Skins

New Guy has well over a decade on me and his hair is starting to go gray. I sometimes call him the silver fox. From this point forward I will affectionately refer to him as S&P, for salt and pepper.

We were over in Tampa this weekend for a friend’s birthday. We got back to the condo at 3:30 am and there was no way I was going to be able to go to sleep. Lucky for me there was a strip club four stop signs away. I told S&P I wouldn’t mind checking it out. And so, we were off again, headed to Skins.

Well, folks. I saw some things that night. Things I really wasn’t prepared for. At first, I eased into the new atmosphere by sitting a few rows back from the stage. The acrobatics these girls were doing on the pole were very impressive, indeed. I particularly enjoyed the part where 2 girls spun on the pole at once and then the little one on top stood on the thighs of the other one, as she circled the pole, parallel to the floor. It was like she was riding a surfboard, naked… kind of. Then they would spray down the pole with disinfectant and towel dry it for the next girl. There was vajay everywhere.

After I sat through 3 sets, I got a little braver and told S&P I would like to go sit up at the stage and give some cash to these girls. The problem was, they ripped their panties off so quickly there really was no place for me to PUT the money. The guy next to me had pressed a few singles up into this one stripper’s coin slot, but that was way over the top for me, this being my virginal experience with an all nude strip joint.

So, I found myself just throwing money on stage as they moved in ways that basically allowed me a thorough visual rectal exam. It was a lot to take in. A lot. Once they started opening up their orifices, there was a big switch in me and I started looking at things more clinically than sexually. I guess I associated what was going down with a trip to the gyno. Although looking back, that was NOTHING like my annual...

Duck!

I'm sure most of us have that person we dated where we felt like we dodged a bullet by ending things before they got too out of hand. Beyonce’s new song “The Best Thing I Never Had” reminds of a real pain in the ass that I couldn’t be happier to have not ended up with.

I found immediate chemistry with this person. I basically wanted to inhale his farts. He was very funny in a dry way and this girl loves a guy that makes her laugh. However, we fought like cats and dogs, over things like who said they were going to call who back first, what time we were supposed to meet, and all sorts of logistical stuff like that. And basically, it came down to I didn’t trust that bitch as far as I could throw him.

So, one Monday morning I stopped by after we had fought all weekend. We stood in his kitchen making up and making plans to have dinner that night, when he looked out he window, panicked, and pulled me to the floor with him.

"What the fuck?!?" I yelled.
"My ex girlfriend just pulled up," he explained.

Just then, the door bell rang and he whispered to just be quiet. I said, in a normal tone, "does she have a gun? Are you worried she is going to kill us?" I'm really not in the habit of sitting, hiding on floors, and was wondering if I should be scared.

Once she went back to her car to just wait for him to come out, he told me he had seen her over the weekend for a “closure dinner”. I asked, "did you tell her you were dating someone new?"

"Yes, she saw your toothbrush in the bathroom."
"Oh great, I'm sure she scrubbed the toilet real quick with it. I'll be sure to chuck that one."

Her even being in the house at all was completely sassy considering the affection he had been expressing for me at that point in time.

After 15 minutes of playing stake out, it was getting time for me to get to work. He told me to get to my car as fast as a could. I thought he was overreacting a little, but I guess he knew that little spit fire better then I did. He opened the door and got about 5 ft out into the yard when she hurled herself onto him, swinging like a champ.

"Who the fuck is that?!" She was screaming and punching. Watching her completely crazed on the front lawn, I was guessing she hadn’t fully accepted the new person in his life.

Wow, this guy had a type; she was 5 ft nothing, like me; brunette with brown eyes, like me; long hair pulled back in a bun, like me. Key difference: I’ve never been a fan of domestic violence. I drove away thinking they were perfect for each other.

I sent him to voice mail the next 80-plus times he called. He left some real doozies. My neighbors and I would have a few beers and listen to his messages and laugh at what a complete dick head he was.

Get away from there!

In one of my very early sexual escapades with New Guy, I stopped him mid-thrust to caution him about his hand placement. His fingers were wandering dangerously close to my purple starfish and my blood pressure was rising, so I warned him to stay away from my rear end. I told him that was off limits until further notice - he'd have to be my boyfriend to be poking around back there.

