I'm a Big Fan of Isaac Asimov's Humor

A lot of his jokes are total kitsch, but if read or said with a Yiddish accent...the value soars.


Mr. Ginsberg, age 83, went to the doctor for a complete examination, head to toe.


About halfway through, the doctor was called to the telephone.  He said, "Mr. Ginsberg, this will not take more than a few minutes.  Here is a jar.  While I am gone, go to the bathroom and place a semen sample in it for examination.  Then we'll continue."


A few minutes later, the doctor indeed returned, and there stood Mr. Ginsberg with the jar--totally empty.


"Doctor," said Mr. Ginsberg.  "I did my best.  I tried with my right hand; I tried with my left hand.  I even tried with both hands, but nothing happened."


The doctor said soothingly, "Now, Mr. Ginsberg, don't feel embarrassed.  At the age of 83, it is quite common to be impotent."


Whereupon Ginsberg said, with towering indignation, "What do you mean, impotent?  I couldn't open the jar."

She Nails It !

click here 4: True Confessions of an Online Dating Addict, #2

I don't remember how, but I came across this blog where the young lady has posted her online dating experience in the form of a cartoon.   Even though all of them in the series are pertinent to my life and anyone else who has ever dated...I find that this particular cartoon nails perfectly the type of guys who endeavor to engraciate themselves to women in search of a beau.

Find the Rest of the Confessions Here (scroll down page)

Audio Message from Yours Truly

Audio Message, Part 1

Audio Message, Part 2

Kosher Sex Lecture Clip #1

Kosher Sex Lecture Clip #2

Infidelity Clip

Some Friendly Advice About Online Dating, Part 1

Oh man, I don't even know where to begin on this subject.  It's a wide open field, but let me start by saying:  "Dudes, what the hell?"...


"What the hell what?"  you ask?  What the hell this: 


...if you ever want to really connect with a woman; you have to take a few tips from one.......namely, moi. 


I think I'm going to narrow my field even further, by speaking specifically to men who are 45 and older, as I've noticed some strangely similar personality quirks across the board in men this age who sign up for online dating and pen pal sites.    And these quirks of yours have to stop.  They have to be vanquished... Now!


I say this in all candor and so...


Let's cover a few things real quick.  And let's hope these few things can be of real quick help to you.  Remember, a friend is someone who knows the truth and doesn't keep it from you. I'm that friend.   I've had to learn these things the hard way and hope you can benefit from my "findings".   


That being said:


1.  Your "handle" sucks Good Buddy! 


O.K., CB radio-style handles went out with the 70s. I know.  I was there.    I can see that you're trying to be honest about who you are by picking that goofy grandpa-style user name, which you think is quaint and "neat", but really it just makes women roll their eyes.  In a word, it sucks.  I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt that you've a perfectly good reason for the one you've chosen, but whatever the reason...the one you've chosen just makes you sound OLD!  Ditch it.  Put it out with the trash.


The bad thing about appearing old online is the fact that you've only got a short time...a few seconds... to attract attention to yourself in a positive way.  It's usually a quick glance of your picture and so the right user name is part of that initial hook.   


Let's be real here...You've already got so much working against you....gravity, the ever-ticking clock, gray hair, no hair,  belly flab, competition with much younger guys, being out of practice when it comes to woo-ing members of the opposite sex....


...and so when you attach yourself to a moniker such as..."rustybucket"  or  "swineman" (because you raise pigs) or "krankyoldman" or  "grandpaBill" or  "gummingmyfood" when you're over 50  (or any age for that matter)...it's just not gonna cut it.  The hard and cruel facts are that we are all out there searching...each of us sporting our own dating game handicap and we need all the help we can get and the best place to start is in an alluring profile name.   


You may say, "I'm not out there looking to date.  I just want to make friends online".   Doesn't matter. (and I'm not sure I believe you anyway)  If you were standing here in front of me, I'd throw some cold water in your face or slap you to wake you from your ignorant stupor.   The reality is; we care about this stuff even if all we are looking for is someone to chat it up with online.    It's just an undeniable truth.  Don't fight it.  Work with it!


Now I could go real "fatal" on you and defeatist and figure that if you're not wise enough to pick a better name  then it's really too late to teach that dog how to hunt... how to pick up the scent and track down his prey.    Might just be better off hanging out at the local V.F.W. throwing back some 50 cent Suds with your old war buddies cause it would seem the online realm doesn't suit you.


Hey, I'm 48, but I'm not looking to hang out on the front porch rocking back and forth with Grandpa.  If I want that, I'll go walk next door and hang out with my dad for a couple of hours and we can talk about how great life is now compared to when he was a punk kid back in the 50s.    


In a way, I think we are all looking to have the virtual air around us sizzle with a little bit of sexual tension and excitement ...a little bit of spontaneous, flirtatious banter.  Let's face it...it's fun!  and...it makes us feel good.  Gets those good "feel good" hormones pumping through our bodies!!


And here's one for the younger guys.  Those under 30:   please stop walking around with a chip on your shoulder ready to be offended at the slightest perceived injustice.  And I use the word perceived advisedly.    This is where you guys can probably learn something from the older men.   They are way more laid back in their approach and far less "in your face" and cocky.  


Having said that, in true feminine fickle fashion, I have to admit that the cockiness....the strutting around like a rooster in the hen house,  can be an alluring quality, but not when it's all show and no go, then it's just obnoxious.  


Overall though, the best thing to do, as I've had to learn...is to approach the whole process with lighthearted and humorous receptors and just be yourself. 


Be yourself, but be mindful that you have to use the correct bait if you're going to lay your hook into something worthy of being reeled in.   Humor is a great way "in" and a great way to stay "in" and one of the best flirting devices of all time. 


So, a great user name and be yourself and spice the whole mix with some humor.......that's a start.


Next time, let's talk about the pictures we post.


to be continued...

Lady Godiva Revisited

The other day I saw an ad online for Lady Godiva Chocolate.   When I lived in Pittsburgh, there used to be a Lady Godiva Chocolatier at the local Mall and even though I've never been big into chocolate (I prefer a great cheese, salami and fresh bread myself).. it was spectacular to inhale deeply whenever I walked by the store.  


