Rescued to Begin Again

November of 2005 was a very tough time for me.  I was newly divorced; still recovering from a series of botched back surgeries the year before which left me suffering from very painful disabilities; struggling to work despite back problems; and in addition to my two children, ages 9 and 5, I had custody of my 11 year old sister, and was keeping my two nephews, ages 1 and 4 several days a week.  Every day was a struggle, but we were managing.

I awoke Friday, November 11^th, Veterans Day, and got the children ready and off to school.  My nephews were at my aunt’s that morning so it was only my children and my baby sister.  Not having to be at work for a couple more hours, I went back to bed.  A short while later I stirred, feeling disoriented thinking I was dreaming, hearing faint shouts “is anyone in there?”  As I opened my eyes, a ray of sunshine came through the room from the side of the window blinds and the air seemed to be swirling similar to a road horizon on a hot day.  I again heard what sounded like shouting in the distance and got up and walked to my closed bedroom door, still feeling hazy and unsure if I was awake or dreaming. 

When I opened the door, I realized I was not only awake, but in serious trouble.  As the door opened, scorching heat singed the hair on my face and arms, thick black smoke filled the room, making it impossible to see.  No longer disoriented, I frantically pushed to door to.  Coughing violently, eyes burning and watering, I dropped to my hands and knees searching for something to put over my face.  I couldn’t get out my bedroom door so I felt for the windows.  I’d only been in the house a short time and had never opened the windows in my bedroom.  It wasn’t until this moment, feeling blindly in the thick, black smoke, that I became aware that the windows were painted shut and I couldn’t get either window open.  On top of being painted shut, I knew the windows had metal framing through them.  Raw panic filled me. 

I again dropped to my knees and crawled to my bathroom, turning on the shower, telling myself I’d rather die from smoke inhalation than burning in flames.  It was getting very hot, and I was trapped.  I returned to the room, searching for something to break the window, when I heard shouting outside and began yelling and banging on a window.

The voices outside told me to get back while the window was being broke.  In what seemed like an instant, the window was broke and I was pulled from the window, landing on my feet outside the window, where I stood facing my neighbors, Bruce Moody and Chip Girndt.  It was as if I was completely weightless and my neighbors needed only guide me through the smoke and out the extremely high window; my feet naturally finding the ground upon my exit.  I believe God flew me out that window.

I was escorted to the road across the street from the house, wearing only a night shirt and panties…no shoes, no pants, no bra.  While neighbors dressed me on the streets, I watched as everything I owned was consumed by flames.  Bicycles under the carport caught fire and melted together like some type of abstract sculpture.  Flames escaped from every window and under the roof.  I realized at that moment, every picture of every memory was gone and that I no longer owned a single pair of shoes, or even one bra…everything I owned was being destroyed as I watched helplessly. When I looked to the window I’d been pulled out of only minutes before, I saw flames coming from it and realized how close I’d come to dying that day. Thankfully, the children were safe and I was alive!

My boss and his wife arrived and transported me to the hospital to be evaluated for smoke inhalation injury.  In those first few moments, fear and uncertainty were almost unbearable. I was a single mother with no home for my children, no bed for them to call their own.  Everything we owned was gone…their toys, pictures, trophies, awards, clothes…everything.  Then something started happening that changed what I was feeling from fear and panic, to gratitude and optimism, and which taught me a great deal about family and community.

As I sat in the emergency room, people began gathering.  My preacher, good friends, children’s father, aunt…then my office manager came with $1500.00 in gift certificates to a local clothing store which had been donated to my family.  I later went back to the house with my children to thank the my heroic neighbors.

Over the next few weeks, I received what can only be described as a miraculous outpouring of support from the community as a whole.  Within just a few short weeks, I had found a house, and had received enough donations to move in and begin again.  Wayne McMichael created a website for my family, where the community could track what I needed and what had been donated.  Citizens in the community could look at the website and see if they had any items I still needed they could donate such as beds, chairs, dressers, etc.  I might not have had the best of everything we had, but I had the basics of everything we needed. 

Over the next couple months a healing began, and I realized that in a strange way, I’d been given a clean slate…a fresh start.  Most of the material possessions I’d had carried memories of a life I no longer led or a dream that hadn’t come true.  What I now had carried memories of a generous and supportive community of family and friends who’d pulled together to help my children and I in our time of greatest need.  I realized how great God was during this time, how truly fortunate we were for each day we had together, and how every day was precious and deserved to be lived.  I learned how to love, trust, and laugh again.

When I think of this time in my life, a phrase always comes to mind; “You must first experience the deepest and darkest of valleys to fully appreciate the view from the highest of peaks.”  As I sat on the street owning nothing but the shirt on my back watching everything go up in flames, that was a truly deep and dark valley, but I’ve seen the view from many high peaks since that time.  I’m eternally grateful to my Vann Street Heroes who saved not only me, but my children’s mother, and for all the views we’ve had since that day.

Memories I would not have had without you guys:

Bestiality…It’s No Longer Just Your Daughters You Have To Watch!

After a conversation with a friend which led to a Google search, I was surprised to see the number of news stories about bestiality arrests; people charged for having sex with everything from dogs, to hogs to horses and sheep.  What I want to know is how the heck this gets started.  I mean does it start with some young man watching the neighbor’s dog through the bedroom window, admiring it’s long hair, and how the light reflects off it as she moves?  What about the horse?  Is this the firmness of the butt that turns the man on?  The softness of the sheep’s fur?  Now the hog…nope, I got nothing.  I mean, a hog…really?  Who are these people?   

