Diving Down and Crotch Watching

Things are getting stale here on the Cape, but that's why I love it. After the last lost tourist has finally found the bridge and makes their way off this rock, the real party begins. The natives emerge after spending the entire summer slaving away at their resort jobs waiting on those ungrateful bastards or those of us that hibernate in our homes because we can't go out on the main roads or we will be stuck behind some fucking minivan full of people driving 15 mph because they can't seem to find the beach even though this place is a fucking peninsula and all you have to do is go north or south and you will hit water within 5 miles.

Damn that felt good. But, I digress. My intense hatred of tourists can wait for another post.

TH and I actually went out on a Saturday night. I'll give you a minute to recover from your surprise.

***********************

Better? Okay. It took me a few breaths to get through it as well.

TH is a die hard Van Halen fan. He had the biggest man-crush on Eddie Van Halen, believes he is a Rock God and we should all worship at his red, black and white splattered converse sneakers. When Van Halen decided to tour again this year with David Lee Roth I thought he was going to have a epic meltdown. We just HAD to go to both shows. I admit it, I dig Van Halen....but only if Sammy Hagar is singing. I think David Lee Roth is the disgusting. There is nothing worst that a guy in his 50's who thinks he's 30 and is still trying to bang all the young broads. What makes it worse is that they want it. Gross! The man's hair is so bleached that it's falling out of his receding hairline.

When we went to the concert I was relieve that Dave had cut his hair and invested in hair plugs. The show was fun for me; for TH it was a religious experience.

But that's not what we did on Saturday night. On Saturday we went and saw a Van Halen cover band called "Diver Down" (for those of you who are non-fans, Diver Down was the name of a Van Halen album). We have seen them many times before and it is an entertaining way to spend a Saturday night. They tour down here maybe once a year or so. TH and I have seen them a few time and have even met the band. They are a cool bunch of guys. We went and saw them at a biker bar many years ago and the guitarist protected me during a huge brawl. I thought it was cool that some Hell's Angel bouncer was going after some guy with a baseball bat. TH thought I was crazy that I thought the whole thing was cool. What can I say? I don't get out much. Bar fights interest me. I'm not quite sure what had gone down to make the crazy Hell's Angels guy so mad, but he was pissed. That was one of the more interesting Diver Down experiences. Saturdays show was in the entertainment section of a nice restaurant that is frequented by the 60+ crowd. No bar fights that night.

Yes, ladies and gentleman. That is a shirtless man wearing golden sequined snakeskin skintight pants and a ladies wig. The first time I saw it I nearly wet my pants I laughed so hard. But, his butt looks really nice.

David Lee Roth is played by a guy named Charlie. By day, Charlie is a clammer in Chatham here on the Cape. All his fishing buddies come to see him preform and they are a rowdy crowd. Charlie is actually really talented and sounds an awful lot like DLR. I just can't get over the fact that he is in spandex and a ladies wig. In fact, he has been having so much trouble finding these offensive outfits that the ladies are now offered $5.00 off per ticket if they donate their old spandex to him. I have an awesome pair of velvet leopard print that I'm never giving up. No way, no how.

This is Amos. He plays Eddie Van Halen. Amos is a from England and I think he is the most adorable little man. He's quite petite and comes up to my shoulder. When he's just hanging out talking to me I just want to pinch his cheeks he's so cute. But, when he's on stage shredding Eruption, I just want to tear his clothes off. There is nothing yummier than an awesome guitar player.

This is the drummer. I know absolutely nothing about him.

I couldn't get any pictures of the bass player. The drunken crowd had reached the front by that time and every picture I took from then on had 4-5 hands in it. These pictures were also taken with my camera phone. Thus the poor quality.

So the band is three quarters way into their set and the place is getting wild. I was the volunteered designated driver that night and TH was already feeling really good. Any minute, I was sure he would start doing this head bobbing dance move that is a combination of moderate headbanging and a seizure. When other people watch him dance and then look at me, I give them the "I know it's embarassing to watch, but I love this man" look. To be fully executed, this patented move requires 6-7 beers and he was well on his way. Being stone cold sober and surrounded by drunk buffoons, I had reached my Van Halen tolerance level earlier than usual and began my favorite game....people watching.

