So, have you ever gone out for the two d's with someone, dinner and drinks, and had one of these conversations?
It's not with a close friend, but you're more than mere acquaintances. You've gone out a few times.
It's later in the night. You both order something greasy and heavy on the calories. You order the extra large beer and it goes down a little too smoothly, refreshingly, and easily. Muscles relax, tensions ease after an especially emotional day. The beer is needed. The company, conversation and laughs are needed. You're thankful for your friends. At this moment the day doesn't matter.
He starts to tell you about his tale of woe. His relationships. It starts off simple enough. He was telling you about the love of his life. It's completely enthralling. You're on the edge of your seat without even realizing you're on the edge of your seat. You want the waitress to stop asking you how everything is. The tale of woe has everything.
Dysfunctional parents divorcing, coming outs, deaths, suicide, more deaths, finding out their partner is married with kids, who knew? AIDS, living all over the country. The stories have inflection, emotion, laughs, and a few too many, "You have got to be kidding me!" coming forth from your mouth inbetween greasy bites of food and gulps of beer.
When he finally finishes telling you his story of woe the plate has been licked clean, the beer is gone down to the last drop and the bill has been paid by him, as a birthday treat.
The night is over.
You think.
Then he says, "So what about you? What's your story?"
"Me? Oh we don't have time for me. We'll tell my story another time."
"No, c'mon."
You hesitate.
"Really? My tale of woe?"
You hesitate.
So, you tell it.
Your story.
The condensed 2.5-second version of your story.
The super quick majorly fast forwarded version of your life story.
He says a few too many, "My god's!" peppered with a few, "Well what happened?!" salted with a couple of, "Then what?"
And really at this point you just wish you would have given them the .5 second version of your tale of woe because his head has tilted, the eyes have glazed into a internal dialog of, "Well, holy hell."
You see the look.
The look is clearly registering with you.
However, it's not a look of pity or anything like that. Because seriously, by this point they're only getting the highlights. The instant rewinds with Elway and there is no yellow highlighter circling the points that might have been missed.
Then the .5-second version is over.
Bill has been paid.
You drive home thinking about the look.
The head titled, glazed eyes rethinking you. The image and picture of you.
However, you're not really all that bothered by the look.
But, at the same time it's seared into your head.
For tonight anyway.
Has that night of two d's ever happened to you?
No?
Me neither.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
just sayin: oh, pool boy
A co-worker conversation and I:
He: (While cleaning out a coffee cup) I wish I had a man servant to do this sort of crap for me.
Me: (Typing at my computer drifting off into a daydream) Yeah, I could use a pool boy.
He: (stopping) Oh, do you have a pool at your place?
Me: (Clearly deep into my daydream) No.
He: (Pauses, then starts to laugh)
Me: (Far into daydream, start to laugh)
He: (While cleaning out a coffee cup) I wish I had a man servant to do this sort of crap for me.
Me: (Typing at my computer drifting off into a daydream) Yeah, I could use a pool boy.
He: (stopping) Oh, do you have a pool at your place?
Me: (Clearly deep into my daydream) No.
He: (Pauses, then starts to laugh)
Me: (Far into daydream, start to laugh)
hottie of the week: William Powell
Because he was the Thin Man.
Because he was Nick to Myrna Loy's, Nora.
Because he would fix me the perfect martini no matter what time of day. And fix himself one as well.
Because he was so very fond of Nora.
And his dog, Asta.
He could solve any crime, any problem, any dilemma while holding a drink in his hand.
He was and always will be, Nick Charles.
Because he was Nick to Myrna Loy's, Nora.
Because he would fix me the perfect martini no matter what time of day. And fix himself one as well.
Because he was so very fond of Nora.
And his dog, Asta.
He could solve any crime, any problem, any dilemma while holding a drink in his hand.
He was and always will be, Nick Charles.
Monday, April 17, 2006
it's my birthday!
Shameless, I know.
..and I don't care.
It was an interesting weekend.
The birthday week has officially been extended to include this week and upcoming weekend.
This past weekend was fun.
Certainly had some high points and low points I guess depending on how you view things, but frankly it was simply way too mature for my taste and well, I can't have that.
I'll do a write up about it tomorrow.
For now, it's my birthday!
..and I don't care.
It was an interesting weekend.
The birthday week has officially been extended to include this week and upcoming weekend.
This past weekend was fun.
Certainly had some high points and low points I guess depending on how you view things, but frankly it was simply way too mature for my taste and well, I can't have that.
I'll do a write up about it tomorrow.
For now, it's my birthday!
so he says: soul mates
After some internal debate I decided to untie Redbloodedboy I felt I had worn him out enough that he would listen to what I had to say. I'm not usually one to dive into the deep conversations after a good romp, but last night was the exception.
We got on the subject of soul mates. I asked rbb what he thought about the whole one person for each person. That we have to find that one person when the stars are all aligned and such. He thought it was possible although he thought it was a slim chance.
I said, it was hooey. And frankly if I wasn't so tired I would have tied him back up until I was able to convince him otherwise, but I decided to let it go.
See, I think that there is someone out there for all of us, but seriously what are the chances that we'll meet that one right person, soul mate? The stars have to be aligned just right, we have to look and be at our best at all times, and well even I have a pissy day now and again. Not to mention we have to actually make eye contact and strike up a conversation with every person we meet in the off chance that the said person buying pork chops and apple sauce next to us at the grocery store may in fact be our soul mate.
Talk about pressure.
What if we met the right person when we were young, dumb, and not much older than 21 and were too self-absorbed to notice them or take what they had to say or their feelings seriously? Did we lose our chance?
Do we get a second chance?
Can you really get a second chance at a first chance missed encounter? No, because the past is already out there.
Do I think we can find the right person and make them what we want or we can change what we want because they are right in all the right things that we are looking for right then? Yes. It's called settling.
I think we call people into our lives.
Whether it's friends, co-workers, jobs, dates, sleeping partners, boyfriends and girlfriends. We call what we need into our lives. We put it out into the universe hoping it will come back to us.
When I've wanted someone to go out with and party with on the weekends I call it out into the universe and that person has come into my life.
When I've wanted amazing sex without strings or b.s. to go along with it, I've called it out, I've wished for it out in the universe, I've always found it.
I think we wish and call out for things and we find whatever it is we are looking for. Healthy or unhealthy I think we call it out to find us.
I will agree with RBB, he said that a soul mate doesn't necessarily have to be of the opposite sex, that a soul mate can be of the same sex it is just a sexless soul mate/friendship. I do agree with that. (He can surprise me sometimes that way) I've had girlfriends were I felt like we were one soul. On that same note my best friend Billy, who is gay, if I was a boy he would be all over me. Unfortunately for him, I'm not. However, he and I are as close as two people can be in thoughts, feelings, sense of humor and how we look and view the world. He came into my life when I was 19 and he was 24, we both desperately needed each other at the time in our lives. We've had our ups and downs, didn't talk for almost four years, but when we found each other again it was like we had just talked the day before. In a sense I think he and I are soul mates. Sexless, disco soul mates.
Do I think we can call out into the universe to find a soul mate? Sure, but the chances that that person will find me on the perfect day when I am in the perfect mood, looking to believe in such a thing and as I turn to the person standing next to me over the pork chops when I look at his ring finger before I ever even make eye contact and then strike up a conversation in the produce isle, well, even for little optimistic me that's too much to believe and hope in.
...and you?
We got on the subject of soul mates. I asked rbb what he thought about the whole one person for each person. That we have to find that one person when the stars are all aligned and such. He thought it was possible although he thought it was a slim chance.
I said, it was hooey. And frankly if I wasn't so tired I would have tied him back up until I was able to convince him otherwise, but I decided to let it go.
See, I think that there is someone out there for all of us, but seriously what are the chances that we'll meet that one right person, soul mate? The stars have to be aligned just right, we have to look and be at our best at all times, and well even I have a pissy day now and again. Not to mention we have to actually make eye contact and strike up a conversation with every person we meet in the off chance that the said person buying pork chops and apple sauce next to us at the grocery store may in fact be our soul mate.
Talk about pressure.
What if we met the right person when we were young, dumb, and not much older than 21 and were too self-absorbed to notice them or take what they had to say or their feelings seriously? Did we lose our chance?
Do we get a second chance?
Can you really get a second chance at a first chance missed encounter? No, because the past is already out there.
Do I think we can find the right person and make them what we want or we can change what we want because they are right in all the right things that we are looking for right then? Yes. It's called settling.
I think we call people into our lives.
Whether it's friends, co-workers, jobs, dates, sleeping partners, boyfriends and girlfriends. We call what we need into our lives. We put it out into the universe hoping it will come back to us.
When I've wanted someone to go out with and party with on the weekends I call it out into the universe and that person has come into my life.
When I've wanted amazing sex without strings or b.s. to go along with it, I've called it out, I've wished for it out in the universe, I've always found it.
I think we wish and call out for things and we find whatever it is we are looking for. Healthy or unhealthy I think we call it out to find us.
I will agree with RBB, he said that a soul mate doesn't necessarily have to be of the opposite sex, that a soul mate can be of the same sex it is just a sexless soul mate/friendship. I do agree with that. (He can surprise me sometimes that way) I've had girlfriends were I felt like we were one soul. On that same note my best friend Billy, who is gay, if I was a boy he would be all over me. Unfortunately for him, I'm not. However, he and I are as close as two people can be in thoughts, feelings, sense of humor and how we look and view the world. He came into my life when I was 19 and he was 24, we both desperately needed each other at the time in our lives. We've had our ups and downs, didn't talk for almost four years, but when we found each other again it was like we had just talked the day before. In a sense I think he and I are soul mates. Sexless, disco soul mates.
Do I think we can call out into the universe to find a soul mate? Sure, but the chances that that person will find me on the perfect day when I am in the perfect mood, looking to believe in such a thing and as I turn to the person standing next to me over the pork chops when I look at his ring finger before I ever even make eye contact and then strike up a conversation in the produce isle, well, even for little optimistic me that's too much to believe and hope in.
...and you?
Friday, April 14, 2006
true confessions: sexcapade: late night at the office: together with TNF
Remember that time you had to work late and I surprised you at your office?
You were sitting all intent, yet very tired at your computer.
No one was left in the office.
You were the only one there.
I stand in your office doorway leaning against the frame.
You look up and when you see me you smile.
When you see what I’m wearing your smile broadens.
I smile back.
We don’t need to say anything. There’s no need.
We know what each other wants.
What we both need.
You know why I’m here.
You’ve had a long day.
I want to make it better.
I walk over to your office windows and close the blinds behind you. As I do you get a good look at what I’m wearing.
Wearing just for you.
I’m in my secretary outfit.
Glasses, short black skirt, white button down top that is a little too tight, unbuttoned a little too far, black bra, black garters clearly visible underneath it all.
After I close the blinds I swing you around in your office chair and open your legs with my knee.
You stare up at me.
I stare down at you.
I can see how hard you are through your pants.
I love your cock.
I love how hard I can make you.
Rock hard.
I don’t have to say or do anything.
I stand between your legs bending down to kiss you hard on your mouth; my hair falls to the side.
You reach up and pull me into you.
Wrapping your fingers in my hair.
I pull away before you want me to.
Looking you in the eye I unzip your pants.
God your cock is so hard.
So amazingly rock hard.
I love how hard it feels in my soft hand.
I start to rub you slowly.
Slowly going up and down with my hand.
You cum a little bit for me.
Just a little.
Just enough to make me wetter than I already am.
I go down on my knees.
I lick the length of your shaft with my tongue.
You moan.
I lick you with my wet tongue going up and down on your cock massaging your balls as I do.
I start to lick your balls; keeping my hand on your shaft.
Taking your balls in my mouth.
Working my tongue over them.
Sucking them.
Getting them as wet as I am.
I love how turned on, how wet, I get even when it’s all about you.
Tonight is all about you.
I work my tongue up to the tip of your cock, working the very edge of your head.
You grab the back of my head and tighten your hand around my hair.
You want to be inside my mouth.
I know you do.
I feel you pulse against my tongue.
I feel how much you want me.
I just want to make you wait a few seconds more.
Just a few more seconds of my tongue lovingly teasing your cock.
Just a few more.
Your hand tightens.
Your thighs lift up ever so slightly from your chair.
You want me in your mouth.
“Suck me.”
You tell me.
“God, you are such a tease.”
I smile to myself.
I have you.
I know you want me.
Tell me how much you want me.
You lift your ass up.
“Oh, God, Suck me! Suck my cock!”
I thrust you deep in my throat.
I take you all in.
Your hard cock pressing against my wet tongue.
Taking you down the back of my throat.
You let out a groan of relief and pleasure as I do.
Your thighs lose their tension.
Your cock tastes so good.
So good, so hard, in my mouth.
Feeling you so deep inside.
You watch me work your cock.
Working you up and down.
Your hard cock inside my warm, wet mouth.
Deep inside my throat.
Your hand unconsciously tightens around my hair.
Your hips rising up with each flick of my tongue.
My tongue going up as my head goes down.
Lovingly, hungrily working every hard inch of you.
All of you.
Working your balls.
Enjoying every moan, groan and gasp you make.
Sounds you make because of me.
You make me so wet.
So very wet.
You turn me on.
You turn me on with your cock.
Your cock in my mouth.
I want you to cum for me.
I want you to cum because of my mouth.
Because of my tongue.
How I work your cock.
Cum for me.
Cum all over my tongue.
Cum for me.
You love how I suck you.
You don’t want it to end.
Cum for me.
Show me how much you enjoy me.
You want it to last just a few more minutes.
Just a few more.
You don’t want it to end.
Cum for me.
Cum for me, baby.
I want you to.
You cum deep and hard in my mouth.
Your cum mixes with my saliva, my tongue, my taste.
I swallow as I continue to suck you.
Suck every last drop of you.
You shiver and moan as I swallow all of you.
Every drop.
I slow my pace
Loosen my hand.
As I stand from my knees you pull me into you.
Grabbing the back of my head pressing me hard against you, you kiss me.
As you kiss me I spread my legs every so slightly apart and take your hand and place it against my pussy letting you feel how wet I am.
Feel how wet I am.
How wet you made my pussy.
As your fingers glide across my lips you smile at how wet I am.
I pull away from you.
As I start to walk towards the door there is a sly smile on my face.
Looking back over my shoulder I give you a quick wink.
“Have a good night.”
With my pussy on your fingers, my tongue on your cock, you take one look at my ass walking out the door and decide it’s time to come home.
You were sitting all intent, yet very tired at your computer.
No one was left in the office.
You were the only one there.
I stand in your office doorway leaning against the frame.
You look up and when you see me you smile.
When you see what I’m wearing your smile broadens.
I smile back.
We don’t need to say anything. There’s no need.
We know what each other wants.
What we both need.
You know why I’m here.
You’ve had a long day.
I want to make it better.
I walk over to your office windows and close the blinds behind you. As I do you get a good look at what I’m wearing.
Wearing just for you.
I’m in my secretary outfit.
Glasses, short black skirt, white button down top that is a little too tight, unbuttoned a little too far, black bra, black garters clearly visible underneath it all.
After I close the blinds I swing you around in your office chair and open your legs with my knee.
You stare up at me.
I stare down at you.
I can see how hard you are through your pants.
I love your cock.
I love how hard I can make you.
Rock hard.
I don’t have to say or do anything.
I stand between your legs bending down to kiss you hard on your mouth; my hair falls to the side.
You reach up and pull me into you.
Wrapping your fingers in my hair.
I pull away before you want me to.
Looking you in the eye I unzip your pants.
God your cock is so hard.
So amazingly rock hard.
I love how hard it feels in my soft hand.
I start to rub you slowly.
Slowly going up and down with my hand.
You cum a little bit for me.
Just a little.
Just enough to make me wetter than I already am.
I go down on my knees.
I lick the length of your shaft with my tongue.
You moan.
I lick you with my wet tongue going up and down on your cock massaging your balls as I do.
I start to lick your balls; keeping my hand on your shaft.
Taking your balls in my mouth.
Working my tongue over them.
Sucking them.
Getting them as wet as I am.
I love how turned on, how wet, I get even when it’s all about you.
Tonight is all about you.
I work my tongue up to the tip of your cock, working the very edge of your head.
You grab the back of my head and tighten your hand around my hair.
You want to be inside my mouth.
I know you do.
I feel you pulse against my tongue.
I feel how much you want me.
I just want to make you wait a few seconds more.
Just a few more seconds of my tongue lovingly teasing your cock.
Just a few more.
Your hand tightens.
Your thighs lift up ever so slightly from your chair.
You want me in your mouth.
“Suck me.”
You tell me.
“God, you are such a tease.”
I smile to myself.
I have you.
I know you want me.
Tell me how much you want me.
You lift your ass up.
“Oh, God, Suck me! Suck my cock!”
I thrust you deep in my throat.
I take you all in.
Your hard cock pressing against my wet tongue.
Taking you down the back of my throat.
You let out a groan of relief and pleasure as I do.
Your thighs lose their tension.
Your cock tastes so good.
So good, so hard, in my mouth.
Feeling you so deep inside.
You watch me work your cock.
Working you up and down.
Your hard cock inside my warm, wet mouth.
Deep inside my throat.
Your hand unconsciously tightens around my hair.
Your hips rising up with each flick of my tongue.
My tongue going up as my head goes down.
Lovingly, hungrily working every hard inch of you.
All of you.
Working your balls.
Enjoying every moan, groan and gasp you make.
Sounds you make because of me.
You make me so wet.
So very wet.
You turn me on.
You turn me on with your cock.
Your cock in my mouth.
I want you to cum for me.
I want you to cum because of my mouth.
Because of my tongue.
How I work your cock.
Cum for me.
Cum all over my tongue.
Cum for me.
You love how I suck you.
You don’t want it to end.
Cum for me.
Show me how much you enjoy me.
You want it to last just a few more minutes.
Just a few more.
You don’t want it to end.
Cum for me.
Cum for me, baby.