In one of the online news stories I read, an Albany, GA man is walking his dog, sees vacant mobile home and enters it with his dog.  Neighbors observe him breaking in (it’s always the neighbors), come to investigate and hear loud scream-type sounds.  The police arrive and catch the man in the act of engaging in “loud sexual activity with his dog”.  REALLY??  I mean, he couldn’t wait till he got home?  Who was doing the screaming?  Was the way she was shaking her butt as she walked just too much for him so he just had to have her right then?  Would his wife at home object so he had to sneak off with his bitch for some quality time?  Well, that was a stretch (him having a wife)…guy probably lives in mom’s basement.

A 62 year old Bainbridge man got busted jumping a fence to a stockyard and having sex with a pig.  I guess he liked a little more of a fight with his conquest.  No sit Boo Boo, sit for him!  Then again, maybe the man just likes squealers.

A Jersey cop got arrested for getting blow jobs from baby cows.  As there were no laws on the books against beastiality, the question was could they prosecute him under the cruelty to animals statute.  Charges were dropped because they couldn’t decide whether having the calves suck on something that wasn’t producing milk could be considered torment (I’m not making this crap up…link is below!)  They also said that that the cruelty to animals statute was dealing more with neglect, and that was not the case here.  Actually, the cop neglected to leave his penis in his pants and out of the mouth of the calf…the sick freak!

It’s everywhere, and you never know who it will be.  Could be you next door neighbor, or even your animal, as some farmers in Enumclaw, WA discovered.  A man went to the hospital seeking medical assistance for a companion then left.  The companion died of a perforated colon, secondary, as the police later discovered, to a sexual encounter with a horse.  During the course of the investigation, they found many videos of the deceased engaging in sexual intercourse with horses.  Police showed video tape to the neighbors who were shocked and appalled to see that not only had their neighbor been having sex with horses, but he was having sex with THEIR horse in THEIR barn.  That’s what they get for leaving the horse unsupervised and having such a nice pad for her.  It’s no longer just your daughters you got to watch out for!

In Sherborn, MA, a farmer reported having his barn broke into several times over the course of a year, prompting him to install surveillance cameras.  What they recorded was not what he expected to see.  Between 3 and 4 a.m. on the night of June 27, an 18 year old boy grabbed a sheep by its back legs, drug it to the back of its stall, removed his clothes (the boy’s not the sheeps) and had his way with the sheep.  Very Baaaaaad boy! 

He was later arrested and then released into the custody of his parents.  Could you imagine being this kid’s parents?  I mean it’s one thing for people to say “watch your daughters around that boy”, but for the neighbors to be watching their dogs, cats, sheep, hamsters…I mean, doesn’t get much more embarrassing than that.  They see your son walking down the street, and protectively grab their pets and rush inside.  Yeah…I don’t envy them.  I bet the parents are wishing they’d been a little more thorough in their birds and the bees discussions now!

With this epidemic of beastiality on the rise, more and more states are putting laws on the books to protect the helpless farm animals from the perverts and sexual deviants of society, I guess we parents and educators need to start doing our part as well.  No longer can we just tell our children where babies come from and how to protect themselves from STDs.  We now must expand our facts of life discussions to include: “it is not acceptable to have sex with your furry friends or farm animals, and no…gerbils don’t like tight, dark and moist places.”

Resources:

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002384648_farm16m.html

http://www.metrowestdailynews.com/x1578449844

http://www.cbs42.com/content/localnews/story/Sheriffs-office-says-man-busted-in-beastiality/ccpC9AysAUaEsvw_QCWeiw.cspx

http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-10-29-tn-beastiality-law_N.htm

http://www.walb.com/story/4643441/bainbridge-man-charged-with-bestiality?nav=5kZQ&redirected=true

http://theerant.yuku.com/topic/24302

http://www.walb.com/story/13311868/colquitt-co-man-charged-with-bestiality?redirected=true

Babysitting…Grooming Your Future Stepmother For Dad's Midlife Crisis

I’ve heard guys joking around for as long as I can remember, saying things like, “old enough to bleed, old enough to breed” or “old enough to bleed, old enough for me”.  The first thought that has always come to mind…pedophile…but I just chalked it off to guys being pigs.  As I’ve gotten older, I’m beginning to think there really is some truth to those sayings in the mind set of some middle age men. 

As a mother of a teenage daughter, I am becoming increasingly more disgusted with the pedophiliac nature of this class of middle age men in crisis.  It makes me puke in my mouth to see them dating girls about the same age as their daughters.  Of course they’re flawless…they’ve not yet been infected with that body changing condition that has a life-form clawing and kicking trying desperately to escape for nine months…known as pregnancy…nor have they’ve not been alive long enough or had boobs long enough for gravity to take its toll. I then find myself wondering what they would do if their daughter started dating one of their friends?

