Hey everybody, Hilly here!  Today I am filling in for Avitable and if you'll excuse me, I need to fan myself off for a moment.  Quick, someone bring me a mint julep because I do believe I'm about to swoon.  I mean, seriously, this is the fucking "big show" and I'm going to take a moment to enjoy the hell out of it.  Sure sure,  while I'd never consider myself an obscure blog reference that time forgot, I am in no way used to getting the flow of big love that I see over here every day.  It's making me glisten with glee....

Speaking of glistening, I'm totally changing the topic from the one that I told Avitable I was going to write about here today.  When he first approached me about guest-blogging (yes, that's the story I am using here...that he specifically approached me, not that he put a shout-out up on Twitter), I told him that I was planning on posting about "nepitaphs".  Here's how *that* conversation went...

Adam: i don't know what that means, but okay
Hilly: Like with all this "power of blog" talk...what would you want your net epitaph to be?
Adam: ah
Hilly: Is that too morbid?
Adam: nope
Hilly: Cause you can move on to someone else....

While *he* may have had no problem with my intended subject, I decided quite quickly that I'd much rather talk about something else that seems to have taken flight in the PRB recently...naked nudeness.  You see, I love naps more than almost anything else in this world.  One of the best perks of my job is that I get off (TWKS) between 2-3 pm every day so I always get a nice little nap, unless yanno...I have real errands to run and such.  Lately, I've been getting really naughty!  You see, I've been coming home, stripping down all the way, and taking what I like to call "the naked nap".  What that means is that I am completely naked when I climb into bed and fall asleep.  Sure sure, maybe sometimes a little something else "happens" before I actually fall asleep, but can you blame me?  My naked body is right there for the taking!  MY taking!

Oh...like you're shocked.  This may be "the big show" but it's no fucking "family show"!  Therefore nobody gasp or feign shock when I say this:  I think part of the reason that I never have slept nude in the 36 years leading up to the last few months is because, well...I always thought that it was sorta gross to have my hoopie doo (that's "pussy" for those of you on the adult channel) touching the sheets night after night.  And you know what is ironic?  I still don't!  When I go to sleep at night, I am always in a camisole pajama top and panties...yep, each and every stinking night.  It's always been that way though.  So I guess that "naked nap time" has become my own special little treat...a little taste of "sinny sin sin", if you will.

And no, it's not because of the little pleasures that may or may not take place at nap time...it's the feeling of the cool, crisp sheets against my body after a long, hard day.  It makes me feel relaxed and takes me to a far away place where I dream of being skinny and having....well, you don't need to know that part.  Besides, sometimes I'm so groggy when I wake up from a nap that I'm almost startled thinking it's morning time and that I am running late.  Once I realize that I'm hella fucking nude, I can calm back down because my brain associates the hoopie doo with the nap time.  Erm, or something like that.

This whole admission of mine makes me curious about others sleeping habits though.  I mean, would it be too much of me to ask, no beg you to tell me what you sleep in?  Of course it's not too much, people...dish it!  Do you sleep in the naked nudeness?  Do you wear only panties, boxers or briefs to bed?  Are you fully clothed?  Is there some kinky alternative which I have not yet discovered?  Let it all hang out and tell me what you do or don't wear to bed!

Avitable Kisses,
Hilly

Please welcome the lovely and talented Golf Widow who has agreed to write a guest post for me today. Give her lots of comment love, fuckers.:

At the beginning of this year, the Fortune 500 company for which I'd been working the past seven years informed me that my position was being eliminated due to "budgetary constraints," because somehow my meager salary was cramping their style, what with their very healthy 2007 fourth-quarter earnings and their recent acquisition of another company to merge into one of their divisions.

Bitter? I? Never.

I have been selling guest posts to other bloggers for $2 a pop to make money, thus supplementing the lack of income I've been forced to cope with since this change of circumstances. I've sold quite a few of them. No one has asked for their money back, so far.

Thanks to Avitable, this site is now going to be host to some information you probably never would have seen appear here, otherwise. I figured it would be okay, because Avi has a fair few women reading this, and the men would just decide that he's "getting in touch with his feminine side" or "being a lot gayer than usual," to which I would like to interject "Not That There's Anything Wrong With That."

Anyway, it has been suggested to me, by a fair few people, that my writing skills would be most valuable to a site such as Associated Content, but I don't feel as if I have enough experience with any given topic to write knowledgeably about it.

