My junk, my junk...my lovely lady junk.

Seeing that I'm enormously grouchy today brought on by being blown off last night by my Brazilian Mistress of Pain and the impending arrival of Medusa, I have a short one for all of you today. This is better than me ranting about something insignificant just to vent my rage.

I stole this idea from Rachel over at Party of One.

Ladies, empty your purses.....Gentlemen, your pockets. Show me what ya got!





I ran downstairs to an unused office and took this picture. This is a catalog of all my shit:
Prada Bag - gift from Mom
Wallet - I've had it forever and there is at least $50 of change in the pocket part. It weighs a ton!
iPod - Constant companion.
Wetnaps - I have no idea why they're in there
Gum: Usually there is more than one pack. I'm low.
Tube of lip plumper: Makes me look like I got my lips stuck in a vacuum and tastes terrible. It's also super sticky and I always get my hair caught in it.
Burts Bee's chap stick: I live in New England. Chapped lips are a year round problem.
Matchbook: From a wedding 2 years ago. The matches barely work.
Keys: DUH
Pens: Currently, I only have 3. I can promise you that by the end of the day I'll have at least 4 more. I tend to "steal" pens from places I go.
Hairbrush: For emergency "do" repair.
Business Card Holder
Checkbook: Why I have this, I have no idea. I use my credit/debit card for everything and I can't remember the last time I wrote a check
Address Book: I've had 4 Palm Pilots and they all crapped out on me. I write it all on paper now.
Sunglasses: Stole these sweet Oakleys from Big K. I broke mine.
Broken Eyeliner pencil
Kiwi Lip Gloss: So yummy
Rock that says "Thank you": A woman I worked with gave it to me. I have no idea why I still have it.
Big Round Rock: I got this at a seminar on Child Abuse when I was still in college. The rocks are gathered on the beaches of the Cape and given to child abuse victims to give them power. I love it because it fits in my hand perfectly and makes me feel calm. Also, when someone asks me "Why the fuck is your purse so heavy. Do you have rocks in it" I can answer, "Why yes, I do!"
Cap from a Bud Light bottle: Left over from tailgating at the Pats game on Monday. (Don't clean out my purse that much)
Listerine Strips: I drink lots of coffee and quite often catch a case of dragon breath. These work in a pinch.
Pocket Micro Cruizer Scan Disk Storage Device: You never know when you're gonna have to upload a file (I'm such a geek)
Dirty Chocolate Lollipop: Yes, I am currently schlepping around a chocolate lollipop in the shape of a vagina. Surfer Dude gave it to me as a joke and I haven't done anything with it yet. I'm having dinner with friends on Saturday so it will be a fun conversation piece. I can't bring myself to eat it.
I also have a few fem. products, but I thought those would be in bad taste to photograph. I did have a remote control egg vibrator, but the batteries died. I am currently "without sex toy".
Alright, I've showed you mine, you show me yours. You've all been mime. Get on it!

A Fattie Update & A Duel

I should probably give you an update on my attempt to whittle my waistline. My diet dominatrix, Casey expects updates

Update: It's not going well.

I was fully prepared to run yesterday morning. I laid out my clothes, set my alarm and went to bed a bit earlier than usual.

I woke up to a monsoon. Gail force winds, rainy, raw and nasty. There was no way in hell I was running in that shit. So, I canned the run and snuggled up to Big K for an extra hour.

I brought a healthy, boring lunch and was fully prepared on eating it until Fancy Pants decided to hit Box Lunch...the most awesome sandwich shop EVA! I got a pretty healthy roll up with turkey, sprouts, hots and avocado (omega-3's baby!) and scarfed it down in seconds flat. Of course, I was hungry again an hour later. Usually, I bring a few small things to eat...half a sandwich, a yogurt and fruit. I eat them over a span of a few hours. That is the best way to eat. Keeps your blood sugar from dropping.

Because the weather sucked big, hairy goat teats, I felt that it was a perfect night for spaghetti and meatballs....homemade of course. Garlic bread was the icing on the cake.

Today, I'm doing better. Healthy breakfast, lunch....until Fancy Pants showed up with 2 homemade cranberry, white chocolate chip cookies. They were the product of bet he lost to me and the cookies were my reward. I HAD to eat them. They are my FAV!