I noticed the Lady Godiva logo and realized there must be a story there.  A story which I was not familiar with.  A story which must, at the very least, be quite interesting...as it's a woman with long flowing hair..riding a horse...naked!


When I was younger, I remember lazying around on the couch one Saturday afternoon.   Saturday mornings were cleaning day at our house and I was more or less done for the day and had switched on the TV to watch some cartoons.  My mom came walking through the Family Room and saw me "not doing anything" and asked me:  "Who do you think you are?  Lady Godiva?  Get up and do something".   As a result, I was always under the impression that Lady Godiva was some filthy rich woman who had nothing better to do all day than lie around and have people wait on her hand and foot. 


My mom used the Lady Godiva expression a lot.   If I was sitting at the kitchen table, and asked someone who was "up" already to grab me an extra fork from the drawer or a jar of mustard from the fridge....my mom's response would be..."Who do you think you are?  Lady Godiva?  Get up and get it yourself".   


So, somehow, in the early 70's,  Lady Godiva moved from naked political activist to lazy woman who laid about and did nothing. 


I checked a variety of sources on the story of Lady Godiva.   It's a legend that took place in Coventry, England and each version has a slightly different take or spin.  


The gist of it is this:


Lady Godiva was a real person.  She was a noblewoman who lived during the late 11th Century and was married to the Earl of Mercia...Leofic.  He ruled England under the Danish King Canute.


We'll skip over all of the messy minutia and focus only on the fact that there seems to have been some sort of oppressive tax or tribute enacted by Leofic.  These were monies paid by the English to the invading Scandinavians and were called, the Heregeld.


Lady Godiva did not like this hefty tax placed upon the backs of the already struggling peasantry and so in the midst of a "discussion" with her husband, the Earl, he tells her he will repeal the tax if she will ride buck naked...on horseback (ouch!) through the main drag of Coventry on Market Day.  Nothing would be covering her 'cept for her long, flowing locks. 


Later versions of the story have Lady Godiva sending out an edict before her ride alerting the townspeople to close their shutters while she passes by.   One naughty man, Tom, looked anyway...and hence the legend of Peeping Tom was born.


Lady Godiva rode through the streets and the tax was eliminated.  Her husband did not think she'd take him up on his wager as she was known as being a very religious and pious woman.    Hatred of taxes which oppress have driven some people to incredible lengths to see them repealed....lengths which seem to go against their personality and character.   Such was the case with Lady Godiva.


Wouldn't that be great if that's all we had to do now?  Ride through the streets "...nekkid as a jay bird..." (to quote the Streak)...and get some intrusive law or tax repealed?   I'm game!  Why not?  Life's too short to not get in on a little tax-repealing-naked-horse-riding".  I sure like the idea better than running a 5 or 10k race to support a good cause...don't you?  *wink* *wink*


While pondering this idea the other day, I wondered if anyone would care or notice a woman or a group of women riding naked through the streets of a major city.    The naked female form is now everywhere.   There's a glut of nakedness on the market.  A glut of websites and magazines and strip clubs where men can go to have their visual needs met.  Why should they stand outside while some bouncing babes cantor by?  Yup...it's a rhetorical question.


Would it really be so daring a move in the 21st Century to take to the saddle..."birthday suited up"? (thanks Barney).  I suppose nowadays the ante would have to be upped and we would have to ride en masse to get any sort of positive exposure (pun intended...ya'll are welcome!)  Maybe instead of one of those boring and generic Million Man Marches on Washington D.C., we can do A Billion Bare Naked Bouncing Babes Ride Horseback on D.C. for the repeal of one of the many (take your pick) onerous taxes churned out and exacted upon us by a House and Senate which more and more resemble not an elected group of representatives, but an elected group of greedy goons who tell us we need to tighten our belts while they buy themselves bigger pants to fit their ever burgeoning waistlines......(and she finally exhales).


Am I ranting?   ha...guess I am.   I'll stop now.


And even if the Billion Babe Ride doesn't bring in the desired results, all is not lost.   Some of us babes  might at least get some phone numbers or email addresses from some eligible bachelors...who will have already seen us naked in the light and so all of that awkward first-time-seeing-me-naked-crap...will be stripped away (two totally off the cuff naked puns in a row...the girl's got her mojo on today).  It's a win-win.  


We'll wait till Summer though, o.k.?   I'll just have to cross my fingers that there will still be onerous taxes and eligible bachelors to "ride" for (pun also intended...hey, when you've got it, you've got it!) come June (April, here in the South).


One more Godiva fact that I found in my research.  Did you know that Dr. Seuss (one of my very favorite authors) wrote a book back in 1939...(when he was writing for adults)...entitled:  Seven Lady Godivas:  The True Facts Concerning History's Barest Family.  It bombed out and if you put it in its historical context, one can probably find a myriad of reasons why it failed.  It was then reprinted in 1987.  I guess it was an attempt at adult writing and he considered it a great failure, but of course now the book is a curiosity for those of us who grew up cutting our teeth on Seuss and in turn raised our children on the writings of the good Dr.


I had to go to eBay and score myself a copy of the book.  I got one for less than $5.00 w/free shipping.   Not too shabby.  It's a 1987 model cause there's no way in hell I'm going to buy a 1939 First Edition...not with gas at $2.70-something a gallon!!! 


For those of you who've been following the blog, you know that each month I post a pose.    These poses will become the ones I will use when I take my Pinup pictures next April and those will then be assembled into a calendar.  I like the painting of Lady Godiva which I've posted above.   I have no idea where I'm going to get a horse or even a fake one for that matter, but I don't care, I want to recreate that pose of this pious woman who unleashes her inner wild side...for a good cause.

Heart-to-Heart

I have to admit that the past week or two... and really, more like the past month or two... have brought about one wave of heartache after another.  

I was just made aware the other night of a second death in our family.  It's not only the second death, but it's the second death in which a baby has been lost during childbirth. 

