Friday, August 29, 2008

Caffeine Orgasm

I believe the single-cup coffee machine is one of the the greatest inventions of all time.

I have the coffee curse. I can't make a pot to save my life. I always get the measurements wrong, either the water or the grounds. I can have someone standing next to me, coaching my actions step by step and it still comes out undrinkable. The result is a substance resembling thick, gritty paste or dirty water.

The single-cup machine makes it perfect every time. You pull the little shelf out, stick the pod in, push the shelf back in and press the button. A little whirling noise and that beautiful stream of caffeine heaven pours out into your cup. I have decided that this process is very similar to masturbation. You always achieve perfection every time and you can do it by yourself.

My addiction to coffee has been passed down from my mother. She must have a cup within 5-10 minutes of waking. She doesn't resemble a human until the first half of the cup has been drained. I can manage until I get to the office. This is probably because I'm too cheap to buy a cup on the way. I'm probably the only person around that doesn't foam at the mouth at the thought of Dunkin Donuts. I think their coffee tastes terrible. One day I calculated that I spent over $15.00 a week on take out coffee that I really wasn't happy with. Now, we have that perfect little machine tucked in the breakroom.

A good cup of coffee is ectasy. You hold the hot mug in both hands and lift it towards your face. The steam tickles your noise and teases its way across your lips. Have you ever noticed that you breathe in just before you sip a drink? It brings the taste of the coffee over your tongue. That first sip of a fresh cup is pure bliss. Like a fine wine, I let it sit on my tongue, savouring the flavor and the heat. Upon swallowing, I can feel the heat move down my body, under my breasts and curl up in my stomach.

Well, I'm off to have my third orgasm....I mean cup..... of the day.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Long Live the UPS & FedEx

I'm obsessed with our UPS and FedEx guys.

There is nothing better than a man in uniform who brings you gifts on a daily basis. Better yet, these men are in amazing shape from jumping in and out of their trucks, lugging big boxes of freight and climbing flight upon flight of stairs to reach their destination. Granted, most of the time I'm not happy to get half of the packages; contracts, notices, gigantic boxes of office supplies. But, these guys could drop a pile of manure on my desk and I would bat my eyes and give a flirtatious smile the would make Scarlett O'Hara proud.

I have a private office that is nowhere near the front of the building. The FedEx guy knows this, bypasses the reception area and brings the package directly too me. He's only here for a split second, but its a wonderful moment in time. The legs on this man would make a triathlete green with envy and don't even get me started on his ass. Those shorts fit so snug....oh the agony!

The UPS guy does the same exact thing.

There is something about a man in uniform. During their civilian time, they walk among us as mere mortals. But as soon as they slip into that matching shirt and shorts, they become gods. A guy can look completely ordinary in street clothes. Someone that you may not glance at more than once. Dress him in a FedEx uniform and I will swoon at his feet. I've almost run off the road gawking at the mountain bike cops; another souce of uniform splender! Why they ever took the show Pacific Blue of the air is a mystery to me.

Don't even get me started on the men in the armed forces. Whenever TH and I attend a NASCAR race, I always find an excuse to meander by the Army recruitment tent. Clean cut, incredibly fit men, wearing camouflage fatigues with combat boots. I'm getting flushed just writing about it! I've told TH that if he ever dressed up in any sort of military outfit, there would be some serious bedroom antics in his future.

No wonder male strippers often dress as cops or some other uniformed profession. I've realized that receptionists have all the fun. They get to see these guys all the time. I'm lucky that my guys come find me. But, I have to wonder....what other uniformed visitors am I missing sitting in a private office? My mid afternoon fantasy often starts like this: The FedEx guy drops my package on the desk. Asks me to sign that computer thing. Then, he locks those dreamy eyes on me, slowly leans over my desk and whispers in my ear, "How would you like to see my package" I know it's cliche, but when you're stressed out to the max for 10 hours straight, cliche is all I've got. It's sad that I would probably not even notice this man wearing ordinary clothes. But, in a matching shirt and top, carrying a overnight letter he becomes the object of my fantasy. George Clooneys of the world be warned!