Tonight, TH and I are getting pizza. My waxer, the Brazilian Mistress of Pain, is making a private house call tonight and will be preforming her magic with me laying on the kitchen island. (it's the only surface that's easy for her to work on). If any of you have my home phone and would like to hear me scream bloody murder whilst having my lady parts tidied, please feel free to give me a ring. I need the distraction. Pizza is my reward for enduring the torture.

Daddyfiles and I have added a new level of pain to this weigh loss mania. We have a lovely bet going and you guys will benefit from the our humiliation. Here are the terms:

1. Start date: November 1, 2008

2. End Date: December 29, 2008

3. We each get our body fat percentage measured and post it. (oh the humiliation)

4. We diet

5. Whoever loses the most body fat percentage wins!

6. The loser has to jump in the water with the Cape Cod Polar Bear Club on January 1, dressed in floaties and an inner tube. Pictures of the loser freezing their ass off will be posted on each others blogs

If you don't know who the Polar Bear club is, they are a bunch of manics that jump in the ocean every January 1. They're a nice bunch of folks, they raise money for charity doing it, but I think they're completely insane.

Let the games begin!!!

Poking in the Soak

I have received some extra shit lately from my closet keeper Josh. The boy is still hanging with my skeletons but is unhappy with content of my blog - claims I have lost my raunchy touch. Au contraire, mon ami! I am still my little pervy self - Still on fire, still out of control.

So Josh my love, this one is for you.

This is my experience working in a sex hotel.

There are alot of these hotels all over the place. The Poconos has oodles of them up in those mountains. Romantic, classy getaways that couples flock to and recreate their honeymoon.

The Cape has The International Inn....or as we locals call it "The Soak n'Poke"

The SnP is the original "Cuddle and Bubble". The owner started the phase and it has spread like wildfire. A couple rents a room with a huge bed and a jacuzzi. They are there for one purpose and one purpose only....to boink like crazed monkeys all night long.

I worked at the SnP just after high school and was starting college. They needed a morning buffet waitresses and I needed a job that was flexible. All I had to do was pour coffee, juice and keep the tables clean. The money was awesome. I could make $250 on a weekend morning. Even though the money was fab, the people watching was one for the books. Everyone morning couples would stumble down from their rooms, bleary eyed from sleep deprivation, still panting after each other like love sick dogs. They would ravenously shovel down mountains of food (having worked up an appetite the from previous night) and run back up to their rooms for a quickie before check out time. The couples were always interestingly mixed. Old men - young women, Old women - younger guy, really ugly guy - uglier chick. It was the same thing, day in day out. In it's hay day, the SnP was an upscale place, but when I worked there, the clientele had slide down to the bottom rungs of society. After all, what kinda guy takes his women to a place called "Cuddle & Bubble".

The rooms are kind seedy looking. If you watch the marketing video from the website, it plays like really bad soft core porn. Young couple enters the room. They hang in the tub for awhile and the tub has bubbles in it. Every person knows that if you put lots of bubbles in the jacuzzi, you're gonna get a huge mess. And what's with the rose petals being thrown on them? She actually looks disturbed when one lands on her boob.

Not only did I work breakfast, I also made a few guest appearances for the dinner shift. The couples were insanely horny and gobbling down their surf n' turf in an effort to get back to their orgasmic frenzy.

The hotel was an equal opportunity employer. The staff was in such shambles that they were always reaching out to the different departments to cover shifts. I spent 4 terrifying shifts as the pool lifeguard. I had no life guard training and apparently my lapsed CPR certification was good enough. The pool was located in this dingy area of the hotel and was basically a hole filled with bleached water. I only lasted 4 shifts because I couldn't stand watch people play hide the salami just mere yards away from me. I'm sure it was one of those "sex in public" fantasies. But, even with my open mind, I couldn't take it. These people were disgusting.

The best and more horrifying position I held there was as a room service attendant.

I'm not sure what cranium blip had me excepting that disgusting job. I figured lugging a "Movie Night" popcorn package was better than schlepping huge trays of prime rib and watching two horny 60 year old toothless, wrinkled couples dry humping each other in the dining room. Little did I know that it was better to be treated to a public lap dance than a private showing in the doorway of their room. People had no shame. They would open the door in the nude, in lingerie that probably wouldn't have looked good on them 20 years before and in bizarre stages of undress. Nothing scars the corneas like having a guy dressed in a wife beater tank top and nothing else; his obviously worn out doodle hanging in the breeze for the world to see. Here I am trying to act all professional, while the wife is streaking around the room dressed in a feather boa and sequin thong. (true story, folks!).