I’m sure there are advantages to dating a girl the same age as your daughter.  They’d have so much in common…same taste in music, same style clothes, similar friends, parents the same age…I mean the list goes on and on.  I can just see dad introducing the girlfriend to his daughter.  “Honey, I’d like you to meet your new sister/mom.  I think you’ll really like her!”  Then imagine the kinds of conversations they could have:  Daughter: “Remember that year we went to church camp and Nathan was there.  He’s so sexy!” Girlfriend: “You’re dad is sexy, and amazing in bed!” Daughter: “Is your dad single?  Maybe you can introduce us and we can double date.”   I’m not sure these men should go introducing the girlfriend to their sons just yet or they might be competition!

Buy a sports car or motorcycle; start hitting the gym or change your style of dress or hairstyle to be younger and more “hip”; abandon your families and trade your woman in for a younger model; throw away your careers and party away all your money...just don’t think we’re all jealous of you.  It’s not jealousy, it’s repulsion.  Had you started dating the same girl a few years ago, you’d have been jailed for child molestation, and labeled a pedophile for life.  To the teenage daughters, be nice to the girls you babysit…you could be grooming your future stepmother for your dad’s midlife crisis.

The Invisible Booby Bandit

Saturday morning, after a late night out with friends, I awoke needing to take a girlfriend to work.  Having slept only in a tank top and panties, I changed into a t-shirt and jogging pants (no bra as I was merely driving and dropping her off) and went to pick her up.  After dropping her off at work and getting back to the house, I felt something pull from under my boob.  Having long hair which sheds terribly, I at first thought it was a hair, but when I went to remove the irritant, I instead found found gum…chewed and sticky gum, all over the underside of my boob and half way down my tummy.  What the hell?

I go to the bathroom, lift up my shirt and examine my gum painted torso wondering how the hell that happened.  I mean, obviously I must have fallen asleep with gum in my mouth, but with the amount of hair I have, surely it would have fallen into my hair, been all over the bed, or on the OUTSIDE of the tank top I slept in…but no…it was all over my left boob and upper tummy.  I checked the bed and found no gum, I turned the tank top inside out and still found no gum.  How the hell did this happen?  I mean, it’s not every day you wake up with green sticky boobs…well, at least not for me. 

As the day progressed, I just couldn’t get this oddity out of my mind.  I’m still completely perplexed.  The only possible explanation is that I was visited in my sleep by the Invisible Booby Bandit, who had left his mark.  The least he could have done is wake me up and let me enjoy the experience!

Pressure Cookers and Men

Saturday, I spent time with fabulous conversationalists, gluttonously drinking and eating my way into a hangover and bigger dress size.  We were talking about all sorts of topics, from food to penises (strange how talking about one thing you put in your mouth leads to the other).  As we ate great food, we discussed recipes and cooking methods, and with cooler weather approaching we talked about stews and soups. 

I used to swear by my crock-pot, thinking it was the best thing since running water and indoor toilets.  The thing that made a crock-pot so incredible was the ability to throw all the ingredients together before leaving for work and returning home with the house smelling as though there was a gourmet chef in my kitchen preparing dinner for me (pretty pathetic, I know, but hey…I’m single).  However, there’ve always been two flaws with this method; [1] It requires advance planning and forethought (both of which I suck balls at), and [2] It must be done in the morning BEFORE work (and I’m like Godzilla in the mornings, only not as good looking).  However, in order to get the full blending of flavors and the desired textures of my soups and stews, the early morning sacrifice had to be made…until I discovered the pressure cooker.

A few years ago, I purchased a pressure cooker, and realized that I could cook in an hour what had previously taken all day.  My crock-pot has been collecting dust since.  So back to Saturday.  I’m discussing all this with my friends and explaining how incredibly awesome a pressure cooker is, when the only husband in the conversation starts telling a pressure cooker horror story.  He asks, “Have you ever seen a pressure cooker blow?”  He then shares a story about his mother using a pressure cooker which blew it’s top so forcefully, barely missing her head, that it put a hole in the ceiling.  To hear my non-pressure-cooking friends talk, I might as well be cooking with a time bomb which was bound to blow eventually, and take half my face when it did. 

After a couple similar stories about the dangers, and me bragging about how safe and reliable mine is, we ladies decided that pressure cookers are like men.  Most are safe, albeit a little exciting because you know they COULD be dangerous.  With a little care and attention they’re usually harmless, but occasionally you get one that flips its lid for no apparent reason.  Usually, however, one only flips its lid from major neglect or pure stupidity on the part of the operator (even the pressure cooker is telling the woman it’s her fault).  Finally, when they do blow, they can do serious damage and cause bodily harm.

So a couple days ago, craving some fresh boiled peanuts but having limited time in which to cook some, I break out the pressure cooker to once again work its magic.   When the release began its bobbing and the steam started whistling, I found myself thinking back to the weekend’s conversation and laughed aloud when I realized I’d now even given my pressure cooker nuts!

The Penis Epiphany

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Sometimes...There's Just Not Enough Coffee!

I awoke this morning to the most horrific sound…my phone’s alarm. It was fortunate for the alarm that it was on my phone, for in that first waking moment nothing would have given me more pleasure than to throw the source of the wake-me-from-a-sound-sleep-ruin-a-good-dream noise maker out the window, onto the concrete drive, and watch it shatter in a million pieces! 