The thing about losing a baby which is unique to most other deaths is the whole lead up and fanfare by which they're ushered into this world.  The birth of a baby is a highly anticipated event, not only for the mom and dad, but for everyone else who orbits their life.  

During the months in which babies are being prepared on the "inside", HUGE preparations are being made on the "outside" both emotionally and materially.    Having given birth to two children myself, I know what's involved, but more than that, as a woman, I know what transpires in the heart and mind of that Mother.    

I doubt I could ever find words adequate enough to express the love and the bond and the joy which occurred before I ever laid eyes on either of my daughters.  I doubt there's a day which goes by now that I don't look at them or talk to them and feel that same love and bond and joy.  O.K., so I'm a big softee; I'll admit that, but my point is that before the child ever exits the womb, there is an intense bond.

Not wanting to leave daddies out of the pre-birth bonding process, I'll say that I know of many an instance where the dad's voice  caused a noticeable reaction from the baby while still in the womb and that same daddy's voice was able to exert calm on the child when it was fussy...out of the womb.

Family and friends spend months gushing over ultrasound pictures (or pretending to), they buy gifts, they help prepare a special space for the baby in the home, motifs are chosen, a name is selected with great care and it seems that in direct proportion to the ever burgeoning belly, comes an ever burgeoning excitement for the Big Day!

So, when the big day finally does arrive and close family and friends take off work to join the "happy couple" at the hospital...

...the womenfolk making ready those first hospital gifts...

...the menfolk making ready the lighting of the celebratory cigars...

...but instead of a precious new life to celebrate...

a life...screaming in all its newborn splendor...

there is instead... silence and death and mourning...

...well, as an onlooker, it's difficult to know what to say or do.  The atmosphere becomes instantly thick and heavy.  Emotions run the gamut and intuitively you know that this is going to be a very long process of healing and recovery.

On the other end of the life cycle, I've got two older family members who are both hanging by a thread with brain cancer.    Yesterday I got a scare because my brother called to tell me that one of those family members passed away in the morning.   I left the house immediately to gather with my loved ones... only to find out that my brother had sort of jumped the gun.    He'd gotten news from a weeping family member and the whole conversation was misconstrued to the point where he thought there was a death. 

It was an emotional morning,  to say the least, and we were all overjoyed to find out that the inevitable had been delayed slightly longer.  I was especially overjoyed, as there are things I'd like to say to this person and now I've got my chance before they really do pass away and I'm left with nothing but regret.

So, my dear friends, the Christmas Season 'round these parts has been one which has put life in stark perspective and all of these things swirling around me have been quite a distraction.    It's sort of difficult to inspire oneself to think smouldering and sultry thoughts when oneself is being called out to weep for the death of a family member who isn't dead at all.  lol. 

Thanks for standing by.    

and I quote.....

"I like my clothes to be tight enough to show I'm a woman... but loose enough to show I'm a lady."
MAE WEST

Post-Divorce Era Dating, Part 2 (cont'd)

the blind date continued....


I have to admit, that from across the parking lot, the guy looked alright.   He was driving this incredibly large, incredibly awesome pickup truck.  Extended cab, extended bed, blacked out windows.  I'm not "into" pickup trucks, but this guy was a building contractor and so his choice of vehicle made perfect sense.  Besides, I tend not to make assessments nor to be impressed with a man's "ride", but it did give off  the impression that he had his act together.     


Before I proceed...let me revisit the whole idea of hearing this guys voice and the fact that he was obviously a heavy smoker because it was my first sign that I should have just bolted.   I can't stress how bad it was.  He sounded like he might cough up multiple hair balls at any moment.  It's the sort of voice that engages that sympathetic clearing of your throat reflex.   I'm real bad that way, if someone has allergies and their nose tickles, my nose tickles.  If they have a coughing fit, then I'm right there with them...clearing my throat in solidarity.   I just wasn't looking forward to a date with a guy who would only be thinking about when he could escape for his next smoke.  Was I being absurd thinking this way?  Stay tuned and find out....


As much as I was kicking myself for going out on a blind date, I went ahead and planned an alternate location with the Marlboro Man.  I couldn't bring myself to ditch him there in the parking lot.  I knew he was a nice guy from our email conversations, but I was seeing all the signs that this whole night was going to be a bust.  Did I talk myself into hating it ahead of time?   Of course I did!!!   One of the greatest things about being single again is the freedom to do what you want and when you want.   I felt no freedom at that moment.  I felt locked in and bound to my sense of propriety and social etiquette.   (damn sense of propriety!  damn you social etiquette! I hate you both!...lol....)


Remember how that I mentioned earlier in this story that I didn't want to go to dinner?  Guess what?  He suggested a steak house and I found myself driving to spend dinner at a restaurant with a guy I already determined I wasn't going to enjoy spending the night with.  And, fun fact:   my intuitions may not always be right, but I do enjoy a high success rate.  My intuition was telling me to just turn around, pick up a 3-count chicken strips meal from the Chik-fil-A drive thru and go home, put on my jammies, pop in a good movie...and call it a night.  


No such thing occurred.


Instead, I pulled into the parking lot, saw him get out of his truck (he still didn't know what I was driving or that I was there...spying), and I COULD NOT believe HOW SHORT he was.  Judging from a distance I put him at 5'4".   I remember dropping my head to the steering wheel in distress and beeping the horn, which then gave me away.   He stood on the front steps of the restaurant, "smoking" a cigarette and he turned in my direction when I beeped.    Damn horn!! lol.


So, here I was...face to face with the moment of truth.  I went to open the door and my feet felt heavy, like they were blocks of cement.   It reminded me of all the times as a young girl that I had to go places against my will.  I had to go because my mother "said so".   One of those places I hated going was to get my hair cut.  I always wanted to grow my hair long and my mom always wanted me to keep it short...especially in the Summer because I swam competitively.   We would pull up in front of The Hair Barn in New Jersey and I would exit our 1972 pale yellow, Country Squire Station Wagon with trendy fake wood siding, with feet that felt heavy....like they were blocks of cement.     And here I was in the year 2010 having the same experience.  It felt just as awful as it did when I was a young girl.


