"You're pretty, you're so attractive," Alexander said later. "I've never seen you look bad in my life. There are times when you've looked miserable and I've still, like, raped you."

And people say romance is dead.

The long, meandering conversations ends with the pair singing a variety of songs, including the National Anthem, together until Alexander falls asleep.

I find this the most perplexing, as the sex talk is kinda tame by today's standards.

What were the other 38 minutes for?

Mormons are sooooooo kinky

Walker: I don't trust this b*tch as far as I can throw her...and I can't throw her.
She's up there saying all this crazy BS and it's her word against a dead guy who can't defend himself.
Then when they actually have tapes proving she's lying, her excuse is "Ummmmm I was lying on the tape, yeah that's the ticket".

seconded

Walker: I don't trust this b*tch as far as I can throw her...and I can't throw her.
She's up there saying all this crazy BS and it's her word against a dead guy who can't defend himself.
Then when they actually have tapes proving she's lying, her excuse is "Ummmmm I was lying on the tape, yeah that's the ticket".

Yeah. She spent the last day accusing him of pleasuring himself to pictures of young boys trying to look like an absolute monster. However, no pictures were found on his computers and there was no evidence of files being deleted. If this guy WAS into that there would have to be something.

The phone conversation definately doesn't help the portrayal of the victim, but it's far from what she's been accusing him of.

Analysts on the inside have also seen a lot of witness leading and apparently she looks to the lawyer for guidance often through her testimony. I'm just super excited for when the prosecution gets their turn with her. There's no script for that.

Well if the guy is on tape having violent rape fantasies, maybe she did the world a favor.

"Oh my gosh, that is so debasing hot, I like it," Arias responded.

Fixed!

...and twice on Arbor Day.

I went to high school with Jodi, I was wonderng when an article about the trial would show up here.  Its interesting to hear from people around town who think she actually didn't do it.

I hope I'm never a victim of murder, or assault or kidnapped or whatnot. Not for obvious reasons, but to save all of my dirty laundry being aired all over the media. Guy gets murdered to death by crazy eyes and I have to hear about what a kinky perv he is. Not fair.

lattago: I went to high school with Jodi, I was wonderng when an article about the trial would show up here.  Its interesting to hear from people around town who think she actually didn't do it.

Even though she admitted to doing it?

Would the court recorder please read back from the transcript:
"Fapfapfapfapfapfapfapfapfap"

Seems the lady liked getting it rough

/but also maybe she gave it a bit too rough in return
//tiger under the sheets for sure

Agent Smiths Laugh: Well if the guy is on tape having violent rape fantasies, maybe she did the world a favor.

Wonder what his Fark screen name was?

NightOwl2255: She's screwed.

Again?

ScouserDuck,

She didn't admit to it for a long time.  Lots of people here don't seem to know that now she says it was self defense.

When I was thirteen, my best friend started dating this older chick.  They started having sex regularly, which meant the only time he had for me was a few minutes during first lunch to tell me all the crazy things she would do.  He'd always ask me, "You ever had a chick do that?"  He knew I'd never even gotten my skinny dick out of my pants.  He just liked to rub it in that he was getting some and I wasn't.

I wanted to have a story to tell, so I decided to call one of the sex lines advertised in the back of the City Paper.  I stole my dad's credit card information, thinking that I could deny it and the bank would forgive the charges like they did when someone charged $3500 worth of auto parts to my mom's card.

I got the numbers off the card, waited until they were gone for the night, and then settled in with my loving bottle of lube and a warm washcloth.  I called up and got a hot sounding chick, who was a true professional - aggressive, loud, filthy dirty, and who kept putting me on hold every time it sounded like I was about to bust.  Unaware, the minutes were flying by.

Hearing her talk so dirty, I got a rush of temporary confidence.  I started saying all kinds of stuff: "You like it up the tits, honey?  You like it right up the tits?"  Whatever that meant.  "I want to come in your hair and rub it in like shampoo."  That's attentive.  "You ever come so hard you shiat your pants, sweetie?  I can make you thinner."  I was possessed and loving it.

Finally, after an hour or so, I'd rubbed my dick so raw with the wash cloth that I faked an orgasm just so I could hang up.  She begged me to call back later because, as she claimed, she'd never talked to anyone like me before.  I was a stallion.

