Juji's Blog

What is it with dudes dressing up as big turds? Has their self-respect gone down the toilet? Mr Floatie (see below) is a community activist who dresses up in a poo costume to protest the pumping of raw sewerage into the waters off Victoria in British Columbia. Worthy cause, I agree, but what I want to know is whether you'd date him and, if so, what you'd tell your parents he does for a living?

People are weeeird, but this character raises quite a few unanswered questions:

Firstly, does he pull your chain?

He obviously likes chicken nuggets, but what exactly does poo-man poo?

Is the stool flexible enough to sit on a stool?

Does everyone evacuate the pool when Mr Floatie's taking a leisurely float?

How come he looks so happy? If I looked like that, I'd be flushing myself headfirst.

Do you reckon the dumb-ass look on his face means he's got shit for brains?

Is the guy in the picture happy about Mr Floatie cuddling him, or is he about to crap himself?

Mr Floatie obviously likes a bit of a surf - gives the term surf 'n' turd (whoops! surf 'n' turf) a whole new meaning... "Er, I just ate, but thanks anyway."

Would you date a walking hamburger, hotdog or sandwich? Where would you draw the line?

How much does a person's job impact on your decision to date/fuck/marry them?

Would you date/fuck/marry a Wiggle, an executioner or a chicken sexer?

Have you dated people with weirdo jobs? My ex's have had pretty straight jobs like chefs, computer programmers, and teachers - nothing to write home about. The chefs did have a particular kitchen-stink about them, but nothing compared to what I imagine Mr Floatie might emanate in the bedroom after a big day out bobbin' around shit.

While it may do something' for Jed, personally, I'd rather eat my own head.

Juji x

Hey All, I read an article last week that made me want to slap Barbie twice around her air-filled head. The plastic princess is thinking about dumping bronzed toy boy, Blaine (see pix below) - a muscly, super hot, Aussie boogie boarder, for her old flame, commitment-phobic Ken. I reckon if you've been hanging around a dude in toy town for 43 years, and he still hasn't pronounced his undying love, albeit in doll speak, it's time to fling him outta the toy box for good.

Rumour has it Ken's aiming to win her over with some great new makeover that'll have her creaming her hotpants at the mere sight of him. Well, it'd have to be a complete bloody overhaul if you ask me.

Ken's schizophrenic personality changes over the years make my skin crawl. His '70s Elvis look is so smooth and smarmy, it makes me want to chew my own arm off or reach for an almighty sharp pair of shears. The '80s look is too clean cut, and I reckon he'd be boring as batshit in bed. I could never have a serious relationship with '90s Ken, 'cos I wouldn't be able to stop laughing long enough 'cos he looks like a friggin' clown and, as for millennium Ken, he's a meterosexual gone mad. I couldn't date a guy that spends more time and money on nurturing himself than me. Besides, he'd show me up. Millennium Ken needs a good dollop of manhood tossed in - he's far too pretty and I reckon my gay friends'd have him served up on a silver platter for breakfast, lunch and tea - and there wouldn't be much left of him, I can tell you.

What do you think Ken's new look should be? If you had him in your hot little paws and could do anything you liked to him, what would it be? I reckon he needs all the help he can get. And what about Barbie? Do you think she should take him back? And what would he have to do first?

I, being a die hard, beach-going Aussie chick who's well and truly over commitment phobes, lean towards Blaine, his blonde locks and hot bod - even if he is a tad shiny. What do you think?

(Scroll down for comments - yeah, I'm technologically chanllenged!) x

Hi all you Friendsationers. This week, I'd really love to get to know you. There are thousands of you out there, but I feel I hardly know you. Sure I can look at your profiles and pix, but I'd like to really get to know what makes you tick or, better still, what tickles you, where and why. I have lots of stories to tell, I've lived hard and lived lots, but you guys and gals probably have too, and I don't know that my stories are any more interesting than yours.

So you're sitting there in relative anonymity with your computer screen for company. Is there something you'd like to get off your chest, put down in words? I challenge you to spill your guts. In particular, has anything really juicy happened through Friendsation that you'd care to share?

I keep coming across these success stories in the papers about people meeting online. You know the ones - they met online, travelled to the other side of the planet to check each other out, were dumbstruck the second they laid eyes on each other, and then lived happily ever after. Pretty kewl hey. While I know you wouldn't have had time to have each other's babies yet, I'm curious to know how you're faring in the love stakes on the site. Have you met anyone who does it for you? Someone who tickles you in your most delicious, sensitive spot? Are you working on him or her? Planning to meet? Have you dated? Or maybe you've simply met some nice people you like talking to? Or made some helpful contacts. Whatever. So tell me about you, anything'll do. You can even tell me to get f'd if you want (although the real Kazlan never did - she's cool). Just tell me something.

Let's keep it nice though. If you've got something mean to say about a fellow Friendsationer, it's probably best go tell it to your dog. There's enough misery in the world, let's hear about the good stuff.

So, the stage is yours...Over to you.
Juji x

Well, I hope you guys are all warming up with the new blogs and thoughts on love, life and relationships. Keep those comments coming on in - we love your feedback and opinions and I know you all have something great to contribute. That's what makes life so interesting - behind every single face on the planet is some amazing or fascinating story.

