I've been tossing around the idea of writing this blog for some time...should I write it...should I not? Will I offend someone? Do I care if I offend anyone?
I'm talking about SEX kids. And to answer the question - It's just like in the movies, right? The answer is no.
I remember the first time I watched a movie with a sex scene (or something close to it). It was Pretty Woman. It seemed so glamorous. So intense. So clean. That's where I'm going with this. It wasn't until many years later...after marriage of course...that I learned how mislead I was about sex. Sex is messy!
In most movies there is sex and after sex the people smile, roll over and go to sleep. Has anyone really ever been able to do that? I would love to see a movie where sex is shown realistically! How about a movie where the guy grabs a "dirt shirt" after sex to clean up or catch his "mess"?? For those who are unfamiliar, a dirt shirt (a term frequently used in my college days) is a shirt that was usually on the floor next to the bed or on a nightstand that was used to clean up the mess that follows sex. Sorry if this is TMI, mom.
I'm sneaky when it comes to sex. I usually make sure it never happens on my side of the bed. There is nothing worse than having to sleep in a wet spot...or hours later...a crusty spot. Sorry hubby!
I would like to challenge all movie people of the world to make a sex scene that we can relate to! One that contains a shower after.
October 14, 2009
July 30, 2009
Hot Lady!
Just when I thought I was old and married and no one on earth finds me attractive, aside from my husband and my parents, I got hit on! No shit, I got hit on twice in one week. Once by a woman and once by a man. Hilarious that it makes me so excited, right?
First Hit:
Saturday night hubby and I went to a nice dinner downtown. After dinner we decided to have a drink and walked into what seemed like a really wasted group of people. Of course hubs strikes up a conversation with them…it’s what he does best. Drunk Lady starts taking her girl friends drink orders and proceeds to tell the bartender to “give that girl whatever she wants too.” OMG – that girl is me. Yay! To this day getting free drinks still excites me. As I’m enjoying my free drink my hubby informs me that the polite thing to do would be to thank Drunk Lady for my lovely cocktail.
Me: (tap, tap, tap on her shoulder) “Thank you so much for my drink!”
Drunk Lady: “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”
Me: (awkward smile) “Ohhhh, ok.”
Drunk Lady leans in for a kiss on the cheek and she grabs me by the arm: “You smell really good!”
Me: (awkward giggle)
Drunk Lady: “You are so soft and gentle, like a pink rose petal.”
At that point I just turned around slowly to avoid her tongue going down my throat. Chicks dig me!
Second Hit:
This morning , before work, I had to get gas. For some reason I have this fear that I’m going to get kidnapped when I’m pumping gas…so when I need gas I’m in and out, no procrastinating and no eye contact with fellow gas pumpers. Then I hear, “I like your hair.” Some guy says it about three times before I finally turn around and see he’s talking to me. He points at me, “YOU, I like your hair. It’s really pretty.”
Me: “Oh, thank you very much!”
I’m flattered, I suck it in and I return to my pumping. Looking back I’m not sure WHY I sucked it in because this guy was not cute. He did have good jeans, but that was about it. Almost done pumping and HomeBoy sneaks up behind me.
HomeBoy: “Hey, I have a book signing coming up and I really want you to come.”
Me: (omigod he’s going to kidnap me) “That’s fun. When is it?”
HomeBoy: “Friday, Saturday & Sunday. Just take down my number and you can call me for directions.”
Me: “Sorry but I’m out of town this weekend.”
HomeBoy: “Well I have parties all the time” He gets closer. “Just take down my number.”
Me: “I don’t think its really appropriate since I’m married”
HomeBoy: “What?!?! Damn, later girl.”
So, until he knew I was married, this guy was totally hitting on me! I wish he would have stuck around though. His book signing approach is really awful.