However, since I NEED my phone, I had only the image of destruction I’d created in my mind to draw satisfaction from.  I cross the house, cursing myself for not having gone to bed earlier as I’d told myself to over and over again last night.  I get to my son’s door, which is hanging half off the hinges (don’t even ask), push the door to, and in the sweetest possible way I could muster, I scream, “WAKE YOUR LAZY ASS UP!!”  (Just joking, but I was so grumpy that the thought crossed my mind.)  I realized at that moment that the best thing I could do for both of us, would be to get him up and go lay back down for half an hour…try and find the right side of the bed to get up on.

I awake the second time to Marshall coming in to kiss me goodbye as he heads off for the bus. Realizing that I can put off the day no more, I get dressed and head out the door for the 25 minute drive that would take me to my prison cell of the day.  About half way there, my phone rings.  The number on the caller ID I quickly recognize as my son’s school, but upon answering it, realize I have almost no reception and can make out little more from my son than he needs another shirt.  I must now turn around and go BACK to Vidalia to bring my son a new shirt, and I realize that I don’t have a clue what he was wearing in the first place (I know, I should be nominated for mom of the year).  When I got back in range of the towers, I called the school asking to speak to Marshall, but am transferred instead to the principal, who informs me that it is picture day, and my 5^th grade son is wearing a shirt that says, “Grab a butt and pinch”.  WHAT??? Where did that COMPLETELY inappropriate shirt even come from and how come I’ve never seen it?  I mean, surely it would look much better on me!

I deliver the shirt, and head off to work for the second time this morning, already late, only to hit every single red light in town.  It’s then that I realize I had not been successful in finding the right side of the bed to get up on.  At one light I was stopped next to a funky painted Crown Victoria, jacked up on ridiculously large tires, with the radio bumping so loudly my car shook from the bass, and I couldn’t hear my own radio.  I shot the driver a dirty look, to which he was completely oblivious as he slumped to one side, moving to the obnoxiously loud music like some basketball player bobble-head toy.  At another light, I notice the very heavy young woman in the car next to me with her hand down her shirt frantically scratching her right boob, and can’t help but associate it to the likeness of Al Bundy with his hand down his pants.

I finally make it out of town and go to pass a truck while there is an available passing lane.  The old man in the truck speeds up to faster than I wish to go so I crank up the radio and set the cruise control.  No sooner than the passing lane ends, the man lets off the gas and slows to an infuriating 45 mph (in a 55).  I’m now late for work, stuck behind a man going well below the stated speed limit, oncoming traffic spaced out perfectly to prevent me from passing, and at that moment, I experienced shear road rage, cursing loudly for no one to hear but me.

I could sure use another cup of coffee!  Whew…if the morning’s been like this…what adventures will the rest of the day bring?  To this I just say…bring it!

The Factory's Closed But the Playground Is Open!

Boredom got the better of me at about 9:30 last night, so I decided to go shoot a couple games of pool.  I take a shower and head to a favored local establishment.  Upon arriving at the establishment, I see a gentleman at the tables I’ve played with for years, shooting against an unknown man.  I lay some quarters on the table and wait my turn.  A couple games in, I go to the bar for a beer.   The owner is behind the bar, which is never a real good thing. I place my order and wait…and wait…and wait.  I finally get his attention for a second time and ask about that beer.  That’s when it happens.  He leans in and says, “I thought you were pregnant.”  WHAT!!!

Normal people probably would have been offended or asked where he heard that from, or a multitude of other questions and emotions.  Me…no.  Without missing a beat, I say simply, “Honey, while I’ve kept the playground open, I closed the factory many years ago.” 

For all that know me, that comment wouldn’t be a shocker, or even a small surprise, but an expected degree of smartassism I tend to be notorious for; however, I did mention there was an unknown man playing at the table.  I commence to playing pool with my new pool playing partner, who’s game is seriously suffering.  I little while later, he just can’t contain it anymore and tells me how wrong it was to make that comment around a single man.  He just couldn’t concentrate on the table knowing there was an open playground right next to it!

I guess I have discovered a new and very effective pool playing strategy.

The Female Sex Drive and Viagra for Women

Ever since the breakthrough that brought many men’s sex lives back to life, women have been asking, “Where’s my magic blue pill?”  In response, researchers at pharmaceutical companies have spent the past decade trying to find the magic formula to end their sexual dysfunction and improve sexual desire, arousal and satisfaction in women. 

There are now all sorts of products on the market targeting these women, but the FDA still has not approved the female “Viagra” equivalent.  Why?  Because with men, it’s a physical issue.  Rub a man’s penis, the blood flow increases, the penis enlarges and it gets hard.  Rub it long enough, and ejaculation occurs.  It’s a simple matter.  Women…not so simple.

Women have different plumbing all around, and different stimulants that make that plumbing flow!  Unless you can create a pill that not only increases the blood flow and libido, but also improves hormonal balance, intensifies sexual stimulation and orgasm, AND makes the men we’d be making love to more attentive and apt to care whether or not we’re getting what we want and need while we’re having sex, there just isn’t going to be a magic-fix-all pill.  I mean, if they could come up with a pill that makes you grow a mini man to make love to yourself, including the foreplay that mentally stimulates a women, they might be on to something!  However, I have a strong feeling the men in our lives would strongly object.