I've been busy consoling a girlfriend whose 4-month relationship just busted up. We've all been through break ups before and we all know it ain't much fun. In fact, waxing your VJ or the hair off your balls is probably more fun. Within four months, my girlfriend had her guy move in, they met the parents, booked the wedding and she was busy designing an oh-so-pretty dress. Talk about a rush. What a head fuck. Don't get me wrong. I'm not putting her down, it's all pretty understandable really. Her experience reminded me of a very valuable lesson - one too easily forgotten when we're in that heady, in-love phase of the first few months of an exciting new relationship. We don't think straight! We're so consumed by our new love, we've got our heads in the distant, fluffy clouds, we're busting with excitement and zest for life, and we hardly eat (who needs it when the sex is so damn good?). We see the world through rose coloured glasses. We're in love with the world and it's in love with us. Yeah, it's a damn good place to be - till you get to really know each other that is.

Not only that, while our body's in the infatuation phase, we're also busy secreting a cocktail of chemicals that are actually happy drugs. These cheery little munchkins with bloody complicated names, like phenylethylamine, dopamine, norepinepherine and oxytocin, swim around our love-struck bodies making us feel high, energetic and extra turned on. With this little love potion bubbling around inside us, it's no wonder some of us decide to have each other's babies before we've really got to know each other. Sure, true love can result and most good relationships started out this way. But remember, when you meet someone who really floats your boat, give it 6 months or more before rushing into things, or it can be one helluva rough storm afterwards. Love to hear your thoughts on the love-struck highs and super hot sex of the first few months of a new relationships. It is, after all, a shitload of fun.

Juji x

Hi and welcome.

I've been blessed with the task of giving you a little insight into life, love and sex in Australia. Tough job, hey? Not! First thing I decided was that I simply must go out and do some extensive research and get myself a little more...er... 'work experience'. As for the juicy details of that 'research', I might save that and share it with you once I get to know you a little better, but for now let's just say it's been a shitload of fun! In fact, since telling my friends about this little post, it's kinda weird that my male ones have suddenly taken a whole lot more interest in me. They ring me more often, drop cheeky little lines here and there, grin inanely, stare at my tits, salivate, that sort of thing. Given I don't usually fuck my friends, I'm sitting back having a bit of a giggle - and taking notes of course.

A quick bit of housekeeping - please don't think me illiterate when you see words like colour, glamour, tantalise and fantasise. I'm an Aussie and I spell like one. Luckily for us, words like love, relationships, dating, sex, fuck, fucked and fucking offer no spelling variations, so we should pretty much understand each other.

For those of you who haven't travelled to Oz, I just want to dispel a few myths. We don't have kangaroos leaping and hopping all round the place. Our cities are just as kangaroo-free as yours. However, when driving round the more remote areas, if you're really lucky, you might get to see one leaping out in front of you when you're doing 120km's flying down a country highway. (I think you do miles. Forget the maths - it's too hard.) Just know that it's fast and that the impact will most probably kill you.

Very few of us throw shrimps on the barbie at every available opportunity and most of us think Paul Hogan's an idiot. Sure, we do enjoy a barbecue in the sunny months, but shrimps, or actually prawns as we call them, are super expensive, so it's usually snags (read sausages), lots of tomato sauce, and a slab of lamb chop accompanied by a much larger slab of beer.

Few girls greet each other with "g'day mate". The real blokey blokes do, particularly in country areas, but us city dwellers have adopted the much more civilised, European tradition of a single kiss on the cheek. However, it's two kisses, one on each cheek, amongst Italians, and an awkward, mouth and nose-clashing three if you're amongst Lebanese. For the particularly pretentious, it's a no-skin-touching, air-kiss affair. If you haven't got a pretentious bone in your body, or a smattering of self respect, it's a wet pash smack on the mush, tongue an' all, especially if you're a blokey bloke from the bush who's had too many beers at the barbie.

I guess it takes all types to keep life interesting and we've got them all here in Australia. I was at a bar the other night listening to my favourite band. There were the easy, going, comfortable-in-their-own-skin types who are easy and fun to talk to. They generally stood around the bar making it really easy to mingle with them. There were the huddled groups sitting in booths, basically saying we don't want to meet anyone at all and are very content with our own friends thank you very much. Then there were the suits, who always make me very curious about why they constantly have their hands in their pockets. Just what are they doing with them? If any of you guys can enlighten me on this, I'd be grateful. Is it a comfort thing? An insecurity thing? A sneaky way of jiggling one's dick in public?

And then there was this sleazy, much older bloke who suffered from the unfortunate delusion that he was some super-gorgeous Greek god. This Adonis wannabe kept undressing me with his eyes. I mean, where did he get off? He was old enough to be my grandfather and while I've experimented with a healthy spectrum of age groups over my time, this old fart was definitely bordering on antiquity. I'd turn my back on him, but could still feel him boring holes in my now denuded back. He stood there, casually, cockily, very sure of himself, caressing his stubby of beer like it was his limp dick. Most disturbing to say the least. The only way he was gonna get laid was if he paid for it, or if his wife succumbed to the odd duty fuck. I felt like telling him he was simply wasting his fast-depleting testosterone levels on me. In fact, if he's there again tonight and drools anywhere near my direction, I probably will.

So, over to you. What's the oldest guy or gal you've ever screwed? Was it good? Given their experience, do they make for expert lovers and does this make up for the fact that they may be a wee bit wrinkled? At what point would you draw the line?

And, I'm really curious about what you guys and gals think about the land of Oz.

Juji x