonably attractive, and are willing to blow hard just so you can blog about a celebrity encounter.
Face it. You’re not getting any sex at all, but it’s fun pretending to be fucked in all orifices, so you need a vehicle to drive readers to your blog. It’s getting a little stale lately…
An example post could be something that opens the subject on film remakes, which will finish with the celebrity of your choice, with a few added lickety-lick ass kisses inflating the celebrity to Oscar winning status even though they’re a CRAP actor.
My quick example:
“I do miss rubbing shoulders with the a-list crew and sipping Cristal between takes. It may be little fun waking up at five, to listen to a hunky actor with the pus filled zit the size of the Rock of Gibraltar, but it has its positive moments; I get to see the director boss these fuckers around, but more so, I get to see what these celebrities look like without their makeup. Some are nice, others are extremely generous; I have Cameron Diaz’s face washer, and Johnny Depp’s coffee mug (both were gifts).
I don’t miss the early starts or the Egos, but I do miss it. It’s unfortunate that I’m unable to work in this complex, glamorous industry. Something about me being a big blabbermouth blogger…
I can’t understand it. There are moments I want to bang my head against the wall. It breaks my heart (that’s your cue, dear reader, to add sympathy by the bucket load, pretending to understand my misery just so you can be seen commenting in the blog).”
It’s not that difficult is it? But no, it’s a slow monotonous tango with shit like:
‘D, my wife saw the Fed Ex guy yesterday. I saw her eyes. She assessed her chances, and she had good odds; the guy couldn’t remove his eyes from her camisole. Her nipples filled the bodice. Hard, pointed, I could only imagine his mouth sucking her tits. Hard within seconds, I asked her to do a little more, like the slut that she is.’
Or a twenty five word or less crappy erotic vehicle:
‘What would you say if I stuck my hand up your skirt?
-It makes me wet.
-Slide your cock into me, now.