Today in LUST: A Very Professional WTF Craigslist Ad

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No, for your information, I was not trolling the Craigslist ads for myself. I did this for the good of 7SW. Click here for the original ad...with pictures (definitely NSFW). You're welcome.

By the way, is this a thing now? Are people doing this? Is Samantha going to be recommending this in the next Sex and the City movie?

Nipple Rejuvenation ! - m4w - 43 (Nassau County)
Reply to:pers-hzqb3-1193791826@craigslist.org ^{[Errors when replying to ads?]}
Date: 2009-05-28, 5:26PM EDT

Nipple Rejuvenation ! I have a nipple extension hobby/ business. I have a few nipple pumps 1 nursing pumps and 1 high quality Dr, Joel Kaplan nipple extension pump. (google "Kaplan nipple")

Im looking to practice and photograph the treatment process -no face shots- a woman. must be open minded and wanting to try this.

session will last 30 minutes or so, and a aprox 3 headless photographs of your breasts hooked to my pumps, My pants will stay on ! I will have to touch your breasts in a professional mannor. I will have to rub a small amount of massage oil on your nipples/upper breast before pump treatment, to allow skin to suctioned) [Excuse me, sir! You are not rubbing massage oil on my breasts in a professional manner. I was led to believe this would all be done in a professional manner.]

I may treat you to a bit off manual (Maybe oral) clitoral stimulation. [And this will also be done in a professional manner? Because I like my clitoral stimulation to be done by a professional.] This along with the pump's suction process, may add oxygen rich blood to the breast area, and make you more relaxed.

I'm safe sane Irish/Italian. [Excellent. Because I was worried you might be German. Everybody knows the Krauts can't do a proper nipple-suctioning.]

I will e-mail you a copies of the photos i take of your breasts
email me for photos of my equipment or myself
please do the same.
Your breast photos may be used for my personal collection Send name photo & breast size, contact info and questions you may have.

Im not licensed or insured [Wait, but I though you said you were professional. How can you call yourself a professional if you're not even licensed by the Nipple Suctionioners' Association of America?], this is for my personal hobby and our mutual pleasure. you can contron the amount of suction on your nipples. must be of legal age. I work full time, odd hours, in the airline industry. Im 40 Italian/Irish nice looking.

Can you follow simple special instructions?
You must put the following word in the subject box for a reply: "ARUBA" otherwise, you go in the delete box [A secret password!!]
You must attach a photo,
No 1 line'er replies
no odd ball email addresses, [I know, right? Can't a guy run a legitimate nipple suctioning operation without getting all sorts of weirdos emailing him?]
Be specific in your reply.
Be local Nass-suff- Qns, manhattan
I'm REAL!

www.sevensinnerswe.blogspot.com

Today in PRIDE: The Douchiest Place on Earth

The Point-at-Camera-and-Look-Smug gesture.

I do not use the term "douche" except in the rare instances in which it is warranted. The term has a precise definition that reaches well beyond everyday unpleasantness, and it should not be thrown around indiscriminately. A person cannot be a true "douche" unless he is: (a.) aggressively arrogant about accomplishments that reasonable people do not take any particular pride in, and (b.) pathologically incompetent. One but not the other does not a douche make.

With this two-pronged test in mind, I believe I have discovered the Douchiest Place on Earth: The Axe Lounge. Apparently, the makers of Axe Body Spray do not want their douchebaggery to be limited to pathetically aspirational television ads, so now they have expanded into the world of pathetically aspirational nightclubs.

Well, that makes sense. After all, “Axe is all about the mating game, and the best place for a mating game is at a nightclub,” according to Axe's advertising consultant, Michael Heller (second from left above), who may or may not be fellating Mystery at this very moment.

So, if you happen to be in Southampton this summer, be sure to stop by this Den of a Thousand Douches. I'm sure it will be packed with beautiful women, not a bunch of rejects from The Pick-Up Artist.

Today in LUST: You Don't Get to Do Both

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Do you know those people who expect way more from the world than they have any right to? A few examples:

1.) Danielle from the Real Housewives of New Jersey: Have you seen the first episode yet? This show is going to be amaaaazing. But I digress. Danielle, honey, you either get to pick up dudes on wealthymen.com who call themselves GucciModel, or you get to have the expectation that the guys you date will not be assholes. You don't get to do both.

2.) Guy I Dated for Eight Months in 2007: Walking around the West Village, he would sniff "So sad how gentrified it is now. Look at all these privileged brats." [Sidenote: Where has he been the last 40 years? He's just noticing this now?]. He used to go to parties and bemoan how preppy and conformist everyone was. He mentioned a few times that he sees only "explosions of color" when he orgasms. And he complained -- eyes rolling -- about how, one time, when he went to a formal charity event on the Upper East Side dressed in a kimono, that "No one got my outfit! Ugh, they're all so boring."

His occupation? Hedge fund manager.

Come on: You either get to be a condescending bohemian relic, or you get to manage a hedge fund. You don't get to do both.