First Hit:
Saturday night hubby and I went to a nice dinner downtown. After dinner we decided to have a drink and walked into what seemed like a really wasted group of people. Of course hubs strikes up a conversation with them…it’s what he does best. Drunk Lady starts taking her girl friends drink orders and proceeds to tell the bartender to “give that girl whatever she wants too.” OMG – that girl is me. Yay! To this day getting free drinks still excites me. As I’m enjoying my free drink my hubby informs me that the polite thing to do would be to thank Drunk Lady for my lovely cocktail.
Me: (tap, tap, tap on her shoulder) “Thank you so much for my drink!”
Drunk Lady: “You don’t have to thank me for anything.”
Me: (awkward smile) “Ohhhh, ok.”
Drunk Lady leans in for a kiss on the cheek and she grabs me by the arm: “You smell really good!”
Me: (awkward giggle)
Drunk Lady: “You are so soft and gentle, like a pink rose petal.”
At that point I just turned around slowly to avoid her tongue going down my throat. Chicks dig me!
Second Hit:
This morning , before work, I had to get gas. For some reason I have this fear that I’m going to get kidnapped when I’m pumping gas…so when I need gas I’m in and out, no procrastinating and no eye contact with fellow gas pumpers. Then I hear, “I like your hair.” Some guy says it about three times before I finally turn around and see he’s talking to me. He points at me, “YOU, I like your hair. It’s really pretty.”
Me: “Oh, thank you very much!”
I’m flattered, I suck it in and I return to my pumping. Looking back I’m not sure WHY I sucked it in because this guy was not cute. He did have good jeans, but that was about it. Almost done pumping and HomeBoy sneaks up behind me.
HomeBoy: “Hey, I have a book signing coming up and I really want you to come.”
Me: (omigod he’s going to kidnap me) “That’s fun. When is it?”
HomeBoy: “Friday, Saturday & Sunday. Just take down my number and you can call me for directions.”
Me: “Sorry but I’m out of town this weekend.”
HomeBoy: “Well I have parties all the time” He gets closer. “Just take down my number.”
Me: “I don’t think its really appropriate since I’m married”
HomeBoy: “What?!?! Damn, later girl.”
So, until he knew I was married, this guy was totally hitting on me! I wish he would have stuck around though. His book signing approach is really awful.
May 19, 2009
Skipping a Generation
I'm beginning to think that work bathroom etiquette skipped my parents generation entirely!
All you 50 to 60 something non-retired professionals out there...this message is for you.
It is NOT ok to be in the bathroom with other people and POOP.
You think I'm kidding...I'm not. This is a serious problem.
The "older" ladies in my building have no problem letting the occasional toilet toot out with someone else in the next stall. A toilet toot is laughable. Yes, I'm totally that girl that sits in the stall giggling when someone elses toilet toot echoes through the bathroom walls. Of course when that happens I have to leave immediately so I don't see who the culprit is!
What really gets my gag reflex going is when these women decide to drop the kids off at the pool when I'm in the next stall. Gross! I don't NEED to hear the ker-plunk and I don't WANT to hear the groan to get it out.
Follow these simple rules that the younger generation learned upon entering the work force.
1. Skip the Busy Times: To skip busy time means you must do research. On our floor busy bathroom times are 9am (everyone is getting to work after a long commute and the 1st cup of coffee has run its course) and 2pm (everyone is getting back from lunch, which has also run its course).
2. Find a New Floor: If you really have to go and you find that the bathroom on your floor is constantly busy then scope out other floors. Find a floor with predominantly men or even a floor where no one knows you. Better yet find the bathroom in the building that has only one toilet in it so you can have total and complete poop privacy.
3. Courtesy and Double Flush: If you really must do your business with other people around. Courtesy flush. This means flush mid poo to avoid the ker-plunk and the stench that follows. Double flush. This means flush twice before you leave the stall to wash your hands. I know that your vision may be failing and you maybe can't see it...but there is nothing worse than being welcomed to a stall with poo particles in the commode.