The staff was almost as colorful. I was dating my high school boyfriend at the time, so I don't have any personal experiences to share. But, I can safely say that the vibe of the place rubbed off on the staff. Everyone was sleeping with everyone....and they were all hooking up in the rooms. The place was an orgy on steroids. The gift shop that they installed 2 months into my tenure didn't help. We would try on the outfits, play with the "dirty playing cards", and have scavenger hunts with the toys.

I did have a chance to stay in one of the rooms. The Cape was expecting a monster snow storm and the management offered to put up all the morning waitress in rooms to ensure their attendance the next morning at breakfast. I was psyched! (I was 19, people. Anything free was exciting back then.) One of the guys at the front desk gave me the second to the best room. I grabbed a mountain of snacks and settled in for the night. Then I thought "I have a huge jacuzzi all to myself, why the hell don't I use it". The tub took forever to fill up and I waited impatiently in my terry cloth robe, eager to jump in to soak and drink the complimentary bottle of champagne. The thing finally filled, I tossed off my robe, reached over to turn on the button for the jets when something in the water caught my eye. There floating on the smooth water of my heart shaped jacuzzi, was a bunch of tiny, curling black hairs.

I quit 5 months later.

These are a few of my favorite things....

My darling Heather tagged me and wanted to know 6 of my favorite things. It's taken me awhile, but here's a go at it (these are in no particular order):

1. Amazing Food. I am a total foodie. I am obsessed with delicious eats and all things delectable. This does not bode well for me given the new fitness challenge I am going to endure. (Casey, you evil, evil girl). Every good meal for me is a "When Harry Met Sally" experience. Seriously, if there was fetish porn that involved watching someone really enjoy food, I would be a #1 film star. Gluttony is my favorite sin.

2. When TH laughs: My husband can be a grouchy, old fart. Most of the time he is miserable about something. But, there are these precious moments when he's watching something on TV and he laughs this great big belly laugh. Makes me fall in love with him all over again. (God, that was so mushy. Where are my waders? Shit's gettin' deep around here)

3. Sunflowers: I love sunflowers. They are the happiest flower in the world.

4. Sex: DUH! You all should have seen that coming a mile away. Bet you wonder why I didn't stick that at #1. As I said, these are in no particular order.

5. The smell of permanent black magic markers: I have no explanation for this.

6. Secrets: I am a gossip whore. I must know EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYONE. I am a People magazine slut and I read it like it's sustaining my life blood. But, I love having a secret with one other person. It's that delicious feeling you get when you both look at each other and you just know.

Maid Service

Positive news on The Cupcake Man...he has improved a little bit! YEAH!!!!! Thank you all for your kind thoughts and bloggy love!
Here's another oldie!

To My Guys, With Love:

A few things that are annoying me at the moment:

• "We are almost out of toilet paper/papertowel" This phrase should be uttered when we have a couple rolls of toilet paper/papertowel left in the storeroom. Don't come to me when there are a few pieces hanging from the last roll in the entire office. Do you think that I have a secret cache in my desk drawer?

• "This is the bathroom spray from the men's room. It doesn't work. I think we're out". This is said as you plop the nasty can on my desk. Now I have a dirty bottle that has been in the men's room (gross!!!) and I have been inadvertently informed of what you were just doing in there with it.

• The sugar all over the counter in the breakroom. How old are you? Four? How is it that you manage to get more sugar on the counter then in your cup? Don't you notice the white crystals all over the gray counter? If you did notice them, why didn't you wipe it up?

• Throwing something in an overflowing trash can only to have it fall on the floor and leave it there. I know that you saw it fall out. Are you too lazy to reach over and pick it up....or....God forbid....empty the trash can yourself? I cannot run around the office picking up your little pieces of paper.

• "Borrowing" the stapler from the copy room and forgetting to return it. It has a huge, white label on it that says "COPY ROOM". It does not belong in the conference room, at the front desk, on a miscellaneous file cabinet, in my office, in your office, in the breakroom next to the coffee machine or next to the fax machine. You have a stapler at your desk. USE IT!

