Thursday, April 26, 2007


A few weeks ago I took part in a sex journal assignment by NY Magazine. I meticulously noted every moment of the day during which I had sexual thoughts, encounters, acts, and anything that made my nether regions get nether-y.

Sadly, they really whittled away a lot of the journal down to some of the juiciest parts, and in retrospect and in comparison to other people's sex journals (also posted), my sex life sucks.

I am so disappointed in my vagina! Where did the magic go?

Well, you can definitely find out where it isn't, by clicking the link below to


1 comment:

Julius Duthy said...

I'm really impressed by your trip to Galway and also the clit song and the pussy song as well... comedy plutonium which no wonder the church has fatwahed. The thing is, as a great fan of yours, I wanted to get in touch so you would be the first to know--I have found the greatest comedy-song-writing talent on earth--my penis. I'm not kidding. You wrote songs about your clit/nipples/tits, and also your muff, whereas: SERIOUSLY... my dick WROTE A SONG ABOUT YOU! Yessirree. The thing is he wrote it in this creamy ink and used very thin, tissuey paper which can barely hold the gloopy ink, and frankly the words are illegible. But I wanted you to know that it happened... as a tribute to you and, erm, an homage to your magic powers, shall we say. Please accept his humble donation. When I find out exactly what the lyrics say, I'll post again. At the moment, having torn the parchment a little trying to prise open the bits where it seems to have stuck together a bit, I think I've deciphered the words 'rhythm of your warm embrace'... whatever that means. I'll investigate further. With best wishes for your future career, Yours, Jules Ramone xx