I want you to.
You cum deep and hard in my mouth.
Your cum mixes with my saliva, my tongue, my taste.
I swallow as I continue to suck you.
Suck every last drop of you.
You shiver and moan as I swallow all of you.
Every drop.
I slow my pace
Loosen my hand.
As I stand from my knees you pull me into you.
Grabbing the back of my head pressing me hard against you, you kiss me.
As you kiss me I spread my legs every so slightly apart and take your hand and place it against my pussy letting you feel how wet I am.
Feel how wet I am.
How wet you made my pussy.
As your fingers glide across my lips you smile at how wet I am.
I pull away from you.
As I start to walk towards the door there is a sly smile on my face.
Looking back over my shoulder I give you a quick wink.
“Have a good night.”
With my pussy on your fingers, my tongue on your cock, you take one look at my ass walking out the door and decide it’s time to come home.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
why don't we have friends like we did when we were 12 years old?
If you can name the movie that line comes from, well I just may have a special photo to share with you. Maybe.
In the past month or so I have found myself traveling back to memories of my youth. Not that my youth was particularly awesome in any way, shape or form it wasn't. It wasn't even a little bit stellar. There isn't enough money in the world for me to go back to my feelings of awkwardness and insecure junior high days. Well, maybe there is, but can I go back as the person I am now and slap that girl and tell her, "Hey, you'll turn out awesome, don't worry about it?" If I can't do that then never mind. I'll stay here.
However, what I have been harkening back to or songs, movies, words, feelings from high school and my early days of grunge.
Of movies by John Hughes starring Molly Ringwald and the others of the Brat Pack.
Quoting lines from, "Say Anything," a little too frequently for my co-workers.
I've been rummaging around in my car for my CDs of the, Violent Femmes, Mother Love Bone, Alice in Chains, House of Large Sizes, Madonna, Samantha Fox and laughing at the fact that I still know all the words to, "Ice, Ice Baby."
I've been thinking about me at 18 and 19 going down to the local grunge bar and listening to all the bands before they broke big.
Me there with my black dyed hair, floral skirt and over-sized message T.
Dancing and swaying, occasionally jumping into the mosh pit to the likes of, Smashing Pumpkins, Busker Soundcheck, Rage Against the Machine, Super Suckers. The night Alice in Chains made an unexpected appearance and Layne Staley made a drug deal with the guy standing next to me. (hello, predicted outcome)
To nights of sitting with friends smoking pot and eating everything in sight.
How reckless everything and I was and being so, so very thankful that I didn't hurt myself or anyone else.
House parties in my attic apartment. The cops being called, "several times" and the thought that perhaps having 100 people in my 1 bedroom attic apartment seemed like the best idea ever and the fact that perhaps I could annoy, disturb and wake-up my neighbors never even entered my mind.
To being young, dumb and 21. Life was forever and I lived it like I truly would live that long. Nothing could stop me. Nothing could or would get in my way. Those rain forests? I was going to save them single handedly. Yes-I-was.
Friends were single and baby and kid free. I could call them on a moments notice and they were always ready to go out. Didn't matter what they had going on the next day. Who cared if I had to be work at 4:30 in the morning. I would just pull an all-nighter. No big deal. Not a big deal at all.
Family obligations? Who cared if you showed up hung-0ver. It was expected and laughed about.
Bad fashion, bad hair.
Big fashion, big hair.
Bright fashion, bright hair.
Dark fashion, dark hair.
Shoulder pads and winged out, sun-in, permed hair. (light brown hair)
Floral skirts, message t's and combat boots. (black hair)
Tie-dyes, black tights and converse all-stars. (black hair)
All fabrics flammable. (pick a color, any color, hair)
Frat parties, house parties, after hour parties.
The only thing I cared about when last call was shouted was asking the bouncer, DJ, bartender, "Where's the after-hours?" and then going.
Unprotected sex. Because who knew, who cared? The only thing to worry about was an unplanned pregnancy and I was well covered. Friends were HIV/AIDS free.
Walking into my first apartment everyday and realizing it was mine. Those keys belonged to me.
So did the bills.
The move? Two trips and three hours is all it took to move my stuff.
Discovering the gay bars and all the fabulous gloriousness. What got me out of grunge? Gay men. Straight clubs? Please, give me the gay bar every weekend, please!
The power of my first credit card. The foolish idea of believing I had the power when it came to my credit cards.
Three part time jobs could cover everything.
Waitressing was an awesome job.
My '76 LTD that said, "The lil S.S. Minnow" on the back of it and my gas tank that said, "feed me, feed me" with it's white metal exterior and red vinyl interior with an A.M. radio that could hit a concret bridge embankment and take a chunk out of the cement, but not even scratch the car, was totally kick ass and I still miss it sometimes.
Being able to fill up your car for $10. $10, even.
Friends were friends for however long. They moved, they married, they had kids, they grew-up and no longer had the time to go out and 10 became a late night because they had to get home for the baby-sitter so she could go out.
The friends I had at 21? I still have a few. However, we've grown-up. We have to make plans well in advance now. We're no longer available on a one phone call notice and the fact that we will all be going out on the weekend is no longer assumed.
I love where I am.
I wouldn't change a thing.
However, that girl at 19, 20, 21, 22-26? She still has a soft place in my heart. A soft, fond place in my heart.
In the past month or so I have found myself traveling back to memories of my youth. Not that my youth was particularly awesome in any way, shape or form it wasn't. It wasn't even a little bit stellar. There isn't enough money in the world for me to go back to my feelings of awkwardness and insecure junior high days. Well, maybe there is, but can I go back as the person I am now and slap that girl and tell her, "Hey, you'll turn out awesome, don't worry about it?" If I can't do that then never mind. I'll stay here.
However, what I have been harkening back to or songs, movies, words, feelings from high school and my early days of grunge.
Of movies by John Hughes starring Molly Ringwald and the others of the Brat Pack.
Quoting lines from, "Say Anything," a little too frequently for my co-workers.
I've been rummaging around in my car for my CDs of the, Violent Femmes, Mother Love Bone, Alice in Chains, House of Large Sizes, Madonna, Samantha Fox and laughing at the fact that I still know all the words to, "Ice, Ice Baby."
I've been thinking about me at 18 and 19 going down to the local grunge bar and listening to all the bands before they broke big.
Me there with my black dyed hair, floral skirt and over-sized message T.
Dancing and swaying, occasionally jumping into the mosh pit to the likes of, Smashing Pumpkins, Busker Soundcheck, Rage Against the Machine, Super Suckers. The night Alice in Chains made an unexpected appearance and Layne Staley made a drug deal with the guy standing next to me. (hello, predicted outcome)
To nights of sitting with friends smoking pot and eating everything in sight.
How reckless everything and I was and being so, so very thankful that I didn't hurt myself or anyone else.
House parties in my attic apartment. The cops being called, "several times" and the thought that perhaps having 100 people in my 1 bedroom attic apartment seemed like the best idea ever and the fact that perhaps I could annoy, disturb and wake-up my neighbors never even entered my mind.
To being young, dumb and 21. Life was forever and I lived it like I truly would live that long. Nothing could stop me. Nothing could or would get in my way. Those rain forests? I was going to save them single handedly. Yes-I-was.
Friends were single and baby and kid free. I could call them on a moments notice and they were always ready to go out. Didn't matter what they had going on the next day. Who cared if I had to be work at 4:30 in the morning. I would just pull an all-nighter. No big deal. Not a big deal at all.
Family obligations? Who cared if you showed up hung-0ver. It was expected and laughed about.
Bad fashion, bad hair.
Big fashion, big hair.
Bright fashion, bright hair.
Dark fashion, dark hair.
Shoulder pads and winged out, sun-in, permed hair. (light brown hair)
Floral skirts, message t's and combat boots. (black hair)
Tie-dyes, black tights and converse all-stars. (black hair)
All fabrics flammable. (pick a color, any color, hair)
Frat parties, house parties, after hour parties.
The only thing I cared about when last call was shouted was asking the bouncer, DJ, bartender, "Where's the after-hours?" and then going.
Unprotected sex. Because who knew, who cared? The only thing to worry about was an unplanned pregnancy and I was well covered. Friends were HIV/AIDS free.
Walking into my first apartment everyday and realizing it was mine. Those keys belonged to me.
So did the bills.
The move? Two trips and three hours is all it took to move my stuff.
Discovering the gay bars and all the fabulous gloriousness. What got me out of grunge? Gay men. Straight clubs? Please, give me the gay bar every weekend, please!
The power of my first credit card. The foolish idea of believing I had the power when it came to my credit cards.
Three part time jobs could cover everything.
Waitressing was an awesome job.
My '76 LTD that said, "The lil S.S. Minnow" on the back of it and my gas tank that said, "feed me, feed me" with it's white metal exterior and red vinyl interior with an A.M. radio that could hit a concret bridge embankment and take a chunk out of the cement, but not even scratch the car, was totally kick ass and I still miss it sometimes.
Being able to fill up your car for $10. $10, even.
Friends were friends for however long. They moved, they married, they had kids, they grew-up and no longer had the time to go out and 10 became a late night because they had to get home for the baby-sitter so she could go out.
The friends I had at 21? I still have a few. However, we've grown-up. We have to make plans well in advance now. We're no longer available on a one phone call notice and the fact that we will all be going out on the weekend is no longer assumed.
I love where I am.
I wouldn't change a thing.
However, that girl at 19, 20, 21, 22-26? She still has a soft place in my heart. A soft, fond place in my heart.
inner dork: the orgin of the cocktail
Did you know...
There are at least 14 different explanations for the orgins of the word "cocktail" and no one agrees on any of them as being based on fact.
However, here are a few of the most common theories.
Cocks that were being prepared for a fight were often fed bread made from a mixture of flour, stale beer, white wine, gin, seeds and herbs. This was to prepare the cock for the fight. The mixture was called "cock-bread ale" later is was shortened to "cock-ale" which of course became "cocktail."
In the 17th and 18th centuries beer was mixed with minced meat of boiled cock and other ingredients and was called "cockale" which evolved into "cocktail."
In 1926 a French writer claimed the word cocktail was derived from the french word coquetel, which referred to a mixed drink produced in the Bordeaux region of France.
Lastly, 'cock tailings' were once various liquers combined together into one bottle and sold cheaply.
Factoids:
The word "punch" is derived from Hindi meanin "five." The English colonists in India often used five ingredients when making a drink: rum, tea, sugar, lemon, and water.
Bourbon derives its name from Bourbon County, Kentucky which is where it was first produced. However, it is no longer produced in this county and the various counties in Kentucky where it is produced it is illegal to purchase it.
Trader Vic Bergeron created a new drink in Tahiti. It is said that after the friends tasted the drink they exclaimed, "Mai tai- roa ae!" meaning, "Out of this world- the best!" in Tahitian. This of course became the Mai tai.
How to make the perfect martini:
Tradtional: two parts gin to one part dry vermouth
Dry: five parts gin to one part dry vermouth
Extra dry: eight parts gin to one part dry vermouth.
One of my favorite movie lines of all time? "Why don't you get out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini." The line was originally said on a film set by actor Robert Benchley. It was next used in a Ginger Roger's movie.
There are at least 14 different explanations for the orgins of the word "cocktail" and no one agrees on any of them as being based on fact.
However, here are a few of the most common theories.
Cocks that were being prepared for a fight were often fed bread made from a mixture of flour, stale beer, white wine, gin, seeds and herbs. This was to prepare the cock for the fight. The mixture was called "cock-bread ale" later is was shortened to "cock-ale" which of course became "cocktail."
In the 17th and 18th centuries beer was mixed with minced meat of boiled cock and other ingredients and was called "cockale" which evolved into "cocktail."
In 1926 a French writer claimed the word cocktail was derived from the french word coquetel, which referred to a mixed drink produced in the Bordeaux region of France.
Lastly, 'cock tailings' were once various liquers combined together into one bottle and sold cheaply.
Factoids:
The word "punch" is derived from Hindi meanin "five." The English colonists in India often used five ingredients when making a drink: rum, tea, sugar, lemon, and water.
Bourbon derives its name from Bourbon County, Kentucky which is where it was first produced. However, it is no longer produced in this county and the various counties in Kentucky where it is produced it is illegal to purchase it.
Trader Vic Bergeron created a new drink in Tahiti. It is said that after the friends tasted the drink they exclaimed, "Mai tai- roa ae!" meaning, "Out of this world- the best!" in Tahitian. This of course became the Mai tai.
How to make the perfect martini:
Tradtional: two parts gin to one part dry vermouth
Dry: five parts gin to one part dry vermouth
Extra dry: eight parts gin to one part dry vermouth.
One of my favorite movie lines of all time? "Why don't you get out of those wet clothes and into a dry martini." The line was originally said on a film set by actor Robert Benchley. It was next used in a Ginger Roger's movie.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
factoid of the day: thrusting
For a typical session of sexual activity the average male thrusts an average of 60-120 times.
(Okay, I'll admit I thought that seemed low. I did the math. One session of thrusting lasting 10 minutes, that breaks down to 12 thrusts in a minute. One thrust every 5 seconds.) (Way to go men)
(Okay, I'll admit I thought that seemed low. I did the math. One session of thrusting lasting 10 minutes, that breaks down to 12 thrusts in a minute. One thrust every 5 seconds.) (Way to go men)
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
pollination time
"PG, I am so horny! I don't know what is going on, but my god! I want to fuck everything I see."
"That's because it's spring time. You want to go and pollinate. You want to go spread your seed. You must fertilize everything you see."
Spring time air does that to us.
We've come out of our hibernation. We awaken from our dens to the sight of a big ball of fire in the sky. We slowly start to process the blinding light as something familiar.
We are greeted each morning by the sound of birds singing and flying through the air.
The grass is all of a sudden bright green once again.
Tulips and daffodils are pushing their way through the soil.
The sky is a shade of blue only recognizable in paintings.
The air feels so crisp and pure in the morning on the way out to our cars.
It feels so wonderful to drive with the windows rolled down and our favorite CD has never sounded so good.
The trees are full of bright red buds waiting to open.
Squirrels are doing their mating dance on the telephone wires and it's the cutest thing we've ever seen.
Our step is a little springier.
Our smiles a bit wider.
Our skin is slightly tanner.
Our legs are showing.
Our toes are showing.
Our heads are turning this way and that at all the possibilities walking in front of us.
It's spring.
Spring has sprung and we must pollinate.
We must go forth and spread our seed.
Ah, lovely, lovely spring time.
That's not the scent of flowers you smell. That's sex.
"That's because it's spring time. You want to go and pollinate. You want to go spread your seed. You must fertilize everything you see."
Spring time air does that to us.
We've come out of our hibernation. We awaken from our dens to the sight of a big ball of fire in the sky. We slowly start to process the blinding light as something familiar.
We are greeted each morning by the sound of birds singing and flying through the air.
The grass is all of a sudden bright green once again.
Tulips and daffodils are pushing their way through the soil.
The sky is a shade of blue only recognizable in paintings.
The air feels so crisp and pure in the morning on the way out to our cars.
It feels so wonderful to drive with the windows rolled down and our favorite CD has never sounded so good.
The trees are full of bright red buds waiting to open.
Squirrels are doing their mating dance on the telephone wires and it's the cutest thing we've ever seen.
Our step is a little springier.
Our smiles a bit wider.
Our skin is slightly tanner.
Our legs are showing.
Our toes are showing.
Our heads are turning this way and that at all the possibilities walking in front of us.
It's spring.
Spring has sprung and we must pollinate.
We must go forth and spread our seed.
Ah, lovely, lovely spring time.
That's not the scent of flowers you smell. That's sex.
factoid of the day: the 10%
10% of Cosmo readers claim that they had an orgasm the first time they had sex.
(Uh huh. Yeah. Sure. Right.)
10% of sexually active adult women claim they have never had an orgasm. (So sad.)
I wonder if these number are somehow connected?
(Uh huh. Yeah. Sure. Right.)
10% of sexually active adult women claim they have never had an orgasm. (So sad.)
I wonder if these number are somehow connected?
hottie of the week: Neil Patrick Harris
Because he went from this:
To this:
He went from a dorky nerdy boy genius wonder doctor in, "Doogie Howser, M.D.,to sniffin E of a strippers ass in, "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle."
Nuff said.
To this:
He went from a dorky nerdy boy genius wonder doctor in, "Doogie Howser, M.D.,to sniffin E of a strippers ass in, "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle."
Nuff said.
Monday, April 10, 2006
the birthday week has officially begun
This year, as I am getting older, I think I will give myself more than a week. The celebrating began over the weekend, and well why should it stop by next Monday? Monday, April 17th, 2006 at 2:30 a.m. (just as a reminder) I will be 32.
Thirty-two didn't have quite the ring to it as 30 or 31 did for me, but I found a way to get around the whole ridiculousness of freaking out about turning a year older. I tell everyone, and I refer to myself, as the new number for at least a month before my actual birthday. That way when the big day does roll around (April 17th) who cares? So, I'm older.
This worked great when I was 29. I didn't tell anyone or myself that whole year I was 29. I kept refering to myself as 30. Ta Dah! No big deal.
So, Saturday I went to a 1:00 baseball game. I had a few $6 beers, a $4 hot dog sat in the sun and enjoyed the game with the Mini Lloyd Dobbler. It was lovely.
I enjoyed the rest of the night talking with a new Mr. Possible and my best friend, Billy.
Sunday I went to a classical piano concert, and I had a dinner date with the new Mr. Possible. It was a great weekend, so why not start the celebrating early?
Nope, I can't think of a single reason not to!
Happy birthday week to me!
Thirty-two didn't have quite the ring to it as 30 or 31 did for me, but I found a way to get around the whole ridiculousness of freaking out about turning a year older. I tell everyone, and I refer to myself, as the new number for at least a month before my actual birthday. That way when the big day does roll around (April 17th) who cares? So, I'm older.
