I’m As Pure as Driven Slush

(title source:  Talllulah Bankhead, yet again; the image you should recognize, unless this is your first visit to the Internet– in which case welcome, and go introduce yourself to Google!)

I’ll come and make love to you at five o’clock. If I’m late start without me.

Yes, that was T.B. again.  I do love a good questionable role model.

Perhaps you’ve seen the recent survey that has found that users of emojis have more sex (hello?  anyone still reading this?  is everyone on their phone now?  should I just stop here?).

At any rate, maybe you want to up your game.  Maybe a heart or an eggplant just doesn’t say how you truly feel.  Technically, this post was reader-suggested (well, the emoji part; I’m the one who went all kinky with it, DUH); therefore, mashing all that together, this is going to be an advice column for the technology-addicted lovelorn.

Dear Maggie,

I long to communicate my innermost desires and feelings o’ passion to anyone in my contacts list I might reasonably have a shot at.  My feelings are as multilayered and nuanced as the finest Harlequin Romance writer’s [1], though, and I simply can’t cram the swelling tides of passion that o’erflow my heart into one cartoonish symbol.  Help my thumbs speak eloquently!


Struck Dumb on a Smartphone

Dear Struck Dumb,

Had smartphones existed in Shakespeare’s day, imagine how much more transcendent the sonnets would have been!  Picture Donne’s “A Valediction:  Forbidding Mourning“– the whole final stanza could simply be a picture of a compass!  I’m completely re”writing” my personal favorite, Auden’s “Lullaby.”  “Lay your 😴 my 💘, / 👤 on my 🚫 ⛪️ 💪; / ⌚️ and 😷 🌋 away / Individual 🌈 from / 📚 👶, and the grave / 👏 the 👶 🍃 . . . .” [2]  The humdrum, limited language of these soon-to-be-forgotten poets is not for you, my dear; you will write the pithy, epic sexts that will be the cultural touchstones of the 21st century!  Just get ready to take notes (screencaptures?) . . . 



A nice, gentle one to ease you into this: “kiss me slowly.” (via Buzzfeed)


Choose one: A) All about that Bass; B) Fat-Bottomed Girls; C) I Like Big Butts; D) My Pet Theory, They’re All the Same Song (Paper forthcoming: “Butt Appreciation: It’s the Same Old Song”). Okay, fine: it’s asking about getting to second base. (via nymag.com)  [3]

Twerking fails to impress.


Looks like somebody’s getting lucky tonight. (via Buzzfeed)


Pretty obvious, though I do wonder: is that a glass of wine apiece, or does it take two glasses of wine to get to that point? Sub beer if that’s your thing.🍺 (via Buzzfeed)


My personal favorite: want to join the Mile High Club? Here’s how to ask. (via Buzzfeed)


This one is dedicated to the current situation above me.  Use as you see fit.  (my own)

👀 📬 👰

Not finding tru luv on Tinder?  Mail order is always an option!  (my own)


Steamy. Theoretically, you could tack on another shower. You know, a cool down. Yeah, never mind.

BUT . . .

👉 + ❄️ 🚿 = 🚨

does make it clear someone needs to take it down a notch.  (my own)

Suggestive can be good:

🍒 💣

(my own)

Urban Dictionary top meaning:  a smoking hot female; female with a fine ass; beautiful curvaceous ass.  My understanding is that, in the context of the song, it referred to the band member, and (duh) underage promiscuity and general hell-raising.  Which is basically all Runaways/Joan Jett songs, give or take the underage bit.

. . . and I just came up with one for “Do You Wanna Touch Me?” in my head, but I’m going to stop myself before this entire thing turns into a Joan Jett emoji post, and some psychoanalyst finds it, and I end up in a mental health journal.  Or TMZ.

There are always other songs

👀m on 🔥

Bruce’s hottest song?  YOU DECIDE.  [4]

🚢 🎼

Okay, referencing “The Ship Song” is going to work on a limited audience, but it includes me, and this is MY blog.  So.  There.

And, my lord, Cale is on stage with him.  What else can I give you?  Oh, yes, MOJO’s recent artist profile, where he is called “the Satanic Sinatra.”  👺🎤

Finally, I’d really like to see someone come up with a translation for this one:


Annie Hall again, yes. Your point?

So there’s your quick guide.  I should mention that this post comes with a 100% in no way guaranteed guarantee that you’ll live happily ever after.


Well, at least you’ll have a great soundtrack!

[1]  Eh, the Harlequin covers were boring.  You’re getting a 50s pulp instead:


This is pretty much also the subtitle of this post. Or this blog. Whatever.

[2]  Seriously, how are you supposed to convey “ephemeral”?  Where’s the emoji set for wordy nerdy types?


[3]  After presenting this theory to one person, they declared:  “Sir Mix-A-Lot:  an ardent supporter of feminism since 1992.”

[4]  Best Springsteen article ever.  Also citing because I won a comment award for what I said there.  But, um, you seriously might not actually want to read what I wrote there, because you’ll definitely never be able to un-know it.

Please use this space for Profound Thoughts or Utter Nonsense.

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