Blackberry in my tiny little hands with nothing more to work a
popgirl's fantasy than the very f*ckable blond that is running her
hands through my hair at this very moment. I find myself at my
favourite "posh", yet comfortably stuffy salon, surrounded by
career driven women who scare away all of their boyfriends calling
it "success". There's always the strangely indulgent suburban sexual
South San Francisco
male that just never understood that Seven Jeans should only be
worn by women. I'm told by Dwell that "Small is the new big", when
it comes to home construction. It's hard to concentrate on the
nuance of interior design with such naughty thoughts running through
my head.

Ahhh her hands again. If only it were easier to invite a girl over for
a friendly dinner that
dissolves into debauchery faster than a Bang Bus clip. I imagine my
blond salon girl entering my stylish pad and commenting on my
impeccable taste in home furnishings, artwork, literature, and
sex toys.

I take little time in dropping on her, dialogue that poet laureate
Mr Marcus, would be proud of... "I wanna eat the hell out of you."

Dwell Magazine is disrupting my thoughts...The annoying subscription
tear sheets are driving me nuts. My OCD forces me to rip them out in
rapid succession. I'm not sure if my next query is entirely appropriate
.. I want to ask her if she likes to eat pink shaven p***y.

I resist for fear of losing my stylist, and having to fly every four
weeks on your private jet to Bumble and Bumble. I choose, for the next
few minutes at least, to leave her as a fantasy. It's hard enough to
find a top notch stylist trained in the B and B method on the West
Coast.

A Pop Girl's Dilemma: Kiehl's or Bliss? How to Make Love Like A Porn
Star or Perpetual War for Perpetual Peace? Artemide or Lampa?
Apprentice Two's "Poinsetta" or Clift Hotel's "Central Mauve"? Rock
star types or MBA types? What is a girl to lust after these
days? I find myself not wanting the Rock star types but their MBA Daddies.

She leans over as she starts to shampoo me, how only I wish i could
reach out and touch her breasts, and make them illuminate with the moisture
of my long ridiculously pornographic tongue...
She massages my beautiful white neck and as the warm water continues
to rush through my hair....

"Right this way," she states.....Have I been invited to her private,
almost super hot, salon girl private booth of sexual debauchery?
Sadly, it appears she is diverting me to an overtly "retro" salon chair
who's self esteem was no doubt damaged by appearing in a series
of mediocre mid 90's alternarock videos by the likes of Screaming
Trees, Spacehog, Bush, and Sponge.

Forbes is staring into my sparkling blue eyes. I try to make sense of
the absurdly bold cover story statement that Detroit has begun a new
Renaissance in product design,
innovation, and unit moving. My almost super hot salon girl is
making me tingle in between my thighs almost to the point of distraction.

Bill Ford cannot Imagine me masturbating in the backseat
of any of his Ford branded products, especially the 500.
Bill Ford is the type of client that breaks down at the end of his
decadent session apologizing to me for his grand father's Hitler
fascination. I imagine telling him that it's not his fault,
duly noting that the Reich Autobahn, Volkswagon Beetle, and Storm
Troopers were all innovations American society needed to adopt.
I remind him that all can be forgiven if he convinces Governor
Schwarzanegger to give up on his new and improved East German
Bay Bridge design.

As an afterthought I'd love to go down on Bill Ford in the backseat of
chauffeur driven Maybach, gagging on him to the point of explosion.
But alas the weekly commitment to fly to Bloomfield Hills is making me
think better of it.

Detroit will thus be foreced to continue with its new product
offerings that have little or no hope of capturing the imagination of
the consumer, let alone sustaining their own over bloated communist
manifesto based pension funds.

A new creation taking place shaping my face. The designer tank top
and Citizens of Humanity jeans hanging from her body in a quite
perfect way. Her bum staring me in the face is one of most certain
British heritage, although her genetic stock lost some of it's mass
appeal somewhere on the journey from Manchester to
Somerville to Walnut Creek.

Her ass would look lovely on a Philippe Starck chair, with my hand on
her pert breast, my tongue teasing her cli*. She is the perfect salon
girl, almost hot, definitely not perfect. Ultra realism personified by
her soon to be wet c*it. I'd love to bury my tongue into her British
inspired bum.

Trader Magazine...the concept of a $15.00 periodical always turns me
on. Why MBA's are the new rock stars is an interesting concept for an
article. It's basic premise is that the kids of today find they have a
better chance of representing and getting mass girls by developing
business skills than they do starting
rock bands.

Executive Level excellence is at your fingertips. Your exuberant Park
Life shall never be dull again....Educated, articulate, poised,
immaculate, sophisticated, knowledgeable, well traveled, talented in
dance, language, art, and sexual technique. I am available for bookings.

888.363.2555

This whore is loopy as hell. She is a close running mate for Brazzle.

im not stoppin anyone on this cause im not sure if it talent for hire.

There used to be a "random letter generator" on the web. I had bookmarked the site a couple years ago but it's dead now. Anyway, you could enter a few tidbits of info and it would spew a release for you that sounded just like the crap posted above.

I remember this whore.

Yeah! This is the chick that is gonna come to my house and make my day. [;)]

I wrote this one just for chickenface and the random letter generator as well..

Are you too busy for a relationship? Are you tired of your Marina
mistress that you brought home from The Matrix Al Gore soiree to just
lay there as you pound away she "moans", waiting for you to be done
so they she get back to watching the Apprentice.
Now she's talking about how she graduated with an MBA from Harvard and
about how successful and powerful she is in business! On your way out
the door she asks when you're buying her a new Marc Jacobs handbag and
you oblige limply handing your diner's club card over to her. Are you
sick of her wearing Juicy, heading to the Grove, waiting for the City
Tavern to be rebuilt....