Well, two weeks later, the credit card bill came.  That little call cost roughly $700.  And the bill line wasn't discrete: "1-900-HOT-SEXX Adult Entertainment."  My dad was livid, but didn't suspect me right off the bat.  He called the credit card company to dispute the charge.  The bank investigated, contacted the phone sex operator, who then miraculously produced, for all parties involved, the recording of the conversation.  I was in my bedroom, listening through the air vent, while my dad played it for my mom in the basement.  It was all my slick lines, consummated with my bellowing, dramatic orgasm.

My parents were laughing so hard that my mom threw up.  I still to this day have never lived it down - every birthday card I get has a twenty dollar bill in it with a little note encouraging me to enjoy some phone sex, "on them."  I had to get a job at McDonald's, which really sucked because one night we got robbed and I watched my manager lady get shot in the face, point blank, brains all over the coffee pot and shake machine.  Trauma breeds trauma I guess.

So yeah, stay away from phone sex lines, and encourage your children to do the same.

I haven't followed the case that closely - but didn't she stab him like 27 times, and shoot him twice?  It's just kinda hard to argue self-defense in that scenario.

slayer199: The proof she's crazy

[i2.cdn.turner.com image 640x360]

It's in her eyes.

Also, asymmetrical face.

lattago: ScouserDuck,

She didn't admit to it for a long time.  Lots of people here don't seem to know that now she says it was self defense.

Little late to be pulling that move I take it?

/waits patiently for pleading insanity

spentmiles: When I was thirteen, my best friend started dating this older chick.  They started having sex regularly, which meant the only time he had for me was a few minutes during first lunch to tell me all the crazy things she would do.  He'd always ask me, "You ever had a chick do that?"  He knew I'd never even gotten my skinny dick out of my pants.  He just liked to rub it in that he was getting some and I wasn't.

I wanted to have a story to tell, so I decided to call one of the sex lines advertised in the back of the City Paper.  I stole my dad's credit card information, thinking that I could deny it and the bank would forgive the charges like they did when someone charged $3500 worth of auto parts to my mom's card.

I got the numbers off the card, waited until they were gone for the night, and then settled in with my loving bottle of lube and a warm washcloth.  I called up and got a hot sounding chick, who was a true professional - aggressive, loud, filthy dirty, and who kept putting me on hold every time it sounded like I was about to bust.  Unaware, the minutes were flying by.

Hearing her talk so dirty, I got a rush of temporary confidence.  I started saying all kinds of stuff: "You like it up the tits, honey?  You like it right up the tits?"  Whatever that meant.  "I want to come in your hair and rub it in like shampoo."  That's attentive.  "You ever come so hard you shiat your pants, sweetie?  I can make you thinner."  I was possessed and loving it.

Finally, after an hour or so, I'd rubbed my dick so raw with the wash cloth that I faked an orgasm just so I could hang up.  She begged me to call back later because, as she claimed, she'd never talked to anyone like me before.  I was a stallion.

Well, two weeks later, the credit card bill came.  That little call cost roughly $700.  And the bill line wasn't discrete: "1-900-HOT-SEXX Adult Entertainment."  My dad was livid, but didn't suspect me right off the bat.  He called the credit card company to dispute the charge.  The bank investigated, contacted the phone sex operator, who then miraculously produced, for all parties involved, the recording of the conversation.  I was in my bedroom, listening through the air vent, while my dad played it for my mom in the basement.  It was all my slick lines, consummated with my bellowing, dramatic orgasm.

My parents were laughing so hard that my mom threw up.  I still to this day have never lived it down - every birthday card I get has a twenty dollar bill in it with a little note encouraging me to enjoy some phone sex, "on them."  I had to get a job at McDonald's, which really sucked because one night we got robbed and I watched my manager lady get shot in the face, point blank, brains all over the coffee pot and shake machine.  Trauma breeds trauma I guess.

So yeah, stay away from phone sex lines, and encourage your children to do the same.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

The long, meandering conversations ends with the pair singing a variety of songs, including the National Anthem, together until Alexander falls asleep.

isn't that how they used to sign off on television stations years ago?

I always hoped to get a cool case if I ever had to do jury duty.
You know, something I could write a book on after and make money on other peoples demise.

Bslim: spentmiles: When I was thirteen, my best friend started dating this older chick.  They started having sex regularly, which meant the only time he had for me was a few minutes during first lunch to tell me all the crazy things she would do.  He'd always ask me, "You ever had a chick do that?"  He knew I'd never even gotten my skinny dick out of my pants.  He just liked to rub it in that he was getting some and I wasn't.