O.K., from this story, you might gather that I'm really, really picky.....well, maybe so....but really, who among you isn't picky when it comes to dating?    You want what you want what you want.   I wanted what I wanted what I wanted.   And what I wanted at that moment was to rewind the tape and go back to the day that I accepted a blind date so I could smack myself into reason because as I walked up to the front of the restaurant and surveyed him further, I saw that he had a mustache.   No big deal.  I've dated guys with mustaches before.  Hell, I'm from the Northeast and I think it was a law back in the 80s that all Italian men were to have a mustache (fun fact...law or not...a ton of Italian women had mustaches too!!)...so I dated men with "stashes", but nowadays if you sport a mustache or a goatee, etc, you groom it.  You thin it out. It's not the 70's dudes!!!   Unless you're like a mountain man and you don't really give a flying leap about style and fashion and you just let it grow wild and untamed...then you groom it.   And Hey, mountain man... good luck with that!!!


We made our introductions and went in to sit down.   Not only was this guy like 5'4", but I'm 5'6" and I was wearing platform shoes, as I am wont to do...which probably put me at around the 5'7" mark...thereby making me about three inches taller than this guy.   Yes, let's be seated....quick...!!


He was a very nice mellow guy.  He hailed from Jersey, as do I and so we had a lot in common to talk about, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying because I couldn't get past his nervous mannerisms.    To begin with, he was four or five years younger than me, but he looked older...number one, because of the mustache, which naturally ages, and number two, because of the effects the years of smoking had on his appearance.     As he talked, his hands were constantly moving about.   First he would part his bushy, untrimmed "stash", then he would straighten the collar on his shirt, then he would fiddle with his silverware, then he would straighten his napkin, then he would touch his mustache again, then he would fix his sleeves and then...as dinner was winding down (not soon enough in my book)...he did something which totally grossed me out and I made the move to pay and excuse myself.    All the while that he's talking; he takes his finger and digs in his right ear.....like he's prospecting for gold....and he pulls out his "find".....he looks at it.....and he then wipes it on his shirt.....and then parts his mustache and then puts his finger to his mouth.  


I could tell that he had no idea what he just did and I'm not sure that what I was feeling on the inside registered on my face...because if it did, he didn't show any signs of picking up on it.  I figured it was probably because ever since we sat down he had only a few words going on in his brain ......."I need a cigarette"....."cigarette....cigarette...cigarette....gotta have a cigarette....".   


We got up to leave and he picked up a few mints on the way out and a toothpick.  That's sort of the thing down here.....you prove how "hick" you are by talking with a toothpick in your mouth.    So, the guy starts digging in his teeth while we are out on the front steps saying our goodbyes.  He then offers to walk me to my car, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he popped in a mint and ditched the "pick".   He seemed to be gearing up for a goodnight kiss, but I dodged that bullet by getting into my van.......sitting down....saying a quick thank you and goodbye and closing the door and peeling out.   I did notice in my rear view mirror that he lit up a cigarette the moment I pulled away.   I never saw him again. 

 Moral of this story:


Don't do blind dates unless you know someone who knows the other person and you trust that person's judgement with your whole heart and and whole soul....otherwise, you too might find yourself watching a grown man (or woman) pick crud out of their ear and wipe it on their shirt in total clueless fashion.












 

and I quote.....

"A nymphomaniac is a women as obsessed with sex as the average man."
Mignon McLaughlin

Subjects Which Were Once Taboo, Part III

A continuation. If you didn't read parts I and II...probably no big deal, but it might help to put this in context.


As to the knowledge I received when I visited Priscilla's for the first time (and yes, I'm a regular customer now):


Well...


Like most women.... I never could grasp the idea of why men seemed to "have" to watch porn on videos or to read porn in magazines.   I never got turned on just looking at some random half-naked guy in a magazine and any porn that I had seen, in my 20's...well, it just made me laugh.  I found it sort of goofy and corny and predictable and on the campy side.   My way of thinking was that if a man had to watch porn to pleasure himself, then the woman and/or women  in that man's life was/were doing something wrong.    I found out, that just isn't the case, and my mind has been definitely changed to see the value which some porn provides to men and women alike.


During that first visit; I gained a vast amount of information concerning various and sundry sex toys.   Here too was another area where I had never fully explored what was available and neither did I know how to incorporate it into my life. No relationship, I don't care  how healthy it is...can grow deeper by travelling on the same plane...because after a while the journey on that straight plane becomes a little on the boring and predictable side...something akin to a flat lined electrocardiogram.  The "patient" needs an injection of adrenaline or a defibrillator...chest compressions....something...anything......!!!!!


To keep a relationship from flat lining...something has to change and at Priscilla's there are shelves stocked with "change"....lol.  


The dialogue has definitely changed and these subjects which were once taboo are now mainstream topics of conversation.  Women are having Tupperware-style parties only now they are selling Sexual Relationship Enhancing products.    That woman in line with the three screaming kids in front of you at the grocery store....yeah her.....she's could be one of the many women who is going home tonight and once the kiddies are fed and in bed.....she will host a party with her gaggle of friends and they are going to squawk and cackle and giggle all night over these fun products which have changed their whole way of life.  They are happier and healthier and they nag less and they have sex more! It's a win-win!!! 


to be continued......

Double Duty

Before I continue with the Taboo Subjects; I have to touch on this one. 


A few days ago, I was watching a video on YouTube, but before the video launched, there was
a commercial and I wish I could remember the name of the organization which sponsored it, but I just can't.   While I was trying to locate it again, I came across this ad from Brazil from last year.  


The whole idea...and it's not just in Brazil...is this worldwide campaign to save water.   To conserve.  And everyone is asked to eliminate the flushing of their commode at least one time everyday.  Their solution?  Pee in the Shower!


We could go round and round on this one...as to whether or not it's a good idea... but I will state for the record, that I won't be conserving water by urinating in the shower.     I think I've come up with a better solution to save water each day.   Or at least every so often.   Actually, the more often, the better.