Let’s face it.  Jeff Foxworthy was on to something when he said men were simple creatures…they want a beer and wanna see something naked.  Men are visual creatures, and tend to be aroused by what they SEE.  Just watch a man’s reaction to a good looking woman in a low cut top.  Women are mentally and physically stimulated.  We tend to be aroused by what we FEEL.  Not just feel with our bodies, but feel with our minds, and the two are inseparably linked.  We need the emotional connection, to feel like we’re being pampered, adored or loved by our partners.  When we feel that intellectual/emotional stimulation, the physical stimulation is heightened and the desire, arousal and intensity is increased.  A little attention with a woman goes a long way in increasing libido and sex drive.  There’s no pill for that.

However, I think I’ve got the answer for the women who suffer from merely lack of arousal.  Find the hormone in 30-40 something year old women who are in their sexual peak, mass produce and prescribe it to women with sexual dysfunction, and gone is the lack of libido.  I know this from personal experience.   No amount of attention, drug, tequila, or any other substance known to mankind could come close to the increase in libido brought on by this surge of hormones rushing through the body of a woman in her peak.  I once told a friend, I completely understand why dogs in heat rubbed their butts on fence posts.  As a single woman, waking up in the middle of the night without a sexual outlet can be positively maddening.  I’m sure pharmaceutical companies would have no shortage of women willing to donate some of their surging hormones for those less fortunate.   I’ll be the first one!

Emotionally Unavailable Men

With the divorce rate so high, there is a higher number than ever of 30-40 something divorcees, all in the pursuit of love, in one form or another.  The need for skin to skin contact, and emotional intimacy keeps me in the pursuit of love.  What I have found repeatedly along my journey is the emotionally unavailable man.  He comes from a variety of social and economic backgrounds; from law enforcement, to professionals, from white collared to blue, from ugly and fat to fit and good-looking, but make no mistake, he is the same man, just wearing a different disguise and set of circumstances.

The “woe is me, I’ve been hurt so I won’t risk it wall”, that is so impenetrable; has been skillfully and painstakingly crafted over years of failed marriages and relationships, abandoned dreams, and disappointments, make finding a functional relationship almost impossible. 

Another thing that just kills me about this emotionally available man, is a hobby they all seem to share.  Video Games.  The “lets tune out the real world that’s hurt me so, and zone into my fantasy world where I am all powerful and people (the other emotionally stunted individuals playing the same game for the same reasons) respect and admire my skills” mentality.  This becomes an addiction or an obsession, and the real people in their lives can’t compete to the fantasy world to which they escape.  Women, beware of this man, as you could rub your boobs all over his face and offer all sorts of sexual favors, resulting only in getting him irritated that you are obstructing his view! 

Then there’s the man that must always have his buddies/playmates around.  No private conversation will ever be private because you’re NEVER alone.  He lives so fast that you’ve got to constantly be on the chase if you hope to catch up.  Forget a thriving sex life with this man…heaven forbid he’d have to separate from his buddies long enough to play with you.

This has me thinking.  I need to create a self help manual for these emotionally unavailable men.  I’d break it down into sections as follows:

1.       At our age, in the singles market, we’ve ALL been hurt and had our hearts yanked from our chest and jammed up our asshole.  If you’re not married to your soul mate, and you’ve never had your heart broken it’s for one of two reasons.  You’re either a complete prick that breaks the hearts of those who love you, or you’re a narcissistic bastard…either way…next.

2.       I’m not the one that hurt you (if I did, I’m probably sorry about it), and I don’t deserve to be punished because some other woman did you wrong.

3.       Life goes on.  Get the hell over it and move on. 

4.       Contrary to what you seem to believe, you do not look sexy with that big head set on your head, and killing the enemy using your thumb and forefinger on a remote control doesn’t make you look like a God to the woman who’s being forced to watch you.

5.       If you can’t separate from your buddies long enough to get laid, have you considered I might not have the equipment you REALLY want?  Maybe it’s time you re-explore your sexuality!

I think it would be a best seller.  I’d be the next Opra (OK…maybe that’s stretching it a little).  Maybe a little more Chelsea Handler, but with better hair.  I’ll get to work on that tomorrow…tonight, it’s girls night.

Jumping In Taxi's With Midget Strangers. Reposted in Honor of Cowboy.

I love to laugh at the stupid things I do, but this time, I'm laughing at someone close to me (with permission of course).  A female friend and I were out on the town.  There was pool, dancing, and of course, tequila!  She had been out since fairly early, and I met up with her later in the evening.  By the time I got there, she could have done a bud light commercial with the "I love you, man" attitude.  She met me at the door and practically dragged me across the club and over to the bar, where she was sitting with a group.  I had talked to her on the phone and she had told me that there was the sexiest guy there and I had to come and see him.  It wasn't until I saw him that I realized just how intoxicated she was!  He was some sort of middle eastern man in serious need of a shave.  He looked like he probably groomed his face with a pair of dull school scissors, and had never even seen a razor, with scraggly hair coming out of a baseball cap.  I was WAY too sober for that so I needed to do some catching up, and quick! 

I ordered a drink and set off to see who was there that I needed to say hello to.  After making a couple rounds and exchanging pleasantries with the familiar faces, I ordered another drink and headed back to my friend.  Another male friend of mine was there and we asked him to join her and I, as well as Mr. NOT sexy for a game of teams pool.  However, all the pool tables were full so we had to put some quarters on a table and wait.  Luckily for my female friend, there was a pretty good looking man playing at a table and she got to play him when he won.  Mr. NOT sexy soon faded into the background for a more appropriate target. 