I had eyeballed a half circuit around the room and had made my way back to the stage again. Charlie was doing a fabulous cover of "Running the Devil" complete with DRL inspired moves. As he performed the signature move of "head thrown back, chest and pelvis jutted forward" I noticed something I hadn't seen during the first part of the show. Someone had forgotten to wear his skivvies underneath those skin tight pants and every pelvis jut was making the turtle pop out of the shell.

After that it was like a car accident. I couldn't tear my eyes away. In only a half a song (that's how much pelvis jutting is required) I was confident I could describe....with utter certainty....exact size and width. It was very chilly that night and a bit cold in the room so I'm gonna give him an extra inch out of kindness. This image still haunts my brain and not in a Wow-that-was-hot but in a Eewww-why-won't-this-vision-leave-my-head.

What is it with me and crotch watching? First it's the camel toe, now the turtle is out of the shell. REMINDER PEOPLE: Look in the mirror before you leave the house. Twist and turn to make sure nothing pops out or gets pinched. There are perverts like me on the street that see everything!

Beware of the Frontal Wedge

I have had some serious fashion faux pas in my day. I pegged my pants, I had those awful bangs, I did the thing where you pull your hair up in a ponytail to shave the very back of your head (the people who thought that up should be shot, I wore acid washed denim on denim, I had scrunchies, those rubber bracelets that Madonna made so very fashionable, lace fingertipless gloves, I crimped my hair, I wore dayglow everything and in high school my jeans were so tight I had to lie down to put them on and when I took them off the imprint of the stitching stayed on my thighs for hours!

When yoga pants became all the rage and I ran down to Old Navy to grab a few pairs. Not only did they look really comfortable but I could wear them out of the house without embarrassment. (I have been known to pick up pizza in my flannel jammies)

I grabbed a mountain of them in different colors and sizes. For some reason everything in Old Navy is in mutant size. A 10 fits a 14, a 6 fits a 3....It's a nice challenge. I had sizes 4-12. I figured something would work.

I grabbed a pair of black ones, smoothed them up over my hips and checked out my ass in the mirror. I always trying things on with my back to the mirror. I figure if my ass looks big there's no reason to look any further. There wouldn't be a chance in hell that I'd be purchasing them.

My butt looked good; perky and round. I was pleased. I checked out the side view next. I was sucking in a bit, but whatever. I'm usually sucking in any way. Okay, it was good there, too. I turned to the front to check out the rest and the breath I was holding let out like a "Whoosh" when I saw what was going on south of my bellybutton.

Heeeeellooooo Camel Toe!

You could see the perfect outline of my goodie box (Ha! I said box!). Nice!

I tried on size after size of those things and even when the waist as falling off me and the ass was sagging, but the outline of my lady bits came right through.

I stormed out of the store, furious but I'm also starting to freak out. (Remember my self-esteem issues, now). Was there something wrong with me? Have I suddenly developed a case of elephantitis in my Hoo Ha and no one had enlightened me? I've always received positive feedback in the Cooter region. I think the terms "VERY nice" and "Mmmm" were uttered more than once. Big K hadn't remarked on any changes and he spends a fair amount of time in that area.

What the hell was going on? I can wear skin tight biking shorts without a shadow of my naughty box coming through. Why couldn't I wear a pair of yoga pants?

I figured the only way I could get over this trauma was to buy least 2 pairs of new shoes. I knew that toe cleavage was acceptable. I stomped in to DSW and wandered the aisles, still kvetching about my honey pot when there infront of me was the most amazing pair of heels...in the hands of this stick figure wearing yoga pants. (Told ya they were in fashion). She had her back to me and her perfect derriere was clad in chocolate brown silk. I already hated her. She turned around and Heeeeelllooo Kitty.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who has to worry about her punani being on display. How on earth can someone wear something that shows off that? I would be so embarassed.

My Cage in Hell - A Office Slave Update

I haven't really complained about my coworkers lately, save for the extremely vocal Spanky who is now comfortably installed in an office just down the hall from mine and making more noises every day. His new phrase is, "You've gotta be kidding me" which is paired with an exasperated sigh, followed by some sort of grunt. This process is completed 6-7 times every 15 minutes. Fancy Pants and I have made a game of emailing pleas for help back and forth to each other. We're going insane.