• Running one of the copiers out of paper and moving to the other copier to finish the job without refilling the first one. You know that I'm going to find out who you are and when I do, there will be hell to pay. For some reason, I am always the first person to follow you after this happens and I'm stuck refilling the trays. This pisses me off to no end and I will get you for this.

• Calling me, after I've just left you a voicemail that you neglected to listen to and asking me what I wanted. Listen to your voicemail, jack ass!

• Leaving used staples all over the counter in the copy room Are you all blind? First it's the damn sugar, now its friggin' staples. Do you not know how to clean up after yourself?

• Using the conference room with clients and leaving empty coffee cups and other assorted crap in there when you are finished. Do I look like a bus girl? Do I have a name tag? No!

• "I need it, like yesterday" Then why didn't you give it to me yesterday? I bet you knew about it then, didn't you? Okay, after I finish cleaning up the damn sugar, I'll hop in my time machine and get it done for you.

• "I can't find..........." Did you really look for it? Or did you look for two seconds and then stomp in my office to beg me to find it for you. If I go in there and see that it's been move over 2.5 inches and you didn't find it, I'm making you carry me back to my office so I receive no more wear and tear on these fabulous shoes.

• There are two cartons of cream in the refrigerator and they are both open. Did you check? No, you didn't. You just grabbed the first one you saw. What is wrong with you? I know that your wife doesn't let you get away with this at home.

• Asking me if something is done yet, when I have told you I will call you when I've finish. Have I called you....No, I haven't. THEN IT'S NOT DONE YET!!!! At what point did I lose you in all of this?

I love you all, but sometimes you DRIVE ME CRAZY!!!

Just A Little About My Day

I know, it's another one from before. But, things are nuts here!!


For all of you that are just a bit curious, this is a typical weekday for me:

5:50 AM - Hit snooze button on my alarm clock. Pry myself out of bed and dress for a run.

6:00 AM - Run back into bedroom and turn off alarm because I hit snooze and not "off".

6:05 AM - Sweat and swear through my morning run.

7:00 AM - Arrive back at house looking like I have been tortured for days, my face tomato red and I'm hyperventilating.

7:45 AM - I am fed, showered, dressed and in my car on the way to the office.

7:55 AM - Arrive at office after a serious internal struggle not to stop for a second breakfast at the bagel place.

8:00 AM - I'm in.

8:02 AM - Partner #3 calls and I groan as I look at the caller ID. Does he watch the clock waiting for me to get in? He rattles off a plethora of tasks (most of them semi-impossible) and ...oh, can I get all this done by noon? I love this man dearly, but I am having homicidal urges.

8:10 AM - I go to the breakroom to make my first cup of coffee and find that we are out of cream. I do a few yoga breaths to calm myself and go to the convenience store to get more.

8:20 AM - I'm at my desk, I have my coffee, I'm ready to go.

8:35 AM - Partner #1 arrives, yells "Hello" and shuts himself in his office like a hermit. He won't surface until 11ish.

8:40 AM - I begin to wade through the 357 emails that I've received over night. I delete all of the Viagra ads, messages from some Regal Prince in Nigeria who wants to send me 30 million dollars if I send him a check for the shipping, ads from 18 different singles sites, a few ads for penis enlargers, a letter from some women who wants to marry me and make me happy, and the assorted free porn sites etc. I'm left with 24 real emails.

8:55 AM - Fancy Pants arrives and I struggle not to hug him for coming in today. I know it's his job but I'm terrified he might leave me someday. He is my sanity!

9:00 - 11:00 AM - The guys begin to file in.

9:10 AM - The copier is jammed and "nobody" knows how it happened. I spend the next 15 minutes on the floor, with my ass in the air, burning my fingers on the machine parts that are heated to 800 degrees from being used while jammed with paper, smearing toner on my face and swearing at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, the jammed paper is unreadable and I can't figure out who might have been using it. "Nobody" escapes unscathed.

9:35 AM - Time for coffee #2.

