My Captain, Oh My Captain!

Fine. I’ve been promising this. I believe I first hinted at this story on cajunboy’s blog some time ago. It is pretty embarrassing and definitely something that will come back to haunt me, but I’ve been lax in posting lately (hey, ELLA IS IN LOVE - FUCK OFF!) that I owe it to all 10 of you to do so.

In college, I briefly dated a man named R*. R was the sweetest, kindest soul I ever met during my time at BU. Unfortunately, he met me while I was on the rebound and completely hateful towards men. He was my first true “play thing,” the first man I ever dominated in the bedroom and treated like a total piece of meat.

Valentine’s Day happened to fall during our brief courtship. He took me to an amazing Italian restaurant on Newbury Street for the occasion and, seeing as ella rarely drank back then (yes, believe it or not), she got sloshed on three glasses of wine. We got back to his apartment and - for whatever reason (depression/boredom probably) - we dropped some herbal ecstasy. Before I knew it, I was on all fours telling him to lick my ass.

Now, at this time, ella had this done to her ONCE before, by her ex-boyfriend from high school. She didn’t enjoy it (how times change), but her man-hating ways that evening caused her to scream out the one degrading command she could think of. He obliged - as he always did, to any request - and suddenly I started to feel guilty. I was very much clean - of course - but still tried to think of how I could make this task more enjoyable to him. And so I said, stupidly:

“Pour a shot down my ass.” And so, he filled a shot glass with Captain Morgan’s and let it slide down my crack.

@!#*!@!) FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING FUCKING SHIT *@(#)!@##

Yes, this was the actual thought that hit my mind as soon as the nerve endings of my lady-flower processed the effects of the rum.

My poor girl was being drowned by the Captain much like the way I imagine it would feel if a real pirate set fire to a ship. It literally felt like a blowtorch was between my thighs. And I started to scream. I mean REALLY scream.

“Oh my god! Ow! Ow! Ow! It burns! Holy shit!”

His roommates, who were playing X-Box in the living room, started laughing and screaming, “Give it to her, R! Make her scream!”

So naturally he thought I was enjoying it. But then he saw my face. And he started to flip out.

“Get some ice! Get some fucking ice!” I wailed at the top of my lungs.

But he was drunk and high and couldn’t comprehend putting on his shorts and running out to the kitchen.

And so, I did what any girl would do in such a situation. I grabbed his head and made his tongue put out the flames.

Let me stress that this was not cunnilingus in the pleasurable sense. It was literally a firehose-like necessity. There was no orgasm being sought. It was a lap-this-the-fuck-up exercise. It was pleasure offsetting pain, not pain contributing to pleasure. In other words, it was not the usual turn of events.

In conclusion, ella recommends that NO ONE - male or female - ever buy their bits a drink. It doesn’t add fuel to the fire; it adds a backdraft to the bedroom. If you want to spice up a blow job or any form of lingus (cunni- or anal-) try an Altoid or a cough drop. Do NOT, under any circumstance, bring alcohol into the mix. "Rum Rim" has spoken.

(Note: Thank you to the fine girls of my college sorority for actually coining the nickname “Rum Rim” at a chapter sleepover. And yes, there were topless pillow fights that night. And bottomless ones, too. But just between three of us.)