Dusty McFly is on my shit list. Here is the reason why:

Sunday mornings are sacred. It is the day that Big K and I snuggle up and sleep in until whenever we want. Sometimes, I might bounce out of bed a bit early in the summer to bronze myself naked on the back porch with my book. Some days, I might put on Food Network and the dogs will jump on the bed to lay all over our feet. It's a day of rest and relaxation. So, imagine my surprise when my home phone rang at 10:30. I have a strict Do-no-call-me-before-noon-on-Sunday-or-I-will-hunt-you-down-and-kill-you policy that even my mother adheres to. Big K shot a hand out of the covers, grabbed the phone from his nightstand and tossed it towards me. With bleary eyes I read the number off the caller ID. It looked familiar, but in my sleepy haze, I couldn't place it. I answered with a grunt.

Person: "Hello? Can I speak to _______" Totally butchering my last name which is insanely long and impossible to pronounce.

Me: "Mmmmmmmhph. Speaking"

Person who turned out to be Dusty McFly: "Are you still in bed? It's 10:30"

Me: "MmHhh.....What do you want?"

Dusty McFly: "Partner 3 wants to know if you want anything from Starbucks? He told me to call you."

Me: "What?"

Dusty McFly: "I'm just kidding. I need you to tell me how to use the alarm code for the office building. I know you have already showed me, but I forget"

I rattled off the alarm procedure which is embedded in my mind and promptly hung up on him. I was pissed!!!

Big K was pissed too because his peaceful slumber had been disturbed. Now, I had to endure his long, drawn out speech on how I was so underpaid, I shouldn't deal with that shit, and there is no fucking reason that someone should be calling me on a weekend, especially a Sunday with mundane shit. That argument is all true, but I'm a big pussy.

I usually get calls on Saturdays from my guys. Partner 3 calls me every time he thinks of a new idea or if he breaks a nail. I'm use to it and I just deal. But, calling me on a Sunday.....at home....this was a deal breaker.

After listening to Big K drone on and on about the lack of respect they have for me ...blah..blah..blah...I walked down to the kitchen to check my cell. I figured if Dusty had tried my cell first, that might redeem him a bit. Nope! No missed call. He had just gone for my home number. He was a dead man.

Monday morning I dragged him into my office, sat him down and told him that the only reason he was to call me at home....on any day....was if he had a valuable appendage ripped off his body, if he was on fire, someone else was on fire, or if the office was on fire. Anything else should be forwarded to my cell. If I don't answer, leave a message. If I declare the request worthy of a response on my Sacred Day of Doing Nothing, I will return the call. These terms were non-negotiable and if not followed I would chop off his balls and keep them in a jar on my desk.

My Monday also consisted of being pissed off at one of the P's (that's one of the partners, but I don't want to identify because they sometimes read my blog. I'll just let them guess which one of them is wrecking my life this week) I sat in my office in a rage, staring out the window making a visual voodoo doll in my head and poking at it with pins. Sometime the P's step over the line just a hair and make my life a living hell with a "grand" new idea. This one is starting on Friday, makes more than I do and will complicate my life enormously.

Another P annoyed me by cancelling a meeting for the third time at 6pm as I'm preparing to walk out the door. Seriously folks, I had my coat on, the lights were off in my office and I was three feet from the front door. I had to go back to my office, switch everything on and make phone call after phone call to everyone involved. This was the third time I had done this and everyone was pissed. They never seem to remember that I'm just the messenger and the rotten P is the guy who cancelled.

I drove home listening to angry rock music, cursing the two P's. The third P is being sympathetic, but I'm still enraged.

"Hello...Help Wanted Ads? Do you know anyone who needs a really intelligent, extremely computer literate, very overqualified employee who has a fun personality, can deal with immense pressure but only wants to work in an all male environment? Please help me!"

I'm just kidding...but I'm still mad. P's....you need to give me some love....NOW!!!

Inquiring Minds

My day of randomness spurred some questions from my faithful reader Morvy. Since she was one of my first readers, I will entertain her questions post haste.