Well, things have progressed quickly and we have been spending lots of time together. He told me yesterday he would like to call me his girlfriend.

"Listen," I said. "I’ll be your girlfriend but I’m still not ready for any action to my back side. I need to be completely mentally prepared for such happenings."

I think he was puzzled that my mind immediately went to the dark place and assured me that my butt had nothing to do with us going steady. Way to turn a tender moment into scary visions of anal beads dancing through my head.

So, I reached out and shook his hand as we drove down the highway, agreeing on a rectified version of “rules and regulations according to me”.

Looks like I've got to come up with a new name for New Guy now that he's my boyfriend and all.

The Italian submarine

My buddy Ben and I were bellied up to the bar last weekend when a much older man stepped into the space right next to me. He ordered another beer and asked the bartender to reuse his glass. I turned to him and complimented him on reducing like that. I heart Mother Earth and had never thought to do that before.

Instead of talking about the environment, the conversation immediately changes to him telling me how beautiful I am and asking if Ben is my boyfriend. I say “yes” and Ben says “no” in unison. The older guy leans in, confused by the conflicting answer we have just supplied him. I give Ben the stank eye, grit my teeth and, under my breath, beg him to get this guy away from me. Ben basically feels like since I will not be sleeping with him, he shouldn’t have to perform any chivalrous actions, like defend my honor to this 60 year old.

"So is she your girlfriend or what?" he presses again.

"Yes she is."

I smiled and mouthed a "thank you" to Ben.

"How much?" the old dude asks.

And without skipping a beat, Ben starts a negotiation with this guy about what a night of passion with me might cost. I totally felt like Demi Moore and believe me, this was a very Indecent Proposal.

"Well that depends on what you are looking for. Lights on? That’s an extra $50 right there; that’s industry standard. Are you looking to video? Because that’s gonna cost you, too. What about a dutch oven? Really the possibilities are endless...are you interested in the Italian submarine?"

Old dude says, "whoa, whatever that is, it sounds fun."

Ben had just made it up - he is insanely quick witted like that. I sat there as these two guys discussed things that would just thrill my parents.

Finally, he told the old guy we had been fighting earlier and needed some alone time to try to patch things up. The would-be Robert Redford went on his way, but not before giving me the universal “call me” sign with his fingers to his pinky and thumb and giving a nice wink to Ben.

Things that make you go hmmmm

I had an unexpected stay at New Guy’s. I had my bathing suit on under my clothes and was kind of stressed about what I would sleep in. Call me crazy, but I have to be pass-out drunk to sleep naked. I like something between my cooter and the sheets. So, he tells me not to worry - he has a pair of underwear for me…

Then he pulls these out:

"They were a gag gift," he says.

Ummm…?

My mind starts racing about all the possible inside jokes that could be at the root of this gag:

Did some ex-girlfriend think he laid pipe like Clark Kent?
Did some chick tell him he threw her around like Super Man?
Had some woman finally figured out his kryptonite?

Like I said, call me crazy. Girlfriend needs to get out of her head. One thing I know for sure, his ass was never in these things. They were snug as a bug on me.

But seriously…why does he have Super Man undies?

Stage 5 Squirter

I was out having a few brewskies with a guy friend of mine this weekend and we got to talking about what we always talk about - a derivative of something sexual.

He was telling me about his first experience with a squirter (I am fascinated by the whole concept). Years ago, he was living over in Daytona with a few other guys. During Bike Week, one of the guys’ girlfriends brought a group of her friends over to party for the night. The couches were full and there were a few air mattresses full of bodies, as well.

A girl that had been particularly fond of him earlier in the evening surprised him with a visit to his bed when the lights went out. They hit it and she expelled a large amount of bodily fluid. Oh god, I am dry heaving just typing this.

In the morning, the girls all packed up to go - and his bed was still completely soaked. The second he heard the front door shut he started running through the house gathering all the guys.

"I had a squirter!! You have got to see this!!"

He was holding up the duvet and showing the 3 roommates the foot and a half wet-spot when the girl walked back in his room, her words stopping short as she said she forgot her purse. There he was, hands clenching and lifting a wet blanket, showing his trophy to a room full of men.

