China- An Epic Affair

China was amazing! Tiananmen Square, rickshaws, The Forbidden City, The Temple of Heaven, The Summer Palace, The Ming Tombs, pearls, jade, silks, cloisonne, The Great Wall, Xi`an's Terra Cotta Soldiers...

although I was fairly ill and lacking juice in my camera, I managed a rickety little video that came to an appropriately abrupt stop:



An epic trip to say the least AND in addition to fabulous birthday celebrations... drum roll please dah-dah-dah-dah: Don proposed to Mom on the Great Wall so they will be officially tying the not! Guess who is to be the maid of honor? ;-)

This was an experience I won't soon forget! Click on the links below for the sights and splendor of China!

xoxo

Ella

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Tokyo Sunday

I don't know why but I needed to make this face having been forced into this photo op, I did my best to yuck it up
The markets, the markets near Ayumi's house in Asakusa...

Alvin, Simon and Theodore- don't finger!

mmmmmmm rice crackers!
Ayumi, Ella Umbrella, and Keiko at Asakusa Temple

Memorial near the Asakusa templegrrrrr, he couldn't keep us out though ;-)
Keiko said this was "the smart smoke" so we rubbed it into our brows

Asakusa Pagoda

And then they decided that I must be dressed in a yukata, so off we went to Ayumi's so that her grandmother could tend to my fitting... it took nearly 35 minutes to swaddled up properly!
I felt so purdy!
The markets just outside the door of Ayumi's home... like the covered long malls of Brussels or Naples, there were street food vendors and bicylces and more!
The palace entrance, in the center of Tokyo... gorgeous!
It began to rain so there was an Ella with no umbrella! And yet, I seemed to be the only one not dampened by the downpour ;-)
Peter, figuratively and literally, BIG in Japan
most precious and unplanned gift, this sunset with this skyline
city scapes and my girls frolicking in the thunder storm met by coral sun streaks
The night cap- Ayumi's family's friend's sushi house.... mmmmmmmmmm

Great day, grateful and satiated... we were carted around in a car by gracious hosts and found ourselves lost on a whirlwind tour of beauty, splendor and quirkiness. The sushi, was all we needed to put the perfect finishing touch on a perfect Tokyo Sunday!

At Long Last- touched down in Tokyo photos

I figure that before I head off to China, I should atleast share a bit of Japan with you...
It's been a month or so since my return from the Land of the Rising Sun but it's still fresh in my mind...

The moment arrived on our first night, after some reggae in the park and a few wrong turns in subway stations... SUSHI SUSHI SUSHI!
Cheap, purchase by the plate ala tapas in Barcelona, delicious SUSHI!!!!

The gods were smiling as I nodded in their direction and engorged myself with delectable treats and sake... my student from last year, Keiko was kind enough to offer herself as tour guide extraordinaire and brought along her dance teacher, Aki. I love them, dearly- almost as much as the sushi.

Keiko, little Eagle and Ella Umbrella, Mama Eagle- UNITE in Tokyo! Reunited and it feels so good!
Couldn't get enough ginger and obviously, sushi... look at my plates! Yum!!!
The fire festival, one of the many dress up in yukata occassions in Japan, was occurring the night we touched down in Nippon. We were in the midst of Shibuya photo booth craziness and the girls were all dolled up in their traditional wear and their Harajuku gear too!
See the yukatas? They are quite difficult to master all by your lonesome, I found this out later...

Shibuya's famous intersection and flippin' boiling even at midnight! July heat, so hot!
Peter & Aki, finishing up the night at a Reggae bar in Shibuya- the apparent theme of the day.

I love Keiko and Keiko loves me ;-)

Ass You Like It (as featured in Bling magazine)

Ass You Like It

Unknowingly we are all pygophilists, chasing some tail

By Ella Lauser

Anonym-ass. Isn't that what it really is? The ass lurks behind us for everyone else to enjoy, anonymously and in turn making the owner of the ass anonymous.

As Shakespeare said, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
And the sweet, sweet derrière does indeed not need a name to be known although it has the most nicknames than any other body part. Isn't it funny what a conversation or observation of the "bum" entails.

Why are we so obsessed with this particular asset? The anatomy of love, the anatomy of desire stems from a plethora of understandings- be they biological, sexual, psychological, societal, et cetera. We don't think about it enough yet we acknowledge and appreciate it constantly, the "why?' rarely finds itself among our thoughts.