1. So, how exactly did you cut your tongue? I have absolutely no idea. I had alot of work done on my mouth at an early age. I had a mouth widener (this always invokes laughter and blowjob jokes. I will try to sustain) It was one of those nasty plates that they install on the roof of your mouth. My mother would crank it open more and more every week, widening my teeth. I also had graphed gum surgery on my lower teeth. They took gum from the top of my mouth and affixed it to the bottom below my front teeth. So with all those hands in my mouth and all the work being done, I'm betting someone slipped and forked my tongue. I discovered it in fourth grade and had many years of disgusting and horrifying my classmates. It's especially effective when I flip up my eyelids too.

2. Who on earth served you bologna with cottage cheese rolled into it as a child? On the weekends, my mother was always looking for the easy lunch. She would give us a plate with some bologna rolled up, some slices of cheese, sliced fruit and a scoop of cottage cheese. For some reason, I thought that the cottage cheese would taste good spread out on a piece of bologna and then rolled up. I'm weird like that.

3. The ear thing is kinda freaking me out. Like what part - the lobe or what? It is weird, I know. You know how kids have a blanket with the silky stuff on the edges and they rub that? I think that is where it started. I tend to rub TH's ears when they're cold or lukewarm. I like the whole thing and I just kind a rub it with my finger. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it. I'll do it to my sister sometimes too. I guess when I was growing up I did it to my brother all the time.

4. What is with women wanting to get a concealed carry permit? Did Diana get you started on that? She's trying to convince me I need one but I don't think that will fit in the diaper bag! Growing up I was always interested in crime drama's, mysteries etc. I started out reading the Bobbsey Twins, moved over to Nancy Drew and the to RL Stine. I have always wanted to work in the field of law. I worked in the records department of a local police station when I was in high school. I got my degree in Criminal Justice and even tested in the top 5% to enter one of the local police departments before I graduated. Unfortunately, I never went anywhere with it. There's just not that many opportunities around here. I still would like to get my permit. The best and easiest permit is to get is to carry concealed. That way it's easier to transport and use. I don't have a gun and really don't plan to anytime soon. I would like to get my permit because it's a good thing to have.

6. And why aren't you speaking to your brother or sister? Well, this is quite a story.... The reason I'm not speaking to my brother is that he is an asshole. He is self-centered, immature prick and makes everything about him. He ruined last Easter and Christmas for me by being a big jerk; making snide comments and showing off in obnoxious ways. My mother made me include him in my wedding party and in every picture he's in, he's making faces or poising so it's all about him. He ruined the all portrait pictures by doing this. I've just washed my hands of him.

My sister is a different story. She is a senior in college and last spring she asked TH and I if she could come live with us for the summer. The summer job market on Cape Cod is booming and she wanted to try it out. After long and careful consideration, TH and I decided that having her live in the house wasn't a really good idea. Our house isn't big enough to have three people walking around and not constantly bumping into each other. We're really private people and we both work hard. We like to have quiet privacy when we're home. (Even though TH's idea of relaxing is to turn the radio up to top volume and sit in the bathroom) It's tough to relax when there is someone always in the house. She's my sister and I wouldn't be able to treat her like a roommate. I would feel bad if I wasn't including her in stuff, if she walked in and we had just finished dinner I would have to make her a plate because I felt rude, etc. I would have ended up resenting her and that would have led to a fight three weeks into her stay.

Well....that answer did not sit well with her and she got her snit up. But, wait...it gets worse.

She was turning 21 in May and for 6 months we had been planning her birthday. I had been saving up and promised that I would take her and all her friends club hopping in Boston with a limo. That is what she wanted. It was going to be an uber expensive night, but she is my baby sister and I really wanted to make it special. As we counted down towards the big day, she began to get nervous that some of her friends wouldn't be able to come. They hadn't turned 21 yet. So, I told her that they all could come down to my house on the Cape and we would have a huge weekend long party. Sort of like an old fashion sleepover, but with tons of booze. We could go to Ptown during the day, go to this seedy 18 or older club in Hyannis at night and just have a great time. I would host the whole thing. She seemed interested in the idea and said she would think about it.

A week before her birthday, I called and asked her what the verdict was. I needed to make arrangements for the limo if we were going to Boston. If they were coming to the house, I needed to find activities to keep TH upstairs the entire weekend. She said said she had decided that she was just going to hang out at school with her friends and make it a low key night. I understood and told her she and I could do something special ourselves.