The rest of the night went pretty well and we had a lot of fun.  I was talking with a couple of the band members just before getting ready to leave when I noticed that my friend was nowhere in site.  I began looking for her, and found my male friend coming in from outside.  When I asked him if he'd seen her, he told me that she just left in a cab with some guy...but not Mr. NOT sexy nor Mr. pretty good looking.  I was baffled, and she didn't have her cell phone.  Not having a clue where she went or who she went with, I had no choice but to head home without her.  Because my car got too drunk to drive, I got a ride to my house with the promise that he'd come back and get me the next morning to pick it up.  I missed a phone call at about 4:30 this morning and when I attempted to call back the number, I got the front desk of a hotel.  At least I knew where she was, but not knowing who she was with meant I couldn't find her.

When I finally did see my friend this morning, she had bruises all over and a HUGE hicky on her neck (actually more like her jawbone).  I asked who she left with and she said, "I didn't have a clue.  I thought you and I were leaving, walked out, saw a cab, and assumed it was there for us!  It didn't occur to me that I hadn't called a cab or that you weren't with me until about 4 this morning, and then I didn't have a clue where I was or who I was with, only that he could f*** like a mad man!"  She then commented on the bruises and said "sometimes lovin don't feel like it should, oh baby...hurts so good" and that she finally understood that song.  I tell you all this because it leads up to the funny part.  A little while later, my male friend comes to get me and take me to my car, and she rides with us.  We are all cutting up about where she went, how she got there and her extremely large jawbone hicky, as well as how she had to ask him what his name was this morning.  We get to talking about me looking for her and him telling me that she got into a taxi with a guy.  She says "I guess once I start drinking I just think the whole world should cater to me.  I was ready to leave, I walked outside, and there was a taxi...just for me."  I said, "it even came with party favors!"  My female friend was surprised my male friend had seen her leave, and that's when he drops the best part.  He says "Yea, I saw you leave with that five foot nothing midget!"  Now my female friend is the same height as me.  We are both borderline amazonian height women, and if you've read my blog, Size Matters, you will completely understand why I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to pee on myself.  So we spent the rest of the ride with the two of them negotiating between whether her party favor the night before was 5'0 or more like 5'6.  They finally compromised somewhere around 5'4 or 5'5. I could do nothing but laugh and blink the tears out of my eyes! 

Even funnier is that my friend has a 4 year old daughter who is obsessed with midgets, and will sometimes, out of the blue say, "Mama...I love midgets".  So after we get the car and get back to my house, while examining her bruised up self, her daughter hears us saying something about midgets and excitedly says "I LOVE midgets!!!" to which my friend looks at me and says "After last night, so do I!"  I guess tequila helped another 2 and 10 become a 10 and 2!

Gotta Love It!

I absolutely love this new era of social networking.  How else could you, with one click of a button, get into so many people’s business, start problems in existing relationships, begin new ones, and have disputes that are more public than if they’d been had in the courthouse square?  Don’t like someone…want someone else not to like someone?  Post it on Facebook and within minutes, everyone knows why.  Gone are the days when you had to worry about getting punched in the jaw for what you said about someone, no matter how malicious or untrue what you say is.  They’d have to find you first.  So go ahead, light the drama torch!  Flirt with your best friend’s husband or your husband’s best friend…tired of your man, start fishing for someone else’s!  I mean, what are they gonna do…send you a threatening e-mail?

Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3

The Quarterback's Bitch...A Sports Commentary.

I absolutely love spending time with intelligent people who are good conversationalists.  Last night, I was blessed to be around two such fabulous individuals.  I was at a good friends house visiting, when one of his friends came over.  We were having great conversation on a lot of different topics, so I'm really not sure how this topic came up, but I knew as soon as the question was asked, that I'd be writing about it today.

Both these men are really big guys, well over six feet tall.  The subject of football came up and my good friend asks my new friend, "Man, if you had a son, would you want him being a center?"  I must admit, I wasn't sure which position he was talking about when my new friend answered, "Hell, no!"  Then they proceeded to talk about how the center is bent over every play while the quarterback reaches his hands between the center's legs.  The only thing separating the quarterback's hands from the center's nuts being the cup he wears.  I am saying this very tamely, as it was a very animated discussion with my good friend making demonstrative gestures to further his point.  I then piped in and said, "If I ever decide to play football and the quarterback is good looking, that's the position I'd want to play!"  That's when it hit me...the center is the quarterback's bitch!

We were rolling laughing at this crude thought, when my new friend suddenly got serious and says, "You know, man...I've NEVER even thought about that, but you're right.  I'd want my son being a head hunter, not having some man behind him rubbing his balls every play!"  As you can well imagine, especially those of you who know me personally---I was blinking back tears, I was laughing so hard!

This discussion went on for a while, and then went to even greater depths and I had to ask my new friend, who is a black man in his late 20s, if it would be worse if the quarterback was white.  At first, he denied it (with overted eyes), saying that it wouldn't matter, but when my good friend called him on it, he reluctantly agreed that if his strapping son had some weasley little white quarterback bent over him, sticking his hands between his legs..."Hell, yea, that would be worse!"