I wanted to have a story to tell, so I decided to call one of the sex lines advertised in the back of the City Paper.  I stole my dad's credit card information, thinking that I could deny it and the bank would forgive the charges like they did when someone charged $3500 worth of auto parts to my mom's card.

I got the numbers off the card, waited until they were gone for the night, and then settled in with my loving bottle of lube and a warm washcloth.  I called up and got a hot sounding chick, who was a true professional - aggressive, loud, filthy dirty, and who kept putting me on hold every time it sounded like I was about to bust.  Unaware, the minutes were flying by.

Hearing her talk so dirty, I got a rush of temporary confidence.  I started saying all kinds of stuff: "You like it up the tits, honey?  You like it right up the tits?"  Whatever that meant.  "I want to come in your hair and rub it in like shampoo."  That's attentive.  "You ever come so hard you shiat your pants, sweetie?  I can make you thinner."  I was possessed and loving it.

Finally, after an hour or so, I'd rubbed my dick so raw with the wash cloth that I faked an orgasm just so I could hang up.  She begged me to call back later because, as she claimed, she'd never talked to anyone like me before.  I was a stallion.

Well, two weeks later, the credit card bill came.  That little call cost roughly $700.  And the bill line wasn't discrete: "1-900-HOT-SEXX Adult Entertainment."  My dad was livid, but didn't suspect me right off the bat.  He called the credit card company to dispute the charge.  The bank investigated, contacted the phone sex operator, who then miraculously produced, for all parties involved, the recording of the conversation.  I was in my bedroom, listening through the air vent, while my dad played it for my mom in the basement.  It was all my slick lines, consummated with my bellowing, dramatic orgasm.

My parents were laughing so hard that my mom threw up.  I still to this day have never lived it down - every birthday card I get has a twenty dollar bill in it with a little note encouraging me to enjoy some phone sex, "on them."  I had to get a job at McDonald's, which really sucked because one night we got robbed and I watched my manager lady get shot in the face, point blank, brains all over the coffee pot and shake machine.  Trauma breeds trauma I guess.

So yeah, stay away from phone sex lines, and encourage your children to do the same.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

Who predicted this story would end with someone getting shot in the face?

Wow is right.

special20: ScouserDuck: However, no pictures were found on his computers and there was no evidence of files being deleted. If this guy WAS into that there would have to be something.

Hey, um, what does the fact that there was no evidence of his presumed deviance on his computer have to do with anything at all about the man's sexuality? All it says to me is that he might have used safe browsing, or didn't need to surf for his particular rule 34 on that box. In any case, your hair is a bird and your argument is invalid.

/says more about you

Wait...what?

spentmiles: When I was thirteen, my best friend started dating this older chick.  They started having sex regularly, which meant the only time he had for me was a few minutes during first lunch to tell me all the crazy things she would do.  He'd always ask me, "You ever had a chick do that?"  He knew I'd never even gotten my skinny dick out of my pants.  He just liked to rub it in that he was getting some and I wasn't.

I wanted to have a story to tell, so I decided to call one of the sex lines advertised in the back of the City Paper.  I stole my dad's credit card information, thinking that I could deny it and the bank would forgive the charges like they did when someone charged $3500 worth of auto parts to my mom's card.

I got the numbers off the card, waited until they were gone for the night, and then settled in with my loving bottle of lube and a warm washcloth.  I called up and got a hot sounding chick, who was a true professional - aggressive, loud, filthy dirty, and who kept putting me on hold every time it sounded like I was about to bust.  Unaware, the minutes were flying by.

Hearing her talk so dirty, I got a rush of temporary confidence.  I started saying all kinds of stuff: "You like it up the tits, honey?  You like it right up the tits?"  Whatever that meant.  "I want to come in your hair and rub it in like shampoo."  That's attentive.  "You ever come so hard you shiat your pants, sweetie?  I can make you thinner."  I was possessed and loving it.

Finally, after an hour or so, I'd rubbed my dick so raw with the wash cloth that I faked an orgasm just so I could hang up.  She begged me to call back later because, as she claimed, she'd never talked to anyone like me before.  I was a stallion.

Well, two weeks later, the credit card bill came.  That little call cost roughly $700.  And the bill line wasn't discrete: "1-900-HOT-SEXX Adult Entertainment."  My dad was livid, but didn't suspect me right off the bat.  He called the credit card company to dispute the charg ...

I laughed so hard my co-workers gave me dirty looks. Even if it's a fake story it was worth the read.

mrswood: Who predicted this story would end with someone getting shot in the face?

It's a fairly common male masturbatory fantasy.  I blame porn.