Eat Dessert Once A Day In A Sexual Way!


I'm not advocating getting fat by eating sweets everyday....although everything in moderation keeps one from binging...but let's just call it a Sweet Treat, as it can take on many forms.  That's the beauty of it.   My way of conserving water has options and employs variety and has only positive repercussions. 


The idea is not to use dishes or utensils when you have your dessert.  This saves water because you won't be adding those items to your already full dishwasher and neither will you be washing them by hand...ergo...less water used.


The Concept:  


You and your partner make a pledge that you'll have a Sweet Treat with one another once a day...or at least a few times a week...and....  


...instead of plates and forks and spoons....


...your bodies become the dessert delivery platform and your fingers, hands, feet, mouth, tongue...become the utensils.


This is a solid idea.  Nothing but good can come of it.   It promotes a provocative fun in a relationship.  The provocative fun will then bring about a deeper connection or bond.  The provocative fun bond will also bring about those good feeling hormones which are released when two people are intimate with one another.   It's a total win-win!!!    And, the best benefit of all....water is conserved in the process. 


I know you're probably looking for holes to poke in my idea, but I think I've looked at this from every angle. (no pun or double entendre intended)   One might say that more water will be used because the two people will have to take a shower.   Well, wouldn't you be taking a shower or washing up after being intimate with one another anyway?  (please answer yes)   So, then, shower together..........omg.....another win-win.  This just keeps getting better and better the more we talk this out together!


This idea can be as simple as holding a piece of cake or some cookies on a napkin and feeding one another.  See?........easy.   


It can be as elaborate as building a layered dessert and then consuming it....being careful to leave no morsel behind (again, no pun intended or double entendre).   


It can be as easy as drizzling some homemade caramel sauce on one another or if you want to really take the experience to a new level....employ the use of a government approved aphrodisiac (no such thing.  employing a little sarcasm/irony)...and get double the benefit.   I receive a newsletter each week which highlights a different aphrodisiac.  The one I got yesterday suggested Maple Syrup.    Am I saying I believe in the idea of foods having aphrodisiac properties or qualities?  Well,  honestly don't know... but I do know is that the power of suggestion is a powerful tool.  So, use it!   Whip out the maple syrup....and if you believe it will heighten your sexual senses...then very likely....it will!!!


Spray on the whipped topping...


Slather on the custard or pudding or yogurt (if you're into healthy living or want to keep a smooth running digestive tract)


Dip in chocolate and roll in nuts.....


Construct a banana split................


Just do it......!!!!


And while you're enjoying the experience, also enjoy knowing that you've kept a gallon or two of water from being wasted and abused.


Ironic side note:   When I finished writing this, I went in to take a shower.  As soon as that hot water hit me, guess what?  I had an intense urge to "go".   But, as I'm an adult; I waited till I finished showering.....I "went".....and then....I flushed!


A Poked Hole Side note:   O.K., I found a hole.   What to do if you don't have a significant other to share dessert with?   I guess now is as good a time as any to go out there and find one.  Another win-win!

Boil Water Much?

I've always prided myself on my multi-tasking abilities.   I'm typically involved in several things at a time, unless  I'm on the phone or engaged in a conversation.   Then, that person has my full out attention.  


Well, I guess the hour has come when I need to apply that sort of laser beam focus to other areas of my life.    Earlier today, I put a pot of water on the stove to boil, as I was doing some early dinner prep.   I went back to the computer to work, and I was also doing some laundry.   Some time had passed....and I'm not sure how much time exactly....I guess as long as it takes to melt a metal pot....cause that's what I did.  Check it out:




Taken w/my stupid phone camera, so the quality is poor...  but the inside of the bottom of the pan was heated to the point of liquification. 
See Below

 



When I picked up the pan from the burner, this dripped onto the stove top.  My daughter is keeping these to remind me not to leave the pot on the stove and then walk away...as I'm always preaching to her the same message!  Love when my words come back to haunt me.  It's precious!

 

Subjects Which Were Once Taboo, Part II

Let’s jump ahead. It’s my Sophomore year in High School. It’s Spring, 1979. I had just turned 16 that previous October. I was older because I had to wait a year to start school due to an October 1^st cutoff …my birthday being in the middle of October caused me to have to wait a full year to start kindergarten.  Riveting...I know!

I was a baton twirler in High School. We did it all……two batons at one time. We twirled fire. We marched in parades. We did the halftime show with the rest of the band and color guard during our High School Football games. We traveled around to compete against other High Schools. It was one of the best times of my life with the best girlfriends. We were a small squad and very close.

Here’s how close we were…..

This particular Spring, we were invited to march in …if my memory serves me correct…..the Apple Blossom Festival parade in Niagara Falls, Canada. We were put up in a tacky hotel up the hill from the Falls and we were set loose on the city. One night, all of us girls were congregated in one of our hotel rooms…. in our jammies, eating junk food, laughing and carrying on. Someone brought up the fact that they were having their “time of the month” and she didn’t want to march the next day with that big pad….(as they had a tendency to inch up the back of your panties and sometimes…to actually pop out if you couldn’t get to it in time. But that’s a whole story for another day.)

One of the older girls among us…..a Senior!…….asked why the girl didn’t just go ahead and put a tampon in. She, like many of the rest of us, had never been able to find her hole either. So, we all went into the bathroom to get a lesson from the older girl, as to how to put a tampon in. When all was said and done, there was much laughing and crawling around on the floor laughing so hard……..but not one of us found our holes that night….unfortunately for the girl who didn’t want to sport her big pad during the parade. She did though…..and everything stayed where it was supposed to.


I was thinking of these stories the other day as I entered my favorite lingerie store, Priscilla McCall's (Priscilla McCall's).  

On my maiden visit to Priscilla's, I was in the market for some new lingerie.  I was new to the area.  Drove by.  For all intents and purposes....the place looked like a lingerie store.   Don't you agree? ( Myrtle Beach Location ).   And, it's not that it's NOT a lingerie store.  There is actually lingerie in there, but not as much as I thought.   It's a very small percentage when compared to the square footage inside versus the amount of lingerie product displayed for sale.   