The funny twist to this story is that the center calls plays and is often the brains of the operation...further proof that the center is the quarterback's bitch!  Us bitches usually do have the brains!

DISCLAIMER:   I understand that the center is a vital and important position that requires skill and intelligence.  I also understand that I am probably offending at least one player on every football team.  However, rather than getting your panties in a wrinkle, wear your new bitch title with pride and say, "Thank you for noticing!" (Then ask for a HUGE raise or to switch positions.)  Personally, I envy the centers and am thinking of trying out for the San Diego Chargers if it would mean that I'd get to have Phillip Rivers between my legs!

Boob Jobs

In an attempt to be glamorous and beautiful in a society that holds up super models and actresses that don't even look real as the standard, women have become obsessed with fad diets, spa treatments, artificial hair color and plastic surgery.  One of the most popular body sculpting surgeries for women my age is breast implants or "boob jobs".  Me personally...I'm all natural, baby!  However, I know many women who've had them.  Two of my best friends in California had boob jobs many years ago, and it really helped them with their self-esteem.  What kills me, though, is when a man buys a woman a pair of boobs, and then gets upset because she wants to show them off.  Hell, when I got my belly button pierced, I wanted to show everyone.  If I paid thousands of dollars for a pair of beautiful new boobs after being flat chested all my life...damn straight I'd be showing those puppies off!  Give a girl a new pair of boobs and a couple shots of tequila...sorry guys...but the shirt is coming up and everyone will be admiring the doctor's handy work.

When discussing this subject with a friend, I was reminded of a funny incident that took place last year.  I went and spent two weeks visiting my friends and family in San Diego.  I stayed with one of my large breasted friends, and one evening we compared boobs...size, texture, asthetic appeal, etc.  She had her implants above the muscle.  Our other friend had hers under the muscle, so we had to compare hers too.  Normal girl stuff.  It was a regular boob fest!  I found myself wondering if men sit around comparing each other's penis'.  "That's a mighty fine penis, Fred.  Too bad it doesn't have a slight curve upward like mine...women really dig the curvature man! Check it out."

Later that night, we all went out on the town.  (There are pictures of this night out on my profile.)  We have our high school foursome back together for the first time in many years...and we were looking for trouble!  Two of them are married and two of us are single, but the husbands have been around since high school and were smart enough to just sit back and enjoy the ride.  It was like we were teenagers all over again.  We talked about the crazy days of our youth, the crazier days of recent years, and had a great time.  Tequila was pouring, and as the night went on, we all were feeling no pain!  By the time we were headed back home, the girl I was staying with was beyond drunk and began talking about how much she loved her "fucking faggot" husband.  She went on to say that the best thing about being married to someone for so long is that you can call him a "fucking faggot" and him know she was kidding and not get mad.  She must have called him that 50 times during the ride home, before passing out.  I knew that she would remember nothing of it.

The next morning, or should I say afternoon, by the time she rolled out of bed with a serious hangover, her husband and I decided to have a little fun with her.  I started walking around the house, calling her husband a "fucking faggot" intead of his name.  She heard this a couple times before asking me why I kept calling him such a name.  I said, "You don't remember?"  She was clueless and didn't even remember leaving the bar.  Even better for me!  I looked at her husband, winked, and said, "You mean you don't remember flashing your boobs to the bartender for a free drink at last call?"  Her answer was priceless...not a "No I didn't", or "I wouldn't do that"...but instead, she responds by squeezing her eyes shut and slumping her shoulders, saying "Oh, no!  I'm not supposed to do that.  Now I'm going to be in trouble, and am gonna have to give him [her husband] a blow job!" 

Moral of the story...don't buy your woman a pair of new boobs if you don't want everyone to see them!

If You Have An Erection Lasting More Than 4 Hours

There are so many products on the market for erectile dysfunction and male enhancement.  Viagra, Cialis, and Levitra seem to be the leaders in helping the man with a not so stiff stiffy, feel like a steel rod again.  Then you've got the medications geared toward helping the man with a micropenis hear something other than, "is it in yet?"  For male enhancement, the top 5 choices, as reported and reviewed on www.howtoenhance.com are 1) SizePro, 2) VigRx Plus, 3) ProSolution, 4) Volumn Pills, and 5) Maxaman.  Who comes up with these names?

SizePro claims that it will increase erection size up to thirty percent and improve hardness instantly.  VigRx claims that their product is "designed to give the largest and longest lasting erection". ProSolution claims that it will give you stronger erections and a boosted libido. Volumn Pills says only, "provides great sexual performance and pleasure" and "it has been proven very effective, and it will be effective for you". Maxaman, on the other hand says, "Maxaman will make your penis gain both in length and girth. With use, new erectile tissue is developed, leading to a permanent gain. Maxaman can lead to up to a 6 inch growth in penis length. The advances made by Maxaman have made this growth irreversible.

What I want to know is can you mix them?  I mean, what if I want a man with the longest lasting erection, a boosted libido and a 6 inch growth in penis length?  I'll take VigRx, ProSolution and Maxaman please!  I mean, we take different medications for different types of pain...what about taking different medications for different types of pleasure?  Surely the biggest penis and longest lasting erection in the world wouldn't do us women any good if the man is like, "No thanks...I've got a headache."  So surely we want increased libido with the increased penis size and longer lasting erection.  I also want to know who tests these products?  Do they post adds in the classifieds? 