Follow these rules and we will live in bathroom harmony. Class dismissed.
All you 50 to 60 something non-retired professionals out there...this message is for you.
It is NOT ok to be in the bathroom with other people and POOP.
You think I'm kidding...I'm not. This is a serious problem.
The "older" ladies in my building have no problem letting the occasional toilet toot out with someone else in the next stall. A toilet toot is laughable. Yes, I'm totally that girl that sits in the stall giggling when someone elses toilet toot echoes through the bathroom walls. Of course when that happens I have to leave immediately so I don't see who the culprit is!
What really gets my gag reflex going is when these women decide to drop the kids off at the pool when I'm in the next stall. Gross! I don't NEED to hear the ker-plunk and I don't WANT to hear the groan to get it out.
Follow these simple rules that the younger generation learned upon entering the work force.
1. Skip the Busy Times: To skip busy time means you must do research. On our floor busy bathroom times are 9am (everyone is getting to work after a long commute and the 1st cup of coffee has run its course) and 2pm (everyone is getting back from lunch, which has also run its course).
2. Find a New Floor: If you really have to go and you find that the bathroom on your floor is constantly busy then scope out other floors. Find a floor with predominantly men or even a floor where no one knows you. Better yet find the bathroom in the building that has only one toilet in it so you can have total and complete poop privacy.
3. Courtesy and Double Flush: If you really must do your business with other people around. Courtesy flush. This means flush mid poo to avoid the ker-plunk and the stench that follows. Double flush. This means flush twice before you leave the stall to wash your hands. I know that your vision may be failing and you maybe can't see it...but there is nothing worse than being welcomed to a stall with poo particles in the commode.
Follow these rules and we will live in bathroom harmony. Class dismissed.
April 2, 2009
Odes to Hubby
Last weekend my parents were in town so we made a reservation to eat at one of our favorite hibachi restaurants in Atlanta. The weather was awful that night so we decided to cancel our reservation and go somewhere close to home. Hubby made the phone call and it went something like this:
Hibachi lady: Tank you for calling Orient Express, how may I help you?
Hubby: Yes, we had a reservation for 4 people tonight at 730. We need to cancel.
Hibachi lady: Ohhhhh so sowwy meester, I hope evey-ting okay.
Hubby: Yea, my wife has bad diarrhea so we need to stay close to home.
Hibachi lady: (silence)
Me to Hubby: You ASS!
We all start laughing so hard that our laughter is completely silent, I almost pee my pants and Hubby snorts once or twice.
Hibachi lady: OK, you come back when wife feel betta.
~~
Hubby has a company car. It’s an Impala. Yes, I know the song is going through your head. No, he does not have 20 inch blades.
It’s a decent car but its treated like anyone would treat a company car…like shit. It smells funny. The tires are bad, the breaks are sketchy and the balance and alignment are always off. Since it’s paid for by hubby’s company we tend to drive this car when we go on road trips. Why put miles on the car we pay for?
Side note: I don’t do road trips if the destination is over 5 hours away. I’m not a huge fan!
I have come to find that the one thing that makes road trips bearable in the Pimpala is that it constantly vibrates. Think about it, any woman would be pleased about sitting in a chair that vibrates her nether regions for five hours straight. The experience is, well, orgasmic!
~~
Hubby and I knew of each other from the college years. We were mere acquaintances back in those days. He was the typical frat boy…no details needed; I think that explains it all. One random night in Atlanta about 6 years ago I ran into hubby at a local Atlanta bar.
Hubby (wasted!): Hey! So random to see you here.
Of course I’m like any girl who sees a familiar face in a big unfamiliar city. I got really excited to see someone I knew and started chatting about anything and everything.
Hubby cuts me off: Listen, I’m not trying to be rude or anything but there is this chick over there and, well, I’m trying to get my dick stinky…so I gotta go.
Me: EW! You haven’t changed ONE BIT since college, I guess some things NEVER change.