This worked great when I was 29. I didn't tell anyone or myself that whole year I was 29. I kept refering to myself as 30. Ta Dah! No big deal.
So, Saturday I went to a 1:00 baseball game. I had a few $6 beers, a $4 hot dog sat in the sun and enjoyed the game with the Mini Lloyd Dobbler. It was lovely.
I enjoyed the rest of the night talking with a new Mr. Possible and my best friend, Billy.
Sunday I went to a classical piano concert, and I had a dinner date with the new Mr. Possible. It was a great weekend, so why not start the celebrating early?
Nope, I can't think of a single reason not to!
Happy birthday week to me!
factoid of the day: night wood
The average male will have an average of four to five erections a night during the REM stage of sleep.
There doesn't seem to be a correlation between his current sexual activity and the number of erections he does or doesn't have.
There doesn't seem to be a correlation between his current sexual activity and the number of erections he does or doesn't have.
Friday, April 07, 2006
rejected
Yesterday I received my first rejection letter from a publisher.
I'm actually pretty happy about this.
Why, you ask?
Well, because at least I'm doing it and not just talking about sending my stuff out to the publishers. I'm actually sending my stuff out to the publishers and being rejected.
I plan to start a binder and house all my rejection letters in it. Because let's face it, there's going to be a lot of 'em.
Maybe I should keep the binder right next to the shelf that I plan to display my writing award. It will keep me humble.
As if a single gal needs any more humility given to her on any single day, but still. It'll be good.
Life is good.
Life is a verb.
Let's hear it for life.
I'm actually pretty happy about this.
Why, you ask?
Well, because at least I'm doing it and not just talking about sending my stuff out to the publishers. I'm actually sending my stuff out to the publishers and being rejected.
I plan to start a binder and house all my rejection letters in it. Because let's face it, there's going to be a lot of 'em.
Maybe I should keep the binder right next to the shelf that I plan to display my writing award. It will keep me humble.
As if a single gal needs any more humility given to her on any single day, but still. It'll be good.
Life is good.
Life is a verb.
Let's hear it for life.
quote of the day: Woody Allen
"I don't think everyone conceives of sex the way I do-surrealistic and rich with humor."
factoid of the day: how to make a better housewife circa 1906
The practice of removing a women's, specifically a housewife's, ovaries was so popular in the belief that it would make her, "more tractable, orderly, industrious, and cleanly," that it is estimated over 150,000 women went under the knife in 1906 alone.
sometimes we just need to believe the lies
Last week I talked about a guy in class who had asked a girl out in front of me and a couple other gals. He was turned down flat. In the post called, "Big balls" I'm too lazy to link it. Go back a week.
Anyway, it turns out about ten minutes after he was turned down by girl A he went outside and ran into girl B, who is also in our class and the one after with me.
They talked. He at least knew her name and talked with her before.
He asked her out for Saturday.
Sure. She'd love to. She was flattered.
He called her later that night and Friday to follow up.
He totally stood her up on Saturday.
She called him on Sunday (also, one for her, she didn't wait by the phone, she went out with her friends when it was obvious he wasn't calling or showing up) to see what the deal was. He met someone else on Friday and asked her out and he felt obligated to go out with girl C because he met her on Friday and asked her out for Saturday as well.
Nice.
Classic.
Loser.
Apparently we have a habitual asker-outer on our hands.
He ignored Girl A and Girl B in class last night.
I found out about Girl B last night when I was telling her about Girl A.
(lost yet?)
Anyway, a group of us talked after class.
I told one of the gals, Miss South Dakota who was in class with me and The Dick from about my accidental adultery from last semester. I didn't tell any names or dates, but she figured it all out on her own.
She said yeah, "all of sudden he started to wear his ring to class and he was all flirty and he would talk about what a great husband he was ...yeah! How did you find out he was married?"
"The same way you did. When he started to wear his ring."
Here's my point. Sometimes we just need to believe the lies. We want to believe the lie. Not because of any self-esteem issues or that we need to be liked or anything. Just because sometimes we need to. We need to be asked out. We don't need to be asked out ten minutes after you've been turned down by the first girl you asked out of the night, but we need to be asked out. We need to be flirted with.
We need to, want to, believe all the stories you're telling us. Even if the bullshit radar is going off, we just need to believe for that minute, hour or night that you did just get back from war. That you did divorce your wife. That we are the best lay you've ever had.
We know they're lies.
We can smell the bullshit.
When I'm tired of the bullshit for the night I'll say something to you. But for 15 minutes let me hear it and let me believe it. I'll question it when I get home or in the morning or maybe there is no need to question it because I already know.
I knew when you were telling me. But somtimes we just need to hear the sweet little lies. Sometimes.
Sometimes we need to tell a few of our own.
Sometimes.
Anyway, it turns out about ten minutes after he was turned down by girl A he went outside and ran into girl B, who is also in our class and the one after with me.
They talked. He at least knew her name and talked with her before.
He asked her out for Saturday.
Sure. She'd love to. She was flattered.
He called her later that night and Friday to follow up.
He totally stood her up on Saturday.
She called him on Sunday (also, one for her, she didn't wait by the phone, she went out with her friends when it was obvious he wasn't calling or showing up) to see what the deal was. He met someone else on Friday and asked her out and he felt obligated to go out with girl C because he met her on Friday and asked her out for Saturday as well.
Nice.
Classic.
Loser.
Apparently we have a habitual asker-outer on our hands.
He ignored Girl A and Girl B in class last night.
I found out about Girl B last night when I was telling her about Girl A.
(lost yet?)
Anyway, a group of us talked after class.
I told one of the gals, Miss South Dakota who was in class with me and The Dick from about my accidental adultery from last semester. I didn't tell any names or dates, but she figured it all out on her own.
She said yeah, "all of sudden he started to wear his ring to class and he was all flirty and he would talk about what a great husband he was ...yeah! How did you find out he was married?"
"The same way you did. When he started to wear his ring."
Here's my point. Sometimes we just need to believe the lies. We want to believe the lie. Not because of any self-esteem issues or that we need to be liked or anything. Just because sometimes we need to. We need to be asked out. We don't need to be asked out ten minutes after you've been turned down by the first girl you asked out of the night, but we need to be asked out. We need to be flirted with.
We need to, want to, believe all the stories you're telling us. Even if the bullshit radar is going off, we just need to believe for that minute, hour or night that you did just get back from war. That you did divorce your wife. That we are the best lay you've ever had.
We know they're lies.
We can smell the bullshit.
When I'm tired of the bullshit for the night I'll say something to you. But for 15 minutes let me hear it and let me believe it. I'll question it when I get home or in the morning or maybe there is no need to question it because I already know.
I knew when you were telling me. But somtimes we just need to hear the sweet little lies. Sometimes.
Sometimes we need to tell a few of our own.
Sometimes.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
quote of the day: Victoria Principal
"Older guys like to receive head but they don't like to give it."
(I have found this to not be the case. However, I have run, no slept, not run, into a few black men who absolutely refused to give me head. They didn't last long. They didn't last long at all. Meaning the relationship not their endurance in bed. I'm a giver and a receiver. I like my men to be the same way.)
(I have found this to not be the case. However, I have run, no slept, not run, into a few black men who absolutely refused to give me head. They didn't last long. They didn't last long at all. Meaning the relationship not their endurance in bed. I'm a giver and a receiver. I like my men to be the same way.)
appreciative kiss: take two: follow up question
Thank you all for your less than varied answers, but I thank you for being honest and well, honest.
However, I can't help but wonder, a guy who thinks tasting himself will make him gay, but he loves giving his woman the kiss after he goes down on her but, thinks it's hot not that she is gay.
So, is there some sort of lesbian fantasy, or are you just thinking how hot it is that she is willing, able and totally happy and lovingly willing to give you the appreciative kiss?
Neil suggested talking to the man and telling him what I want.
Neil, I couldn't agree more. I am all for open and honest communication when it comes to sex and everything else in my life. But, I can't picture any man saying, "Oh, sure doll face I would totally be willing to kiss you with cum in your mouth now knowing how hot it would make you."
Am I wrong?
If your woman asked any of you to kiss her afterwards, would you?
I get the whole, "it would make me seem gay," attitude. However, it is your own body and your own fluid, how does that make you seem gay?
Are you all honestly telling me you've never tasted yourself?
Your jerkin off at night and you need some more lube so you spit on your palm, lick your fingers, whatever, no tasting? Nothing?
However, I can't help but wonder, a guy who thinks tasting himself will make him gay, but he loves giving his woman the kiss after he goes down on her but, thinks it's hot not that she is gay.
So, is there some sort of lesbian fantasy, or are you just thinking how hot it is that she is willing, able and totally happy and lovingly willing to give you the appreciative kiss?
Neil suggested talking to the man and telling him what I want.
Neil, I couldn't agree more. I am all for open and honest communication when it comes to sex and everything else in my life. But, I can't picture any man saying, "Oh, sure doll face I would totally be willing to kiss you with cum in your mouth now knowing how hot it would make you."
Am I wrong?
If your woman asked any of you to kiss her afterwards, would you?
I get the whole, "it would make me seem gay," attitude. However, it is your own body and your own fluid, how does that make you seem gay?
Are you all honestly telling me you've never tasted yourself?
Your jerkin off at night and you need some more lube so you spit on your palm, lick your fingers, whatever, no tasting? Nothing?
inner dork: spiders and their sleep patterns
Did you know...
A spider is not considered to be a bug or an insect. Bugs have six legs and three body parts while a spider has eight legs and only two body parts.
A spider is an arachnid, a family of air-breathing invertebrates that includes scorpions and ticks.
Do insects sleep?
Scientists can't agree as to whether true insects sleep or not.
Some argue that since they don't have eyelids therefore not being able to close their eyes they can't technically, "sleep."
They claim only mammals sleep.
However, others claim that all bugs, insects and arachnids have times throughout the day of inactivity and that this should be considered their sleep or nappy time.
The moth on the other hand is not active during the day and will tuck its antennae under its wings. Even when poked it won't move. (Sound sleeper.)
Honey bees display similar behavior at night taking in a night of deep and restful zzz's
Most scientists have come to the conclusion that insects, spiders and bugs do actually sleep. Seeing as how the typical spider has eight eyes, it's a good thing it doesn't have eye lids. (ew, just freaked myself out a little)
Factoids:
The safe looking daddy longlegs is more venomous than the black widow. The reason it is so safe? It can't open its jaws wide enough to bite a human. (I just picture this poor little spider struggling to open its jaws)
Silk from a spider's web is five times stronger than steel.
NASA scientists studied the effects of marijuana, speed, caffeine and sleeping pills on spiders.
On marijuana: the spiders quit spinning their webs half way through the process.
Speed: they spun their webs very quickly, but there were large holes in them.
caffeine: only spun a random few strands and those on sleeping pills, well they never even gave it a try.
A spider is not considered to be a bug or an insect. Bugs have six legs and three body parts while a spider has eight legs and only two body parts.
A spider is an arachnid, a family of air-breathing invertebrates that includes scorpions and ticks.
Do insects sleep?
Scientists can't agree as to whether true insects sleep or not.
Some argue that since they don't have eyelids therefore not being able to close their eyes they can't technically, "sleep."
They claim only mammals sleep.
However, others claim that all bugs, insects and arachnids have times throughout the day of inactivity and that this should be considered their sleep or nappy time.
The moth on the other hand is not active during the day and will tuck its antennae under its wings. Even when poked it won't move. (Sound sleeper.)
Honey bees display similar behavior at night taking in a night of deep and restful zzz's
Most scientists have come to the conclusion that insects, spiders and bugs do actually sleep. Seeing as how the typical spider has eight eyes, it's a good thing it doesn't have eye lids. (ew, just freaked myself out a little)
Factoids:
The safe looking daddy longlegs is more venomous than the black widow. The reason it is so safe? It can't open its jaws wide enough to bite a human. (I just picture this poor little spider struggling to open its jaws)
Silk from a spider's web is five times stronger than steel.
NASA scientists studied the effects of marijuana, speed, caffeine and sleeping pills on spiders.
On marijuana: the spiders quit spinning their webs half way through the process.
Speed: they spun their webs very quickly, but there were large holes in them.
caffeine: only spun a random few strands and those on sleeping pills, well they never even gave it a try.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
the appreciative kiss
When a man goes down on me I will always say, "thank you." I do this by giving him a deep passionate tongue swirling around in his mouth mixing with his saliva and my juices, kiss.
This is my way of saying, thank you. Thank you for going down on me and teasing me, licking me, nibbling on my clit and for making me cum and cum and cum over and over again. Thank you.
It's the appreciative kiss.
Now, on the flip side.
I go down on a man. I am working it just the way he likes it. Tongue, hand, sucking, licking, deep throating. I am sucking on his balls, his cock the works. Making him squirm and scream and moan.
God forbid I should get the kiss.
Doesn't matter if he came in my mouth or not.
No kiss.
Not once.
Well, that's not true.
I've been kissed, but it's more of the quick on the lips I don't really want your mouth on my mouth when your mouth was just on my cock, kind of kiss.
The kiss isn't the, pull me closer by the back of the head smash me into his lips, open my mouth with his tongue and thank me for all the work I just put forth making him moan and groan and scream (and possibly cum) kiss.
No.
If it's anything it is quick and a, please don't, kiss.
I can tell he doesn't want to kiss me.
Why?
What is the big deal.
I was glad to have a little taste 'o myself.
It's just me.
What's the big deal?
Men, please answer this.
Why don't you kiss and give your ladies the appreciative kiss back?
This is my way of saying, thank you. Thank you for going down on me and teasing me, licking me, nibbling on my clit and for making me cum and cum and cum over and over again. Thank you.
It's the appreciative kiss.
Now, on the flip side.
I go down on a man. I am working it just the way he likes it. Tongue, hand, sucking, licking, deep throating. I am sucking on his balls, his cock the works. Making him squirm and scream and moan.
God forbid I should get the kiss.
Doesn't matter if he came in my mouth or not.
No kiss.
Not once.
Well, that's not true.
I've been kissed, but it's more of the quick on the lips I don't really want your mouth on my mouth when your mouth was just on my cock, kind of kiss.
The kiss isn't the, pull me closer by the back of the head smash me into his lips, open my mouth with his tongue and thank me for all the work I just put forth making him moan and groan and scream (and possibly cum) kiss.
No.
If it's anything it is quick and a, please don't, kiss.
I can tell he doesn't want to kiss me.
Why?
What is the big deal.
I was glad to have a little taste 'o myself.
It's just me.
What's the big deal?
Men, please answer this.
Why don't you kiss and give your ladies the appreciative kiss back?
quote of the day: Linda Ronstadt
"My big fantasy has been to seduce a priest."
(ala, "Thorn Birds," maybe?)
(ala, "Thorn Birds," maybe?)
factiod of the day: nuns of 870 A.D.
To ward off would-be rapists nuns from, Coldingham, Scotland, in 870 A.D. would cut off their nose and upper lip.
(is there where, 'don't cut off your nose to spite your face,' comes from?)
(shockingly enough, this is said to have worked in repeling rapists)
(is there where, 'don't cut off your nose to spite your face,' comes from?)
(shockingly enough, this is said to have worked in repeling rapists)
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
a mouthful of semen a day keeps the doctors away
A story on girlgoyle's blog was too good not to steal and share.
open up and say, ahhh
Now men, you have 'medical data' to back you up on this.
I can hear it now. "But honey, you won't get breast cancer. C'mon, baby. Please..."
I say your shitgar had better be on, but it's still worth reading.
My random act of kindness is done for the day.
open up and say, ahhh
Now men, you have 'medical data' to back you up on this.
I can hear it now. "But honey, you won't get breast cancer. C'mon, baby. Please..."
I say your shitgar had better be on, but it's still worth reading.
My random act of kindness is done for the day.
factoid of the day: women and sexual activity
Women who lose their virginity before they're 18 years of age are twice as likely to be sexually active when they are adults than those who waited.
(mystery solved!)
(mystery solved!)
hottie of the week: John Cusack
(Was there any doubt as to who it would be this week?)
Because he was,
Lane Meyer in, "Better off Dead."
Buck Weaver, in, "Eight Men Out."
Lloyd Dobler, in "Say Anything."
Rob Gordon, in, "High Fidelity."
and
Jonathan Trager, in, "Serendipity."
Because he is the boy next door who is willing to chase after the girl.
He is willing to make a fool of himself for love.
He is the everyday guy who always wins.
He's the guy's girl.
He just is.
Because he was,
Lane Meyer in, "Better off Dead."
Buck Weaver, in, "Eight Men Out."
Lloyd Dobler, in "Say Anything."
Rob Gordon, in, "High Fidelity."
and
Jonathan Trager, in, "Serendipity."
Because he is the boy next door who is willing to chase after the girl.
He is willing to make a fool of himself for love.
He is the everyday guy who always wins.
He's the guy's girl.
He just is.
Monday, April 03, 2006
let the birthday countdown begin
| Your Birthdate: April 17 |
 You tend to find yourself lucky - both in business and in life. And while being wealthy is nice, you enjoy sharing your abundance with others. You put your luck to good use: you are very ambitious and goal oriented. Often times, you get over excited and take on more than you can manage. Your strength: Your ability to make your own luck Your weakness: Thinking you can do it all Your power color: Bronze Your power symbol: Half Moon Your power month: August |
the delicious throb
For no particular reason at all, all morning long while I sit and work trying to concentrate minding my own business hidden away in my office; I am throbbing like a horny little pussycat in heat for the first time waiting for the nasty little tom cat to take advantage of my sweet little innocent ways.
....this has been going on all morning long.
For no reason.
Not that I need a reason, but I mean I haven't really spoken with anyone. I haven't flirted at all today.
I don't have on any kind of rubbing on the fun parts panties. Just your basic hot pink thong.
Throb, throb, throb, throb.
My pussy and my ass.
Throb, Throb, Throb......
Just begging for it.
Wanting it so very badly.
Oh, the impure thoughts that are racing though my head right now.