Help Wanted...testers needed for study on penis functionality and enhancement for experimental medication.  If you do not have a partner, one will be provided for you.  Must be willing to be observed and studied by team of doctor's and scientists.  If your partner is good looking, must be willing to allow her to participate with others in the study.  If your partner is not good looking, you will be separated so as not to negatively effect the study, and we will make a special project out of you! 

I mean, really?  And then, who signs up?  I want to know how it has been "proven effective"?  Is it because they give it to some guy and ask him to fill out a survey...maybe give one to his partner?  What kind of scientific proof would that be?  I want hard evidence...pardon the pun!

Then there is my absolute favorite warning on television today...contact your doctor if you have an errection lasting for than four hours.  Well, duh!  And your mother, father, grandmother, best friend, dentist, neighbor and all your old girlfriends!  I could just see some college student calling all his frat brothers, "Hey man, come check this shit out!"  Honestly...that seems like a challenge to young guys to use the drug recreationally. Hahaha...I guess the whole point of the drug is recreational, but I mean without having erectile disfunction. 

I really wish they'd come up with a pill, while they are at it, that would instantly make a man know how to use his regenerated, or enhanced penis.  That way, when us women meet the perfect man, who ends up having a limp micropenis, we fix it with a Viagra and Maxaman, and then give him InstaRomeo and BAM!!! He's a keeper!

As for the, "if you have an erection lasting more than four hours...", hell, after you call your doctor...Call Me!

Size Matters

I have heard phrases like "size doesn't matter", "quality not quantity", "it's not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean", etc., etc.  However...I'm here to tell you, size matters!  In all things, size matters.  If you're hungry, do you want a little Crystal burger, or do you want a Whopper?  If it's cold, do you want a thin jacket or a thick down jacket?  Same goes for body types.  I am 5'7".  Not a small woman.  My normal weight (yes, guys, I'm actually going to tell it) is between 145 and 150.  When I wear a pair of conservative heels, I stand 5'10", and I like to wear heels.  Why do I tell you all this?  Because, no matter how bluntly I say it, I can not seem to make men understand that if I'm taller than them, or weigh almost as much or more than them, I am just not attracted to them, no matter how handsome or easy on the eyes they are.  So let's evalute size and how it matters.

Look at the women you see on TV.  The supermodels and the movie stars.  Most of the women that are considered hot and sexy, or beautiful.  How many men look at a 250 lb woman and think, "Wow...I'd like to take her home with me tonight."  Even if the woman is pretty and a great person, the weight is still an issue.  Weight is size, and size matters.  Bust size--Some men like small breasted women, some prefer large...but once again, size matters.  Butts are another area of attraction.  I've seen some of the most beautiful woman have self esteem issues because they have a big butt, or lack much butt at all.  I've heard men say, "she'd be hot if her butt wasn't so big" or "she's got great legs, but no butt"...once again, size matters. 

One thing I've always found funny is the common sight of an obese woman with a bone skinny man.  I've found myself wondering how that works.  Maybe what they say about skinny men having extremely large unmentionables is correct and it takes that extremely large unmentionable to reach past the obesity.  I hope I'll never know for sure.  I also can't help but notice when a 6'5" man is dancing with a 5' nothing woman, and wonder how they fit together...I guess they don't like kissing during sex.  Same goes for the very tall woman and the extremely short man.  Black men with white women, and the opposite.  All of these are oddities to me, but to each their own.

Me personally, I prefer a man with a little extra meat on his bones, to one who is all bones.  I like my men big...not obese, but not thin.  I like them white.  I like to feel like he could carry me if I was hurt, or sweep me off my feet in a moment of passion (and I've already stated, I'm not a little woman).  I'm sorry, but I don't want to feel like I could carry him to the bedroom!  Size matters.  Speaking of the bedroom.  If I was about to be intimate with a man and he unveiled something that looked like it should be attached to an elephant instead of a man, I'd envision my organs falling out when I got up afterwards, and I'd run fast.  However, if my first thought is that a toddler would wear it better and it should be covered up with a diaper, it isn't going to work for me. Size matters.  Good "motion of the ocean", and a willingness to compensate for the insufficiency can only go so far, because without the right tools, you just can't do the job right...sorry, guys...SIZE MATTERS!

What I find to be very funny about this virtual world we live in where we meet people first online, and then progress to personal relationships, is how exaggerated people's stats are.  Almost every man online is 6', and they all have 8" penis'.  No wonder women's sense of measurement and depth perceptions are so off!  When we meet these guys and they are only 5'8" with a 3" penis, we're all confused!  I guess everything is bigger in internet inches!  Once again...size matters.

So, this should be my personals add:  I'm looking for a genuine, honest man, with a good heart, who knows how to treat a lady.  Must enjoy the outdoors, but like nights on the town too.  Must love children, as my children are part of the package.  He must be hardworking, dependable, loyal and faithful to the ones he loves.  Must believe in God and be willing to attend church with me at least occasionally.  Must be affectionate and give great back rubs.  Must be over 5'10" in actual measurements and not internet inches, and be reasonably well endowed. Must be a gentleman in the daytime and and an animal at night. If you meet all the above requirements and are under 190 lbs...gain some weight!  SIZE MATTERS!