Inhale Deeply

A reader of my blog wrote to me the other day. He was extremely concerned about my well-being after reading I was taking prescription meds for funsies. Apparently, he thinks taking a pill to aid sleep or to calm one's nerves when having a chunk of your neck removed shows weakness. You should only consider taking such drugs if you are about to hurl yourself off the tallest building in your city.

I thought about him yesterday and wondered what he would think of me as they put the gas mask on me at the dentist for my 6 month cleaning. My last 2 visits at another dentist’s office have been horrifying. Like straight out of a horror movie horrifying. Scraping that was so loud and hard I swore the tooth was going to come right out of my jaw. The blood and pieces of flesh flooding my mouth were making my heart race and then I fainted at one point, the bright lamp over head proving too much heat. I was lying down already and, honestly, welcomed being unconscious for a while.

I do not need to go through that when there is perfectly good nitrous available to me for only $30 extra. And I didn’t feel high, per se, but I was feeling absolutely in love with my hygienist. I thought, as she flossed me, maybe she might like to come over for dinner sometime or perhaps go out for drinks, which I think in and of itself proves I was feeling pretty good.

I don’t remember much of our conversation but she talked to me the whole time. She explained she was going to “probe my gums” and then made a few off color jokes about probing in general. At one point she had me laughing so hard the hygienist across the hall stepped away from her patient, shot us a dirty look, and then shut her door. “Well, I guess she doesn’t want to come to this party” my hygienist said, causing me to laugh even harder. Then the dentist came in to see what all of the ruckus was about. I explained that I have a very hearty laugh and asked him to please not shut off the gas.

I’m kind of looking forward to spending an hour with Dianne again in June.

The gift that keeps on giving

I’m getting a new pussy for Christmas! No, not a kitten; I hate cats. I am not quite ready for vaginal rejuvenation either, having bore zero children thus far.

This holiday season I have been blessed with the gift of laser hair removal, zapping all my pubes into oblivion. I like it to be go-time all the time, just as much as the next 30-something in her sexual prime. However, shaving my muff daily has really become a drag, and God forbid I try to get a piece after anything more than 24 hours after my razor has traced over my lady parts. It reminds me of Sir-Mix-a-Lot "trying to get the friction on".

I would have been mortified in past years if any man in my life offered to treat me to a smooth beaver - What? Am I not running a tight enough ship down there? But, with age comes a comfortableness and grace that says: If you would like to A) shell out the cash; and B) save me the time in the shower, then, why yes! I'd love to have a stranger poke at my genitals, causing me a great deal of pain, as I inhale the scent of burning hair.

Sushi

During my recent trip to San Diego I was meeting S&P's mom for the first time. One day we were out sight seeing and she asks from the front seat, "Do you like sushi?"

"Yes, I could eat it everyday."

Then S&P interjects, "I like sushi, too, but I like Liz’s sushi best."

My jaw landed in my lap, and my eyes got a little teary. I give him the full on death look, wondering why in the world he would bring up something like this with his MOTHER!

She turns around and says, “Son, even I know what that means.”

And I sink even further into the back seat, completely humiliated. The car was silent except for his incessant giggling. Every time he opened his mouth, I pointed my finger and mouthed through my gritted teeth, “You better shut the fuck up!”

Soon we arrived at the look-out, where you can see a 360-degree view of the city. I tell S&P to get out of the car and quickly start walking away from the vehicle so his mother and stepfather do not hear the throw down that’s about to go down.

I gave him a quick one-two to each cheek with my open palm and said, "What the fuck was that?? What the fuck were you thinking, talking like that to your mother? I am so embarrassed."

My slap had not affected him at all, nor did my mortified outcry, and he was doubled over grabbing his sides, laughing so hard his face was soaked.

Once he caught his breath, he said, "Baby! On our second date I ate all your sushi. I didn’t realize it sounded like a pun until you went white and my mother turned around. I kept trying to explain myself back there, but it looked like you were about to punch me."

Well boy, did I feel like an asshole.

Anytime the plan is to share food, he ends up eating any portion that was supposed to be mine. I am trying to train him and some progress has been made. So, the whole him-eating-all-of-my-sushi thing has been a joke between us. But that is not where my mind, nor his mother’s, was that day.