Suzie Soak the Sheets ran out of the house without saying a word. He shamelessly called her later to see if she would squirt him, I mean see him again. Needless to say, that was a lost cause.

Stupid boys.

Lost another bet...

Anybody who knows me, knows I always lose a bet. Believe me, you want to bet against me. I’d say my average is 9 times out of 10, me: wrong. It’s to the point now where I just offer up my left kidney, because I'm pretty sure nobody is willing to carve me up as part of their win.

The other night was no exception. I have listened to Jay-Z's and Kanye’s new album, Watch the Throne, at least 50 times thus far. In one of the songs, Niggas in Paris, there is a sample of dialogue between two guys. One says “I don't even know what that means.” And the other answers “Nobody knows what it means, but its provocative; it gets the people going.”

I thought for sure it was Seth Rogan. Just sounds like something funny he would say. New Guy says he is certain it is Will Ferrell. Well, nothing tickles my fancy like a good bet. So, we pondered over the stakes for quite some time and once we had each chosen our sexual favor for the win, he looked it up online. Sure enough, it’s a clip from the hilarious movie Blades of Glory, where Will Ferrell is that ice skating dude. God damn it!!!

“Looks like I’m meeting the rabbit!” he said, with a big smile.

My losing ensures him a private viewing of the rabbit and myself in action. I am definitely going to have to do some heavy drinking to loosen me up the night he decides to redeem his win.

Poo Anxiety

I had my first sleep over with the new guy. We planned for dinner Saturday night and then to head to the beach early Sunday morning. I was in full panic mode as Friday night came to an end. I was telling my friend about my morning routine and how a house guest really throws a wrench in it.

My intestines and I run a tight ship. Every morning before I even take my first sip of coffee, I need to poop. My place is little and there’s only 1 bathroom, which shares a wall with my bedroom. I feel like there is just no way to hide what’s going on in there.

My friend suggested sending him out to the grocery to pick up beach nibblies, providing me the privacy I needed. However, that was not conducive to the roll-out-of-bed-and-get-onto-the-road-quickly type of morning we had planned. So, with rumbling bowels and tiny beads of sweat forming on my forehead, I got into his car and we were off.

Public pooping is even scarier for me than doing so in my own home with a guest, but I couldn’t wait to get into a stall. I made a mad dash when we stopped for bagels and coffee, but another lady was right on my freakin' heels. I couldn’t drop a bomb and then have her walk in after I was done. So I just let her go in and I left. Surely once we got the beach I could go there. But alas, we met up with his friends on a stretch of beach with no bathrooms. Just a port-a-potty.

He got his surfboard and headed to the water and I got a napkin and willed myself to do the inevitable. On the 5 minute walk to the blue outhouse, I had a pep talk with my butt like no other - the effects of which were quickly diminished as soon as I stepped inside. Who was I kidding? There was no way on god’s green earth I was gonna drop a deuce into a huge bucket like that.

I had a hard time forming sentences the rest of the day as I was trying to be a conversationalist with him and his friends. All I wanted was to be home alone for five minutes with all my doors locked.

I snuck off at one point while the 3 of them were chatting back at the friend’s beach house. Late lunch was coming together and it was a perfect time to run inside to the upstairs bathroom and make it happen. But at that point, my poor bung was in a deep depression. Sunday was a long day.

Half a cookie

I was visiting a friend at her high rise downtown. She enticed me with promises of dinner and pot-cookies. After we finished a late dinner, we went to go pick up the guy with the cookies. He was looking to go to the clubs downtown and we figured we would save him the cab ride and get the goods quicker. Win-Win!

I ate a cookie right in his driveway, as his eyes bugged out of his head. He explained that he and all of his friends only do a half a cookie. I told him the last few times I had ingested food infused with weed it was pretty mild and I would be fine. Once we dropped him and his crew off on Orange Ave. I convinced my friend to share yet another cookie with me.