I stomp off back to the group I came with.
40 minutes and a few shots later I’m back up at the bar ordering a drink and up walks hubby.
Me (disgusted): Done already?
Hubby: Yea, turns out she really wasn’t worth it. So I’m just hanging out here tonight. You want a shot?
Me: DUH! Anything but Jaeger.
Hubby to bartender: 2 Jaeger shots please!
From then on it was nothing but romance. It may not be a story we tell our kids, but it’s definitely one to remember.
(Clarification: I did not go home with hubby that night and he would never get anything stinky from that point on!)
Hibachi lady: Tank you for calling Orient Express, how may I help you?
Hubby: Yes, we had a reservation for 4 people tonight at 730. We need to cancel.
Hibachi lady: Ohhhhh so sowwy meester, I hope evey-ting okay.
Hubby: Yea, my wife has bad diarrhea so we need to stay close to home.
Hibachi lady: (silence)
Me to Hubby: You ASS!
We all start laughing so hard that our laughter is completely silent, I almost pee my pants and Hubby snorts once or twice.
Hibachi lady: OK, you come back when wife feel betta.
~~
Hubby has a company car. It’s an Impala. Yes, I know the song is going through your head. No, he does not have 20 inch blades.
It’s a decent car but its treated like anyone would treat a company car…like shit. It smells funny. The tires are bad, the breaks are sketchy and the balance and alignment are always off. Since it’s paid for by hubby’s company we tend to drive this car when we go on road trips. Why put miles on the car we pay for?
Side note: I don’t do road trips if the destination is over 5 hours away. I’m not a huge fan!
I have come to find that the one thing that makes road trips bearable in the Pimpala is that it constantly vibrates. Think about it, any woman would be pleased about sitting in a chair that vibrates her nether regions for five hours straight. The experience is, well, orgasmic!
~~
Hubby and I knew of each other from the college years. We were mere acquaintances back in those days. He was the typical frat boy…no details needed; I think that explains it all. One random night in Atlanta about 6 years ago I ran into hubby at a local Atlanta bar.
Hubby (wasted!): Hey! So random to see you here.
Of course I’m like any girl who sees a familiar face in a big unfamiliar city. I got really excited to see someone I knew and started chatting about anything and everything.
Hubby cuts me off: Listen, I’m not trying to be rude or anything but there is this chick over there and, well, I’m trying to get my dick stinky…so I gotta go.
Me: EW! You haven’t changed ONE BIT since college, I guess some things NEVER change.
I stomp off back to the group I came with.
40 minutes and a few shots later I’m back up at the bar ordering a drink and up walks hubby.
Me (disgusted): Done already?
Hubby: Yea, turns out she really wasn’t worth it. So I’m just hanging out here tonight. You want a shot?
Me: DUH! Anything but Jaeger.
Hubby to bartender: 2 Jaeger shots please!
From then on it was nothing but romance. It may not be a story we tell our kids, but it’s definitely one to remember.
(Clarification: I did not go home with hubby that night and he would never get anything stinky from that point on!)
March 8, 2009
Ponies are Pink?
If you've never been to the Dirty South then you have most likely never been to or even heard of The Pink Pony. It's as bad as it sounds people. A strip club in the ghetto with C-grade strippers! That is possibly a generous grade. Some friends were in town and wanted to visit this fine establishment they had heard so much about. I hate going. You always leave this place smelling of cigarettes and gross female nether regions. I say we can go as long as hubby agrees to shower when we get home. Hey, I had just put clean sheets on the bed!
Inside there are no windows, no non-smoking section and the ladies bathroom also serves as the stripper changing room. It's heaven on earth for a lady hungry lesbian! I wish I could remember some of the strippers names but I was too drunk to remember those little details. Did you really think I would go to that place sober?