Our fascination with the body is what keeps us upping the population, in all facets. We are programmed to be appreciative and aware when selecting our mates. There is no shame in the truth of what I like to call "ass appreciation." We are all susceptible to pygophilia- sexual arousal or excitement caused by seeing, playing with or touching the (typically woman's) buttocks. I ask who isn't a pygophilist? The ass serves as a very viable resource of sexual arousal and recreation from a far and otherwise. It is the most noticeable, eye catching feature on the human body for both sexes and it offers itself without recognition. The majority of the animal kingdom has some way of parading around their aesthetically pleasing parts. We just get to choose how we accentuate- be it with a salsa dance or a killer pair of jeans.

Curves denote sexual availability, the ability to procreate, and they are often deemed provocative. The most provocative piece, the booty, has been buttoned up and shielded outside of punishment or intimate affairs for centuries. Shame lies in the baring of the rump as it unabashedly makes us aware of the fact that we are human, part of the animal existence that shits, eats, sleeps and yes, fucks. Oh no, let's hide behind the fact that we are civilized- we are far from dogs in heat and baboons with blushing behinds. Are we really though?

The erotic positions that burn images in our minds are directly linked to certain hot spots and the glorious moon that resides on our backside is just a little out of reach from the "pure purpose" of sex, albeit a friendly cousin. Primates know when it's best to tap their partner because they keep a close eye on the badonka-donk that will indeed swell or lady primates will raise their rumps in salute of desire.

Our imagination is often the most fertile ground we rest upon and it could be argued that the fantasy and mystery of what is seen and not seen leaves a trace behind us. Urges don't live in the mind, they live and prosper elsewhere that's why we rarely ponder where these knee jerk reactions come from- we're not thinking about them, we're just responding. And for the record, all you "tit" men out there- it's argued that tits were made to resemble the butt. Look it up!

Rules of Engagement: Battle of the Sexes (as seen in Bling magazine)

Rules of Engagement

Battle of the Sexes in the Dark and On The Dance Floor

By Ella Lauser

Fever to tell, I’ve got a date with the night and I’ll most likely encounter the usual distasteful displays of debauchery that go hand in hand with cocktails and sweaty masses.

Sex kittens, street-walking contradictions, sugar and spice and everything nice… yes, I agree that us ladies are a coquettish concoction of confusion at times. It’s a thrill to be genuinely appreciated from across the bar while we sip on our cocktails or lick salt and annihilate a shot of tequila but for the most part men lose their cool before they’ve even begun the game. Checkmate- and we’re the queens that you’re attempting to play as unsuspecting pawns. We know it’s not easy, we can be a formidable enemy but if you play well, you will be asked to play again.

How is it that regardless of hemisphere, continent, country, city or district the same scenarios occur? Every Monday morning I hear the same re-told story by a water cooler or Xerox machine or just over coffee: “Ugh, Friday night was such shit! This guy just wouldn’t get a clue and kept on pestering me.” Men aren’t clueless- maybe they’re just not clued in. To be human is to be sexual, to breathe and certainly to desire an ego-feed and to blow off steam at the end of a hard work week. Friday nights are a blur of skin, smoke and liquor. Never satiated unless often left alone because battles of the sexes and their minds make matters worse than better. It’s the unending hangover that looms in the rafters of clubs and clings to the condensation on the sides of pint glasses. Can we escape the crash, clutter, chaos of mixed messages and hypocrisy of being from two different planets? Are we though, really? No, we’re equally looking for recognition in the end – but generally speaking, the avenues of getting there are as opposite as our genitalia and equally fitting. It’s all so puzzling isn’t it but it wouldn’t be complete without two to tango.

Going out and getting gussied up is certainly a nod in the direction of male suitors but there is nothing more disappointing than garish guys clutching and making nuisances of themselves. Ladies, gentlemen, and those who fall by the wayside of these categories- if we are to embark and transcend, appreciate the goods, lift and drink our spirits together in dark corners or under black lights then take heed of these seven rules of engagement when hitting up the club scene:

7) A Smile of Appreciation goes a long way… silence does speak volumes, and the best compliment is one of reverence or a wry yet endearing awareness. Make note of the beauty that you find yourself admiring and know that in so doing you might just be making friends with the enemy. Nothing is sexier than a smile coming from a guy that appreciates what he sees. It makes us feel attractive and not in a seedy way, plus we become aware that nothing has to come from it, it’s safe. We’re not obligated to engage but know he’s game.