This morning, I woke up thinking I actually do have enough knowledge to write an article called, "How to Have a Monthly Period," because I've been having those for about two and a half decades now, but the people who need that information are kind of limited. Women don't need to know, men don't want to know, and little girls aren't reading Associated Content.

Basically, little boys would be the ones who'd want this information, but you know what they're looking for. Pictures of boobies and naughty bits.

The stuff I know about monthly periods, about how messy it is and how sick it makes me feel, and how it's not the beautiful, magical womanly crapola the books and films promised me it would be, would certainly turn little boys off women for life.

I'm not saying it would turn them gay. That's not possible, as far as I know. But it would certainly make them realize they don't want to deal with P.M.S. or P.M.D.D.

I don't want to deal with either of those either.

But I suddenly realized something kind of crucial, when I started punching numbers into my calculator to figure out that I was eleven when I got my first period, and it was springtime, so I'm going to be thirty-holy-crap-seven next month, so that's twenty-six years, times twelve months, fairly regularly, that's three hundred twelve periods I've had so far.

Give or take a few. Because I missed one last month.

And I don't remember having one the month before.

I had better be going through the change, because I am as ill-equipped as Juno MacGuff to deal with a baby right about now.

Less so, because I am not nearly as cute as she is, and I don't have Diablo Cody writing my next line either, if I am.

Which is not to say that I'm ready to deal with menopause, either.

THIS IS NOT A GOOD TIME.

Associate that content.

Hi everyone, Poppy here. Don't let all the other Substitute Avitables fool you into thinking otherwise: Avi is all about the absolutely filthy, bordering on criminal, sexual perversion. Because I find his predilection for prepubescent school girls fairly disturbing I thought I’d take it down a notch and post something completely tame just to make him sorry that he asked me to guest post while he lazily hangs out naked in the pool with his Emma Watson Look-Alikes fan club getting a sunburn on his happy stick.

I know he says I can make anything dirty but that’s simply not true. I am completely capable of posting innocent, clean-cut content that is safe for even your freakishly smart 2-year-old to read. As proof I submit to you:

10 things you should do for your kitty. Daily.

1. Feed her. Can’t have a starving kitty, that’s just mean. She prefers foods that will go down her throat easily, but as long as you make bite-sized pieces for her she'll really eat anything.

2. Groom her. She grooms herself, but she does appreciate when you help her out a bit with that. Some kitties even enjoy a bit of a shave!
3. Give her kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. Kisses are her favorite.
4. Pet her. No petting, no love. Plus, petting your kitty is very therapeutic for you, according to "science".
5. Tell her she’s pretty. She does do all that work to keep herself maintained so the least you can do is compliment her for her effort.
6. Call her. She really enjoys it when her Hello Kitty cell phone vibrates. (Polite kitties always have their phones set to "manner mode".)
7. Let her out. She gets a bit musty if she stays inside too long.
8. Talk to her. She’ll mew back.
9. Introduce her to other kitties. The sight of a bunch of kitties at play is pretty much as close to perfection as anyone can get. She enjoys it too, but this is really more for your pleasure than hers.
10. Give her lots of toys. Or at least one big toy. Gotta keep the girl occupied and content all day, not just for the first few minutes of the day.

If you do all these things for your kitty and she's still not happy then might I suggest that you take advantage of my one time special offer for private tutoring lessons. All proceeds go to the Rehabilitate Adam H. Avitable fund. We understand it's a lost cause, but we try anyway.

Here is the direct link.

Today's guest post is brought to you by the gorgeous and powerful Crystal.

I'm Dave from Blogography, and I shouldn't even be here today.

When Avitable asked me to guest-post on his blog, I immediately said "yes" thinking that he was going on a vacation, or needed time to work on a business project, or was having a sex change or whatever. Like me, he's a daily blogger, and so I'm sympathetic to the idea that he might need time away from his blog for something important like that.

Of course, now I know that he's not doing anything important, he just "needs a break."

What a pussy.

I mean, come on! I crank out an entry for my blog every day... even if I'm heinously ill, have no internet access, or am traveling half a world away. Once I even blogged while dead.* But Avitable... he just "wants a break."

And so here I am.

Time to get this show on the road...

MONEY!!

One of my favorite fantasies that doesn't involve chocolate pudding and Elizabeth Hurley is that I somehow acquire a billion dollars. With such a huge sum of money, very little would be out of my reach... razing Mt. Rainier National Park and erecting a fifty-story-tall monument to myself suddenly goes from absurd dream to stunning possibility. And I've got hundreds of other cool ideas, all equally awesome.