After about 23 minutes from my first chew I was tripping balls. My head had floated off of my body and I was easily able to see millions of stars and galaxies. My poor friend kept telling me her head felt huge and she could hardly hold it up. The next thing I knew, she literally melted off the couch and onto the floor. I lay down next to her, feeling very much responsible for getting us THIS stoned. My whole body was buzzing. I could feel my chest roaming through the lobby, 14 floors below.

“Come on, I'll put you to bed,” I said, trying to pull her up off the floor. It was like she was dead, except she was able to tell me, “Please just leave me. I can’t move." I knew we were going to be in this condition for a while. I got a body pillow so I wasn’t lying on the cold, hard tile floor. I woke up an hour later in a puddle of drool.

I switched the pillow around, pulling the dry part my knees where squeezing up to my head. Exactly an hour later I woke again with a wet knee. As out of my mind as I was, I knew that was an insane amount of drool to soak through my jeans and wet my leg like that. What the hell? So, I sat up and smelled the wet spot. It took me a minute to realize what I was dealing with: pee.

It seems her dog had pissed on the pillow at some point earlier in the evening and I took a nap in it. I started freaking out. "My God!! My face was just in your dog's piss!!" She just groaned something inaudible. Finally at 6 am she stirred and was able to make her way to her bed. She told me she felt so bad about the dog pee and that she wanted to cry for me when I told her what had happened but, she was completely unable to speak at that point.

It was a solid 24 hours before we were able to laugh about any part of the night before. That guy was right, though; half of a cookie is the perfect amount for a very fun night. I had many fun nights this summer on just half a cookie.

Drowning in your ocean

Seriously… when did it become ok to sing and or rap about pussy juice?

I came across what I consider to be a truly offensive and plain absurd song, in my humble opinion, a few nights ago. It is call “Wet the Bed”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOskd7Xsudk. You don’t have to listen/read for very long. You’ll get the idea very quickly. Although the Ludacris part further in does make me giggle.

But it wasn’t until I heard three songs in a row in the car last night that it became very clear to me that this has become a mainstream topic in many hip hop songs.

First Lil Wayne was talking about turning his girl in to a rainforest and he wants her to rain on his head; that’s what you call brain storming.

Then, Plies sang about giving a girl the nickname "Wet-Wet", because when they are finished she has messed up all the bed sets. Let me tell you what…if someone called me “Wet-Wet” I would punch them in the face.

And then somehow this awful song, complete with dripping faucet sounds, and which I totally thought was a joke the first time I heard it, has somehow made it to the radio airwaves. Is nothing sacred anymore?

Gyno 1

Really people, this is the best name you could come up with? I was driving over by Curry Ford the other day when this sign stopped me dead in my tracks. I had to turn the car around and snap a picture immediately.

I've spent much of my morning researching the company. Through this, perhaps I have helped them come up quicker in internet searches when people are looking for local, new construction or to have their place renovated, since I can't imagine anybody is searching by the name! I thought surely the owner's name would be Tom Gyno. But it doesn’t seem so. Then I thought, maybe they sell gynecological equipment. You know, reclining tables and speculums and such. But no. It just seems they are general contractors.

I couldn't bring myself to be an asshole and call to find out why in the world they chose to go with Gyno-1 as their company name. But I am pretty sure I am going to lose sleep over this tonight.

So, if anybody is in need of a major remodel, here you go:

www.gynoone.net

The new guy

I went out on a first date a few weeks ago. As we sat at the bar at Season’s 52 he asked me what I do for fun. I told him I had recently started to blog and loved having it as an avenue to write and express myself. Once we were both home he texted to say he had a great time and that he would like to read the blog and I should send him the link. I replied that there was no way in hell I wanted him reading this ever-so-telling information about me at this point in time, that he was not “blogworthy” yet.

He replied he understood and would patiently wait until I was ready to share. Two weeks later I hand selected the sugar scrub post and emailed it to him. I found that one to be non-incriminating. It had nothing to do with me being gasey or dry humping.

He referred to me as “Little Miss” in the next text message that day and told me not to worry, he wouldn’t tell my mom! (Which is a reference to me masturbating in grade school from a previous blog post). My heart sank. I knew I never told him the name of my blog. Apparently, he went all internet ninja on me and googled a line of text from the blog and voila had access to my last 20 plus posts. I was absolutely mortified. The new guy I am dating is so not the audience I am going for.