I found out later that she had gone to Boston nightclubbing with her friends and totally blew me off. It was her way of getting back at me for not letting her stay at our house that summer. I was so hurt.

She and I are barely speaking now. I saw her this past weekend at my grandmothers house and we kinda grunted at each other. I'm hoping that she's coming for Thanksgiving, but that's a toss up. Who knows. I've always wanted to have that real intimate sister relationship with her but she only seems to call me now when she wants something. We have a ten year age gap, so I'm attributing it to that.

My beloved Heather wanted to know why I don't have any self esteem. Well my love, I don't have a clue why. If you meet me, you will find me outgoing, loud and very friendly. I will talk to anyone about anything. I am accepting of everyone and will go to the ends of the earth to help someone in need. I have a self deprecating nature that works well for comedy. But everything that I say in jest is usually exactly the way that I feel. I am unsure of everything I do and say. It's awful! My goal is to be self-actualized by my 40th birthday. 9 years and counting....

Oh well, everyone needs something to overcome. I will prevail!

Awarding Random Stuff

I'm starting to thinking that Heather over at Keltic Kaos might have a bit of a blog crush on me. This is the second time she has given me an award. I'm lovin' her as well!!!



Anywhoo....I have to write some random stuff about myself. Not an easy task considering that I practice full disclosure here.

• I have a forked tongue. (Some how the tip of my tongue was cut and it has a tiny slice at the tip making a microscopic fork.)
• I am totally obsessed with Jessica Simpson and Pamela Anderson. Not to the point of lesbianism, but very close.
• I love cottage cheese rolled up in a slice of bologna. It's disgusting, I know. But, it reminds me of my childhood. I also put chips in my sandwiches, especially tuna fish.
• I use to be on the same gymnastic team with the original Pink Power Ranger
• I love watching NASCAR races and I'm a huge fan! Ask me about camber, wedge in/out or being loose is and I can give you full details.
• Football mystifies me.
• Growing up, I wanted to be a profiler in the FBI.
• I love having fires in the fireplace.
• I haven't shaved my legs in 4 days (Yeah winter!!!)
• When I was younger, I use to suck my thumb and rub other peoples ears. I quit the thumb sucking when I was nine, but I still do the ear thing. It drives Big K nuts when I do it to him while he's driving. I also do it to our dogs.
• I secretly watch Celebrity Rehab. It's like crack.
• I really hate the fact that TH never wants to do anything that I want to do.
• I am six shots away from getting my license to carry a gun concealed.
• I knit baby clothes for fun.
• I want to get a tiny tattoo of a sunflower on my back hip, but I'm a huge wimp.
• I don't have one shred of self esteem.
• I don't like peanut butter or chicken
• While I'm eating lunch at my desk, I sneak to Eonline.com and check out the celebs.
• I clench my fists when I'm mad
• If I'm not eating or drinking, I have gum in my mouth. I'm totally orally fixated
• I love quotes. I write them down everywhere, but can never remember them when I want to.
• I will hold a grudge forever
• I get incredibly, inhumanly annoyed if someone doesn't return my phone call.
• I am dying to be one of those people who has a huge vegetable garden.
• At this moment, I am not speaking to my brother nor my sister.

I am passing this on to:
Jen @ Steenky Bee - 'cause I know she hates shit like this and I want to torment her!
Casey@ Half As Good As You - 'cause she lets me verbally abuse her. It's a sign of love, girl!
Heinous @Irregualry Periodic Ruminations - He has a bazillion awards, but I figured what the hell. He's a regular commentator and funny as hell!
Brooke @ Martinis Aren't Just For Breakfast - I just discovered her through Lola and this girl is funny!
BadAss @ Badass Geek - 'cause he's my boy!
Aaron @ Daddyfiles - 'cause he never stalks me anymore and I'm trying to bribe him back.
I would give you all some linky love, but the blogger is not cooperating with me right now. I would also pass this on to Lola @Sassy Mama Says, but she's on vacation and I don't want to stress her out.
Have a great weekend, y'all

The Gods Must Be Crazy - HASAY Update

I know, I KNOW....I'm late with my HASAY Update. Casey has already given me a big nudge with her gigantic broomstick....the witch!