All night long I was forced to stare at varicose veins, botched boob jobs, cottage cheese ass and thighs and I'm pretty sure one of the girls had a tail. I'm not lying! I know, who am I to judge. I'm no Heidi Klum with a smoking bod...but you also don't see me on a catwalk butt nekkid in clear platform heels strutting ALL of my "stuff"! Oh, did I fail to mention that the girls at The Pink Pony get completely naked. It's a comfortable situation.
Hubby bought me a lap dance. I didn't know where to look. I was frozen to my seat and completely scared. At least she smelled nice. I think she had on the Rose lotion from Victoria's Secret. The unfortunate part about that is every time I smell a flowery lotion I get flashbacks of big boobs in my face, WAY too close to my face.
Hubby also decided to make friends with the only Lesbians in the entire club. Of course he would. He bought Lady Lesi a lap dance (I guess he considers this stimulating the economy) and stripper girl came over to thank him for paying. Gross and sweaty stripper girl hugs hubby to which hubby says, "You should thank my wife too, it's all from the same bank account!" Gross and sweaty stripper girl hugs me, grabs my boobs and says, "Omigod I can't believe they are real, they are so perfect!" Uhhh, thanks?
Inside there are no windows, no non-smoking section and the ladies bathroom also serves as the stripper changing room. It's heaven on earth for a lady hungry lesbian! I wish I could remember some of the strippers names but I was too drunk to remember those little details. Did you really think I would go to that place sober?
All night long I was forced to stare at varicose veins, botched boob jobs, cottage cheese ass and thighs and I'm pretty sure one of the girls had a tail. I'm not lying! I know, who am I to judge. I'm no Heidi Klum with a smoking bod...but you also don't see me on a catwalk butt nekkid in clear platform heels strutting ALL of my "stuff"! Oh, did I fail to mention that the girls at The Pink Pony get completely naked. It's a comfortable situation.
Hubby bought me a lap dance. I didn't know where to look. I was frozen to my seat and completely scared. At least she smelled nice. I think she had on the Rose lotion from Victoria's Secret. The unfortunate part about that is every time I smell a flowery lotion I get flashbacks of big boobs in my face, WAY too close to my face.
Hubby also decided to make friends with the only Lesbians in the entire club. Of course he would. He bought Lady Lesi a lap dance (I guess he considers this stimulating the economy) and stripper girl came over to thank him for paying. Gross and sweaty stripper girl hugs hubby to which hubby says, "You should thank my wife too, it's all from the same bank account!" Gross and sweaty stripper girl hugs me, grabs my boobs and says, "Omigod I can't believe they are real, they are so perfect!" Uhhh, thanks?
Intervention
On my last trip to the gyno I got my blood taken to do checks on my thyroid, cholesterol, etc. Routine tests, no big deal. Take my blood you vampires!
After a week I got a call from the doctor to go over my test results. I basically failed...shit! It appears that I have inherited my mothers high cholesterol. Awesome! And it's not just a few point above normal, nope...I am in the range of high risk for heart attacks. So of course any time I have a chest pain now I grab my left arm and think about dying.
I did what any normal person would do with this news. I called my mom and thanked her for this unfortunate blessing she has bestowed upon me. Then I went to Google. What I read was that dairy is bad. To be cholesterol free means no cheese.
This is an issue - cheese is my life. Taking cheese from me is like taking the crack from Whitney Houston. I live for cheese! This was my own personal intervention.
It's been 14 days since I last had cheese. Do you know that cheese is in virtually EVERYTHING! Goldfish crackers, meatballs, nachos, pizza, sandwhiches, cheese dip, cheddar, monterey jack...it's everywhere I turn.
For the first week I had the shakes and bad headaches but now my body seems to be adjusting fine. Hubby has been really supportive, in the past 4 days he has ordered cheese dip as an appetizer 3 different times. I watch him dip, then double dip, then spill on his watch and proceed to lick it up. I secretly hope he starts to choke so I have to give him mouth to mouth and steal one sweet taste of the queso blanco...no such luck.