Me being bent over with my ass in the air, a hand on my back.
Or sitting on his face getting my juices all over him.
Reverse cowgirl getting DP'd.
Oh, the throb.
The delicious heartbeat.
Perhaps I need to skip class tonight.
It's not like I will get anything accomplished in class or for that matter for the rest of my day here at work.
Perhaps I need to break out the toy box.
Perhaps I need to make a few phone calls.
Perhaps I should just do both.
Oh, good lord.....
Throb, throb, throb, throb
Pure delicious throb......
....this has been going on all morning long.
For no reason.
Not that I need a reason, but I mean I haven't really spoken with anyone. I haven't flirted at all today.
I don't have on any kind of rubbing on the fun parts panties. Just your basic hot pink thong.
Throb, throb, throb, throb.
My pussy and my ass.
Throb, Throb, Throb......
Just begging for it.
Wanting it so very badly.
Oh, the impure thoughts that are racing though my head right now.
Me being bent over with my ass in the air, a hand on my back.
Or sitting on his face getting my juices all over him.
Reverse cowgirl getting DP'd.
Oh, the throb.
The delicious heartbeat.
Perhaps I need to skip class tonight.
It's not like I will get anything accomplished in class or for that matter for the rest of my day here at work.
Perhaps I need to break out the toy box.
Perhaps I need to make a few phone calls.
Perhaps I should just do both.
Oh, good lord.....
Throb, throb, throb, throb
Pure delicious throb......
gettin my Lloyd Dobler fix
OK, so, with all of the quoting of, "Say Anything," last week I went and rented the DVD. Yes, I own the movie however it's on VHS and my VCR is fickle as to whether or not it will accept the movie and then as to whether or not it will give back the movie. Hence, me renting the movie.
Still a classic.
Still resonates.
Still lovin my Lloyd.
Here's something funny.
So, the cute and adorable 28 year old who I am pursuing a friendship with instead of a relationship with, yeah, I'm pretty sure he believes I am his Diane Court.
Here's why I think this.
After our first date I walked out of the bathroom to find him bowing in the hallway. When I asked him what he was doing he said, "What Lloyd does after his first date with Diane."
I laughed. I remembered the scene and thought it cute.
At least I thought I remembered the scene.
It's when Lloyd takes Diane how and she calls him, 'basic.' She thinks she blew it her dad reassures her by showing Lloyd out in the street bowing to an imaginary crowd.
Ohhhh, that scene.
Then when I emailed him and told the cute, adorable, loveable 28 year old that I just wanted to pursue a friendship with him he said, "No problem. He is thinking of us as friends with potential."
Ah, how sweet.
Then while watching the movie I got that whole line again.
When they are in the coffee shop and Diane tells Lloyd that she can't really date right now. He says, "Hey, no problem. We're friends with potential and we're just having coffee."
Sooooooo,
He and I are going to a baseball game on Saturday. (I LOVE baseball. He's a huge fan as well.)
I was excited that I finally had a partner to go to games with. This could prove more interesting than I originally thought.)
Poop.
I think redblooded may be right on this one. He wants a relationship, I want a friendship. I've been very honest and upfront. Don't think there is much more I can do other than keep doing the same.
Still a classic.
Still resonates.
Still lovin my Lloyd.
Here's something funny.
So, the cute and adorable 28 year old who I am pursuing a friendship with instead of a relationship with, yeah, I'm pretty sure he believes I am his Diane Court.
Here's why I think this.
After our first date I walked out of the bathroom to find him bowing in the hallway. When I asked him what he was doing he said, "What Lloyd does after his first date with Diane."
I laughed. I remembered the scene and thought it cute.
At least I thought I remembered the scene.
It's when Lloyd takes Diane how and she calls him, 'basic.' She thinks she blew it her dad reassures her by showing Lloyd out in the street bowing to an imaginary crowd.
Ohhhh, that scene.
Then when I emailed him and told the cute, adorable, loveable 28 year old that I just wanted to pursue a friendship with him he said, "No problem. He is thinking of us as friends with potential."
Ah, how sweet.
Then while watching the movie I got that whole line again.
When they are in the coffee shop and Diane tells Lloyd that she can't really date right now. He says, "Hey, no problem. We're friends with potential and we're just having coffee."
Sooooooo,
He and I are going to a baseball game on Saturday. (I LOVE baseball. He's a huge fan as well.)
I was excited that I finally had a partner to go to games with. This could prove more interesting than I originally thought.)
Poop.
I think redblooded may be right on this one. He wants a relationship, I want a friendship. I've been very honest and upfront. Don't think there is much more I can do other than keep doing the same.
quote of the day: Alfred Kinsey
"The only unnatural sex act is one which you cannot perform."
Amen.
Let's have three cheers for open-minded individuals and sex researchers.
(Hip-Hip-Horray!)(Goooo Team!)
factoid of the day: epilepsy and castration
Did you know...
During the Victorian era, it was believed that epilepsy was caused by being in a constant state of arousal. (Of course)
Seizures were seen to be a sexual release. This naturally led to the belief that, for male epileptics castration would provide the cure. (Naturally)
(No word on how they solved the problem for women. However, I'm sure it had to with a wandering uterus and I'm sure it led to the removal of said traveling uterus.)
New Jersey and Wisonsin didn't throw out their laws allowing castration of epileptics until the twentieth century. (Let's hear it for progress)
During the Victorian era, it was believed that epilepsy was caused by being in a constant state of arousal. (Of course)
Seizures were seen to be a sexual release. This naturally led to the belief that, for male epileptics castration would provide the cure. (Naturally)
(No word on how they solved the problem for women. However, I'm sure it had to with a wandering uterus and I'm sure it led to the removal of said traveling uterus.)
New Jersey and Wisonsin didn't throw out their laws allowing castration of epileptics until the twentieth century. (Let's hear it for progress)
Friday, March 31, 2006
just sayin: fully naked
There is something really beautiful about having the intimacy of being naked with your clothes on.
That's what I'm looking for with someone. To be completely naked while I am fully clothed. In the very best way, to be fully naked. All the time.
That's what I'm looking for with someone. To be completely naked while I am fully clothed. In the very best way, to be fully naked. All the time.
big balls
Last night in class the professor asked me and the two girls I was sitting next to to stay after class.
I was sitting in the middle and we turned to each other and said, "What did we do? Should we be nervous?"
"No, we didn't do anything."
So we sit there like three fifth graders waiting to be disciplined by their teacher.
As we sat waiting for our punishment the man who sits at the table in front of us wasn't leaving the room. He was just standing there in front of us staring and waiting for no particular reason at all.
Odd.
I finally felt the uncomfortable need to engage him in conversation.
I blather on about something unimportant and that I didn't really care about, but this man wasn't getting any subtle or pan hitting him over the head hints.
The professor finally comes over to our table and we discuss our paper topics and such and then she tells the three of (myself and the two other women) that we need to stop talking because people have complained. Very 5th grade. In fact I can bet pretty safely that I probably got in trouble for this in 5th grade. Probably pretty safe to say I got in trouble for this on a fairly regular basis all through my school career, even now, at almost 32. Funny.
So anyway.
This man keep standing there.
The professor leaves.
We sit like three 5th graders.
Then the man asks out the girl to my left and this is the smooth way he did it.
"Hey, what's your name?"
"Leigh."
"Be alright if I call you sometime?"
(very snotty but in the most hilarious way. Hear it with a, head swirling and finger pointing tone) "AHHH, NO."
"No, that wouldn't be okay?"
"Ah, NO. I'm engaged."
..and he was out the door.
Okay. So he asked out a woman who he has never spoken to. She never speaks in class, (you know, to actually contribute) she's engaged and has a big 'ol rock on her finger, and he didn't even know her name.
Nice.
Smooth.
Very romantic.
I got goose bumps.
The three of us, plus another girl who were still in class laughed and laughed for several minutes afterward.
However, the one thing we all agreed on was that he has huge balls.
The guts it takes to ask a woman out? Good lord.
To ask her out in front of three of her friends? Oh my.
To be turned down in front of her friends? Yikers.
To have us talk about him into our next class? Yeah, that's pretty funny.
To see him every Monday and Thursday for the next five weeks? Yeah, that's pretty damn priceless.
I was sitting in the middle and we turned to each other and said, "What did we do? Should we be nervous?"
"No, we didn't do anything."
So we sit there like three fifth graders waiting to be disciplined by their teacher.
As we sat waiting for our punishment the man who sits at the table in front of us wasn't leaving the room. He was just standing there in front of us staring and waiting for no particular reason at all.
Odd.
I finally felt the uncomfortable need to engage him in conversation.
I blather on about something unimportant and that I didn't really care about, but this man wasn't getting any subtle or pan hitting him over the head hints.
The professor finally comes over to our table and we discuss our paper topics and such and then she tells the three of (myself and the two other women) that we need to stop talking because people have complained. Very 5th grade. In fact I can bet pretty safely that I probably got in trouble for this in 5th grade. Probably pretty safe to say I got in trouble for this on a fairly regular basis all through my school career, even now, at almost 32. Funny.
So anyway.
This man keep standing there.
The professor leaves.
We sit like three 5th graders.
Then the man asks out the girl to my left and this is the smooth way he did it.
"Hey, what's your name?"
"Leigh."
"Be alright if I call you sometime?"
(very snotty but in the most hilarious way. Hear it with a, head swirling and finger pointing tone) "AHHH, NO."
"No, that wouldn't be okay?"
"Ah, NO. I'm engaged."
..and he was out the door.
Okay. So he asked out a woman who he has never spoken to. She never speaks in class, (you know, to actually contribute) she's engaged and has a big 'ol rock on her finger, and he didn't even know her name.
Nice.
Smooth.
Very romantic.
I got goose bumps.
The three of us, plus another girl who were still in class laughed and laughed for several minutes afterward.
However, the one thing we all agreed on was that he has huge balls.
The guts it takes to ask a woman out? Good lord.
To ask her out in front of three of her friends? Oh my.
To be turned down in front of her friends? Yikers.
To have us talk about him into our next class? Yeah, that's pretty funny.
To see him every Monday and Thursday for the next five weeks? Yeah, that's pretty damn priceless.
I'm a fairy princess
In the last couple of weeks I've had two of my guy friends come out to me.
Now, when I say, "they came out," it wasn't as if I was on the floor gasping for breath in shocked disbelief.
No.
It was more of me thinking and perhaps translating through all of my hints and comments about how much I love gay men, gay clubs, and being a Fag Hag, that I was trying to transmit to them that it was indeed okay to tell me that you are gay because my gaydar is going, beepbeepbeepbeepbeep...really, really loud. Please tell me your gay so we can go on and be real with each other and bask in all the glorious gaydom together.
My Saving Grace, (middle aged, adorable, hilarious and we do an intermission show for the front desk gal at our night classes. It's the PG and Saving Grace Show. Mmmm, that has a catchy ring to it. I think I need to call public access.)
Anyway, he finally said something about being a big ol' sister a few weeks ago and well, our friendship has gone to a whole other level of fabulousness.
Perfect.
Cute Boy and I had class together as well and have gone out for drinks several times. He's married; I thought it was to a man. Nope. Okaaayyyy. Goes to the gay bars and talks about all things gay and mentions how cute boys are in the same breath he mentions his wife. Okayyy...is he asking me for a threesome or just trying to figure me out?
Last night we went out for drinks and he finally admited he was bi (which I like to call a gay man in denial.)
Super fantastic!
The conversation took a completely different turn and we started to talk about all things gay.
How I still haven't bought Madonna's new album because I'm still bitter over, "American Life."
Will Katie have the baby already! And I think Tom is pulling her naive unwitting mind into a cult. He hates Barbra, I think she's snooty. Liza annoys me and I can't tell if she has Parkinson's or the drugs took there toll.
On and on and on.
Then I mentioned how I don't like the term, Fag Hag. There has to be a better way to describe me. He said he calls us, "Fairy Princesses" I LOVE IT!
So much better and cuter. Adoreable. Fits me.
Here's the kicker. For Halloween last year, down at the gay bar of course, I WAS a fairy princess! I had wings, corset, heels, glitter, and a magic wand and I was granting wishes all night long.
Fabulous!
Now, when I say, "they came out," it wasn't as if I was on the floor gasping for breath in shocked disbelief.
No.
It was more of me thinking and perhaps translating through all of my hints and comments about how much I love gay men, gay clubs, and being a Fag Hag, that I was trying to transmit to them that it was indeed okay to tell me that you are gay because my gaydar is going, beepbeepbeepbeepbeep...really, really loud. Please tell me your gay so we can go on and be real with each other and bask in all the glorious gaydom together.
My Saving Grace, (middle aged, adorable, hilarious and we do an intermission show for the front desk gal at our night classes. It's the PG and Saving Grace Show. Mmmm, that has a catchy ring to it. I think I need to call public access.)
Anyway, he finally said something about being a big ol' sister a few weeks ago and well, our friendship has gone to a whole other level of fabulousness.
Perfect.
Cute Boy and I had class together as well and have gone out for drinks several times. He's married; I thought it was to a man. Nope. Okaaayyyy. Goes to the gay bars and talks about all things gay and mentions how cute boys are in the same breath he mentions his wife. Okayyy...is he asking me for a threesome or just trying to figure me out?
Last night we went out for drinks and he finally admited he was bi (which I like to call a gay man in denial.)
Super fantastic!
The conversation took a completely different turn and we started to talk about all things gay.
How I still haven't bought Madonna's new album because I'm still bitter over, "American Life."
Will Katie have the baby already! And I think Tom is pulling her naive unwitting mind into a cult. He hates Barbra, I think she's snooty. Liza annoys me and I can't tell if she has Parkinson's or the drugs took there toll.
On and on and on.
Then I mentioned how I don't like the term, Fag Hag. There has to be a better way to describe me. He said he calls us, "Fairy Princesses" I LOVE IT!
So much better and cuter. Adoreable. Fits me.
Here's the kicker. For Halloween last year, down at the gay bar of course, I WAS a fairy princess! I had wings, corset, heels, glitter, and a magic wand and I was granting wishes all night long.
Fabulous!
if you click your heels 3 times wishes really do come true
Yesterday I had just sent a rather, um, not whiney, more of a pondering, of how bored with life I am this week. Then the rest of my day happened. I will break it into small posts for my ADD readers.
My life has become so routine with work and school almost every night, Wednesday is my only free night to run errands and such. So I was blathering on in the email about how I don't have time to do anything fun for myself and on and on.
Then who should happen to send me another email?
If you guessed the, Out-of-Towner, you get what's behind door number 3!
I waited a few hours and then I IM'd him.
While I was chatting with him (In a very cool, hot, detached, sexy, flirty sort of way) who should call my cell phone?
If you guessed the hot nerdy little stud boy all of 25 years who I went out with on Sunday, you are inside my head because I don't think I even mentioned him yet.
I put O-of-T on hold to talk to Nerdy Stud Boy.
Yum.
Oh, and I should make a retraction.
**I had too much fun on my little sexy, flirty, cold, powerful, dominant, ego trip yesterday talking with O-of-T, therefore I will be fucking his ears off. It is simply too good not to. He and I are simply too good together not to. Sex is simply too awesome not to.
***Pick on me if you feel the need, however I am getting laid. So there.
My life has become so routine with work and school almost every night, Wednesday is my only free night to run errands and such. So I was blathering on in the email about how I don't have time to do anything fun for myself and on and on.
Then who should happen to send me another email?
If you guessed the, Out-of-Towner, you get what's behind door number 3!
I waited a few hours and then I IM'd him.
While I was chatting with him (In a very cool, hot, detached, sexy, flirty sort of way) who should call my cell phone?
If you guessed the hot nerdy little stud boy all of 25 years who I went out with on Sunday, you are inside my head because I don't think I even mentioned him yet.
I put O-of-T on hold to talk to Nerdy Stud Boy.
Yum.
Oh, and I should make a retraction.
**I had too much fun on my little sexy, flirty, cold, powerful, dominant, ego trip yesterday talking with O-of-T, therefore I will be fucking his ears off. It is simply too good not to. He and I are simply too good together not to. Sex is simply too awesome not to.
***Pick on me if you feel the need, however I am getting laid. So there.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
how to get yourself wet without really trying
One Thunderstorm + lots and lots of gusty wind + short skirt - an umbrella = one really wet little ass
inner dork: gasoline
Seeing as how gas managed to jump $.20 over night, I thought today's dorking would be all about gasoline factoids.
Have you ever wondered why there are three decimal places after the price of gas?
Did you know that for several years the tax on gas was less than one cent per gallon? The tax would be $0.009 and if the price per gallon was $0.25, then the two together would become $0.259. Over a period of time this simply became common practice.
The price of gasoline is determined by the price of crude oil, refining costs, transportation, storage costs, and taxes. Today, taxes are often 40% (or more) of the cost per gallon.
The first gas station that was designed for the servicing of automobiles was opened in St. Louis, Mo, in 1907.
Two gallons of recycled engine oil can generate enough electricity to run an average house for a day or run a television set for 180 hours.
Crude oil is often referred to as petroleum, which means, "liquid rock."
Have you ever wondered why there are three decimal places after the price of gas?
Did you know that for several years the tax on gas was less than one cent per gallon? The tax would be $0.009 and if the price per gallon was $0.25, then the two together would become $0.259. Over a period of time this simply became common practice.
The price of gasoline is determined by the price of crude oil, refining costs, transportation, storage costs, and taxes. Today, taxes are often 40% (or more) of the cost per gallon.
The first gas station that was designed for the servicing of automobiles was opened in St. Louis, Mo, in 1907.
Two gallons of recycled engine oil can generate enough electricity to run an average house for a day or run a television set for 180 hours.
Crude oil is often referred to as petroleum, which means, "liquid rock."
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
just sayin
I think blogging and masturbation are the two biggest forms of narcissism.
Think about it.
It's all about me, me, me.
Not that that's a bad thing.
Just sayin.
Think about it.
It's all about me, me, me.
Not that that's a bad thing.