Fancy Pants loves to make fun of my glazed expression as I longingly watch them from my office window. It makes me sad to think that soon it will be Fall and the weather will be getting colder. That means no more shorts, no more checking out the amazing calves on the beautiful men who walk into this office every day.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Don't Knock it Until You Try It

Why does every heterosexual man think every heterosexual women is a closet lesbian?

According to the overstimulated animals I know, if I ingest enough alcohol I will forget my current taste in men and start making out with a random woman while all the men I know watch. Apparently, this will take place a bar, the random woman and I will both be scantily clad and quite possibly covered in flavored oils that we will start licking off each other.

Let's break this down:

Alcohol: The last time I consumed the mind numbing amount of booze required for me to forget who I was, I puked all over my shoes. There is nothing sexy about that. And I was royally pissed I ruined the shoes.

Current taste in men: I like men and I married one. While I'm sure he would love it if I brought someone home, it's just not gonna happen. (Sorry Big K)

Random Woman: When I was single, I didn't even make out with random guys. Okay...maybe one or two.

Men Watching: No No and NOOOOOO!!!!

At at Bar: I do frequent the occasional bar.

Scantily Clad: I can't remember the last time I went out in just a thong and pasties.

Flavored Oil: I find wearing flavored oils while out at the bar to be a bit sticky.

Licking: I'm not licking anything off a "random" anyone!

So, I have destroyed that fantasy. But, 2 guys I know cannot be swayed. They are totally convinced that this could happen. I told them that I'm not against the whole concept, it's just not my thing. It's a matter of taste. Everyone has a different appetite.

One of them told me, "You can't knock it until you've tried it. You should always try new things before making a decision."

I turned right around, looked him square in the eye and said "Likewise."

Well, that statement came as quite a shock. Me - 1 Them - 0 !!!! I won that conversation. I guess this fun little theory doesn't work both ways.

If I had the urge to explore this side of my sexuality, I would come clean. I admit that I had a fantastic dream about Pamela Anderson once....okay, twice. Sure, the thought has crossed my mind. But, it was quickly replaced with the image of Michael Phelps.....shirtless or Orlando Bloom waiting for me in the shower....naked or Christian Bale lying on the beach glistening with oil....naked.

Don't get me wrong, I've had offers. Woman, couples....I've been propositioned. I've just never felt the urge....even with alcoholic assistance.

Sorry guys. I will continue to pretend that this is something I would consider....just for you. But, you first!

Friday, August 22, 2008

Adjusting the Package

"Men have a brain and a penis, but only enough blood to use one at a time" - Robin Williams.

When men aren't touching other men in a "manly sportsman-like manner" they are always touching themselves. It wasn't until I was continuously around around a large bunch of men that I noticed how often this was occurring.

I'll be in the middle of a serious conversation with an associate and he casually reaches down, lightly jiggles it, all while talking and without missing a step. During a monthly meeting, I missed an entire 20 minutes due to watching another associate "flick" himself every 2-3 minutes or so. It was like a car crash. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it.

I thought I was going crazy. I needed to know why this was happening. What was with the constant grabbing, flicking, and jiggling? Were they checking to make sure it was still there? Aren't they embarrassed that they are essentially grabbing their balls in front of me? I usually require at least one date and a dinner before that turns me on.

I got a few really interesting answers:

Sometimes it sticks to your leg - That is just gross. First of all, what is making it stick? Second, you have just disclosed to me that you are not wearing any underwear.

It's a mannerism, like scratching your head - There are too many obvious jokes in this statement for me to list here.

Sometimes, when you're sitting things get bunched up down there - Okay, I can see this. In the rare occasion I decided to wear underwear, I have to make some adjustments now and then.

It's so big, I have to move it around alot to make it comfortable - Totally lying.

Sometimes it has a mind of it's own and moves unexpectedly - In other words, you have a gigantic boner and you're trying to hide it.