I really like this store because  it's staffed by mostly middle aged women who are extremely knowledgeable about the products they sell.    I came in for some lingerie and left instead with a toy or two and some very sexy smelling spray on oil and a whole lotta knowledge that I did not possess when I entered.

I'll share that knowledge with you......

next time......

Subjects Which Were Once Taboo

　
Let’s just say, I was born in the early 60s.   I mention this fact as a point of reference for the next few postings that you’re about to read. Don’t worry, I’m not going to begin a nostalgic walk down memory lane recounting tales of how I walked to school five miles each way in the snow and rain and hail and thunder and lightening. Although….lol……I did in fact walk to school everyday and by the time I got to High School, my walk was 1.5 miles each way (but who’s counting?) It was a living hell I tell ya. Do you have any idea what falling snow and rain and hail and thunder and lightning do to a perfectly coiffed head of hair? (Here's the Route!)

Actually, I prefaced this with my age because in contrast to what young people know today; we (or at least I) were quite inept when it came to matters of puberty and sex. For me, being raised in a strict and stern Italian-Catholic home meant never, ever discussing anything of a personal nature. And I mean nothing personal…….no feelings were discussed…..nothing regarding bodily functions and the changing female body….none of it was brought up. The idea was sort of an unspoken one…….you would figure it out at the right time and as you went along. (Yeah, good luck with that!!!) There was no need to engage in any discussion…..

Thankfully, that way of thinking is mostly in the distant past, but gone with it also is the innocence which was the trademark of young boys and girls when I was growing up. A lot of it had to do with the fact that Dads went to work all day and mom was home. There was a very short leash when it came to being allowed to go places and do things….especially where members of the opposite sex were concerned.

I sure did learn things at “the right time.” My best friend and I were driving in the back seat of our ‘72 Country Squire station wagon while our moms were in the front seat. They were talking and thought we weren’t paying attention to what they were saying. They were laughing and mentioning the number 69. I guess it was the “right time” for us to learn. And boy, did we pay attention. We caught ear of their conversation…even with the radio on and the windows rolled down and our brothers in the back of the station wagon raising a ruckus……we heard the words……”69”……sex…….and screw. It was like our sonar devices were turned on. Our antennae (antennas, if you're not a wordsmith) were raised…and we looked wide-eyed at one another…smiling big…….we couldn’t’ believe this conversation our moms were having with one another…..more or less in front of us. We were curious. What was this “69”?  (we were 13 at the time)

We giggled with one another and vowed, in hushed tones, that we would find out what this strange reference to the number 69 meant in this conversation about sex and screwing. I was sort of pissed at my mother for talking about this stuff so openly and I’ll tell you why…..

Earlier that year, I had received my package from Mother Nature. My very first menstruation cycle. Do you think my mom pulled me aside to tell me about this before it was going to happen? Nope. She didn’t and I had to find out from the school nurse when my “gift” arrived….specially delivery, while I was in Home Economics class in Middle School. It wasn’t like today where girls as young as 9 and 10 are getting “blessed”. I was one of the first of my friends to become so endowed.

I went to the nurse. I knew what it was, but that was it. She sat me down. Gave me a “starter kit” with pads that I can only describe as being the distant cousin to the popular Depends garments worn by the elderly among us today. (Hyperbole alert!). There was some sort of belt contraption in the box whereby I was supposed to clip on my Depends and wear this thing…..it literally felt like a diaper, and if you’ve ever paid attention to that swishing sound a baby makes when crawling around with a diaper on….that was me…..at 13!!! The nurse sat down with me and in her most compassionate tone, explained to me what was going on and what would continue to go on…..FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!!! (Hyperbole alert!).

It was a jolly time walking home with my huge box of starter pads. The boys in our walking-home- together-group had a field day with that one. I was just glad they didn’t grab it from me and start playing monkey in the middle...lol.

I got home and told my mom what happened. There was no further explanation or follow up….or tender empathy……just a matter of fact….”so the nurse told you what’s going on?”.   I answered: “Yup”.  She said: “Don't say yup.   O.K. then”.

Remembering this exchange had me peeved at my mom for speaking so openly about sex and screwing in the car that day and yet she couldn’t pass along a little knowledge to me as to what the hell was going on in my body in a private mother/daughter conversation.

Oh well…..that was then.  That was the culture and the customs.  

Side note….never found out till years later what “69” was. My friend and I forgot all about it by the time we got to our destination that afternoon.
So, what have we learned so far? The lines of communication were definitely under heavy fortification where sex and puberty were concerned when I was growing up. Here’s how closed they were:

When I was younger, I swam every summer….competitively. Swimming was my life…..whether it was in a pool or at the beach…..I was a fish. The Summer after getting my “gift”, I was on my way to the Community pool…it was where everyone hung out during the Summer if they weren’t at the Shore. Not to be gross, but my mom knew it was that time of month for me because it was evident on my clothing when she did the laundry. I was in the bathroom changing into my bathing suit and my mom opened the door and informed me that I wasn’t going anywhere unless I put in a tampon because I wasn’t going to swim in a pool with my “gift”. I was at the end of my cycle and I told her that, but it didn’t matter She handed me one of those older version tampons….cardboard type….very wide.

I unwrapped it. I looked at it. I read the directions. I had no idea whatsoever where to put that thing. I started feeling around….but it seemed like there were so many flaps down there to deal with…..where was the hole? Where did this thing go? and it was so big…..how in the world did something so big get in something, I presumed, was so small?

I fumbled around and my mother yelled through the door…”What’re you doing in there? What’s taking so long? You’d better be putting it in….and I’ll know if you did or not because I’ll see the string hanging out”.

Holy Mother of God….the woman was going to inspect whether or not I put it in? Now I was really panicking. There was no way I was going to waste a perfectly good Summer day at home. If I did, she’d find some chore for me to take on and all I wanted to do was swim.
Then: the proverbial light bulb over the head!!!

