Have No Trousers

Happy Have No Trousers Day!

In response to the poll in the post below I am giving the punters what they want. As you may correctly have guessed I shall post all three options and spread them out a bit in a shameless bid to pad my material for at least a week.

So, to those who voted for erotic photos I apologise and instead present this poorly shot mobile phone image of me before putting on some trousers and going to work.

The above is what the burlyesque movement is all about. A lacy bra, a bellyful of good stuff and thighs that can crack coconuts. If only I were holding a sack of nutty slack instead of a mobile phone, or maybe a squalling toddler on each meaty hip. Still, I did my best to capture the essence of burlyesque in the minutes I could spare from my busy day. So many people to please, only one Luka.

Now I must away to finish honing my literary gems for your delectation and delight.

(What rhymes with cock-knocker?)

Happy Blogoversary

The Boudoir sprang, fully formed and magnificent, from my mental loins 3 years ago tomorrow!

The world of sex blogging didn't know what had hit it. It didn't even notice what had hit it for the most part. I am like an annoying gnat whining around the steaming nether parts of a giant beast.

I may post something special to celebrate my longevity in this fleeting online world.

Choose from the following options:

• Erotic photos of your glamorous hostess
• An epic poem about the deeply unattractive
• A disturbingly arousing short story

Cast your votes now!

Burlyesque

It's all the rage these days, burlesque.

Everywhere you look there are workshops, classes, performances, news articles and clothing companies all jumping onto the burlesque bandwagon. Burlesque enables women to embrace their femininity, sensuality and sexuality in a positive, empowering way, apparently. It isn't just about getting pissed with your girlfriends, putting on several layers of marabou feathers and tightly winched elastic and then taking them all off again while jiggling around on the village hall stage with your tits out. That's just a common misconception based on most amateur burlesque acts seen on YouTube or at fringe festivals.

The reason burlesque is on my mind is that I received a special online offer earlier today, on pasties. I was very excited until I realised this wasn't a Greggs deal on meat and potato pastry products. It has nothing to do with pies at all. No, these pasties are little sticky-on tasseled, sequined things that you put on your nipples to entertain and delight. Like these:

Now, I have a problem here. I have made enquiries and they just don't make pasties that fit the larger-nippled woman. Those dinky little fairy hats wouldn't cover my extensive areolae. If I am to take up burlesque I am going to have to make my own out of a couple of paper plates and some glitter glue.

It is much the same story with the rest of the burlesque attire. If you are a wasp-waisted Dita Von Teese type you'll have no problem finding gorgeous retro-style corsetry. If you are a beer-bellied Luka Van Driver type you may find it more of a quest.

Still, I am nothing if not resourceful.. Therefore, undaunted, I give you a whole new art form: burlyesque.

It is much like burlesque but is exclusively performed by burly women. Or men. I am all for equality. All you need is a willingness to embrace your sexuality, some sequins, a feather boa and the ability to heft a hundredweight bag of coal while taking your tights off. The first burlyesque workshop will be held in the basement of the Boudoir next Tuesday 7pm. Bring your own pasties. (Pies accepted).

My Blog Rocks While Others Suck Cocks

Top ten reasons why I am great and other bloggers (looks pointedly in certain directions) are shite:

1. I have no advertising
2. I have no Donate button
3. I don't post YouTube videos in lieu of original content
4. I don't post obscene or shocking images in lieu of good writing
5. I don't do reviews of sex toys, sandwich toasters or other blogger's terrible books
6. I don't treat my readers like a witless bunch of dullards who will accept any old shit and stump up any amount of cash because they don't want to be the first to say "but the Emperor's naked!"
7. I don't take my blog seriously
8. I am not looking for a book deal
9. I won't schmooze those I think can promote my blog/increase my traffic/get me a book deal and ignore everyone else
10. I am very funny and attractive

Outing the In Crowd

Elsewhere on the net arguments continue as to whether there is an In Crowd in sex blogging. There is some debate over the existence of cliques and certain territorial markings.

I don't profess to be clued into exactly what the A-list sex bloggers are bitching about between themselves this time but I can clear up any ambiguity for them.

Yes, of course there are cliques. To deny this or to feign incredulity ("where is this In Crowd of which you speak?") is disingenuous to say the least. We all have people we chum up with, those whose company - virtual or otherwise - we prefer over others. Sex bloggers are no different. To pretend you are somehow devoid of the same characteristics that define the rest of the human race is pushing it a bit.

So, yes. There is an In Crowd. Though for those sex bloggers who like to fuddle-duddle with each others wibbly-wobblies and then write about it afterwards it's more of an In-Out, In-Out Shake-it-all-About Crowd.

Next Week: Sex positive feminist blogging - is it as much of a joyless, dry wank as it sounds?

Keeping it Real

I have been blogging here, in the Boudoir, for a goodly while now. Years, even.

I have teased you with glimpses of my wobbly parts, my mad professor hair and snaggle-toothed smile.

I have entertained you with my big and clever swearing.

I have made you laugh with my well-turned phrases and comedy cucumber.

I have left you cold with my poetry.

Yet I have never let you see the real me.

And I never will.

Yes, rest assured that in a virtual world where every other anonymous blogger seems to be throwing aside their pseudonyms and joyfully exposing themselves you can rely on this one to keep her realistic parts under wraps.

Bloggers across the net are discarding their nom de plumes and embracing the fact that they can now write about their real lives, their actual friends and family, without giving the game away. It's like the current appetite for reality TV, for gossip magazines, for all the mundane and humdrum details of people's lives to be laid bare and discussed endlessly. It's undeniably real and undeniably dreary. I don't want to watch some pot-bellied oaf scratching his arse on reality TV. I want to watch a bloody good drama where beautiful women do terrible things to handsome men. Or something. I want escapism, sequins and a soft focus lens. If I want reality I'll close the laptop.

With that in mind, and assuming there are others like me, I will be residing in the Boudoir, and resisting the urge to witter on about my career aspirations or family escapades, for the forseeable future. I may post occasionally about my cat but other than that I'll try to keep it unreal.