Just sayin.
quote of the day: Lloyd Dobler (again)
Ok, I may run the whole, "Say Anything," quotes into the ground this week, but I've decided that I am on too big of a kick not to make them the quote of the day for the rest of the week.
Love me or hate me just adore me. That's all I ask.
The always classic:
"She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart and she gave me... a pen."
Love me or hate me just adore me. That's all I ask.
The always classic:
"She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart and she gave me... a pen."
like a flash in a pan, he's back from outter space: Out-of-Towner
Yesterday while complaining about how bored I was with a follow blogger, Will, who should suddenly appear wanting back into my life? None other than the Out-of-Towner.
Seriously.
I said I was bored and *poof* I get an email.
(she makes a face and wonders if this hidden super power will work in other aspects of her life. Say, I need sex, click my heels, or do a few kegals and suddenly I'm on top of someone.)
(Nope. Nothing. I just tried it.)
Anyway.
So, he emailed me yesterday and I have yet to respond.
My first reaction was, rolling my eyes, thinking how hilarious this was and being slightly disgusted.
Probably, and I'm just guessing here, but probably not the best reaction to have when someone who I spent a year of my life with (off and on) wants to see me. ie: fuck my brains out.
I was asked what am I going to do?
Well, he fucked up.
If he has a brain at all he should know this.
He could have totally had me.
However, I don't think he knows what to do with me.
I've always thought this.
He is pretty um, how should I say this. He's pretty important and well, wealthy.
I could care.
It means nothing to me.
No, really.
Money, cars, power and influence? Who cares.
Unless I am the one driving the car, who has the money and the power and influence it doesn't do a lot for me. Typically if a man has these things and needs to talk about these things he has little else to offer me. (I see a future post about this.)
SO.
I don't think he knew how to handle me. I wasn't, nor am I, like any of the women he has dated in his past and I am going to say in his future.
I challenged him. He's never had a woman do this before. I don't mean this in that I was challenging, hard to get along with or fought with him ect. No, I wasn't easy. I didn't bow and beg and do whatever he said or wanted. I think to simplify what I am saying, I had a brain and thoughts and opinions. Yeah, there. That's it. I didn't just nod and agree and say, "you are so smart. So right."
In fact, he told me on several occasions that he and I would get along a lot better if I would just realize that he was always right.
I told him, he and I were going to have problems then.
Also, let's just say I was more adventours with the sex than anyone he's ever been with before and I'm going to guess since.
So, I don't think he knew how to handle that and although I think he enjoyed the challenge he didn't and doesn't know what to do with me.
Make sense?
So, if I am saying all this then why am I even mildly thinking and considering seeing him?
Is it for the amazing down and dirty sex we had and for the fact that I could control him in the bedroom or wherever it might have been that I wanted to have sex? Like Oliver asking, "Please sir, may I have some more?"
Only I didn't get angry. I would say, "More? Yes-you-can!"
No, it's because for whatever reason I want him as a friend in my life.
Yes, a friend. I don't know why. I haven't found a way to articulate it. Maybe because he accepted me as me without judgment. Maybe. Don't know.
I've had sex with him.
Been there done that.
And even though the mere thought of having sex with him again and the image of me on the hood of my car, or the alley, sidewalk and on my knees with him makes me wet and throb as I write this, I've said to no one in particular and mostly to myself, that no, he and I won't have sex.
When I have my mind made up well bulls, mules, and goats ain't got nothin on me in terms of stubbornness.
And I respect myself more than that.
He fucked up a really amazing opportunity to be with me.
So, do you think if I sent an email saying to the effect of:
"Hey if you want to meet for a drink the next time your in town, I am all for it. Yes, absolutely. If you want to meet me just to fuck me, absolutely not.
If you want to be in my life in some capacity then, as friends is all I can or will offer up. If you want more you need to work for it. Otherwise, goodbye."
Subtle, direct and to the point?
Harsh, attacking and too biting.
Who the hell cares he fucked up?
I will make one retraction.
***If I haven't had sex by this time next month I reserve the right, to say, fuck it and go have my brains fucked right out my ears.
Seriously.
I said I was bored and *poof* I get an email.
(she makes a face and wonders if this hidden super power will work in other aspects of her life. Say, I need sex, click my heels, or do a few kegals and suddenly I'm on top of someone.)
(Nope. Nothing. I just tried it.)
Anyway.
So, he emailed me yesterday and I have yet to respond.
My first reaction was, rolling my eyes, thinking how hilarious this was and being slightly disgusted.
Probably, and I'm just guessing here, but probably not the best reaction to have when someone who I spent a year of my life with (off and on) wants to see me. ie: fuck my brains out.
I was asked what am I going to do?
Well, he fucked up.
If he has a brain at all he should know this.
He could have totally had me.
However, I don't think he knows what to do with me.
I've always thought this.
He is pretty um, how should I say this. He's pretty important and well, wealthy.
I could care.
It means nothing to me.
No, really.
Money, cars, power and influence? Who cares.
Unless I am the one driving the car, who has the money and the power and influence it doesn't do a lot for me. Typically if a man has these things and needs to talk about these things he has little else to offer me. (I see a future post about this.)
SO.
I don't think he knew how to handle me. I wasn't, nor am I, like any of the women he has dated in his past and I am going to say in his future.
I challenged him. He's never had a woman do this before. I don't mean this in that I was challenging, hard to get along with or fought with him ect. No, I wasn't easy. I didn't bow and beg and do whatever he said or wanted. I think to simplify what I am saying, I had a brain and thoughts and opinions. Yeah, there. That's it. I didn't just nod and agree and say, "you are so smart. So right."
In fact, he told me on several occasions that he and I would get along a lot better if I would just realize that he was always right.
I told him, he and I were going to have problems then.
Also, let's just say I was more adventours with the sex than anyone he's ever been with before and I'm going to guess since.
So, I don't think he knew how to handle that and although I think he enjoyed the challenge he didn't and doesn't know what to do with me.
Make sense?
So, if I am saying all this then why am I even mildly thinking and considering seeing him?
Is it for the amazing down and dirty sex we had and for the fact that I could control him in the bedroom or wherever it might have been that I wanted to have sex? Like Oliver asking, "Please sir, may I have some more?"
Only I didn't get angry. I would say, "More? Yes-you-can!"
No, it's because for whatever reason I want him as a friend in my life.
Yes, a friend. I don't know why. I haven't found a way to articulate it. Maybe because he accepted me as me without judgment. Maybe. Don't know.
I've had sex with him.
Been there done that.
And even though the mere thought of having sex with him again and the image of me on the hood of my car, or the alley, sidewalk and on my knees with him makes me wet and throb as I write this, I've said to no one in particular and mostly to myself, that no, he and I won't have sex.
When I have my mind made up well bulls, mules, and goats ain't got nothin on me in terms of stubbornness.
And I respect myself more than that.
He fucked up a really amazing opportunity to be with me.
So, do you think if I sent an email saying to the effect of:
"Hey if you want to meet for a drink the next time your in town, I am all for it. Yes, absolutely. If you want to meet me just to fuck me, absolutely not.
If you want to be in my life in some capacity then, as friends is all I can or will offer up. If you want more you need to work for it. Otherwise, goodbye."
Subtle, direct and to the point?
Harsh, attacking and too biting.
Who the hell cares he fucked up?
I will make one retraction.
***If I haven't had sex by this time next month I reserve the right, to say, fuck it and go have my brains fucked right out my ears.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
quote of the day: Lloyd Dobler
First, if you don't know who Lloyd Dobler is then for shame on you.
Second, I've been in a huge, "Say Anything," sort of mood for the past couple of weeks. Perhaps because I am looking for my Lloyd and also because people keep asking what I plan to do as a career once I finish college in December.
Anyway, here's one of my favorite quotes.
(At dinner with Diane, her dad and family important people. James Court asks Lloyd what he plans to do as a career.)
"A career? I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought, or processed as a career. I don't want to do that.
My father's in the army. He wants me to join, but I can't work for that corporation. So, what I've been doing lately is kick-boxing, which is a new sport. As far as career longevity, I don't really know. I can't figure it all out tonight, sir. So, I'm just gonna hang with your daughter."
Second, I've been in a huge, "Say Anything," sort of mood for the past couple of weeks. Perhaps because I am looking for my Lloyd and also because people keep asking what I plan to do as a career once I finish college in December.
Anyway, here's one of my favorite quotes.
(At dinner with Diane, her dad and family important people. James Court asks Lloyd what he plans to do as a career.)
"A career? I've thought about this quite a bit sir and I would have to say considering what's waiting out there for me, I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed or buy anything sold or processed or repair anything sold, bought, or processed as a career. I don't want to do that.
My father's in the army. He wants me to join, but I can't work for that corporation. So, what I've been doing lately is kick-boxing, which is a new sport. As far as career longevity, I don't really know. I can't figure it all out tonight, sir. So, I'm just gonna hang with your daughter."
just askin
Have you ever wondered how many people have thought about you while they were masturbating?
In other words how many fantasies you've unwittingly been a part of?
In other words how many fantasies you've unwittingly been a part of?
hottie of the week: Angelina Jolie
She's comfortable in her own skin.
She's a tad freaky.
She's trying to save the world one nation and one adopted child at a time.
Um, yeah. It's Angelina Jolie. I would watch this woman if she was sitting on the toilet reading the phone book.
She's a tad freaky.
She's trying to save the world one nation and one adopted child at a time.
Um, yeah. It's Angelina Jolie. I would watch this woman if she was sitting on the toilet reading the phone book.
Monday, March 27, 2006
the misadventures of a single gal: drink less, pay attention more
So, this past weekend brought about a few stories. I will share one of them.
MWPG (Mini-Wannabe-Party Girl) and I went downtown to our favortite local watering holes. At the English pub, as always, it was wall to wall balls.
We were sitting at one of the tables and before long we had a steady stream of men sitting down with us.
Yayy!
I met one young man who seemed promising.
Similar interests, could hold his own on the conversation, funny, witty, smart, good-looking.
We exchanged phone numbers. Something I rarely, to never, do.
She and I left to go to the next bar and he and his friends were going to follow behind us.
Sure enough before long they were there as well.
Super fantastic.
I met all his friends, one of whom kept grabbing me and kissing me. Um, ok. Don't think I said that was okay.
However, I had a great time at the bar with all but one of his friends who had a serious attitude towards me for no good reason what-so-ever.
Bar closes.
They want us to go to an after hours.
MWPG and I get in their car to be driven back to my car.
The driver goes the wrong way on a one-way.
He barely misses colliding with an oncoming car. (New to the area and wasn't listening to those of us in the backseat telling him where to turn.)
I let out a small scream.
I tell the driver, "You know what? Here is the perfect place to let us out. We'll just walk."
The driver asks if we are coming back to the after hours?
Ah, no.
Out of the car and I tell the nice young man who I had given my number to that I would really like to see and hear from him again.
"Yeah. I'm totally full of shit."
"Alrighty. Good to know. Thanks for wasting my time tonight. However, thanks for not wasting any more of it. My number? Lose it."
MWPG and I walk to my car. While laughing I ask, "What the hell was that all about? My god! What a night!" (SO very much other Shtuff happened.)
MWPG says, "He was 23."
"What?" "How did I miss that?"
More laughter.
Note to self: Drink less, pay attention more.
MWPG (Mini-Wannabe-Party Girl) and I went downtown to our favortite local watering holes. At the English pub, as always, it was wall to wall balls.
We were sitting at one of the tables and before long we had a steady stream of men sitting down with us.
Yayy!
I met one young man who seemed promising.
Similar interests, could hold his own on the conversation, funny, witty, smart, good-looking.
We exchanged phone numbers. Something I rarely, to never, do.
She and I left to go to the next bar and he and his friends were going to follow behind us.
Sure enough before long they were there as well.
Super fantastic.
I met all his friends, one of whom kept grabbing me and kissing me. Um, ok. Don't think I said that was okay.
However, I had a great time at the bar with all but one of his friends who had a serious attitude towards me for no good reason what-so-ever.
Bar closes.
They want us to go to an after hours.
MWPG and I get in their car to be driven back to my car.
The driver goes the wrong way on a one-way.
He barely misses colliding with an oncoming car. (New to the area and wasn't listening to those of us in the backseat telling him where to turn.)
I let out a small scream.
I tell the driver, "You know what? Here is the perfect place to let us out. We'll just walk."
The driver asks if we are coming back to the after hours?
Ah, no.
Out of the car and I tell the nice young man who I had given my number to that I would really like to see and hear from him again.
"Yeah. I'm totally full of shit."
"Alrighty. Good to know. Thanks for wasting my time tonight. However, thanks for not wasting any more of it. My number? Lose it."
MWPG and I walk to my car. While laughing I ask, "What the hell was that all about? My god! What a night!" (SO very much other Shtuff happened.)
MWPG says, "He was 23."
"What?" "How did I miss that?"
More laughter.
Note to self: Drink less, pay attention more.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
how to get drunk while spending only $12.25
Let men buy you drinks all night.
It's a gift really.
That concludes today's lesson.
It's a gift really.
That concludes today's lesson.
spring break: spring break at 31 vs. spring break at 21
For the past week I've been on spring break.
Unfortunately, only for my job. I still had my night classes. The week before I was on spring break from school.
Let's hear it for colleges not being able to coordinate the breaks.
So, needless to say my bring break was more this
as opposed to this
I watched my six-year-old nephew for most of the week.
I kept the world safe from bad guys and all the evil powers of the universe that can be saved by simply making a laser sound and getting into a war with all of the superheroes of The Justice League.
He discovered the joys of Fruity Pebbles, the comfort of grilled cheese and tomato soup. How cool homemade donuts are. The cheesy goodness of homemade individual pizzas. The pleasure of licking cookie dough from the bowl. (Note to self: Kick up the workout) The wonders and comfort of naps on a pillow-top mattress. (It's like sleeping on a cloud really.)
We went to a movie, grandma's house and battled several evil forces in my apartment. It was a fun couple of days.
After the wars were all fought and won I had a few days to myself.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday? Yeah, I was at the bars. The universe was safe and I needed a drink.
Unfortunately, only for my job. I still had my night classes. The week before I was on spring break from school.
Let's hear it for colleges not being able to coordinate the breaks.
So, needless to say my bring break was more this
as opposed to this
I watched my six-year-old nephew for most of the week.
I kept the world safe from bad guys and all the evil powers of the universe that can be saved by simply making a laser sound and getting into a war with all of the superheroes of The Justice League.
He discovered the joys of Fruity Pebbles, the comfort of grilled cheese and tomato soup. How cool homemade donuts are. The cheesy goodness of homemade individual pizzas. The pleasure of licking cookie dough from the bowl. (Note to self: Kick up the workout) The wonders and comfort of naps on a pillow-top mattress. (It's like sleeping on a cloud really.)
We went to a movie, grandma's house and battled several evil forces in my apartment. It was a fun couple of days.
After the wars were all fought and won I had a few days to myself.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday? Yeah, I was at the bars. The universe was safe and I needed a drink.
Friday, March 24, 2006
factoid of the day: Napoleon and Josephine
In honor of the question of the week:
Napoleon preferred to have sex with Josephine when she was unwashed. He also said, that she had the prettiest rear end he'd ever seen.
Napoleon preferred to have sex with Josephine when she was unwashed. He also said, that she had the prettiest rear end he'd ever seen.
question of the week: clean as a summer's day or unwashed as the day is long?
Being a woman I have heard all the jokes, seen all the commercials. I need to be washed and cleaned and use all the products Madison Ave. can sell me.
I should smell like a meadow in the summer day sun. Which honestly to me would be way too flowery, buggy and hot. But, what do I know.
So here's my question: Do you prefer your woman to be so fresh and so clean, straight from the soapy shower?
OR
Have her after a long day and the shower was about 16 hours ago?
OR
Who the hell cares, it's still a pussy attached to my woman?
This brings up another question: Shaved? Hairy as an o'natural hippy?
For me and men: I could care. I prefer it to not be sweaty and musky and washed within the past few hours because when he is so fresh and so clean I love the way my hand glides across a smooth erect cock.
But, yeah. I don't care. It's an erect cock and at that moment it's mine all mine! (Rubs hands together like an evil scientist from an old film noir movie)
...and you?
I should smell like a meadow in the summer day sun. Which honestly to me would be way too flowery, buggy and hot. But, what do I know.
So here's my question: Do you prefer your woman to be so fresh and so clean, straight from the soapy shower?
OR
Have her after a long day and the shower was about 16 hours ago?
OR
Who the hell cares, it's still a pussy attached to my woman?
This brings up another question: Shaved? Hairy as an o'natural hippy?
For me and men: I could care. I prefer it to not be sweaty and musky and washed within the past few hours because when he is so fresh and so clean I love the way my hand glides across a smooth erect cock.
But, yeah. I don't care. It's an erect cock and at that moment it's mine all mine! (Rubs hands together like an evil scientist from an old film noir movie)
...and you?
Thursday, March 23, 2006
inner dork: the history of the bra
The history is a tad long. Therefore I am eliminating much of the modern day history and a few centuries.
2000 BC The Corset can be traced back to about 2000 BC. It was open at the front to the waist, leaving the breasts uncovered. Small strips of leather round the waist were used to curve round the outline of the breasts.
2500 BC Back in 2500 B.C., warrior Minoan women on the Greek isle of Crete began wearing a bra-resembling garment, shoving their bare breasts upward and exposed their naked breasts from their clothing!
450BC-285AD The Greeks wore a bodice tied above the breasts, leaving the breasts naked. The wearing of corsets was prohibited so they used "the Apodesme" which was a small band of material wrapped round the breast, largely for functional reasons - to prevent the breasts moving when walking. The Roman women adopted the apodesme as worn by the Greeks, but the name was changed to "mamillare", "fascia" etc. Young women wore the fascia to prevent the growth of their breasts whilst the mamillare was used to conceal a very large breast.