But something I've never had the balls to contemplate (until now, anyway) is what Avitable would do with such vast wealth. Because, let's face it, the guy is one seriously twisted individual. While it would be amusing to watch somebody like me spend a cool billion, Avitable would be just plain scary. Here's just a few things we might be forced to endure...

• The Kingdom of Avitablania... Is there anything more frightening than the thought of Avitable as the dictator of his own country? Could there be a more hedonistic and self-indulgent nation on earth? Though you've got to respect any country whose primary export would be either poodle porn or taco-flavored lube.
• Bestiality Theme Park... Everybody's heard of a "petting zoo"... Avitable could take things to the next level and create a heavy-petting zoo. A happy place where he could indulge in all the man-on-snake sex and dolphin fellatio his heart desires.
• Avitable News Network... Not wanting to be outdone by the likes of Ted Turner, Billionaire Avitable could start his own news network, where top stories would involve Avril Lavigne getting a bikini wax and in-depth reports on scrotum-shaving techniques.

And there you have it. I blog so Adam doesn't have to... the lazy bastard.

Now I'm curious to know what Avitable's legion of fans think he would do with a billion dollars. Would his antics be an entertaining diversion, or the end of life on earth as we know it?

*Well, dead-drunk, but still...

In case you don't know me, I'm Amy from Amy's Musings. I know, I know, it must seem very strange for a wholesome, mother of 3 to be friends with someone I affectionately refer to as "The Anti-Christ" but I assure you, you just don't know the Adam Avitable that I know.

And, honestly, if it weren't for the nude pics that Adam is holding over my head, I would not be writing this post. Of course, if he hadn't taken advantage of me when I was drunk, he wouldn't have the pictures. He still owes me a naked dance video though, the bastard. (And, Adam, I expect said dance video to include ass-less chaps and a large Stetson hat.)

Everyone has skeletons in their closet. Well, most of us are smart enough to keep them in our closet. Not our good friend, Adam, though. He either keeps the dry cleaning in the closet and hangs the skeletons out the window or his skeletons are the polar opposite of our skeletons. I'm not sure which the case may be but I do have a sneaking suspicion.

That being said, I think we all love to play along with his image that he is evil, nasty, and cares little if anything at all for his fellow human beings. Even with his self-professed apathy he still does the occasional unintentional good deed; I owe him a debt of gratitude, thanks to him my husband is obsessed with snakes and dolphins and I have a lot more time to myself.

But, there is another side to Adam Avitable aside from being a complete workaholic; he's also a brilliant baker. Really, no kidding! The man is a genius in the kitchen and should probably have his own show on the Food Network. My title suggestion would be, "Cooking With Avitable" because that sounds both like a grumpy chef AND an exotic ingredient!

Many a night I have found myself depressed, sad, and in need of a friend. Somehow I always end up hunched over my keyboard picking Adam's brain via IM and discovering new uses for Cream of Tartar or brilliant substitutes for vegetable oil. Prior to my conversations with Adam, I had no idea that baking chocolate chip cookies while naked on webcam would make my cookies even more moist and chewy than baking with clothes on! I mean, sure I had 3rd degree burns on both my nipples, but people raved about those cookies! I did feel bad for Adam though, he said he had a seizure as I was pulling out the last batch, I suppose that explains why his eyes were rolling back in his head and his right arm kept spasming, I had no idea he had temporary epilepsy! And, I'd love to tell you about my muffins, but he made me promise to keep that our little secret.

Then there was the time I wore a white shirt to a Mexican restaurant and ended up with a nasty salsa stain. Bemoaning my misfortune to Adam he quickly rallied to the defense of my shirt and suggested several stain removers. Sure, I had a hard time locating a bum to ejaculate on the stain... but it did come out in the wash!

In return, I think I'm a pretty good friend to him as well. Just like the time he told me he needed a stun gun but that the laws in Florida prohibited him from purchasing one if the stores had security cameras. Imagine my surprise to learn that Florida has such strict laws!! I bought one at a store across town and shipped it right out to him. I sure hope he got rid of those gophers in his front lawn!

So, that's my little stint at guest posting here in Avitaland. You know, it's funny because a lot of times when people guest post it sort of turns out like a roast for the hosting blogger. I hope that instead you guys got to learn something about Adam that you never knew or even suspected.