9:50 AM - The Cupcake Man strolls into my office and asks me to do some research for a client that he's meeting in 10 mins. It is imperative that he has it for this meeting. The information desired is no less elaborate than the location of the Holy Grail. I find myself secretly plotting revenge as I dive through a mountain of internet sites and miraculously find the information he was looking for in time for the meeting. He has been in the office for almost an hour and this is when he asks me to do the research.

10:30 AM - Time for coffee #3. I yell at Surfer Dude for not refilling the coffee maker with water. I'm not sure if he did it, but his office is the closest and I take my rage out on him. As I wait for the water to heat, I clean up the 2 cups of sugar that have been sprinkled all over the counter.

11:15 AM - Partner #2 arrives for the day.

11:19 AM - Partner #2 leaves for the day to play 18 holes.

11:30 AM - I am starving! I get coffee #4 and try to fend off the hunger pains until noon. I stop by Surfer Dudes office and get the low-down on his love life. I make a few suggestions, and wish him luck on "getting some" real soon.

12:00 PM - Fancy Pants and I begin the daily query of "Where should we get lunch." This lasts for 15-20 minutes and finishes in the usual way....I end up eating the healthy, nutritious, low fat lunch I brought from home wishing I could have a cheeseburger.

12:30PM - I'm halfway through a yogurt when Bob the Builder strolls into my office and sits down. This man has an internal signal that goes off when I'm eating and it make him come into my office for something...and that something always requires a sit down meeting.

12:45 PM - I have indigestion from my meeting.

1:00 PM - Partner #3 breezes into my office, plops down a massive file and says "Can you fix this? I need it like yesterday" I roll my eyes and tell him I will take care of it if he would please get out of my office.

1:16 PM - I've had to pee for at least 45 minutes and can't seem to make it past my office door. Everyone wants something.

1:30 PM - It's been 30 minutes and my office still smells like Partner #3's cologne. Now, after working on his newest file...so do I.

1:45 PM - Finally make it to the ladies room.

1:55 PM - The other fucking copier gets jammed. More ass in the air, finger burning and alot more swearing.

2:00 PM - I desperately need sort of alcoholic drink but settle for green tea.

2:10 PM - Partner #1 has surfaced and asks me for a few simple tasks. Piece of cake. Aside from the evil comments he made about my colorless wardrobe, this man is a gem! So easy.

3:00 PM - Surfer Dude makes his daily visit to my office. We make a few rude & inappropriate comments to each other and then go about our afternoon.

3:23 PM - I need something sweet. A quick search around the office nets me nothing. All men....all on diets.

4:00 PM - I have finally finished Partner #3's file and dump it on his desk

4:15 PM - Partner #3 has change the entire file and needs it by 5 PM.

4:17 PM - I give the next telemarketer who calls Partner #3's name as a contact person....just a little revenge for this latest torture.

4:59 PM - I am sweating through the last of Partner #3's file and he strolls in to tell me it's not a big deal if I don't finish the file. He's going to send it out tomorrow instead. I desperately look around my desk for something to throw at him. I can't find anything quick enough and he's already walked out.

5:00 PM - Fancy Pants leaves for the day. I try not to cry.

5:30 PM - Everyone is gone! I am finally alone. I crank up the internet radio, look longingly at the pile on my desk that I had planned on working through and instead I finish up Partner #3's file.

6:00 PM - I'm out! Time to go home and start Round 2 - dutiful wife. Dinner, laundry and BED....possibly some assorted naughties if Big K is awake.

Don't Ask For It If You're Not Going To Follow It...

Well, now that my contest has been sqwash by "Movie Buff Diana" before it could even get going, I have to write something. (Congrads again to Diana. I'm glad someone else shares my Audrey fetish too!)

In a previous post, I had done a little "Write to Know" section. I had posted a "Whatcha wanna to know about women" offering on a Men's Health Forum.(which I now avoid like the plague. Those guys are really weird) I got lots of replies and posted my answers. One of the questions was:

Why do women tell us their problems and not want answers or solutions?

To which I answered: Because we already know the answer.

I'm starting to think the same of men.