4th Century AD The Chemise first appeared in the 4th century, was made of linen and looked like a tunic. The Chemise was gathered into a round or square neckline. It was frequently embroidered and finished with a frill. At that time they usually had long sleeves and were finished with wrist ruffles.
In France women wore the "Bandeau" after Caesar's conquest of Gaul. In the 12th century women wore the "basquine" which was a sort of corset in rigid fabric surrounding the waist. About a century later the gourgandine (hussy) or bodice is worn on top of a corset.
13th Century AD In the 13th century, women were wearing short bodices that flattened the breasts. Full skirts were attached to raised waistlines to emphasize the stomach. To further emphasize a slender torso, garments had long full sleeves. The purpose was to draw the eye down and away from the breasts. In the 13th century one can read for the first time, in a corsetry shop window, reference to products that - "contain the larger one, supports the weak, gathers the floppy".
14th Century AD Breasts were de-emphasized even further in the 14th century by straight tubular bodices that completely flattened the breasts. Wide full skirts and high ruffled collars drew attention away from the breasts. In the 14th century the belt was worn to support the bust but was not widely worn as it was outlawed in certain parts of France. An edict of Strasbourg dated 1370 states - "no woman will support the bust by the disposition of a blouse or by tightened dress". Under Charles VII the bust is dressed in a triangular drape and by a tight gauze. The corset was worn very tightly and damage was caused to the wearer.
1550s AD In the 1550's women subjected themselves to the torture of whalebone and steel rod corsets. The steel corset is attributed to the wife of King Henri II of France, Catherine de Médicis, who banned "thick waists" at court attendances. The corset was designed to be worn tightly, requiring a lot of effort to fasten. It could reduce the waist to less than ten inches, permanently altering the waist size. The corset then became dominant undergarment (in various designs) of support and restraint for the next 350 years.
15th Century AD The 15th century saw breasts becoming a focal point. Bodices and stiffened stays covered and flattened the lower part of the breasts and nipples, whilst pushing up the upper breast. This created cleavage and gave the appearance of high and rounded breasts.
17th Century AD Whilst men had worn washable underwear since ancient times, it was not until the 17th century that drawers were worn by women in France and Italy but it was the early 1800's before they arrived in England "drawers" comes from a lower body undergarment that could be "drawn on". Drawers were often made up as two separate legs only attached at the waist. Crotch-less drawers were a practicality since they were worn under the corset and chemise. The legs finished just below the knee or at mid-calf and were finished either plain or fancy.
1820s A "corset mecanique" was actually invented in the 1820s which allowed women to squeeze into their corsets with the help of pulleys, without having to use the servants. Corsets at the time were made of whalebone, steel or buckram.
1850s US patents registered for first known bra-like devices.
Corsets fall out of style for about 10 years.
1860s Corsets come back in fashion with a vengeance. Severe corset "training" is common which reduces waists to such unhealthy levels that ribs and internal organs become deformed. Controversy over corseting health risks ensues.
1893 Marie Tucek patents the "Breast Supporter". The garment includes separate pockets for each breast, shoulder straps that passed over the shoulders and fastened with hook and eye closures, making it the earliest known design to be similar to modern-day bras.
1907 Vogue magazine first uses the term "brassiere", which comes from the old French word for 'upper arm'. Before this, bra-like devices were known by another French term "soutien-gorge" (literally, "throat support" or "breast support".)
1913 Dissatisfied with the idea of having to wear a heavy corset underneath a new sheer evening gown she just bought for a social event, socialite Mary Phelps Jacob of New York and her maid, Marie, devised a backless bra made from two handkerchiefs, some ribbon and cord. Amazingly she started getting orders for it that very night.
1914 After considerable interest from friends, Mary Phelps Jacob applies for a patent (under the business name "Caresse Crosby") on November 3 for her "Backless Brassiere" design, which is basically the same garment that she previously improvised. This "brassiere" was very lightweight, soft, and separated the breasts naturally. Unlike Marie Tucek's 1893 design, Jacob's garment did not have cups to support the breasts, but flattened them instead. Jacob markets the "Backless Brassiere" garment until she tires of the business and sells the patent to Warner Brothers Corset Company in Bridgeport, Connecticut, for $1,500. Warner's reportedly made over 15 million dollars over the next 30 years from the patent.
1914-1918 World War I forces women into the work-force. Many women begin working in factories and wearing uniforms, making the use of daily corset wear a problem.
1917 The U.S. War Industries Board requests women to stop buying corsets to reduce the consumption of metal. Sources say up to 28,000 tons of metal was conserved through this effort - "enough to build two battleships."
1920s The bra gained popularity and began to be used more commonly during the 1920s. This was the era of the "flappers", and the flat-chested boyish look was all the rage. Warner introduces a tight, chest-flattening bra, that was designed to flatten the breasts, rather than support them.
1928 Ida Rosenthal, a Russian immigrant, and her husband William went into business as the Maidenform Company in the 1920's as a protest against the notorious flat-chested flapper girls of the Roaring 20's. Ida is responsible for the creation of bust size categories (cup sizes) and developed bras for every stage of life - puberty to maturity.
2000 BC The Corset can be traced back to about 2000 BC. It was open at the front to the waist, leaving the breasts uncovered. Small strips of leather round the waist were used to curve round the outline of the breasts.
2500 BC Back in 2500 B.C., warrior Minoan women on the Greek isle of Crete began wearing a bra-resembling garment, shoving their bare breasts upward and exposed their naked breasts from their clothing!
450BC-285AD The Greeks wore a bodice tied above the breasts, leaving the breasts naked. The wearing of corsets was prohibited so they used "the Apodesme" which was a small band of material wrapped round the breast, largely for functional reasons - to prevent the breasts moving when walking. The Roman women adopted the apodesme as worn by the Greeks, but the name was changed to "mamillare", "fascia" etc. Young women wore the fascia to prevent the growth of their breasts whilst the mamillare was used to conceal a very large breast.
4th Century AD The Chemise first appeared in the 4th century, was made of linen and looked like a tunic. The Chemise was gathered into a round or square neckline. It was frequently embroidered and finished with a frill. At that time they usually had long sleeves and were finished with wrist ruffles.
In France women wore the "Bandeau" after Caesar's conquest of Gaul. In the 12th century women wore the "basquine" which was a sort of corset in rigid fabric surrounding the waist. About a century later the gourgandine (hussy) or bodice is worn on top of a corset.
13th Century AD In the 13th century, women were wearing short bodices that flattened the breasts. Full skirts were attached to raised waistlines to emphasize the stomach. To further emphasize a slender torso, garments had long full sleeves. The purpose was to draw the eye down and away from the breasts. In the 13th century one can read for the first time, in a corsetry shop window, reference to products that - "contain the larger one, supports the weak, gathers the floppy".
14th Century AD Breasts were de-emphasized even further in the 14th century by straight tubular bodices that completely flattened the breasts. Wide full skirts and high ruffled collars drew attention away from the breasts. In the 14th century the belt was worn to support the bust but was not widely worn as it was outlawed in certain parts of France. An edict of Strasbourg dated 1370 states - "no woman will support the bust by the disposition of a blouse or by tightened dress". Under Charles VII the bust is dressed in a triangular drape and by a tight gauze. The corset was worn very tightly and damage was caused to the wearer.
1550s AD In the 1550's women subjected themselves to the torture of whalebone and steel rod corsets. The steel corset is attributed to the wife of King Henri II of France, Catherine de Médicis, who banned "thick waists" at court attendances. The corset was designed to be worn tightly, requiring a lot of effort to fasten. It could reduce the waist to less than ten inches, permanently altering the waist size. The corset then became dominant undergarment (in various designs) of support and restraint for the next 350 years.
15th Century AD The 15th century saw breasts becoming a focal point. Bodices and stiffened stays covered and flattened the lower part of the breasts and nipples, whilst pushing up the upper breast. This created cleavage and gave the appearance of high and rounded breasts.
17th Century AD Whilst men had worn washable underwear since ancient times, it was not until the 17th century that drawers were worn by women in France and Italy but it was the early 1800's before they arrived in England "drawers" comes from a lower body undergarment that could be "drawn on". Drawers were often made up as two separate legs only attached at the waist. Crotch-less drawers were a practicality since they were worn under the corset and chemise. The legs finished just below the knee or at mid-calf and were finished either plain or fancy.
1820s A "corset mecanique" was actually invented in the 1820s which allowed women to squeeze into their corsets with the help of pulleys, without having to use the servants. Corsets at the time were made of whalebone, steel or buckram.
1850s US patents registered for first known bra-like devices.
Corsets fall out of style for about 10 years.
1860s Corsets come back in fashion with a vengeance. Severe corset "training" is common which reduces waists to such unhealthy levels that ribs and internal organs become deformed. Controversy over corseting health risks ensues.
1893 Marie Tucek patents the "Breast Supporter". The garment includes separate pockets for each breast, shoulder straps that passed over the shoulders and fastened with hook and eye closures, making it the earliest known design to be similar to modern-day bras.
1907 Vogue magazine first uses the term "brassiere", which comes from the old French word for 'upper arm'. Before this, bra-like devices were known by another French term "soutien-gorge" (literally, "throat support" or "breast support".)
1913 Dissatisfied with the idea of having to wear a heavy corset underneath a new sheer evening gown she just bought for a social event, socialite Mary Phelps Jacob of New York and her maid, Marie, devised a backless bra made from two handkerchiefs, some ribbon and cord. Amazingly she started getting orders for it that very night.
1914 After considerable interest from friends, Mary Phelps Jacob applies for a patent (under the business name "Caresse Crosby") on November 3 for her "Backless Brassiere" design, which is basically the same garment that she previously improvised. This "brassiere" was very lightweight, soft, and separated the breasts naturally. Unlike Marie Tucek's 1893 design, Jacob's garment did not have cups to support the breasts, but flattened them instead. Jacob markets the "Backless Brassiere" garment until she tires of the business and sells the patent to Warner Brothers Corset Company in Bridgeport, Connecticut, for $1,500. Warner's reportedly made over 15 million dollars over the next 30 years from the patent.
1914-1918 World War I forces women into the work-force. Many women begin working in factories and wearing uniforms, making the use of daily corset wear a problem.
1917 The U.S. War Industries Board requests women to stop buying corsets to reduce the consumption of metal. Sources say up to 28,000 tons of metal was conserved through this effort - "enough to build two battleships."
1920s The bra gained popularity and began to be used more commonly during the 1920s. This was the era of the "flappers", and the flat-chested boyish look was all the rage. Warner introduces a tight, chest-flattening bra, that was designed to flatten the breasts, rather than support them.
1928 Ida Rosenthal, a Russian immigrant, and her husband William went into business as the Maidenform Company in the 1920's as a protest against the notorious flat-chested flapper girls of the Roaring 20's. Ida is responsible for the creation of bust size categories (cup sizes) and developed bras for every stage of life - puberty to maturity.
quotes of the day: Victoria Principal, Billy Martin, Loretta Lynn
In honor of yesterday's, true confession, post. These all have to do with losing one's virginity.
"There's got to be more than this." -Victoria Principal
"The first time I slept with a girl, I didn't know where to put my peter."-Baseball manager, Billy Martin
"I couldn't pee without it hurting for a month." -Loretta Lynn
"There's got to be more than this." -Victoria Principal
"The first time I slept with a girl, I didn't know where to put my peter."-Baseball manager, Billy Martin
"I couldn't pee without it hurting for a month." -Loretta Lynn
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
true confessions: sexcapades: losing my virginity
First let’s talk terminology. Why is it called, "lost," my virginity? It’s not like I woke up the next morning and went, "Hey, where’d my hymen go?"
It’s just silly. I was a virgin, and then I wasn’t it. It wasn’t magical or necessarily special or wonderful or momentous.
It was painful and awkward.
I wanted to have sex really bad. (Really bad.) I think I had read too many Jackie Collins’s books and I was into smut paperbacks a little too heavily at the time. I wanted to know what it was all about. I also think my sex drive was in full effect even then.
He was 20. I was 16. (obviously, he wasn't a virgin. He knew what the hype was about, but he was willing to wait until I was ready.)
He was my first "real, true" boyfriend.
We had been dating I think for 2 ½ or 3 months. I had planned to wait 6 months into the relationship. Yeah, nice plan, but I was impatient. Perhaps you’ve heard that patience isn’t a virtue I have.
I basically, no, I did initiate it.
He wasn’t into pressuring me or hurrying me along.
He was willing to wait until I was ready.
I wasn’t.
I wanted to see what all the hype was about.
I didn’t want to die a virgin.
Perhaps an odd thing for a 16 year old to be thinking, but hey the teenage years are full of angst and awkward moments. I saw this as my chance.
It was November. He rented a hotel room. His best friend and his girlfriend rented a room as well. Not their first time.
After a lot of making out and foreplay, we started to have sex. After several tries and him not being able to break through my hymen he finally asked me what I wanted him to do.
I said, "Just go for it."
He did.
Oh holy hell. Pain. Pain and blood and pain. I’m sure I was a tad tense at the time, which only added to it. But, ouch.
Was it magical and special?
Would I sound cynical if I said, no?
I remember it, but was it magical? Ah, no.
I did feel oddly more grown-up and mature. More of a woman. Yeah, I know. What hooey, but it's true. I wouldn't equate that with magical. Just more of a, yayy! I had sex, I had sex! I get to have more sex! I get to have more sex!
As much of an asshole as he turned out to be shortly thereafter and for almost a year following, I am still glad my first time was with him. He wasn’t about pressuring me. It was up to me where and when and I said when I was ready. It wasn’t him telling or asking me to do it. It was all up to me. (To prove what an asshole he was and I'm sure still is, he is the only ex that I wouldn't talk to or even say 'hi' to, to this day. I've lived with an ex-boyfriend. Obviously I'm not into grudges. He would be the exception.)
To complete the story.
Shortly after having sex I met my girlfriend out in the hallway and we started laughing. The reason?
She was giving her boyfriend a blowjob and threw-up on him.
Spaghetti.
That story has stuck with me for 16 years and I think of it every time I gag.
(I somehow feel it will stick with all of you now, too.)
Anyway.
Shortly after returning to the hotel room two cops came a knockin on our hotel door. They checked the place out as well as us.
Looking back, they totally could have arrested my boyfriend. He was 20; I was 16 and a minor. Hello, statutory rape.
So, that’s my story. What’s yours?
It’s just silly. I was a virgin, and then I wasn’t it. It wasn’t magical or necessarily special or wonderful or momentous.
It was painful and awkward.
I wanted to have sex really bad. (Really bad.) I think I had read too many Jackie Collins’s books and I was into smut paperbacks a little too heavily at the time. I wanted to know what it was all about. I also think my sex drive was in full effect even then.
He was 20. I was 16. (obviously, he wasn't a virgin. He knew what the hype was about, but he was willing to wait until I was ready.)
He was my first "real, true" boyfriend.
We had been dating I think for 2 ½ or 3 months. I had planned to wait 6 months into the relationship. Yeah, nice plan, but I was impatient. Perhaps you’ve heard that patience isn’t a virtue I have.
I basically, no, I did initiate it.
He wasn’t into pressuring me or hurrying me along.
He was willing to wait until I was ready.
I wasn’t.
I wanted to see what all the hype was about.
I didn’t want to die a virgin.
Perhaps an odd thing for a 16 year old to be thinking, but hey the teenage years are full of angst and awkward moments. I saw this as my chance.
It was November. He rented a hotel room. His best friend and his girlfriend rented a room as well. Not their first time.
After a lot of making out and foreplay, we started to have sex. After several tries and him not being able to break through my hymen he finally asked me what I wanted him to do.
I said, "Just go for it."
He did.
Oh holy hell. Pain. Pain and blood and pain. I’m sure I was a tad tense at the time, which only added to it. But, ouch.
Was it magical and special?
Would I sound cynical if I said, no?
I remember it, but was it magical? Ah, no.
I did feel oddly more grown-up and mature. More of a woman. Yeah, I know. What hooey, but it's true. I wouldn't equate that with magical. Just more of a, yayy! I had sex, I had sex! I get to have more sex! I get to have more sex!
As much of an asshole as he turned out to be shortly thereafter and for almost a year following, I am still glad my first time was with him. He wasn’t about pressuring me. It was up to me where and when and I said when I was ready. It wasn’t him telling or asking me to do it. It was all up to me. (To prove what an asshole he was and I'm sure still is, he is the only ex that I wouldn't talk to or even say 'hi' to, to this day. I've lived with an ex-boyfriend. Obviously I'm not into grudges. He would be the exception.)
To complete the story.
Shortly after having sex I met my girlfriend out in the hallway and we started laughing. The reason?
She was giving her boyfriend a blowjob and threw-up on him.
Spaghetti.
That story has stuck with me for 16 years and I think of it every time I gag.
(I somehow feel it will stick with all of you now, too.)
Anyway.
Shortly after returning to the hotel room two cops came a knockin on our hotel door. They checked the place out as well as us.
Looking back, they totally could have arrested my boyfriend. He was 20; I was 16 and a minor. Hello, statutory rape.
So, that’s my story. What’s yours?
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
email: I think we would be great friends.
So, redbloodedboy doesn’t think a man and a woman can be friends after just one date.
I completely disagree.
If two people have enough in common, personalities match, but for whatever reason there isn’t that; whatever it is that needs to be there to make me want to jump into bed with you and get to know you more, but I would love to keep you in my life in some sort of capacity, but only as friends. Why can't they stay in each other's life as friends?
So, I do the morning after phone call, email, IM, whatever it is that we crazy kids are doing today to show that I would either love to see them, not see them, or just remain friends.
I make the friends request sincere and believable and then I follow it up with another email, phone call, IM or whatever it might have been that I sent, the following day to prove that I do in fact want to be friends.
Now, I can see this. I can understand perhaps were redbloodedboy is coming from. Why, after only one date would a man agree to be my friend? Where is the hidden agenda? They just want to get into bed with me. No way a man would take the time to get to know me just to be friends.
