Fearful Symmetries

Witness a machine turn coffee into pointless ramblings...

21 February, 2004

Brooking Babbles

I have to say that my spaghetti sauce turned out well. My only complaints are that I didn't have any fresh basil and that it's just a red cunt hair too sweet. There's that perfect amount of sugar - it just accents the tomatoes perfectly. But, I went just that teensy tinsy bit overboard. But the tomatoes are still tasty.

Ooh! Ooh! BookTV is having a show about various biographies of Friedrich Hayek this afternoon. Hayek was an Austrian economist and Milty Friedman's mentor. I know nothing about his life and have only read his The Constitution of Liberty so it ought to be interesting.

My trek to Chicago went alright, I guess. As I was driving down the interstate - around Huntley - the recruiter calls and asks if I could arrive a half hour early. All I could tell him was that I'd get there ASAP. So I drive like a maniac, i.e. - like the locals only to get stuck in a couple small traffic jams on the Kennedy Expressway. Finally, I get into town, park the car, take a leak, and change. So I start walking over to the bus stop. I'm standing acroos the street waiting for the light to change and my bus passes by - d'oh! i'm forced to wait a few more minutes. I finally get to the el (subway) stop and find myself waiting again. A bouncy ride downtown and them I'm waiting for a bus again. The sign says that about 8 buses stop there and I'm not really sure which of them, besides the obvious, go across the river. So I stay away from an "express" route. Waiting a little while longer, I hop on the next bus and get to my destination. Well, I kinda have to look around as buildings downtown don't exactly have their address wide out in the open most of the time. So I finally get to the building and go up. I flash my ID and am assigned a pass. It seems like, after 9/11, every office downtown requires identification. I go up and find the office.

I fill out an application, have a chat with a recruiter, and am told that we're going to head over to the client's site for an interview with the hiring manager. While I'm waiting in the office's lobby for the recruiter, I flip through an issue of American Lawyer magazine. It featured a review of the new jaguar and a guide to single malt scotches. Well, I guess when you charge $300/hour, that's the kinda stuff you go for. But, while I don't give a shit about fancy cars, this poor person goes for single malts too. Mmmmm...speyside scotch...with splash of water fresh from the branch...mmm...

Anyway, we take the elevator down which had a little computer screen on it flashing news headlines and stock quotes. We catch a cab and we're off. A short ride later, we get to the building go up and wait. Finally the manager comes and drags me to his office while the recruiter goes back to his office. Interview went OK. I'm horrible at gauging such things so all I can say is we'll wait and see. It's seems like a nice place to work and I can't believe the pay they're offering for the position. But, they're lawyers. They do a lot of corporate cases so they're rolling in cash. I mean, they rent 12 floors in an office building in downtown Chicago - that's a big fucking chunk of change in itself. My salary would probably be covered by one of the lawyers just taking a phone call from a client. Still, there may be some hottie paralegals or secretaries in need of a good time.

A few entries ago, I posted some links to sites that gave helpful tips and tricks for fellatio and someone asked what I thought of them. I liked them all. The only things which weren't mentioned or were done so only tangentially and note completely were:

1) Taking into account the comfort of the fellator, I like to be able to see as much of the body of the person who is blessing me with their services. Along these lines, I like to be able to touch them too. Not just running my hand through her hair, but also being able to caress her back and her ass. The idea that a woman might get some sense of how I feel by the pressure I use in kneading her ass, for example, excites me.

2) Talking. There is something very erotic about a woman saying the odd phrase. E.g. - asking me if it feels good. But not with the tone of a hungover college student in class but with a sultry, slightly demonic tone - one that reminds me that she is in control.

The best bit of advice that either of them gave, though, was to simply be communicative. I don't doubt that there are people too emabarrassed to tell a partner how they like to be touched, to be stimulated. Likewise, I'm sure there's many, many people who take such commentary (pleas) to be a sign of their incompetence. As a reader recently noted, women tend to be inculcated as girls with the virgin/whore fallacy. That women who have multiple partners are "sluts". I suppose that it's also true that boys are brought up to think that they ought to know everything there is to pleasing a woman. I mean, there are some general guidelines such as "women like their naughty bits stimulated" but the devil is in the details.

Alright, I'm about to retread ground I've covered in a previous entry which still stands up well. I'll finish with these thoughts: No one should ever be afraid to ask for what they want in the sack and no one should take offense to this.
|| Palmer, 8:47 AM

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