Since I was having such a difficult time shoving this thing into any part of me down there which even remotely resembled a hole…and I used a mirror and everything…..and it looked awfully gross down there….and I was tired of fumbling around……..and so…..I pulled the tampon out of it’s cardboard housing and stuck it in the crack of my posterior region…and clenched…..tight….lol……..and sure enough…the string was hanging down…..so, there……there was her “proof”. And of course, she never checked me before I left the house.

I was so afraid of being caught though…that I rode the whole way to the pool, which was about 2 ½ miles…with that thing clenched inside my crack. It hurt like Hell…but I kept thinking……she just might pull up in the car alongside the road and do a spot inspection….and so I kept it in till I got to the pool…..ran into the bathroom…..yanked it out….flushed….and went on my merry way. And she was none the wiser.

By telling you this story, I’ve definitely digressed a bit…..but the point is made…right? The young teenager girls of my day were clueless. We didn’t even know our own bodies. We didn’t even know where things were located. And yes, I’d been masturbating since I was about 5, but I never used fingers to penetrate…everything was done on the outside. No interior regions were ever explored. I was 13 and I didn’t even know where my hole was!!!

more cluelessnes to come.  stay tuned.....

Totally Hot!

This is hot, hot, crazy hot.  In my book anyway. 


I was signing into my Twitter account this morning and on the Twitter home page was a scrolling list of Top Tweets.    And O.K., I'm sure I'm downright late to the party on this one, but the Dalai Lama has a Twitter account.   Oooops, correction, his "office" has a Twitter account.   I guess that's the same as "The White House" issuing statements to the Press.    Maybe it's the earliness of the hour; I don't know, but I couldn't stop laughing when I went to his Twitter page and saw his little face and I pictured him sitting....on the floor....legs crossed........with a laptop in front of him....typing away........periodically through the day....updating his Twitter account.   Totally raised his "Coolness" factor in my book.


Dalai lama Twitter Account


That got me curious.  And sidenote, this is why it's dangerous to work from home.   Getting sidetracked is so easy, but it's also part of the allure.   As long as the work eventually gets done...no harm, no foul.


Back to my curiosity.  It got me to wondering about other holy fellows and whether or not they were as hip as the Dalai lama appears to be.   I looked up the Pope.  He has several Twitter accounts.  One account seems to be verified by Twitter.  This has been a great energy boost to my morning.  I've been laughing almost non-stop.  When I Googled The Pope on Twitter, I came across some very funny news stories from as far back as two years ago when "the Vatican" (what's up with all these talking buildings?  I wonder if my house is issuing statements to the Press about me behind my back?)....was grappling with the whole idea of going "social media".   The angst among followers was equally distressing.  Now the whole Lot of them seems to have embraced the idea and behave as if none of it was ever an issue.


Twitter Accunt of Pope Benedict XIV


Again, just can't picture the Pope Twittering.  I imagine all of his finery getting in the way.  Maybe he just dictates his Tweets.  Some Cardinal is in charge (hah!....ya'll are welcome....that pun was definitely unintended)...of Tweets Dictation.   Oh man, what a funny, funny world we live in!!! 


These two dudes just made my hottie patottie list!!!  

Would Give Anything To Have This Car Again!

The age to get a driver's license in New Jersey back in 1979 was 17.   As soon as I aced my test, and I did ace my test...even though I was a girl.  I was the epitome of a good student back then.  I always wanted to do well in school and in sports and anything else I was involved in...and besides all that, nothing less than a B was acceptable in my home.  


I've been ticket free and accident free ever since.  Let's see...doing the math on my imaginary calculator; that makes just over 31 years without incident.   Virtual High Five!!!!


I'd like to think that I wasn't a superficial teenage girl, but I have to say; I did get the hots for a guy in a great muscle car.   A guy sees a woman in a bikini and goes bonkers.  I used to see guys in sports cars and my hormones would do a little "skip to my Lou my darling".    And, Oh Lordy, if that guy's car was a standard shift....then that increased the hot factor to steamy! 

Since the late 70s tons of laws have been passed with regard to what kind of car you can put on the road and safety measures of the highest intrusive nature have been enacted.....as a result....I no longer see guys in souped up cars, in that drab gray primer....awaiting that blessed day when they saved enough money from their part time job to get an actual paint job.   How sad that generations won't know that kind of fun!!!!    O.K., yeah, so now the girls get to tool around town with their BBF's in way nicer cars, but those cars lack a certain je ne sais qua, and I will take it a step further and say that I think a lot of the guys lack that certain something also.  


I remember the first time I went on a date with a guy in High School and he had his own car.   It was a primed Chevy Chevelle and it was all black inside.   He had that great scruffy look to him that's since made a comeback in men's hairstyles the past few years.  He was just cool.   He wasn't a big talker(that was my department!) but when he did speak; he was clever and funny and he always looked at me while he was driving...totally engaged in our conversation and punctuating the end of his sentences with a lingering gaze and a sparkle in his eye.   And all the while.....he was shifting.  And all the while, his hand was close to my leg...shifting....and it sent chills up my spine.  


We went to a drive-in movie that night.   Drive-ins......oh man.   What a great place to hang out!   I thought he was going to put the moves on me that night....but he didn't.  He held my hand, which was then and still is for me today, a very erotic sensation.   He drove me home...loud muffler and all...at midnight.  The whole neighborhood knew I made curfew.....there was no damn doubt!!!!   


The picture above is the color of my first car.   Same color landau roof, but mine was in mint condition...just like the picture of the Monte Carlo in the left sidebar.    It was an automatic, but that was cool because I didn't learn how to drive a stick until 1989 when I was in the Air Force in the Philippines.  


OMG...I can't stress how much power this car had.   It was solid.  It was metal.   Remember metal?  They used to make cars out of it?   lol.    I'm sure I could've sideswiped a brick building back then and not have suffered any dents to the body.   It ran tight.  Smooth.  Quiet.  You just brushed by the gas pedal...and you were off.   I used to take the car to visit my girlfriend in college in Virginia and loved having it on the open highway...blow that carbon out baby!!!!   It was cool and I was totally rocking it out...stylin' behind the wheel. 