We're adjusting it like you adjust your bra strap - This makes no sense. We adjust our bra straps because they are digging into our sides or creeping down our arm.

It itches - Yes, I understand that may happen. But, if you are itching it 400 times a day you might want to make a trip to the drugstore. They make a cream for that.

Apparently, crotch grabbing is a big thing with superstitious Italian men. They do it to ward off evil or if they pass a funeral. They also grab it for good luck. Either way, they touch themselves ALOT. Public crotch grabbing was actually banned in Italy. It's pretty bad when a judge has to tell you to stop touching yourself in public.
My childhood friend, Josh claims that sometimes you have "Different Package Days". Some days, it's feels just really big. Some days, it doesn't feel like it's yours. (I still don't understand this one). And some times, you just don't feel well or it's cold out and it has shrunken up to the resemble a small nub. He suggested I purchase some "paraphernalia", stick it in my pants and see what it feels like. I'm all for experimentation, but that is pushing it.

Baseball players do it constantly. But, they're also sweating and wearing a cup. To my knowledge, I don't think any of my guys wear a cup to work.

I guess it's a comfort thing. Kids have a blanket or a stuffed animal to carry around for security. Men use their penis. I just wish that they wouldn't constantly use it in front of me.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

A Trip to Brazil

I never leave work at 5:00PM. There is just too much going on during the day for me to get everything done. For example, yesterday I spent 2 hours in the AM fixing Partner #3's laptop external modem and then 30 minutes in the afternoon trying to figure out why his speakers didn't work because he wanted to watch Youtube. Never mind the mountain of paperwork on my desk, website work or the 15 other associates who need tending to.

There are those rare moments when I do venture out....a concert, a Chamber event....and my standing appointment for a Brazilian bikini wax.

Every two weeks, at 5:30 PM, I am paying a young lady to pour lava hot wax on my private parts, cover it with a cloth, let it dry and then yank it off. The reason I feel that this is relevant to my blog, is that most of my guys know that this is happening.

In the rare occasion that I do leave "early" (READ: at 5 PM), I've probably told a few people what my agenda will be.....I'm going to a Bruins game, I'm meeting someone for drinks, I'm going to see the Police in concert (yes, I went twice this year). So, when I started leaving at 5 PM and not disclosing my location or just saying "I have an appointment" a few red flags went up.

Finally, someone asked me. And I told them exactly what I was doing. I wasn't going to lie. Now, they all know and aren't afraid to say anything about it. But, a few were curious...exactly what does happen when I'm there and why did I do it?

Well....I lie on a table, with my skirt around my waist while this adorable girl (a.k.a, the Queen of Pain, who is actually from Brazil), pours lava hot wax on me. We chat a bit and then she rips it off my skin with remarkable speed and finesse. The pain is unimaginable. If you want a tiny example, pull out one of the hairs from the inside of your thigh. Hurts, doesn't it? Now picture that times a million. I've been doing it for almost 3 years and it still makes my eyes water. Even worse, she is such a perfectionist that she will go after me with a pair of tweezers if the wax doesn't get all of it. The difference between a Bikini Wax and a Brazilian Wax is the Brazilian is takes off everything...and I do mean everything....front to back. I am bald. This girls knows me almost as well as my gynecologist.

When I mentioned that my waxer was a very pretty girl....and she really is gorgeous....the response I received was "That's hot". No! No! No! The only thing hot about the whole thing is the wax. There is nothing sexual about the whole experience. Well, maybe if you were in to S&M, but I'm not. It hurts! And it's maintenance. I'm so use to it now, it's like having my nails done.

Why do I do it? Well, after you get past the pain, a bit of swelling afterwards and the fear of a person going at your delicate lady parts with a pair of tweezers, it is awesome. You have heighten sensitivity and it feels really clean. Once you do it, you will keep on doing it, regardless of the pain.

So, as Surfer Dude once said, I'm off to have my Cooter Buffed today....and every one's gonna know about it. Word to the wise fellas, if you're not ready for an honest answer, don't ask the questions. I have nothing to hide!