As I have previously stated, I've always been one of those people that unintentionally instills the worst case of T.M.I (Too Much Information) in others. I myself fall into this category. But, I'm pretty selective about my audience. I think it's because I know how they feel. Many people, after knowing me only a few minutes, suddenly catch a bad case of word vomit and begin spilling their guts to me about everything. And I do mean everything. I was recently treated to a conversation about a yeast affliction and there was no bread being baked in this story. I had only met this gentleman 2 minutes before. I haven't been able to eat yogurt since. (he told me that's what he was using to cure the problem)

Just this past week, I have become the sounding board for a guy going through a crazy relationship. I am always willing to help people thru their problems. So, when he started pouring his heart out to me, I sat back and listened. Recognizing typical female nasty behavior, I offered the sage advice of, "She is toying with you. DO NOT CALL HER. DO NOT ANSWER THE PHONE WHEN SHE CALLS YOU. Do not text, IM, email, sky write, give hand signals or telepathically contact her. Let it be. You guys have broken up 3 times in the past 2 weeks. You need to take a breather and let it cool down."

Does he listen to me? Nooooooooooo. He does the exact opposite and now things are crazier than before.

I'm not one of those gals that coos and awes when someone is going thru a relationship problem and seeks my advice. I will give you straight, no bullshit answers. I'm much better at a guy having a problem with a girl than girl having a problem with a guy. Guy to girl is easy. I am a woman. I know women. Women are evil, conniving, vicious creatures. We play mind games, we toy, provoke, use sex as a weapon and will twist a situation around. I know this because I (shamefully) have done these things before. (Mind you I was very young and stupid).

So, if a man asks me why a women is acting a particular way or wants to know how he can get positive results to a problem, I have at least a 98% chance of giving a correct answer. In this situation, I was totally dead-on balls accurate!

I'm going to start charging for my time. Do you think $100/hr is too much?

Some Attention Here!

Now that more than a few guys in my office are reading the blog, this question is often uttered after each post:

While didn't you write about me?

My post about Surfer Dude caused quite a stir. I was asked by more than one person why weren't they my work spouse. And by the way....how come I haven't mentioned them yet.

Well, gentlemen, the answer to that question is simple....you haven't done anything worth writing about yet.

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

I have decided to run a contest. I figured every ones doing it....Steeky Bee, BadAss....and a few others. I'm feeling a little left out.

In the spirit of Heather's week long Halloween movie love fest, I've had movies on the brain. And to make it even better, I got home from work last night and found my favorite movie was on cable.

I have decided to have everyone make a guess at the name of my favorite movie. All next week I will be giving one clue a day. Each one of these clues will have something to do with the movie; whether it be the title, the characters or the plot. It you have a guess, put it in the comments section.

I will give you one clue and only one clue today:

It has nothing to do with sex and it wasn't made this century.

Okay, that's two clues. The sex part was more of a comment than and actual clue. I'm gonna keep this clean, for once. I'm sure I'm shocking you all that my favorite film isn't porn. No, it's not Debbie Does Dallas. In fact, (GASP) I've never seen that one before.

Previous clues will be placed in the side margin if you happen to miss a day.

What will the prize you ask? Well, I am from Cape Cod after all. It will be something that screams "The CAPE". No...not lobsters, steamers or chowda. That gets kinda smelly. No one wants their mailbox to smell like low tide. Seriously, if you've never smelled really strong low tide, it is something that will make your eyes water. You will have to dose your mailbox liberally with gasoline and light it on fire, just to get rid of the smell.

I'm gonna go on a little shopping trip this weekend and see if I can't find something that will make it interesting. I promise, no porn shops or toy shops. Scouts honor.

It is a Virtual World and I Am A Virtual Girl.

I have a confession to make. They say that the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem.

I am addicted to blogging.

I can't stop. I have tried to but alas, I am fulling entrenched in a virtual world that I cannot pry myself out of.

I didn't know that my addiction had fully spread to every part of my brain until I started talking about the blogs that I read like they are real people in my life. My sentences started with "Well, Daddyfiles says...." "Lola was talking about..." "I heard the funniest thing from BadAss....". I didn't know I was doing it until I was in my office, having a conversation with Fancy Pants.

I finished my sentence and he looked me and said, "You know that you don't know these people, right? They're not real"

OH.MY.GOD!! I am turning into one of those people! Soon, I'll be creating Avatars that look like me (oops, done that already), diving into virtual worlds and going for walks thru the Louvre with a guy whose Avatar has the head of a llama and the body of dolphin, says he's from Texas and collects fungus and molds.