You return home, relieved to be away from your young marina girl
madness yet you're still somehow tired of your anorexic nob hill wife,
her racket of a shrink, and her annoying dog. Sunday brunch at Nob
Hill cafe with Muffy isn't what it used to be. Sure her face is still
hot, but where is the axx that you'd love to spxxx and lxxx? And it's
a bit difficult to pick her up anymore with the huge rock on her
finger... The Brie and wine for dinner every night can get a little
bit old .. Why did your mom insist that you to marry her anyway? Isn't
this the parklife?




By now you're fed up and the only thing that can get you out of this
rut is wishing for an orgy scene out of Eyes Wide Shut, or a cultural
enema to cheer you up. You would call your overpriced
Beverly hills arrangement, but the last time you saw her you wound up talking to her for several hours about how her most generous clients are the Saudi Arabian royals, and when it came to erotic engagement her entire body was wrapped in Saran wrap with a do not disturb seal.

The frustration is mounting.... you'd go indoor rock climbing or to
the batting cages but realise that the board of supervisors never
approved the Chelsea Piers Project... Oh how you wish you were back at
your childhood home in the Dakota where'd you'd now only be a cab ride
away from Chelsea Piers and AOL Time warner Center... You've finally
had it, your masons ring and your hard work towards new world order is
getting you nowhere.

You decide it's time for some extra services... You call several
girls, waiting for a girl that doesn't speak in post modern military
industrial complex Ebonics, you finally find her and when you show up
her first demand is to get undressed... Within seconds she chanting please don'thold back on me! Four minutes later she kindly closes her eyes and asks for you to hurry up.

I'm a serious, stylish, conservative girl and I'd love to help you
vent out your frustration about your current unmet expectations.


Once we've both vented successfully, it's time for you to return home
with a fresh and clean perspective and a mind relieved of it's dirty
thoughts ready to be clear and focused on the hard work of new world
order that you have at home.


Stylish, witty, well bred, well educated, and elegant are
a few of the words I would use to describe myself.... Not
to say i don't have a very dirty side as well.

call me
888.363.2555
or email popwhore@gmail.com

Quote:

---

Are you tired of your Marina
mistress that you brought home from The Matrix Al Gore soiree to just
lay there as you pound away she "moans", waiting for you to be done
so they she get back to watching the Apprentice.

---

Quote:

---

I'm a serious, stylish, conservative girl and I'd love to help you
vent out your frustration about your current unmet expectations.
call me
888.363.2555
or email popwhore@gmail.com

---

Combine these two quotes and its hilarity to the max. Board of your current whore, get a new one! That's what whores are for, they are the human equivalent of a cell phone. Don't want to talk, hang up! Board? Throw them out and buy a new one!

Just don't sign a contract.

This is good stuff CM. Will it continue? Or was that one literary burst all she had.

I'm thinking she's read a LOT of Tom Wolfe's stuff. Maybe some Jay McInerney.

Quote:

---

This is good stuff CM. Will it continue? Or was that one literary burst all she had.

---

Don't know, I think she needs to keep posting. She is my Soho society whore. I'm addicted now, all she needs to do is post a picture of herself getting fucked in a Valentino Garavani dress.

You ask much Chicken Man.

My next piece will be a little rant about enacting emminent domain on certain areas of LA's sad poor couisin San Francisco, who's sadder? I'm not sure.... Please give me a call if you have interest in booking, I will be in LA 12/20-01/05/05, I travel between SF/LA fairly often so if you have a project at another time let me know.

Warm Regards,

888.363.2555

Poke her, Chicken. And save the smell on a cocktail napkin. I want to wipe my face with it.

This whole post has been very entertaining.

Hey, I found the site, here's what it has to say (please stick around for my comments at the end):
"My complaint about Miss Pop Whore
I'll get right to the point. It would be a work of supererogation to raise issues, as opposed to guns or knives, at a time when every week there transpires news of antihumanist, invidious cowards following Miss Pop Whore's orders to marginalize and eventually even outlaw responsible critics of bloodthirsty self-proclaimed arbiters of taste and standards. I want to share this with you because if Fate desired that she make a correct application of what she had read about obstructionism, it would have to indicate title and page number, since the malodorous fool would otherwise never in all her life find the correct place. But since Fate does not do this, no one likes being attacked by lackluster nebbishes. Even worse, Miss Whore exploits our fear of those attacks -- which she claims will evolve any day now into biological, chemical, or nuclear attacks -- as a pretext to hold annual private conferences in which conniving moral weaklings are invited to present their "research". If you think that's scary, then you should remember that Miss Whore's reasoning is circular and therefore invalid. In other words, she always begins an argument with her conclusion (e.g., that she understands the difference between civilization and savagery) and therefore -- not surprisingly -- she always arrives at that very conclusion. I, not being one of the many indelicate, duplicitous wackos of this world, have a scientist's respect for objective truth. That's why I'm telling you that if I withheld my feelings on this matter, I'd be no less improvident than Miss Whore. She used twisted and self-contradictory logic to arrive at her conclusion that everything is happy and fine and good. That conclusion is not based on some sort of blinkered philosophy or on Miss Whore-style mental masturbation, but on widely known and proven principles of science. These principles explain that all of the bad things that are currently going on are a symptom of Miss Whore's bitter hastily mounted campaigns. They are not a cause; they are an effect. The only way out of Miss Pop Whore's rat maze is to make some changes here. It's that simple."

I'm actually coming to like Ms Popwhore a lot-please post more. BTW, here's the site: http://www.pakin.org/complaint/

If she rabbles like this while she's fucking, I'd really like to see her in action.