I don’t know.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Wouldn’t a man want to get to know me without trying to get me into bed?
Wouldn’t he want to be in my life and not simply be trying to get me into bed?
Would a man really invest that much time with someone without the hope of getting laid?
Or is the entire point of his goal and time with me, simply waiting and trying to get me into bed and undressing me with his eyes and not listening to a single word of the witty banter I am spewing forth because all he is thinking is, “I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked. I want to have sex with you therefore I am willing to be your, “friend” in the hopes that one day you will really see that I am, in fact, the love of your life. In the mean time I am willing to just see you naked. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I totally just want to sleep with you and I am willing to be your, “friend,” in the hopes that that day will be soon. Very, very soon.”
Am I kidding myself?
Are the emails, phone calls, IM’s a total and complete waste of my time and I should simply stop the friend angle and just simply say, “thanks for the free drinks, but I’m not interested?”
...I have 98% male friends.
Sure, several are gay.
However, several are not.
...are they all just simply saying, "I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked. I want to have sex with you therefore I am willing to be your, "friend" in the hopes that one day you will really see that I am, in fact, the love of your life. In the mean time I am willing to just see you naked. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I totally just want to sleep with you and I am willing to be your, “friend,” in the hopes that that day will be soon. Very, very soon.”
Your thoughts?
I completely disagree.
If two people have enough in common, personalities match, but for whatever reason there isn’t that; whatever it is that needs to be there to make me want to jump into bed with you and get to know you more, but I would love to keep you in my life in some sort of capacity, but only as friends. Why can't they stay in each other's life as friends?
So, I do the morning after phone call, email, IM, whatever it is that we crazy kids are doing today to show that I would either love to see them, not see them, or just remain friends.
I make the friends request sincere and believable and then I follow it up with another email, phone call, IM or whatever it might have been that I sent, the following day to prove that I do in fact want to be friends.
Now, I can see this. I can understand perhaps were redbloodedboy is coming from. Why, after only one date would a man agree to be my friend? Where is the hidden agenda? They just want to get into bed with me. No way a man would take the time to get to know me just to be friends.
I don’t know.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Wouldn’t a man want to get to know me without trying to get me into bed?
Wouldn’t he want to be in my life and not simply be trying to get me into bed?
Would a man really invest that much time with someone without the hope of getting laid?
Or is the entire point of his goal and time with me, simply waiting and trying to get me into bed and undressing me with his eyes and not listening to a single word of the witty banter I am spewing forth because all he is thinking is, “I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked. I want to have sex with you therefore I am willing to be your, “friend” in the hopes that one day you will really see that I am, in fact, the love of your life. In the mean time I am willing to just see you naked. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I totally just want to sleep with you and I am willing to be your, “friend,” in the hopes that that day will be soon. Very, very soon.”
Am I kidding myself?
Are the emails, phone calls, IM’s a total and complete waste of my time and I should simply stop the friend angle and just simply say, “thanks for the free drinks, but I’m not interested?”
...I have 98% male friends.
Sure, several are gay.
However, several are not.
...are they all just simply saying, "I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked, I want to see you naked. I want to have sex with you therefore I am willing to be your, "friend" in the hopes that one day you will really see that I am, in fact, the love of your life. In the mean time I am willing to just see you naked. Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I totally just want to sleep with you and I am willing to be your, “friend,” in the hopes that that day will be soon. Very, very soon.”
Your thoughts?
hottie of the week: Jennifer Love Hewitt
Beautiful brown eyes.
Great hair.
Warm smile.
Amazing boobage.
I think there is a resemblance between she and I.
She's the girl next door.
Great hair.
Warm smile.
Amazing boobage.
I think there is a resemblance between she and I.
She's the girl next door.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y- Night!
...and you can hate me for the rest of the day for putting that in your head.
So, I decided to get myself back out into the dating world a couple of weeks ago.
Last night was my first date back out there after kicking away my dry spell.
He is a very nice young man, 28, has a good job, smart, great sense of humor. Has a lot of growing up to do and figuring out who he is.
It wasn't a bad date, but you know how you know whether or not the date is going to go anywhere before you ever even order your first cocktail? Yeah, that was me last night.
Very, very nice young man, but not for me.
Ten years ago he would have been totally for me. Now? Not so much.
Total friendship.
In fact I just replied to his email stating he would love to see me again and I had to send the, "I think you and I could totally be great friends" email.
Now, on the whole, great friends front, I actually mean it. It's not some stupid, bs that everyone says, like the, "it's not you it's me when in reality it's totally you and not me" bs line.
No, I actually mean it. To show I mean it I will actually back it up with a phone call and email tomorrow to show this. See, ta dah! no bs. So easy, so simple. No junior high games. No games at all. So mature. So grown-up.
The main reason it wouldn't work out between us even though he and I have pretty compatible personalities and tastes and thinking is because I could chew him up and spit him out. Not that I would actually ever do anything like that, but I would be way too dominate of a personality with him and I think he would be way too easy to push around and I very much don't want that. I don't want that at all. (ok, in the bedroom, sure. In everyday life, no.)
So.
I have two other prospects. One my girlfriend is fixing me up with. I don't know much about him other than he is 26, very nice, very cute and very smart. Sounds like a good go ahead so far.
Prospect number three is 38, divorced and so far seems to be pretty decent in the communication department. We'll see. The kicking the dry spell is still very new and life has endless possibilities of glass half-full opportunities for a perpetually perky girl who looks at life as a journey who is always waiting to see what's right around the corner.
So, I decided to get myself back out into the dating world a couple of weeks ago.
Last night was my first date back out there after kicking away my dry spell.
He is a very nice young man, 28, has a good job, smart, great sense of humor. Has a lot of growing up to do and figuring out who he is.
It wasn't a bad date, but you know how you know whether or not the date is going to go anywhere before you ever even order your first cocktail? Yeah, that was me last night.
Very, very nice young man, but not for me.
Ten years ago he would have been totally for me. Now? Not so much.
Total friendship.
In fact I just replied to his email stating he would love to see me again and I had to send the, "I think you and I could totally be great friends" email.
Now, on the whole, great friends front, I actually mean it. It's not some stupid, bs that everyone says, like the, "it's not you it's me when in reality it's totally you and not me" bs line.
No, I actually mean it. To show I mean it I will actually back it up with a phone call and email tomorrow to show this. See, ta dah! no bs. So easy, so simple. No junior high games. No games at all. So mature. So grown-up.
The main reason it wouldn't work out between us even though he and I have pretty compatible personalities and tastes and thinking is because I could chew him up and spit him out. Not that I would actually ever do anything like that, but I would be way too dominate of a personality with him and I think he would be way too easy to push around and I very much don't want that. I don't want that at all. (ok, in the bedroom, sure. In everyday life, no.)
So.
I have two other prospects. One my girlfriend is fixing me up with. I don't know much about him other than he is 26, very nice, very cute and very smart. Sounds like a good go ahead so far.
Prospect number three is 38, divorced and so far seems to be pretty decent in the communication department. We'll see. The kicking the dry spell is still very new and life has endless possibilities of glass half-full opportunities for a perpetually perky girl who looks at life as a journey who is always waiting to see what's right around the corner.
Friday, March 17, 2006
what the hell are you doing here today?
Party Girl, what are YOU doing here today?
That seems to be question of the day in terms of me being at work today.
Party Girl at work on the most partying day of the year? What up?
Well, here's a small run down:
Out-of-Towner and I were supposed to be together out of town enjoying the celebrations. For obvious reasons that's not happening.
Then South Sider and I were supposed to go to KC to see, KC. SS's wife wasn't too keen on that idea. (She didn't want to go and I didn't want her to. It wouldn't be anywhere near as fun with her along for the ride.)
Then South Sider and I were supposed to hangout together here and do our thing.
Because of lack of fundage, that's not happen.
Current possible prospect who I have failed to mention until now? He is out of town for a wedding.
Then cute tutor and I were going to go out. He is getting over the flu. Ok fine.
This person, sick.
That person, sick.
South Sider and I were going to hangout after I get off work. He is now going over to one of his friend's house and well, this friend and I DO NOT get along in any way, shape or form.
FINE.
Last year? I was out with South Sider and KC for 12 hours drinking away. I got an award winning essay out of the deal. (Well, it was about the day after, but still.)
This year? I am working.
Mmmmmm, which one is better? Which one..?
That seems to be question of the day in terms of me being at work today.
Party Girl at work on the most partying day of the year? What up?
Well, here's a small run down:
Out-of-Towner and I were supposed to be together out of town enjoying the celebrations. For obvious reasons that's not happening.
Then South Sider and I were supposed to go to KC to see, KC. SS's wife wasn't too keen on that idea. (She didn't want to go and I didn't want her to. It wouldn't be anywhere near as fun with her along for the ride.)
Then South Sider and I were supposed to hangout together here and do our thing.
Because of lack of fundage, that's not happen.
Current possible prospect who I have failed to mention until now? He is out of town for a wedding.
Then cute tutor and I were going to go out. He is getting over the flu. Ok fine.
This person, sick.
That person, sick.
South Sider and I were going to hangout after I get off work. He is now going over to one of his friend's house and well, this friend and I DO NOT get along in any way, shape or form.
FINE.
Last year? I was out with South Sider and KC for 12 hours drinking away. I got an award winning essay out of the deal. (Well, it was about the day after, but still.)
This year? I am working.
Mmmmmm, which one is better? Which one..?
Thursday, March 16, 2006
quote of the day: John F. Kennedy
"I'm never done with a girl until I've had her three ways."
(at'a boy)
(at'a boy)
inner dork: coffee
A cup of joe, java, coffee and the history of it all.
Why is coffee refered to as a cup of Joe? No one really knows, but the most accepted is the naval legend.
The U.S. Navy use to serve alcoholic drinks on its ships, typically wine. When Admiral Josephus, "Joe" Daniels became secretary of the Navy, he made a number of reforms, including accepting women into the Navy and abolishing wine from the official mess. Alcohol was outlawed on ships except for special occasions. Instead of drinking alcohol, the sailors had to drink coffee. Perhaps out of sarcasm refering to it as a, "cup of Joe."
The term, Java, was coined by American hoboes in the late 19th century. The term comes from, of course, the coffee making country of, Java.
Some believe the term coffee comes from Caffa, an Abyssinian province. Other's believe it's derived from the old Arabic word, qahwah, which means wine. Coffee cherries were used to make wine long before the coffee bean was used to make coffee.
Factoids:
Malays chew the leaves of the coffee plant because they contain more caffeine than the beans.
Coffee is second only to tea as the world's most popular drink.
In 1732 there was a movement to prevent women from drinking coffee because people thought it would make women sterile. Johann Sebastian Bach poked fun at the movement by composing his, "Coffee Cantata," an ode to coffee. It included the aria, "Ah! How sweet coffee tastes! Lovelier than a thousand kisses, sweeter far than muscatel wine! I must have my coffee."
A German coffee importer, Ludwig Roselius, took a batch of coffee beans that had been ruined and gave them to researchers. The researchers perfected a method of removing the caffeine from the beans while retaining the flavor of the coffee. The product was given the name, "Sanka," and was introduced in the US in 1923.
Why is coffee refered to as a cup of Joe? No one really knows, but the most accepted is the naval legend.
The U.S. Navy use to serve alcoholic drinks on its ships, typically wine. When Admiral Josephus, "Joe" Daniels became secretary of the Navy, he made a number of reforms, including accepting women into the Navy and abolishing wine from the official mess. Alcohol was outlawed on ships except for special occasions. Instead of drinking alcohol, the sailors had to drink coffee. Perhaps out of sarcasm refering to it as a, "cup of Joe."
The term, Java, was coined by American hoboes in the late 19th century. The term comes from, of course, the coffee making country of, Java.
Some believe the term coffee comes from Caffa, an Abyssinian province. Other's believe it's derived from the old Arabic word, qahwah, which means wine. Coffee cherries were used to make wine long before the coffee bean was used to make coffee.
Factoids:
Malays chew the leaves of the coffee plant because they contain more caffeine than the beans.
Coffee is second only to tea as the world's most popular drink.
In 1732 there was a movement to prevent women from drinking coffee because people thought it would make women sterile. Johann Sebastian Bach poked fun at the movement by composing his, "Coffee Cantata," an ode to coffee. It included the aria, "Ah! How sweet coffee tastes! Lovelier than a thousand kisses, sweeter far than muscatel wine! I must have my coffee."
A German coffee importer, Ludwig Roselius, took a batch of coffee beans that had been ruined and gave them to researchers. The researchers perfected a method of removing the caffeine from the beans while retaining the flavor of the coffee. The product was given the name, "Sanka," and was introduced in the US in 1923.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
being a rock star while floating on cloud 29 which is filled with silver linings
Today was the award ceremony for the creative writers.
My mom was my date. Gotta love the mom.
We had a lovely lunch of: sirloin in a merlot and mushroom sauce, asparagus, roasted potatos, salad, bread, and chocolate mousse pie.
Mmmm, good.
Then it was time for the awards.
Okay, here's how big a dork I am. (Also proving how much I didn't care and I was just so ecstatic that I won. That I won anything...anything at all)
I am the first runner-up. I thought that meant: winner, first, second, third, me.
Um, no.
It was: winner, me....I came in second..!!!second...!!!second...!!!second...!!!second...!!!
That's like a silver medal.
That's the Empire State building 3 months after it was completed.
That's like Burger King fries.
Or being behind the guy who reaches the peak of Mt. Everest.
The first thing I ever entered.
The first thing I ever won.
I just started writing again last summer.
Not even a year ago.
I entered the submissions in November.
Not even a year ago.
I won second!
I am the first runner-up, which is like the most bestest, but not the most greatest.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am going to be published.
I am going to be published in a real magazine.
I am a writer who is going to be published in a real magazine.
I am a rock star floating on cloud 29 which is filled with silver linings.
I am an award winning writer.
(tears)
(big sloppy wet tears)
(I'm a rock star)
(I'm an almost 32 year old woman living her dream and making those dreams come true.)
(I'm a total rock star)
(Tears. Now it's time for the tears.)
My mom was my date. Gotta love the mom.
We had a lovely lunch of: sirloin in a merlot and mushroom sauce, asparagus, roasted potatos, salad, bread, and chocolate mousse pie.
Mmmm, good.
Then it was time for the awards.
Okay, here's how big a dork I am. (Also proving how much I didn't care and I was just so ecstatic that I won. That I won anything...anything at all)
I am the first runner-up. I thought that meant: winner, first, second, third, me.
Um, no.
It was: winner, me....I came in second..!!!second...!!!second...!!!second...!!!second...!!!
That's like a silver medal.
That's the Empire State building 3 months after it was completed.
That's like Burger King fries.
Or being behind the guy who reaches the peak of Mt. Everest.
The first thing I ever entered.
The first thing I ever won.
I just started writing again last summer.
Not even a year ago.
I entered the submissions in November.
Not even a year ago.
I won second!
I am the first runner-up, which is like the most bestest, but not the most greatest.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am going to be published.
I am going to be published in a real magazine.
I am a writer who is going to be published in a real magazine.
I am a rock star floating on cloud 29 which is filled with silver linings.
I am an award winning writer.
(tears)
(big sloppy wet tears)
(I'm a rock star)
(I'm an almost 32 year old woman living her dream and making those dreams come true.)
(I'm a total rock star)
(Tears. Now it's time for the tears.)
excess baggage
I'm all for baggage. Frankly, if you don't have some baggage I won't know how to deal with you.
I mean I have baggage. If I somehow managed to get to the age of almost 32 witout a few pieces of baggage then, yeah, what kind of wholesome boring life have I lead?
I'm okay with a couple of carry-ons with frayed edges.
That type of baggage is perfectly okay. It's when people bring several steamer trunks which require the purchase of an extra ticket. That's the kind of baggage I worry about and can't deal with.
When people haven't dealt with their baggage, yet they expect me to be able to deal and handle it. Ah, yeah. Not gonna happen. You deal with your issues and then come see me.
When people jump from relationship to relationship from bed to bed and aren't taking the time to listen to themselves and figure themselves out.
Sorry, I have a problem with that. I'm not talking about numbers. I don't care at all about numbers. I'm talking about not dealing with whatever it was that went wrong in your last relationship and your now seeking and going into your next relationship.
I don't understand people who can go from one relationship and jump right into another.
I have to wonder, what's so scary about you that you can't be alone? What's so scary about being alone? Alone with yourself. Alone to hear yourself. To figure out who you are. What you like, what you don't like. Who you are. Who you are alone.
I honestly, really truly believe that everyone needs some time off from sex and from dating. Some real, honest, true time off to be alone. By yourself. Time to think, feel, heal, grow, reflect and be introspective.
During that time off you mourn, or drink, or vent, scream, cuss and yell, cry, talk and talk and talk, whatever it is you need to do before dragging me or whomever the unsuspecting suspect is into your drama. Please? Thanks.
I have my own carry-ons. I've dealt with them.
I have issues, but not a subscriptions worth.
I've taken some serious time off in my dating history to listen and get to know myself. It was pretty cool and nothing scary about it. I've learned who I am and why I do what I do. There isn't a lot of mystery about me when it comes to myself. I've listened and I've learned who I am.
And well, I'm pretty fucking fabulous.
I mean I have baggage. If I somehow managed to get to the age of almost 32 witout a few pieces of baggage then, yeah, what kind of wholesome boring life have I lead?
I'm okay with a couple of carry-ons with frayed edges.
That type of baggage is perfectly okay. It's when people bring several steamer trunks which require the purchase of an extra ticket. That's the kind of baggage I worry about and can't deal with.
When people haven't dealt with their baggage, yet they expect me to be able to deal and handle it. Ah, yeah. Not gonna happen. You deal with your issues and then come see me.
When people jump from relationship to relationship from bed to bed and aren't taking the time to listen to themselves and figure themselves out.
Sorry, I have a problem with that. I'm not talking about numbers. I don't care at all about numbers. I'm talking about not dealing with whatever it was that went wrong in your last relationship and your now seeking and going into your next relationship.