The other day I was driving home from work and what to my wondering eyes should appear....????   An unbelievably and totally restored 1976 Monte Carlo.  In the same color as mine...landau roof and all.   I made a U-E and pulled into the parking lot to take a look at it.    I figured the guy who owned the store, owned the car and I had half a mind to go in and ask him to show me the inside of his car, but thought that might not sound right.  lol.  I know myself and I knew I was so excited over seeing this car and over wanting to see the inside and under the hood that I would come off like some screaming teenage girl waiting for the Beatles to step foot (feet?) on US soil.....all giddy, excited, screaming and I might even start crying with joy!    I opted instead to be satisfied with the amazing visual experience and to leave it at that. 


It wasn't all sunshine and puppy dogs and kitty cats and candy canes and lemon drops with that car...there were a few troubling episodes that I suffered as a result of my lover car.


One day, while driving down the road, and for no reason whatsoever, my hood flew up.  I know it sounds incredibly awesome....but....it wasn't.  Trust me.  Scared the bejesus out of me.  It was like someone had blindfolded me.   I pulled over slightly...as I couldn't tell if there was a ditch there or not and came to a stop.    I went to have the latch looked at, but it was fine.   To this day, that incident remains shrouded in mystery.  


One night, on my way home from work, and while travelling at about 30 mph, I made a slight turn to the right to go down a side street and as I banked to the left, my back right wheel flew off.   The car swerved hard....and I came to an immediate stop...as I heard what sounded like metal scraping on the pavement.   I got out and a family, walking along the sidewalk, who all looked as if they'd seen a ghost, silently pointed to my wheel.....which was in the middle of the road quite a number of feet back.  I had to get it out of there so no one would hit it rounding the curve with no time to see it.   


When I came upon the wheel, I noticed that it wasn't just the wheel which had flown off, but the wheel was still on the rim.   But it looked weird and I was in such shock and trying to get it out of there quickly that I reached down and grabbed the sheared edges of the rim......and I burned my hand and arm.   It was hot metal...and upon closer examination, I saw it was still smoking a bit.    I ran over to the car and saw that the axle was on the ground.   The whole wheel, rim and all, had bore itself, somehow, through the lug nuts.


The father of the family walking along the road (the family almost hurt by my hurled tire)helped me to get the tire in my trunk.  I drove about 100 feet to the entrance of my apartment complex on my axle.....sparks flying....and talk about chalk on a blackboard?....the awful sound it made was off the charts and I could see people running to their windows to see what was going on.  


Anyway, I loved that car.  It taught me a lesson or two about life... which I now and then try to remember.  I loved that car, there was no doubt about that.   But, it didn't always behave the way I wanted it to.   It wasn't always the most reliable thing on four wheels when it pulled stunts like hoods flying up and wheels shooting off...it made me want to drive it off a cliff.   We worked it out though.   We made it through.   My love never changed, but it moved from total infatuation (in the beginning) through various stages until we got to the point where we settled in on what would be the norm........a fine running, sturdy vehicle and the woman who loved to drive it.


I miss that era when men were men, women were women and cars were cars.  Whatever the hell that means.....but I think you  get the idea!     It was a hot time to be a teenager with a driver's license!!


to be continued.....

Surface Level and Beyond

When it comes to music, it seems sort of hack to say "I like a wide array of music"  or "My taste in music is very eclectic".    But.....I do, and it is.    So, call me hack!


Even though I enjoy listening to Top 40 at times...maybe while I'm power walking along the beach or vacuuming the house or mowing the lawn;  it's all just surface enjoyment or something akin to small talk with a stranger in line at the grocery store.    It's what I listen to when I just want to have something on in the background...something with a steady beat...something to keep me on pace.    Nothing more.  Nothing less.   It fills the gaps...sort of like a candy bar in between meals; nothing but empty calories!


Then, there are those times when I like to sit down and actually absorb some really good music...something akin to engaging in an actual, full-out conversation with another human being or sitting down to eat a satisfying meal...things which are meaningful and memorable.


I do a lot of driving in my work and I do a lot of sitting down in front of a computer.   Music is ALWAYS on in my life.     While sitting at a traffic light the other day, a Top 40 song came on.  I started tapping out the beat on the steering wheel, when I suddenly "heard" what I was listening to.   And I said to myself, and I quote:  "what is this crap?"    Most of the tunes I'd heard prior to that one...all sounded the same and they were all sung (such as it was...using high tech wizardry to enhance or distort the voices)...by "singers".  These were not musicians. 


The type of stuff I really enjoy listening to is the type of stuff constructed by musicians.   The type of stuff that is written and performed by the artist and not by someone else.    The type of stuff that originates from the mind and the heart.  The type of stuff where the person singing might actually be able to pick up an instrument and play it because they know how to read music and everything!


I feel the same way about relationships.   There are those I engage in with others and it's really nothing more than my candy bar between meals.   Empty calories.   A total lack of substance, but fun and exciting and pleasurable nonetheless.    I can't subsist on those sort of connections though and after a while, I not only want more; I need more.  I want to sit down to a feast (conversationally speaking, of course) with one or more persons and enjoy course after course presented before us.  Lingering over everything.  Paying attention to everything.  Noticing the nuances in everything. Enjoying and being enjoyed.


My Point?  I'm not here to delve into hot, sexy, surface-level-only topics.   There will be some of that...some of those candy bars between meals, but my ultimate intention is to go beyond the surface level and to plumb the depths.  To set a table and invite you to come and feast on each course that's presented.   I think you'll find me a sensual person, yes, and I count that dimension of my life to be extremely important, but it's not the only aspect of who I am.    It's just one of my many parts.  Just one.   It does permeate most of what I do, because I want it to.  I have cultivated myself that way.   I like being a woman and I like projecting my sensuality because without it; I think I would be nothing more than an androgynous creature(more on that at a later time).  Yuck!


Next up, I'll try to awaken your palate with an interesting appetizer or two.


Bring your appetite, as my momma taught me how to cook for a crowd!!