Ask Ella...And Ella Shall Answer, Volume One

"dear ella,
i should just let you know how i came across your blog. i was reading all the comments for the maggie gyllenhaal-breastfeeding-in-public-oh-my-god-what-has-the-world-come-to debacle on gawker, and was impressed by your ability to type an entire message, free of typos and bad punctuation, simply with the use of your angry nipples. thus far, my angry nipples only serve to tug at my clothing and cause discomfort. but to TYPE? needless to say, you serve as somewhat of an inspiration.
i am a 22 year old girl, living in sydney, studying law. and i would love to take this opportunity to ask a smart, funny, nice, objective stranger about a problem in my life, regarding my sister.
my sister is one year younger then me. she is gorgeous. by gorgeous, i mean beautiful...strangers feel the need to comment on her beauty, to treat her extra nice everywhere, give her free stuff, give her free entry, let her jump the line, interrupt her at dinner with her boyfriend to tell her that she has made their week because she is so beautiful. indeed she is. 5'7, a natural d cup, leggy and gorgeous, a face with big hazel eyes and naturally pouty naturally red lips, gorgeous skin and cheekbones. when i am with her, i feel disgusting. now, in order to be fair, i should add: that alot of people have told me i am gorgeous, that my face is equally/more gorgeous than my sisters, but that she attracts attention because she has The Look- tanned, tall, big boobs, dressed to kill, wears those big sunglasses etc. whereas I, at 5'3, with smaller boobs and a pear shape, attract less of that attention, turn less heads, and am more 'subtle' in my looks etc....in fact, i've had people rant about my gorgeousness. i am coming off sounding vain in the extreme. but i feel like absolute shit... what makes it all worse is that my sister has NO IDEA she is gorgeous. she thinks it's all her boobs. she gets treated like a freaking celebrity and doesn't even notice…
i have low self esteem, basically. i feel okay until i see a hot girl. then i'm like: i can never be her. how easy life must be for her. and please dont give me the schtick about it's what's inside that counts. i wish it were the case but sadly, it aint. my problems have nearly torn me and my boyfriend apart. he thinks im absolutely gorgeous, and i say thats because he is my boyfriend and in love with me. he says he has the ability to be completely objective as ive trained him to be. he says he can no longer compliment me without thinking "am i saying this as her bf or as an objective bystander". it is true that i dont care much for his subjective opinion. every guy thinks his girl is gorgeous. doesnt mean she is. he is sick of me dismissing him as though he is a retard. he always says he as high standards, has eyes in his head, and knows how i look. when i have bad days, i ask him how i look (btw i ask him this daily. "so how did i look today?") he will say "very pretty, not gorgeous". but i find that hard to believe. on bad days i think i look plain and unattractive, not 'very pretty'…i would just like to know exactly what you think. anyway, sorry for taking up 10 minutes of your time you will never get back. feel free to reply with angry nipples"



Ella is too busy to reply to this post but she sends her deepest regards “down under.” Hell, she always does. She has the dislocated jaw to prove it. So instead, she has sent us - her angry nipples - to answer you query.

First of all, we understand your situation completely. See, one night, all three of us (ella included, obviously) went out for her birthday with her friend K. and K.’s boyfriend, S. After bottles upon bottles of liquor and quite a few grams of talcum powder, we all ended up at S.’s apartment. Before we knew it, we were out in all our glory for what was turning out to be quite the fun threesome. Now, you should know that we’ve received countless, countless compliments - on both our perkiness and our hue - and have never felt inadequate to say the least. However, when we sat, side by side next to K., we suddenly felt less than beautiful because K.’s counterparts sat upon bigger pillows and were a prettier shade of pink.

S.’s reaction to us (much like your boyfriend’s reaction to your physical appearance) should have made us feel better about ourselves, but it didn’t matter. Our confidence was deflated and we retreated (literally). Fortunately, K. freaked out at the sight of her boyfriend anywhere near us and called the whole thing off.

Now, more fortunately for us is that K. is not in the room when we come out to play (although I’m sure men would enjoy that). So we don’t have to deal with such feelings of inadequacy as much as you. In fact, we tend to only feel a few things - pleasure and the cold. It’s a pretty good deal - well, until we have to keep a human being alive someday.

I guess our advice to you is this: what’s done is done. The DNA chips have fallen where they may and the fact is you’re a bit shorter, a bit more curvy (perhaps in places you wish you weren’t) and maybe less symmetrical than your sister (whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean). But you hardly sound hideous. You’re not Gisele’s unattractive twin (yes, it’s true, she has one) or Wynonna Judd (shit, imagine having Ashley as a sister when you look like a walking mountain?) You sound beautiful and intelligent (hell, you turned to us for advice so we know this is true). Plus, it seems as though you have a boyfriend who really loves you and is very much attracted to you. So stop making it hard for him to compliment you. Imagine if every time you told him how hot he is, he just shrugged his shoulders and looked away. You’d start to think - wow, what does he see that I don’t?