I don't understand people who can go from one relationship and jump right into another.
I have to wonder, what's so scary about you that you can't be alone? What's so scary about being alone? Alone with yourself. Alone to hear yourself. To figure out who you are. What you like, what you don't like. Who you are. Who you are alone.
I honestly, really truly believe that everyone needs some time off from sex and from dating. Some real, honest, true time off to be alone. By yourself. Time to think, feel, heal, grow, reflect and be introspective.
During that time off you mourn, or drink, or vent, scream, cuss and yell, cry, talk and talk and talk, whatever it is you need to do before dragging me or whomever the unsuspecting suspect is into your drama. Please? Thanks.
I have my own carry-ons. I've dealt with them.
I have issues, but not a subscriptions worth.
I've taken some serious time off in my dating history to listen and get to know myself. It was pretty cool and nothing scary about it. I've learned who I am and why I do what I do. There isn't a lot of mystery about me when it comes to myself. I've listened and I've learned who I am.
And well, I'm pretty fucking fabulous.
factoid of the day: orgasm length
A typical orgasm lasts from three to ten seconds, with contractions occuring every 0.8 seconds for both men and women.
(I would love to be a man for a day just to see what sex and an orgasm felt like. )
(Have you ever wondered about that? What an orgasm feels like for the opposite sex. If one sex's orgasm is more powerful, longer, stronger?)
(I would love to be a man for a day just to see what sex and an orgasm felt like. )
(Have you ever wondered about that? What an orgasm feels like for the opposite sex. If one sex's orgasm is more powerful, longer, stronger?)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
question of the week: anal sex
Ok, I want to know, what's the fascination with anal sex?
Is it because it's supposedly taboo?
Because it's more or less uncharterered territory?
Is it a dominance thing?
Is it just because you can?
Or, because your not 'supposed to?'
Women, do you love it or leave it?
Men, are you always trying to go for it or waiting for the go ahead?
Anal over vaginal?
What's the deal?
Me? I tend to like anal sex a little too much. (Clears throat and suddenly feels the need for a twelve step program)
Therefore, I have rules for myself.
I like my ass.
I want my ass to stay as it is.
I don't want any internal permanent damage to be done. (I've heard WAY too many horror stories. Um, no thanks.)
Fingers?
All for it, go for it. Yes please.
Toys? With time and then yes, please. (A little dp action is (almost) always a good thing)
Actual penis to anal penetration?
I have to be in an exclusive relationship.
Therefore, my ass is pretty virginal.
For me anal sex takes a lot of trust.
I need to know how you have sex, how well you listen (to me, to my body. Basically, again, how much I can trust you) If all things are going fabulously in that area then I have made exceptions to the exclusive rule, but again it took time.
Again, I like my ass. I want to keep my ass as is. No long-term permanant damage. Thanks.
So your turn.
Fess up.
Is it because it's supposedly taboo?
Because it's more or less uncharterered territory?
Is it a dominance thing?
Is it just because you can?
Or, because your not 'supposed to?'
Women, do you love it or leave it?
Men, are you always trying to go for it or waiting for the go ahead?
Anal over vaginal?
What's the deal?
Me? I tend to like anal sex a little too much. (Clears throat and suddenly feels the need for a twelve step program)
Therefore, I have rules for myself.
I like my ass.
I want my ass to stay as it is.
I don't want any internal permanent damage to be done. (I've heard WAY too many horror stories. Um, no thanks.)
Fingers?
All for it, go for it. Yes please.
Toys? With time and then yes, please. (A little dp action is (almost) always a good thing)
Actual penis to anal penetration?
I have to be in an exclusive relationship.
Therefore, my ass is pretty virginal.
For me anal sex takes a lot of trust.
I need to know how you have sex, how well you listen (to me, to my body. Basically, again, how much I can trust you) If all things are going fabulously in that area then I have made exceptions to the exclusive rule, but again it took time.
Again, I like my ass. I want to keep my ass as is. No long-term permanant damage. Thanks.
So your turn.
Fess up.
factoid of the day: anal sex
Forty-three percent of women have had anal sex.
(yeah, but how many more tried, but had to stop?)
(yeah, but how many more tried, but had to stop?)
quote of the day: Frank Sinatra
"If I had as many love affairs as you give me credit for, I would be speaking to you from a jar at the Harvard Medical School."
hottie of the week: Sinatra
Because he is smooth.
Because he would always have a drink and a light for me.
Because he always wore a grey fedora.
Because he knew how to enter and leave a room.
Because he would end every sentence with, baby.
Because he is always on my CD player.
Because he would say something sly and end it with a wink and a smile.
Because I would fly away with him on any given day.
Always a classic. Always original. Always timeless. Sinatra.
Because he would always have a drink and a light for me.
Because he always wore a grey fedora.
Because he knew how to enter and leave a room.
Because he would end every sentence with, baby.
Because he is always on my CD player.
Because he would say something sly and end it with a wink and a smile.
Because I would fly away with him on any given day.
Always a classic. Always original. Always timeless. Sinatra.
Monday, March 13, 2006
closure
Within the past week or so I've had several people mention closure to me.
The relationship has ended and they want, need, are desperately seeking, closure.
K.
Here's what I think about closure.
It's a myth.
You can try to seek out the closure with the other person, you can try to have the relationship ending conversation, you can try to not hurt the other person's feelings by having whatever imaginary conversation in your head only to try and have it replayed in an actual conversation with the person, but let's face it, that conversation from head to mouth never takes place.
"I need closure. I think if I just talked to him then I will get the closure I need and be able to move on."
Ka-plewy.
Never gonna happen.
Any 'closure' you may have already reached in your time apart is going to be sprung wide open and you will have to start all over again because you keep talking to each other.
You keep picking at the wound.
Let the wound heal.
Stop talking for a few months, then talk to each other. Move on from each other and then see where you both are after that.
Closure is a myth. Time. Time is what is needed for two people to move on.
I had a student who was talking about the need for closure and I was telling her everything she didn't want to hear, but it was the truth not some garbage she was hoping to have reinforced by someone older.
She asked me, "Well, how did you move on? You seem like the most independent person I know and like you don't need anyone. How do you do it."
(Internally rolling my eyes) "Well, I just ended something about a month ago, I just don't talk about it. And time. I've remained friends with all of my ex's, but not right off the bat. We didn't talk, we moved onto other relationships and then we became friends." The "closure" happened months, years later and not because of anything that was said, it was time."
Here's another thought. I don't talk about my ex's. I'm sure some people might think I never date or have sex, because believe it or not unless you are a close friend, I see no need to blab about it to everyone I encounter. (Obviously, the blog is my outlet.)
People who seek closure are perhaps the one who have done something wrong in the relationship. Maybe the people who seek closure are the ones who have the need to make-up, heal because of something they did wrong.
In all of my major relationships I was cheated on. I had no need for closure. I just needed to heal. The men, within a few months, all called me up and left some sort of message on my machine when they knew I wouldn't be home apologizing and wanting to talk to me. Within a day or two I would call. They needed closure, they were sorry.
K.
I've moved on. You messed up. You had a good thing and YOU messed up. YOU cheated on ME.
If you need to talk, then talk, but I'm not going to forgive you if that's what you're looking for. Deal with it. The "closure" you're seeking from me? It ain't gonna happen.
Maybe the ones who seek the myth called closure are really the ones who messed up in some way in the relationship.
I've never messed up, (seriously, cheating was the breaking factor in all of the realtionships. Dating, that's another story, but relationships I had no need for closure. No messing up on my part and all of the men will back me up on this. I'm a damn good girlfriend. I just choose badly. Anyway.)
Closure is a myth. Time is the reality that pain takes time to heal.
The relationship has ended and they want, need, are desperately seeking, closure.
K.
Here's what I think about closure.
It's a myth.
You can try to seek out the closure with the other person, you can try to have the relationship ending conversation, you can try to not hurt the other person's feelings by having whatever imaginary conversation in your head only to try and have it replayed in an actual conversation with the person, but let's face it, that conversation from head to mouth never takes place.
"I need closure. I think if I just talked to him then I will get the closure I need and be able to move on."
Ka-plewy.
Never gonna happen.
Any 'closure' you may have already reached in your time apart is going to be sprung wide open and you will have to start all over again because you keep talking to each other.
You keep picking at the wound.
Let the wound heal.
Stop talking for a few months, then talk to each other. Move on from each other and then see where you both are after that.
Closure is a myth. Time. Time is what is needed for two people to move on.
I had a student who was talking about the need for closure and I was telling her everything she didn't want to hear, but it was the truth not some garbage she was hoping to have reinforced by someone older.
She asked me, "Well, how did you move on? You seem like the most independent person I know and like you don't need anyone. How do you do it."
(Internally rolling my eyes) "Well, I just ended something about a month ago, I just don't talk about it. And time. I've remained friends with all of my ex's, but not right off the bat. We didn't talk, we moved onto other relationships and then we became friends." The "closure" happened months, years later and not because of anything that was said, it was time."
Here's another thought. I don't talk about my ex's. I'm sure some people might think I never date or have sex, because believe it or not unless you are a close friend, I see no need to blab about it to everyone I encounter. (Obviously, the blog is my outlet.)
People who seek closure are perhaps the one who have done something wrong in the relationship. Maybe the people who seek closure are the ones who have the need to make-up, heal because of something they did wrong.
In all of my major relationships I was cheated on. I had no need for closure. I just needed to heal. The men, within a few months, all called me up and left some sort of message on my machine when they knew I wouldn't be home apologizing and wanting to talk to me. Within a day or two I would call. They needed closure, they were sorry.
K.
I've moved on. You messed up. You had a good thing and YOU messed up. YOU cheated on ME.
If you need to talk, then talk, but I'm not going to forgive you if that's what you're looking for. Deal with it. The "closure" you're seeking from me? It ain't gonna happen.
Maybe the ones who seek the myth called closure are really the ones who messed up in some way in the relationship.
I've never messed up, (seriously, cheating was the breaking factor in all of the realtionships. Dating, that's another story, but relationships I had no need for closure. No messing up on my part and all of the men will back me up on this. I'm a damn good girlfriend. I just choose badly. Anyway.)
Closure is a myth. Time is the reality that pain takes time to heal.
factoid of the day: Harems
Harems existed as early as 3000 B.C.
Many Persian harems during the seventh and eighth centuries had as many as four thousand females.
(I'm all for excess, but that seems like a bit much, dontcha think?)
Many Persian harems during the seventh and eighth centuries had as many as four thousand females.
(I'm all for excess, but that seems like a bit much, dontcha think?)
Friday, March 10, 2006
true confession: sexcapade, the alley
Remember that time you and I...
You and I went to the martini bar
We started the night by sitting at the bar enjoying each others company.
You were wearing a suit and tie.
I had on my usual short skirt, showing lots of cleavage and heels, of course.
We were just drinking our drinks flirting back and forth.
You were rubbing the inside of my thigh
I was rubbing the inside of your thigh
Then I notice there is an over-stuffed couch off to the side
I take your hand and lead you over to the couch
You sit down and I sit across from you with my legs draped over your thighs
Your hand keeps going further and further up my skirt until you reach the edge of my g-string.
Your fingers play with the edge of my panties, you can feel how wet I am
We aren’t saying a word to each other
You’re just looking at me and I'm just looking at you
You then slowly move my panties to the side and start rubbing my clit.
Very slowly, teasingly,
Rub my clit
I am so wet
You tease my clit with your fingers
I move my legs a little further apart
I move my foot up to your cock.
I can feel how hard you are
I move my legs a little further apart
You start rubbing my clit harder
You feel how wet I am
Slowly you slide two of your fingers into my wet pussy
I close my eyes and let you masturbate me
I'm rubbing your hard cock with my foot
People walk by us in the bar, but we don't care
Finally, I straddle you
Right there on the couch, for anyone who walks by to see.
You are fucking me with your fingers
You slide one of your fingers into my ass
You are so hot
You make me cum again and again
Neither one of us is saying anything
You pull my hair and I cum again
I need you inside me
I take your hand and lead you into the alley behind the bar
There are a lot of people around, all of them walking by us
You put my back against the brick wall of the alley
You lift up my skirt and go down on me
Licking my clit and getting me all over your face
You're biting and nibbling on my clit
Sucking it
Making me cum
again
and again
My legs shaking
I shove your face into my sloppy wet pussy
kneeling down below me
fucking me with your tongue
I cum again
You are driving me crazy!
You slide your fingers into my pussy
I am so sloppy wet
You stand up and I grab your face for a gratitude filled kiss
my cum all over your face
all over your tongue
I drop to my knees
I take out your cock and start sucking you
You feel so damn good in my mouth
You are so hard
I love how hard I make you
Feeling your hard cock mix with my warm spit
Wrapping my tongue up and down your shaft, working your balls.
Licking and sucking your balls
Can you hear me moan while I suck on you?
You grab a fist full of my hair as I work your cock in my mouth
Fuck I need you
I need you to fuck me
I need you deep inside me
I look up at you and tell you to fuck me.
“Say it louder.”
“Fuck me,” I say looking you right in the eye, “Fuck me”
You lift me up and turn me around
I want you inside me so damn bad
You lift up my skirt, spread my legs, arch my back, and thrust your big throbbing cock inside my wet pussy
Fucking me right in the alley
Right in front of people
they have no idea
While your cock is inside my pussy you slide your finger into my ass
I cum instantly
Closing my eyes, moaning
Your cock and your fingers feel so damn good together
I start to rub my clit
I cum again
You can feel me cum all over your cock.
How tight my pussy gets wrapped around you
The inside of my thighs are wet with my cum
You love how wet I get
How good I feel inside
How many times I can cum
How daring I am
How unafraid
You fucking me right there in the alley
Downtown, between the row of bars
You wrap your hand around my hair
You tell me to say all the dirty things you love to hear.
Your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy
Your fingers in my tight ass
I cum again
I fucking love it
I cum again
I fucking love the way you make me cum again and again
Fuck me
I cum again
Do you like how wet I am?
How many times I cum all over your cock
How tight my pussy feels around your cock
Fuck me!
I cum again
You pull out your cock and cum all over my sweet little ass
I wipe your cum off my ass with my hand and lick it off my palm
Do you remember that time in the alley?
Yeah, so do I.
You and I went to the martini bar
We started the night by sitting at the bar enjoying each others company.
You were wearing a suit and tie.
I had on my usual short skirt, showing lots of cleavage and heels, of course.
We were just drinking our drinks flirting back and forth.
You were rubbing the inside of my thigh
I was rubbing the inside of your thigh
Then I notice there is an over-stuffed couch off to the side
I take your hand and lead you over to the couch
You sit down and I sit across from you with my legs draped over your thighs
Your hand keeps going further and further up my skirt until you reach the edge of my g-string.
Your fingers play with the edge of my panties, you can feel how wet I am
We aren’t saying a word to each other
You’re just looking at me and I'm just looking at you
You then slowly move my panties to the side and start rubbing my clit.
Very slowly, teasingly,
Rub my clit
I am so wet
You tease my clit with your fingers
I move my legs a little further apart
I move my foot up to your cock.
I can feel how hard you are
I move my legs a little further apart
You start rubbing my clit harder
You feel how wet I am
Slowly you slide two of your fingers into my wet pussy
I close my eyes and let you masturbate me
I'm rubbing your hard cock with my foot
People walk by us in the bar, but we don't care
Finally, I straddle you
Right there on the couch, for anyone who walks by to see.
You are fucking me with your fingers
You slide one of your fingers into my ass
You are so hot
You make me cum again and again
Neither one of us is saying anything
You pull my hair and I cum again
I need you inside me
I take your hand and lead you into the alley behind the bar
There are a lot of people around, all of them walking by us
You put my back against the brick wall of the alley
You lift up my skirt and go down on me
Licking my clit and getting me all over your face
You're biting and nibbling on my clit
Sucking it
Making me cum
again
and again
My legs shaking
I shove your face into my sloppy wet pussy
kneeling down below me
fucking me with your tongue
I cum again
You are driving me crazy!
You slide your fingers into my pussy
I am so sloppy wet
You stand up and I grab your face for a gratitude filled kiss
my cum all over your face
all over your tongue
I drop to my knees
I take out your cock and start sucking you
You feel so damn good in my mouth
You are so hard
I love how hard I make you
Feeling your hard cock mix with my warm spit
Wrapping my tongue up and down your shaft, working your balls.
Licking and sucking your balls
Can you hear me moan while I suck on you?
You grab a fist full of my hair as I work your cock in my mouth
Fuck I need you
I need you to fuck me
I need you deep inside me
I look up at you and tell you to fuck me.
“Say it louder.”
“Fuck me,” I say looking you right in the eye, “Fuck me”
You lift me up and turn me around
I want you inside me so damn bad
You lift up my skirt, spread my legs, arch my back, and thrust your big throbbing cock inside my wet pussy
Fucking me right in the alley
Right in front of people
they have no idea
While your cock is inside my pussy you slide your finger into my ass
I cum instantly
Closing my eyes, moaning
Your cock and your fingers feel so damn good together
I start to rub my clit
I cum again
You can feel me cum all over your cock.
How tight my pussy gets wrapped around you
The inside of my thighs are wet with my cum
You love how wet I get
How good I feel inside
How many times I can cum
How daring I am
How unafraid
You fucking me right there in the alley
Downtown, between the row of bars
You wrap your hand around my hair
You tell me to say all the dirty things you love to hear.
Your cock feels so good in my tight little pussy
Your fingers in my tight ass
I cum again
I fucking love it
I cum again
I fucking love the way you make me cum again and again
Fuck me
I cum again
Do you like how wet I am?
How many times I cum all over your cock
How tight my pussy feels around your cock
Fuck me!
I cum again
You pull out your cock and cum all over my sweet little ass
I wipe your cum off my ass with my hand and lick it off my palm
Do you remember that time in the alley?
Yeah, so do I.
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