3.) My Date from Last Night: When we first met, which was last week, he struck me as both intensely waspy and profoundly awkward. It was like being on a date with the love child of William F. Buckley and Rain Man.

Still, I decided to go out with him again because (a.) his degrees would indicate he's really stinking smart, and (b.) I have this theory that the more awkward a guy is, the less likely he is to be sleazy. I wasn't exactly turned on by his constant blundering, but I thought maybe he was just one of those really nice guys who is clueless about dating. I tried not to get caught up on all the superficial details, like the fact that he made me wander around in the rain for 30 minutes before he realized I might like to go to someplace that had, you know, a ceiling.

Last night, I show up for our second date, which is a 6:40pm movie. He arrives with ketchup on his chin.

After the movie, he asks -- in his jittery Mid-Atlantic accent -- whether I want to pick up some sandwiches from the deli for dinner. Sigh.

"No," I tell him. "No, I don't." I suggest that, if we want to have something to eat, we go to the cafe across the street. I am thankfully, finally, mercifully able to have a glass of wine (he doesn't drink, naturally, because that might make him fun to be around).

And here's where the date takes an unexpected turn. In rapid succession, he begins discussing rape (we had just seen the Tyson movie) and how "some women are coy, so 'no' doesn't always mean 'no'"; how he used to date cougars when he was younger because they're so desperate; how he never wants to have a serious relationship of any kind; how he has recently decided that he prefers to date girls in their early 20's or younger (he's 45); and finally, that the reason he lied and said he was 35 on his profile was so he wouldn't scare off the 18 year-olds he's trying to bed.

Theory officially disproven: There is not an inverse relationship between awkwardness and sleaze.

And still, despite the contortions my face found itself in while he was saying these things and the vague appearance of nausea I had about me for the last hour of the date, he texted me the next morning, hopeful that I would want to go out with him again -- although his intuition told him I "didn't find our dinner conversation amusing." Oh, I found it amusing. Believe me. Just not remotely appealing. Dude, how did you expect me to react? Please realize: You either get to act like some sleazy lothario, or you get to act like you have Aspberger's. You don't get to do both.

4.) Have your own story? Put it in the comments. Pretty please!

Today in WRATH: The World's Deadliest Fruit

So I'm taking a stroll in lower Manhattan with my now-former friend, Asshat,* when he insists we go to some obscure little ice cream shop in Chinatown because they have the best red bean ice cream in the entire city. Whatever. I have nothing better to do. We go.

I try the red bean. It's pretty good. Green tea's not bad either. Asshat then hands me a sample spoon of some unknown flavor and tells me I have to try it. It's "interesting," he says. I put the teaspoon sample in my mouth.

I am immediately struck by the taste of dead body slathered in rotten mayonnaise. There are distinct undertones of poop.

Tears form in my eyes. I look for the nearest trash can, which is ten feet away. If I take the time to walk the three steps to the trash can before spitting this out, I might very well die. I spit it onto the floor. The lady behind the counter looks as though she's seen this all before.

I look beseechingly at Asshat. "Whuuuu--!!" I have not yet regained the ability to speak intelligibly.

"Whuuuu--?!" I try again.

"Whhuuuu--- whhhyyy?! Why? Why do you hate me?!" He finds this hilarious.

It turns out what I have just tasted is durian-flavored ice cream. Durian is a fruit, apparently. A vile, mean dickwad of a fruit.

Durian is banned on mass transit in Singapore, and most hotels in the parts of Asia where it is grown do not allow guests to have it on the premises.

Andrew Zimmern, host of the Travel Channel show Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern, has eaten the following foods, among many others, without incident: beating frog's heart, fugu, roasted bat, bull's rectum, maggot puppae, and tarantulas.

This was his reaction to eating durian.

Why was I not properly warned?! I was told not to play with matches as a kid. I was taught to keep my fingers out of light sockets. I was very well informed of the dangers associated with accepting candy from men with mustaches who drive vans. Why was I never warned about the World's Deadliest Fruit?

*This person's name has been changed to protect his anonymity. His name is not actually Asshat, although it really should be. If you ever see him in real life, feel free to call him this.

Today in PRIDE: In Which We Take Freude in the Noels' Schaden

You've heard of the Noels, yes? The father of the attractive bunch, Walter, ran Madoff feeder fund, Fairfield Greenwich Group.

Well, according to Sherry Cohen, a sales assistant at FGG, the hedge fund swindler and his wife were delightful people. Their kids? Not so much.

"Did you like them?

I think that Walter and Monica are very, very likable people.

I think that the next generation had supreme self-confidence, confidence that I kind of wish I would've had, except that it really got to be too much. They were sometimes arrogant. They had a tremendous sense of self-entitlement. And I wasn't the only one who thought that. And I wasn't the only one who thought that they were very, very aggressive."

Confess!!!

Send us your most salacious (and true) tales of sin in the City, and we'll publish the best of them.

Email to: sevensinnerswe@gmail.com