So stop caring and start focusing on the features that you know are beautiful and that you love. If that doesn't work, you can always make the wisest choice of all - move to New York City. A smart Aussie is a dozen a dime here - and you would turn heads with your accent alone. Everything else beautiful about you would just be icing on the cake.

G’day,
ella’s nipples

+1 For Sodomy

Men who preach hate will find their largest audience in Hell.
~The Gospel According to ellagood

Sometimes eulogies write themselves. All of these are documented quotes from the “Reverend” Jerry Falwell:

If you're not a born-again Christian, you're a failure as a human being.

God continues to lift the curtain and allow the enemies of America to give us probably what we deserve. (after September 11)

I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People for the American Way -- all of them who have tried to secularize America -- I point the finger in their face and say, "You helped this happen." (again, after September 11)

The Jews are returning to their land of unbelief. They are spiritually blind and desperately in need of their Messiah and Savior.

I do not believe the homosexual community deserves minority status. One's misbehavior does not qualify him or her for minority status. Blacks, Hispanics, women, etc., are God-ordained minorities who do indeed deserve minority status.

AIDS is the wrath of a just God against homosexuals.

When lawlessness is abroad in the land, the same thing will happen here that happened in Nazi Germany. Many of those people involved in Adolph Hitler were Satanists. Many of them were homosexuals. The two things seem to go together.

With all due respect to those dear people, my friend, God Almighty does not hear the prayer of a Jew.

I know this is painful for the ladies to hear, but if you get married, you have accepted the headship of a man, your husband. Christ is the head of the household and the husband is the head of the wife, and that's the way it is, period.

Ask Ella

While I love all the comments that people post on my blog (keep ‘em comin’!), most of my favorite responses are private emails that people send me.

Sometimes it’s just a nice word of praise that includes more private details of a person’s life that they don’t want to share with the 10 or so people that read this thing.

Sometimes it’s dudes (and chicks) asking for naked pictures of me. (Always sent, of course…haha. I kid.)

Sometimes it’s Gawker folks commenting offline about the little nuances of this underground commenting society we are all oddly addicted to.

Sometimes it’s men asking me out on dates. (Um, actually that worked for two men. One that didn’t pan out and, well, one man who you will all likely be hearing about soon.)

But quite often, people actually ask for my ADVICE, which is just hysterically stupid to me. After all, most of my posts are written with a great deal of HINDSIGHT and the decisions I actually made in the past are pretty fucking dumb.

At first I thought - I can’t actually answer these people - I’m pretty wrong about things most of the time. But then it occurred to me that I’ve always been able to tell OTHERS what to do - I just rarely take any of my own advice. Plus, I’ve been to therapy. I know a lot of really fucked up people. I took Psych 101, at Boston U! And, well, I just think I know everything.

And so, I am posting an open invitation for anyone to email me with a problem or question. It can be on just about anything - beauty (I do write about almost every beauty product known to man at my job), sex toys (I’ve sampled a ton), contemporary american history (it was my second major in college), relationships (as I think I may have finally cracked the code after years of horror shows), the New York Yankees (seriously, seriously) or sex in general (come on, I mean you have read this blog, right?)

My only request is that you don’t ask me anything about money (I’m not Suze Orman - although I have loved the p*ssy in my day), religion (unless you buy me weed and can handle a 12-page response), politics (because we should all just agree to disagree) or medical issues (because, honestly, most are just plain mother fuckin’ nasty).

I will answer every email I receive and select a few (from time to time) to post on here. All email addresses/names/etc. will remain anonymous.

So come on bitches…ask Ella. She’s trying to become the real “white Oprah.”

Email: ellagood@gmail.com

Go Gay, If Just For A Day

If you want to be a good significant other, date someone of your same sex. I know, I know, this is impossible for most of the men out there but, honestly, I’m not saying to go get a hook hand and a parrot and go play pirate - just go to dinner with another man and then watch how he reacts. Let’s rewind…

I had always been curious about other women. In fact, I remember fantasizing about a girl named Elizabeth (I think I mentioned this before) way back in the 5th grade. But, I was knee-deep in Catholic school at the time and found myself praying to God I wasn’t gay.