I won't fall off the wagon, I refuse. I get my blood tested again in a few months and if denying my body of cheese did nothing to my numbers...someone better be there to hold me back when I beat the crap out of the wagon I've been on!
After a week I got a call from the doctor to go over my test results. I basically failed...shit! It appears that I have inherited my mothers high cholesterol. Awesome! And it's not just a few point above normal, nope...I am in the range of high risk for heart attacks. So of course any time I have a chest pain now I grab my left arm and think about dying.
I did what any normal person would do with this news. I called my mom and thanked her for this unfortunate blessing she has bestowed upon me. Then I went to Google. What I read was that dairy is bad. To be cholesterol free means no cheese.
This is an issue - cheese is my life. Taking cheese from me is like taking the crack from Whitney Houston. I live for cheese! This was my own personal intervention.
It's been 14 days since I last had cheese. Do you know that cheese is in virtually EVERYTHING! Goldfish crackers, meatballs, nachos, pizza, sandwhiches, cheese dip, cheddar, monterey jack...it's everywhere I turn.
For the first week I had the shakes and bad headaches but now my body seems to be adjusting fine. Hubby has been really supportive, in the past 4 days he has ordered cheese dip as an appetizer 3 different times. I watch him dip, then double dip, then spill on his watch and proceed to lick it up. I secretly hope he starts to choke so I have to give him mouth to mouth and steal one sweet taste of the queso blanco...no such luck.
I won't fall off the wagon, I refuse. I get my blood tested again in a few months and if denying my body of cheese did nothing to my numbers...someone better be there to hold me back when I beat the crap out of the wagon I've been on!
February 11, 2009
Effing Gross
There are days that I spend my entire lunch hour (the term hour being used very loosely...more like 90 minutes!) at the mall. I shop, I browse and I enjoy the opportunity of choosing which delicious eatery to get lunch from.
I'm always shocked by the amount of people in the food court during lunch. A good number of the people are business men and women, college kids, kids skipping school and SAHM's (Stay At Home Moms). I do my best to avoid the SAHM's and their entourage of strollers, bags and babies. They stress me out!
Which brings me to my story. Yesterday, I chose a chicken salad sandwhich from Chik-fil-a while my friend V chose Hovan...she loves those mashed chickpea sanwhich things. As I'm walking to meet V at Hovan I see the most disgusting thing ever. A mother is changing her baby at the table in the food court. No, not slipping the baby into a new onesie from the Gap...literally changing a shitty diaper. Excuse me, the bathroom is 10 feet away. Now, I know the job of a mother is very stressful and overwhelming. So many things to do and keep track of, etc. But you just put a poo filled diaper, wipes and ass all over a place where people EAT food! I wanted to vomit. I'm pretty sure that I stopped, stared and made a face before I moved on.
Careful next time you are at the food court, what could look like a speck of chocolate from a DQ cone could very well be junior's poo!
I'm always shocked by the amount of people in the food court during lunch. A good number of the people are business men and women, college kids, kids skipping school and SAHM's (Stay At Home Moms). I do my best to avoid the SAHM's and their entourage of strollers, bags and babies. They stress me out!
Which brings me to my story. Yesterday, I chose a chicken salad sandwhich from Chik-fil-a while my friend V chose Hovan...she loves those mashed chickpea sanwhich things. As I'm walking to meet V at Hovan I see the most disgusting thing ever. A mother is changing her baby at the table in the food court. No, not slipping the baby into a new onesie from the Gap...literally changing a shitty diaper. Excuse me, the bathroom is 10 feet away. Now, I know the job of a mother is very stressful and overwhelming. So many things to do and keep track of, etc. But you just put a poo filled diaper, wipes and ass all over a place where people EAT food! I wanted to vomit. I'm pretty sure that I stopped, stared and made a face before I moved on.
Careful next time you are at the food court, what could look like a speck of chocolate from a DQ cone could very well be junior's poo!
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