6) Speaking of things better left unsaid… some things are better left undone, which brings us to our next rule of thumb. Don’t ask for a number and not dial, or worse keep asking after being told “No.” What happens in a conversation one random night does not need to play out and play on beyond the bar a lot of the time. Going the distance and asking for digits often feels like a notch on a suitor’s belt and if you’re not genuinely interested in the girl, don’t bother.

5) To Buy Her A Drink or Not To Buy Her A Drink, that is a damned good question!

Ah, yes the problematic stance on the fence between the sexes. Buying often leaves obligation, give to get, right? Well, most women, like most people, appreciate gifts but not with strings attached. Roofies aren’t the only thing that we fear being slipped into an unsuspecting drink- expectations and ownership are a fearful combination. However, there’s never a more clear moment of stranger danger than when I’m offered a drink from a random guy at a bar. I’ve known and heard about too many incidents to play dumb about this rational fear. Alcohol blurs lines in any case and with communication already being a bit of a challenge in the first place, the possibilities for a mess are endless. Nothing is less sexy than the absence of choice and when people are too inebriated to make them, and this can be applied to a plethora of situations, well, it’s problematic to say the least. Drink purchases are often an opener in conversation I realize but it’s a generic and often wary one. Drink responsibly, and proposition with just as much sense.

4) Ladies are not dolls on a shelf, although I must say women are an aesthetically pleasing lot. We have a good nose for game and we can smell agenda from a mile away. If sex is not on our menu for the evening, sniffing your agenda to get in our pants is a most assured way to turn off the heat and things will get icy. I’d venture to say that women just want men to come as they are and not come on to them. Blatant come-ons make a lass feel cheap and uncomfortable. Better to be a fool and authentic in the cumbersome truth of meeting at a watering hole with not much to say aside from the weather. The fool is often wisest. What I mean to say is… being foolishly real and vulnerable is a very attractive quality not to mention that it produces better results. What does the fool have? Simplicity, simply put… the best game is no game at all but that doesn’t mean checking your morals, manners, or general common sense at the door when you walk into the sex games afoot at a club.

3) A Quick Glance Should Not Be Mistaken As A Romantic Invitation… scanning the room happens, we get bored, we get curious, everybody takes a gander at what’s around. If eyes settle upon you for a moment and don’t return, it’s not destiny for us to marry and have a thousand babies. If eyes are felt upon our necks, we often look up to see what has taken an interest but this should not be mistaken for approval or a come on. Now, if we hold your gaze or have a smirk of sorts that is an entirely different story. Take note that this is a fine line, to be broached by an aware presence… not a massively drunk beer goggled arrogance. Most women, in my experience, don’t go out into the night with the expectation to go home with someone or meet their life partner but to have a good time and maybe get a few genuine acknowledgments.

2) Most Compliments Are Better Left Unsaid… I can’t hear you, you can’t hear me, the music is blaring and the truth is you couldn’t tell if my eyes were black, purple or green so don’t bother telling me that my peepers are pretty. Every line, is a line even if it’s applicable to the lady you’re attempting to service. We’ve heard it all before and it’s better to just keep it to yourself; in fact I hear that most women get turned on by an intelligent or witty remark as opposed to a saccharine supply of prose. If you want to spit a poem dripping with metaphors at us on a Friday night, plan on spending a lot of Saturday mornings at home, alone. It’s a total turn-on to be taunted a tad bit as opposed to mooned over, regardless of what the art of wooing calls for in more chivalrous times.

1) Look But Don’t Touch unless it’s a well planted passing move on the high-waist with an accompanied “excuse me” as your meander through a tightly packed room. That’s delicious and the right touch, is the good touch which does just about any body, yes literally, good. It’s not that we’re frigid or that we shudder in fear of men or what lies beneath but being touched without invitation on the dance floor or at the bar is so off-putting. Putting a woman in control of how and where is the first foot in the door, and although we may be animals underneath it all, ladies prefer to be handled with kid gloves at first glance and approach. Don’t mistake a girl letting loose as being loose. Getting heated and heavy with her assets on the dance floor without an invitation will leave things frozen or bring about a quick, hot slap. Having sex on a dance floor with my clothes on makes me think of a bad college “Wild On” excursion that is better left on late night cable TV and far, far away from my reality.

Live by these rules and failure will come as softer blow. It’s all a game and we are but just players on the scene, have fun and have at it.

*Cautionary note- I am attempting to speak on behalf of the ladies and not so much the man-eaters who decidedly break ALL the rules. Boys, fend for yourselves! And as my dear friend Robert puts it- “When it comes to hoes, nobody knows.”