And, Avitaland really is a nice place. Really!! I don't recommend using the bathroom though, it's hard to relieve yourself when you are trying to avoid the dildos and butt plugs that are attached to the toilet seat not to mention that strange little camera looking thing under the toilet seat that Adam assured me was a toilet bowl ionizer.

So, who is surprised that I am guest posting?

Not you? Or you? Oh you KNEW I'd be on the list, did you?

Shame on you. You all should be shocked. Because if you understood the dynamic of the Miss Britt/Avitable relationship, you would know that he does the favors, and I do the reneging on promises made before said favor was granted. (And yet "I'll show you my boobs" still works. Dumb ass.)

But when asked to do a guest post, I couldn't resist the opportunity to FINALLY bring to this blog what it has been so desperately lacking for... mmmm.... about a year now.

Adam and I constantly argue about blogging (no, really, we are losers) and about how MY blog (that's www.miss-britt.com - go there, bookmark me, become a fan, we have boobs) is a sincere, honest reflection of me. And how his blog is a steaming pile of shit carefully constructed facade meant to delude you into thinking he's a soulless perv.

He maintains that his blog is an accurate portrayal of who he is.

He is, as usual, full of shit. And I take great pleasure in revealing to you today the Real Adam Heath Avitable.

First of all, Avitable maintains that he is a raging pervert who thinks about sex most of the time and perversions against nature the rest of the time.

Acutally, Adam is one of the most a-sexual people I know. I mean sure, he has an odd obsession with 16-18 year old girls. That is, unfortunately, very true. And he does masturbate more than any person I've ever met in life (I just wish he'd stop doing it when I'm in the house). But he's also never been in a strip club. Ever. And he actually READS THE ARTICLES in Playboy. And he has never hit on me. Ever. Which is a sure fire sign that he is not in the least bit interested in sex. Clearly.

Avitable also goes to great lengths to convince you all that he doesn't care about anyone besides himself. He hates people and is a selfish, egotistical bastard.

Adam is, in fact, an egotistical bastard. And I don't think anyone has ever asked me "but what do you think of ME?" more times in one day as this man. I'm running out of creative ways to respond to "do you think I'm pretty/smart/funny?"

But. He is one of the least selfish people I've ever met.

He tucks his wife in every night for bed. If she's out of town, he does it by phone. He also calls her "sweetie" and constantly apologizes for things he admittedly has no reason to apologize for - simply because it "makes her feel better".

He went to great lengths to make plans for me every weekend the first month I moved to Florida. Because he couldn't stand the idea of me "being alone".

And he's loaned more money to more people than most people will make this year (himself included). I'm quite possibly the only person he hasn't loaned money to - unless you count the salary.

And while he does have a tendency to loan money and pick up the tab as an act of superiority - he is generous in other, more altruistic ways.

You need a ride? Adam's your guy. You get invited to a bachelorette party and turn it down because there's no way you're drinking and driving 30 minutes home? Adam will drive 30 minutes to pick you up, take you out, wait for your 3 AM call, and return you safely home. Completely un-felt up.

You hate your husband/mother/friend/kids/self/God/life/cat/neighbors/in-laws/and those cock suckers at Home Depot? He'll sit on the phone for two hours and assure you that those people are "ridiculous" and clearly there is nothing wrong with YOU.

But Adam is more than a generous chauffeur with big shoulders to cry on.

He is also the biggest bundle of Issues you'll ever meet. Amy and I use to jokingly call him the Issueless Wonder, because Denial is at the top of the Issue List. Right above Fear Of Things I Cannot Control.

He's insecure. And afraid. And uncomfortable. And stressed. And disappointed. And embarrassed. And self conscious. And paranoid. And unsure of his future.

Just like us.

And he's also...

...well, the big stuff I could never go into. The secrets he hides in his closet, under the desk, behind the bravado and on that ridiculous hard drive of his - those I would never relay here. Because Adam and I have an understanding - a deal, if you will.

I won't spill his - because I know without a doubt, he'd never spill mine.

Now. Get your ass over to MY blog. I'll show you my boobs.

…for my latest and greatest idea: a chain of candlepin bowling alleys called Fuck-a-Baby Bowl-a-Rama.

There are too many babies. I think we can all agree on that, especially in all those third world countries. Most of them are going to die anyway. I mean, Angelina Jolie and Madonna can’t adopt them all.