So this whole blog thing is a bit of a game changer here. I’m gonna have to try and keep my lips zipped through the first hour of conversation with new potentials. Me and my over sharing. Le sigh.

10 Deal Breakers

I have complied a list of things I find to be extreme turn-offs. The other day my girlfriend asked me if that guy wanting to wear my panties was a "deal breaker" and oddly enough, it wasn't. He wasn't a viable dating option for a myriad of other reasons. So wear my panties all you want... but here are some things I just can't deal with:

1. If you are missing any teeth. Let’s seriously take the money you were going to put down on dinner tonight and put that towards getting that grill taken care of.

2. If you have multiple cats. The fur, the cat food crumbs, the copious amounts of shit in the litter box, dirty paw prints from said box. One cat is more than enough.

3. If your car does not have A/C you are not taking me for a ride anywhere, especially in my bed. It’s fucking hot out. Get your shit in order.

4. If you have a mustache. It is imperative you have other facial hair, like a goatee in addition to that Chester Molester. How this look is making a come back with the hipsters I’ll never know.

5. If you pop your collar. Polo’s are a great look, classic and easy. But you look like a complete douche when you lift the collar. Don’t be hollerin' at me.

6. If you are a ginger. You and your fire crotch frighten me beyond words.I am bringing segregation back and you only get to do the nasty with other red heads.

7. If you wear skinny jeans. No man should wear skinny jeans. Ever. Nut huggers are hands down the single most unattractive thing I have ever seen on guys.

8. If you are shorter than me. If I think I have a chance at beating you up, my libido is non existent.

9. If you own transition lenses. The ones that turn into sunglasses when you step outside. I understand you are being practical. But you will never have sex with a woman under age 60. Trust me.

10. If you are not manscaping. Come on guys it is 2011. You need to be trimming that shit on the regular. I personally like it when you take an inch or two off the hair in your pits too.

Where shopping is a pleasure

Anybody remember this song from Sesame St.?

One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?

I went to Publix to get some fruit and veggies. Girlfriend likes to juice everyday, and I had run out of pretty much everything. There is always an end cap right near the produce section that is full of the most random items on clearance. I once got a pair of purse slippers off of this end cap. At the grocery store? Crazy but true.

This particular Sunday morning it was condoms and lube galore on sale. Every size, shape, color, and flavor you could imagine. Kind of progressive of you, Publix.

And so, I got a value pack of trusty Trojans and everything I needed to make a vitamin packed, super healthy beverage. On the way home I broke out into song, singing the very same song from my childhood. Oh how times have changed.

FB Friends

Am I the only person with stringent Facebook policies when dating someone new? My answer has been the same for the last hand full of guys that have asked, no, I do not want to be your friend. I do not want you seeing that picture of me splayed out on the sidewalk passed out drunk. I don’t know what you’ll think of the status update about how much I hate children. Or a plethora of other things that are all very much me, all true to my being, but seem less shocking once you get to know me better.

I’ll just go ahead and admit that if I were to accept your friend request I would read every single comment, going as far back as FB would let me. I am ashamed of how many times I have hit the "older post" tab. Then I will look at all your pictures, and will be on your page 8 times a day from that point forward. I am just not ready to commit that much of my time to you yet. I’ll want to know who that girl is and what the hell does that comment she left you even mean? How long ago was this picture taken of this broad kissing you on the cheek? Who was that you checked in with at Chili’s on Saturday night?

The comment could have been an inside joke from a co-worker, and the chick in the photo may have been your cousin, and you may have gone out for dinner with a girl from your kick ball team. But I’m certainly not going to ask because then you would know that I had been stalking you. So I will just dwell on these thoughts and they will fester inside. It will severely interfere with my ability to trust you and all you wanted was to be Facebook friends.

OR here’s a novel idea. I can talk to you and over time learn all about your friends, particularly the attractive female ones. I know my limitations. I am not generally a jealous person, especially when there is nothing to be jealous over. So getting to know you through your page is worlds away from the way it is supposed to be. It definitely takes some time before I’m willing to be your friend.