About Miss Syl

"Tell him I've been too fucking busy — or vice versa."

MISS SYL was born in a gypsy camp and was immediately wrapped in silks, decorated with sparkling jewels and precious metals, and left out for the fairy-folk. However, they found her entirely unsuited to be a changeling, being already changed, and sent her back; though not to her original home. Instead, they carelessly left her on the doorstep of a childless couple in a town so dull no one could even be bothered to give it a name.

She was then raised in this place, most famously described as "a death trap," though in fact it was more akin to a long, narrow tube, a sort of "habitrail for humanity." Needless to say, it was not a good fit for a child instilled in infancy with an unchecked instinct for tramping, thieving, water, and wild.

School was a blur — because of the problem with her eyes — and playground fights were a regular thing (though she never lost, her knuckles bear many invisible scars). She got good grades, which she traded away for assorted shiny pink hair ribbons and collectible serial-killer trading cards.

In college, she took to dressing only in black, and quickly staged a coup, assuming control and altering the curricula to her own liking; yet somehow managed to get only middling grades. When asked about her indifferent performance, she replied, "Huh?"

After graduating, she returned to the gypsy lifestyle of her forebears, though instead of a horse-drawn cart, she lived in a Plymouth Valiant upon which she'd hot-glued various plastic insects and life-sized busts of minor European heads of state. She ventured far and wide — mostly wide — and once spent a year lost in a roundabout, perfecting the art of photosynthesis.

Over the years, she's been a master of words and a killer of trees, a splitter of hairs, a shop-girl and a theoretical canner of fish. She's been a cartoon nurse, a professional opinionatrix, and an under-paid ninja assassin. She's worked as a (vaguely naughty) babysitter and a librarian, though was not named Marion. She was a grown-up Girl Scout for somewhat suspect reasons, taught Dog the Bounty Hunter everything he knows, and counseled Hulk Hogan on parenting matters, as well as which oil makes his pecs look shiniest.

She loves firelight, fine wine, Velveeta, and shaving kittens, though she doesn't care for the sound of rending metal, unless it's done tastefully. She knows how to pour a proper pint for rough men in kilts, and can wield an escargot fork with authority. She has a penchant for spirits and has been known to drink football players and hardened soldiers under the table, and then join them there.

Miss Syl is the author and sole lunch lady/proprietress of Sexeteria. It is generally referred to by others as a “sex blog,” though Miss Syl only encourages the continued usage of this label so that she can keep luring in the dull-witted and rolling them for cash. In fact, patrons entering the ‘Teria will find a smorgasbord of topics to feast on. Specials change daily (or at Miss Syl’s whim).

Liner notes graciously provided by Miss Syl's highly unofficial (and highly suspect) biographer,
Thebadus Moth-Afahkah
September 2006

• COPYRIGHT. All material, unless otherwise noted, is copyright © 2006 Miss Syl/Sexeteria. All Rights Reserved. In non-legalese: If you'd like to feature parts of my content in a work of yours, ask for permission. All usage, including fair use, must include attribution and a link back to Sexeteria and/or the source page of the cited piece. In legalese: Unless it falls under fair use, you may not copy, distribute, display, or perform the copyrighted work. You may not use this work for commercial purposes. You can not alter, transform, or build upon this work. However, any of these conditions can be waived if you get permission from the copyright holder and attribute the work in the manner specified by her.
• HISTORICAL perspective on the 'Teria and its reason for being can be found in this virgin post.
• COMMENTS are highly encouraged and appreciated and cooed over--if they're good (and by good, we also mean badass). To find out how to be good, read these guidelines for commenting.
• SPAMMERS will be shot on sight and fed, while still emitting their last death rattle, to rabid wild jackals. In other words, your shit will be deleted. Don't bother.
• CONTACT Miss Syl by emailing sexeteria [at] gmail [dot] com.
• MORE SYL. If you still haven't had enough of reading about Miss Syl and must know more about this fascinating creature, you'd do best to explore the Sexeteria archives, where you can spend a lot of time deep-sea diving in the chiaroscuro of her mind. But if you're an instant gratification type (and who isn't?), you can whet your need with some of the more surface details here or here or here.