At Fuck-a-Baby Bowl-a-Rama we can take those unwanted babies and turn them into productive members of society, giving joy to countless thousands of people in so many ways.

Upon arriving at Fuck-a-Baby Bowl-a-Rama and paying a modest fee, you can choose a baby from any of our Holding Pens, which are segregated by continent of origin. For example, on your last visit you may have fucked a Swedish baby from our European Holding Pen. So for your next visit, you may want to sodomize a Ugandan baby from our African Holding Pen. It’s fun to compare and contrast, don’t you think? After all, variety is the very spice of life!

After you have used and degraded the baby for your own sick, twisted, and very sexy, sexy pleasure, just leave it there in the Fuck Booth and head on down to the alleys to bowl a few strings. An attendant from FABBAR will retrieve the baby and clean up any and all bodily fluids that have been left as a result of your hot baby-lovin’.

Afterwards, the used baby will be brought back to the workroom out back to be “repurposed”. First, we twist baby’s head off, hollow it out, pack it with filler, file it down, and make a lovely candlepin ball out of it.

Baby’s arms and legs are then pulled off, and the torso is placed on a machine that will fashion baby’s body into a perfectly serviceable candlepin.

And all those little arms and legs? They make tasty fried treats at our FABBAR Snack Bar. Admit it; you thought it was chicken, didn’t you?

And at Fuck-a-Baby Bowl-a-Rama we believe in doing our part to save the environment. As such, no part of the baby is wasted. All the blood, pus, and fecal matter resulting from a “repurposing” is blended and boiled into a lovely waxy substance that keeps our lanes slick and true.

So…that’s my vision. I am expecting the prospectus and some dazzling color brochures back from the printer any day now, unless the FBI intercepts them first. How much of an investment can I count on from YOU?

Today's guest post is brought to you by the illustrious and powerful Mr. Fabulous.

My name is RW and I will never come back here again.

When I logged on I had a post all ready to go on my clipboard and all I was going to have to do was paste it and set the time and never have to do this again as long as I lived.

But the moment I got settled in here a popup took over my screen and I had to find a way (with my limited internet skills) to X it out before my wife walked in!

See, I'm the kind of a guy who, when he enters "MILF" into his Google search, gets detailed news about the Moro Islamic Liberation Front - and is actually looking for that! So how was I supposed to explain these cycling photographs of throbbing members and generous orbs to the Mrs if she came in right then?

My God, though, I thought they were trying to start a damn fire for Christ's sake!

Anyway, once I got rid of that, all of a sudden this burgeoning penile object started expanding into the screen from the "Save and Continue Editing" button. My God. It was green and veiny and the head looked like a German soldier or something. I wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to get rid of that... so I started clicking it. But every time I clicked it all I got was these stupid moaning sounds. So I stopped and just waited. And I waited. And I waited.

It didn't go away until it took over everything and then all of a sudden my whole screen was white and I had to start all over again! And now I have no idea what this stuff is all over my cursor, but it's been trailing this... gunk around as I move it from point to point on the screen. So listen - if there are any misspelled words after the third paragraph - don't look at me!

Needless to say by the time I was ready to paste my entry into the post box my clipboard had already been erased but for that tit bounding icon over there in the smilies. Everywhere I clicked - bounding tits, bounding tits, bounding tits. It was ridiculous!

Then when I minimized my browser to reopen Word and copy it again - my wallpaper was a picture of a red snake wrapped around some woman's leg with this animated little tongue kind of wiggling towards her... well there.

And when a new popup showed up saying "Out of memory. Download aborted" I found myself yelling "WHAT download!!?" At the top of my lungs.

Now every time I've tried to open a program since, all I get are pictures of Bambi getting it up the ass from Jiminy Cricket, Mother Teresa's head going back and forth and back and forth in front of some guy in a garage, and all kinds of things just like that. By the way, I had no idea people's waists were that flexible!

Now I seem to have tits popping up like daisies at random for a screensaver. sigh...

How does this guy FUNCTION in this universe!?!??

So I'm outta here. My entire photo collection of lapidary anomalies is GONE. So are my Balance sheets for the 793 stocks I'm following. My treatise on conceptual design of the electrical balance of plants for an advanced battery energy storage facility is RUINED. Forget this noise, I'm not staying here a minute longer.

You people following me this week, consider yourselves warned. Now I know why everybody wanted me to go first.

You bastards.