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Medusa Update

I'm not sure if any of you care....but I have received some relief by way of a generously frosted carrot cake cupcake with cream cheese frosting. This tasty morsel was graciously provided by my new favorite associate who will forever be known at The Cupcake Man. This superior gentlemen was going out to get a bite and asked me if he could bring me anything. I jumped at the chance and FancyPants seconded the request...saying "she really needs something". When he returned with my prize, I immediately began licking the frosting, then bisected the top from the bottom, ate the bottom, then inhaled the entire top in just under 4 bites.

I actually feel so much better now. It is unbelievable what 3 million calories will do for a person. I relayed this information to FancyPants and I received this response..."Well thank God someone dealt with the issue" Apparently, I've not been as serene as I planned and have left a little of my "bitch" sneak through.

This is a little shout out to FancyPants for dealing with my bitchiness. You are my comrade-in-arms, my faithful companion and the best co-worker a gal could have! Thank you for putting up with my ranting and ramblings, my vulgar comments and my twisted mind. You allow me to be my insane self and do not shy away from my girly problems. Please don't ever leave me!

Here Comes Medusa

She's here. I could feel her nipping at my heels yesterday. Thoughts of her were in my head last Friday when I was tearing apart the office looking for a piece of chocolate or any kind of dessert item. My skirt was really tight yesterday and this morning I couldn't even zip up my favorite pants. I am moody, irritable, bloated, and ready to fly off the handle at any moment. Yes...ladies and's that time.

Men don't understand how if feels to turn into a raving lunatic for a few days every month. They make jokes, laugh and assume that any bitchy women is having PMS. Well, she probably is and you did something to piss her off. It could be anything. I sincerely hope that for the next 2 days, no one comes in my office to tell me that the copier/printer is out of paper. Ordinarily, that would cause me a bit of minor irritation. But, I smile as I get out of chair, walk around my desk, out my office door, down the hall, into the copy room, get out a ream of paper that just happens to be stored right next to the copier, open the tray, insert the paper, close the tray, smile again, and walk back to my office, around my desk, sit down in my chair and then try to figure out what the hell I was doing before I was interrupted by one of the same four guys that always seem to use the copier when it has one piece of paper left in it. The same four guys that I have given countless lessons on how to refill the paper. The same four guys that always manage to jam the copier with umpteen pieces of paper that I have to surgically remove while crawling around on the floor in a skirt and heels with my ass in the air.

God, help them if they do it today. I saw one of them heading towards my office this morning and felt a prickle up the back of my spine. But, he was just coming to say Good Morning. I felt bad immediately. I'm sure the first signs of a flesh melting stare had come over my face and I hope that it wasn't too obvious. He didn't make his fingers into the sign of a cross and run back to his office to loop garlic around his neck, so I must be in the clear.

I am usually a very patient person. You really have to work me over to get a rise out of me. But, not for these next few days. I recently read that deep breathing can help you in times of stress and high anxiety. Apparently, we don't breathe correctly and helping our brain receive more oxygen will make an event less stressful. If you watch a baby breathe, they inhale and take oxygen in as a "belly breath". Their entire stomach moves. I've tried this and it actually works. Sometimes when I'm a bit stressed, I turn my chair around and stare out the window, taking deep breaths. But, it doesn't work today. I tried and almost hyperventilated....and I can't breathe deep because my pants are so tight I'm afraid the button will pop off and launch itself across my office.

The only think that will save me (besides an exorcism) is something naughty to eat. Nothing makes me feel better than something sweet-salty-crunchy-chewy. I'm not a big fan of chocolate and my craving last week has me a bit concerned. I hope that I'm not evolving.

Please pray for the men in my office and that the copy machine doesn't run out of paper. Also, if someone could please drop off a cream cheese frosted cupcake from Fancy's in Osterville or some sweet potato fries from Persey's on Main Street in Hyannis to my office, I would be forever grateful. These are the two items I am craving at this moment. If you check back in five minutes, I'm sure I'll need something else.