In college my good friend R. and I used to give one another massages every night and this eventually led to us gently stroking one another’s breasts. It really wasn’t a sexual thing (I know it wasn‘t for her), but it turned me on immensely.

I finally got the balls (not literally, but rather figuratively) to meet a woman about three years ago. Her name was Jenny. We met online and agreed to go out for some drinks and dancing. She was stunning. Gorgeous. Just beautiful. Jenny was bi-sexual but had decided to swear off men for awhile after a hetero relationship had turned very sour. I swore to her that I was just interested in hanging out and hooking up - nothing else.

The first night we spent together was incredible. I don’t know if I’ve ever been turned on in quite the same way before or since. It was a combination of deep-seeded desire, taboo, alcohol and a ton of cocaine. We did everything - I mean everything - two girls can do. And then I woke up the next day to find her spooning me and running her fingers through my hair. My hangover was a bitch, but so was this. I wanted her to go - I didn’t want to face the reality of actually having another woman in bed with me, naked. But she insisted we go to brunch, and so we did.

It was awkward. I felt myself playing the role of every man I had ever dragged out to brunch the morning after drunk/high/random sex and instantly understood why they never called me again. Once we finished eating (breakfast!) and she was getting into a cab, she grabbed me and kissed me right on the street. I felt like everyone I had ever known was probably watching and judging. But I didn’t want to be rude and so I kissed back.

A few days later she called and asked me if I wanted to get together and go to a museum. In other words, go ON A DATE. I flipped my shit. I had been so honest with her from the beginning - just fun and just sex, nothing else. And then it dawned on me - women don’t listen. We hear what we want to hear and believe we can change the world and everyone in it. It’s thinking that way that gets us hurt.

So I said no. Fumbled to come up with an excuse, but she saw right through it. She got pissed. Eventually, I convinced her (via that familiar way I had, myself, fallen for many times over) to get together again for an evening of drinking, drugs and sex. The next morning she asked me again if I would go out with her (this time to a movie I believe). Again I said no. And again she got pissed. She looked at me as I had looked at so many men before - with that same look of disbelief, anger and confusion. But most importantly she looked at me with a bit of disgust - as though I had used her for sex and couldn’t understand why she wanted more. It was like holding up a mirror. She never took my calls again.

I thought perhaps this was a fluke and that I had just met a pseudo-lesbian who really thought I was lying when I said I wasn’t gay. But then I tested this same situation twice more. And both times, after being completely upfront and honest about what I wanted and what I was capable of (just sex, nothing more), the women acted and re-acted just the same.

The moral of this story is that people - men especially - really are honest in the beginning. If he says he doesn’t want a relationship, you'll never be his girlfriend. If he tells you he never wants to get married, then don’t chase the ring. If he swears he never wants children, then you better keep taking your pill.

Being with these women prevented me from attempting to get into many a relationship over the last several years. Sure, I’ve still been hurt and rejected in many ways, but never can I say that I didn’t see it coming. Denial is the greatest enemy when it comes to dating. But it's when you are ready to listen, really ready to accept what someone else has to say, that you just might finally find what you’ve been waiting to hear. After all, I just did.

Inconvenient Truths

- You will inevitably become like one of your parents.

- Something will always elude you.

- You’ll never know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop because you always bite into it.

- Your children will think you’re a douche bag at some point.

- High school math was bullshit.

- Just about every college course was bullshit.

- You’ll always regret who you voted for at least once.

- That cup you just drank from wasn’t yours.

- The amazing night of sex? It meant nothing to him/her.

- You shouldn’t have left it in the oven that long.

- Someone wants to see you fail.

- You should have said “yes.”

- You should have said “no.”

- The first Darren was better.

- Seconds are ok; thirds too much.

- You shouldn’t have recorded it.

- You won’t fit into that dress again.

- It was him/her, not you.

- You never have a second chance to make a lasting impression.

- The joke was on you.

- You paid too much.

- That stain won’t come out.

- You can’t have it all.