I have been getting up at the ass crack of dawn to run every morning. We have been experiencing a beautiful Indian Summer here on the Cape that never begins until I have finished my morning run. It is frigid out there, ladies and gents. I always think that I'm totally covered until I walk out on the front porch and Jack Frost slips a cold finger into the waist band of my pants and somehow figures out a way to chill my butt. The pervert. I don't know what it is but only my ass gets cold. I will arrive home, sweat dripping from every surface of my body and my butt is a block of ice. I'm sure if I licked my hand and slapped it to my ass, it would stick.

My eating habits this weekend mirrored those of a starving football team. I ate pizza and Mexican take out. I fully blame this on Big K as he used his sexual prowess to sway me into eating takeout. All the man has to do is bat those hazel eyes at me, say "take out?" and I'm gone. If he's not around, I'm an angel.

On Monday AM I woke up bright and early, donned my snowsuit and trotted down the stairs for my sneakers. Usually, I wake up both dogs and they beat a path down the stairs and run for the back door to be let out to do their business. But on this particular morning, only one dog was excited to make the trip downstairs. The other was cowering in her bed, afraid to look at me. Usually this behavior is a result of a nightly "accident" that she knows about and that I will discover upon my trip downstairs. She's old so I try to forgive her. It's always near the back door so I know she trying.

I prepared myself for the nastiness, already cursing the clean up that will shave 10 minutes off my run time. I got to the kitchen and stood shocked at the disaster before me. It was as if the Exxon Valdez had unloaded it's tanks on my kitchen floor. It was on the walls, the radiators....everywhere. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen in my entire life and it took me an hour and 15 minutes to clean up. After I was done, I threw away everything that I had to use...brush, mop, bucket, gloves, towels etc.....removed my clothes in the laundry room and sat in the shower for 30 minutes under the hottest water I could stand.

That's all I will say about it because I am still scarred and I don't want my faithful readers to be so disgusted that they will never read here again.

I once read about a girl who had her own cleaning company that specialized in cleaning up the remains of murder scenes and those horrible events where someone dies and no one finds the body for weeks. After the body is removed, she comes in with industrial strength cleaners and tears the place apart. I'm pretty sure that I could work for her now after my Monday morning disaster.

I think someone is secretly plotting against me in this challenge and fed my dog some prunes or something. I also think that they have hypnotised TH into feeding me takeout.

I will prevail! They have just opened up the Cadillac of gyms down the street from my office and I'm joining today. I have quit the estrogen factory that I used to belong to and will now be able to work out with men too! Most of my guys are joining as well so I will get extra heat from them if I'm not seen there on a regular basis. TH is joining too and will accompany me on the weekends.

Here I come, baby! Ready or not!

A Naughty Girl Night

I have been a bad, bad girl. TH's is at a conference tonight and I've been misbehaving.

I tried to take a picture of my crime, but I have a new laptop and cannot figure out where my picture software is hiding and the camera is currently holding the photos hostage.

I am so guilty. I just made out with an entire plate of sushi and pot stickers. It was soooooo good!

I'm sitting home alone while my husband is driving back from his conference in the rain. My boyfriend Tivo is quietly recording our shows and I'm hanging out in my home office.

I'm still hungry.

Ever since I started this fucking diet all I have blogged about is food. I called Josh to dish some more gossip and he chastised me on my blogging subjects. "Not to be mean or anything, but it's been kind of boring lately", he said after I told him some naughty secrets and devilish thoughts to stick up on the closet shelves.

He's right! I have lost my touch. I have been so wrapped up in food that I have neglected my foreswore duty to horrify the ever loving shit outta you guys. I haven't mentioned my new vibrator, discussed a sexual position or talked about an off color topic. I'm currently reading a book called "KINK- The Hidden Sex Lives of Amercians" and I haven't mentioned it once!

I've got 2 hours until Big K gets home. I'm going to go use my new vibrator....twice, read "KINK" and watch some porn. I need to bring some naughty back into my life!

Some of you left comments on my last post that were deleted when I stupidly pressed "reject" instead of "publish". I'm so sorry for that and you may give me a virtual beating if you'd like.