Guest Posting day 1: Mo.Stoneskin

Today is the first day of Penis Week - my all male guest posting extravaganza. I'm overworked, underpaid, and I've misplaced my blogging mojo. What better way to take a break than to showcase some of the best male bloggers out there? They'll be talking about the women in their lives, past or present...good, bad, or ugly.

First up to bat is Mo.Stoneskin. His humorous tales of strangers and their quirks are a treat to read every Monday. Occasionally he gives us a story about his own life, like the following, and it's just as entertaining. Read it. Love it. Then go visit him at his place and beg him to post more often.


I slouched lazily with a can of Stella in my hand, casually held at a slight tilt. I rotated it slowly, the gold top reflecting images from the TV and light from the fish tank. Fascinating, could have done that for hours. Nothing compares to watching shadows of fish dancing across a can of lager. I suppose fish swimming in my can of lager would be pretty awesome, though it might spoil the taste and cause the fish to get rowdy.

"Can I tell you about my fantasy?" I asked.

My wife looked up from her cookery book and raised an eyebrow. "Go on," she said.

Fantasies, fetishes, quirky personal preferences. Fascinating subjects aren't they? Everyone fantasises at some level, but it is tricky to determine where fantasies come from or how they develop. It has been suggested that they express an aspect of our unconscious and often incorporate fetishes, some of which are understandable. Heels and boots for example, what man doesn't love them? But some are just weird, especially if they involve feet. Some people have a foot fetish, but how weird is that? Feet are disgusting, I've long believed that feet are the most revolting part of the human body. Grotty, cheesy, skanky, stinky, I just don't get it, what could possibly cause a foot fetish to develop? Overexposure to cheese as a child? Unhealthy proximity to a pedicure clinic? But anyway, that's just me, and it is healthy to talk about these things with your partner.

My wife waited patiently. Fun-loving criminal that she is I sensed surprise. Surprise and scepticism. Married for five years, I suppose she thought she knew me as well as she possibly could.

"Well," I said, glancing down at her cookery book, "when we were kids we used to have roast lamb most Sundays. We only got a couple of slices each and it was never enough. I've always fantasised about buying a huge leg of lamb, dragging it home, roasting it and then scoffing the lot. It would be the most incredible moment of my life."

I have never seen her laugh so much.