But, in a sad sappy way, this is an excellent way to be friends with people that you might never meet in your day to day life. It is comforting to log on in the morning, check my dashboard and see that there are 5 new posts for me to read and comment on. It's like having a conversation with a friend over your morning coffee. I'm happy when I check at lunch and see comments on my posting. It's like, holy shit! People are reading this junk and getting something out of it! And they are doing it everyday!

Then you start to read their blogs and make comments. You become interested in their lives and (gulp) actually care about what's happening to them. It might sound silly to some, but I was really worried about BadAss from his post on Monday and was more worried about him when I saw nothing pop up on Tuesday. I have never even met this guy! Yet strangely, from reading his posts from the last couple of months, I have become a bit attached to him.

I look to Lola to make me laugh everyday with the crazy stuff she comes up with. (No pressure now, girl) I feel a kinship with her and the fact that she has actually visited my favorite sex toy shop. She also stated that blogging will make your ass fat. This is true, girlfriend. I'm looking into that laptop/treadmill soon.

I've met Daddyfiles and I'm now hanging out with his wife. He could not be any nicer and his wife is a hot shit! I'm looking forward to getting into lots of trouble with her.

I have been checking out new blogs, like Heather, Jenboglass, theoldguy and Rachel. I know I have new people commenting on my posts and I'm doing the best I can to read up and comment on theirs. But, there are only so many hours in the day and I spend 10 of them working my little hiney off, slaving away for my guys. I am one of those straight-laced people you read about that feel guilty if I'm doing something at work that not work related. I only jump on the blog-train when I'm taking a sanity break or grabbing a few minutes to inhale my lunch. I absorb as much as I can and wait until I can get home and cozy up to my shiny, new laptop. (love you TH) It is then that I can write my next post (It's 12:02 AM right now), make sure I haven't overlooked anything from the day and try to catch up on some newer blogs.

It's nice to have an objective (and captive) audience and just let it all hang out! Thanks for reading and writing you guys. You're making my world so much bigger.

And you are feeding my addiction!!!! Hmmm...is that some cellulite back there?

I better get some snaps for all these links I put in. Practically gave myself a stroke doing it. I glad I finally figured out how to do it and I better get some credit, DAMN IT!!

Heather Made Me Do It

Heather had this idea and I'm just crazy enough to try it:

Here are the rules:

Grab the nearest book. Open the book to page 56. Find the fifth sentence. Post the text of the next two to five sentences in your journal/blog along with these instructions. Don’t dig for your favorite book, the cool book, or the intellectual one: pick the CLOSEST. Tag five other people to do the same.

Okay - Here I go:

She is a dominatrix, a mistress paid by her clients, largely upscale married men. Today she is not dressed for work. A small woman in her mid-forties, Kaye has hair dyed in two shades, very black with a clump of blond in the front. She wears glasses and no make up, tight ankle-length black pants, black ballet slippers, and a loose black tunic. In a black linen suit and sling-back high-heeled pumps and carrying a Coach bag, the ubiquitous accessory for women who work at more or less regular jobs, I feel overdressed.

Come on! What did you expect from me. I'm reading about 4 books at the same time, but the one that is sitting on my desk next to me is "KINK The Hidden Sex Lives of Americans" by Susan Crain Bakos.

I told you! I find sex fascinating. I'm also reading a mushy Nora Roberts book if that makes you feel any better. That's sitting on my nightstand. It's my mind candy. KINK is a big heavy to read before bed. I don't need to have any crazy dreams.

If I have anyone out there that it reading me......TAG! You're it!

Writing From the Doghouse

To My Dear Friends,

Yesterdays post about Mitch was my last Exfile.

(I'll give you a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes)

Allow me to explain.

When I first started my blog, I was so bummed out the TH wasn't reading it. In fact, I think that he even referred to it as "gay". He wasn't into the whole "blogging" scene, but I knew if the roles were reversed I would read his. Hell, my husband would be writing something. Even if he was talking about subjects I had no interest in, I would still read it. After all it was his.

So, imagine my surprise on Friday night when he confronted me about my recent postings....and he wasn't happy. TH had been virtually stalking me. He has read every single one of my postings, read all the blogs that I recommend and even read my comments on them. He didn't care about my naughty sex topics, work rantings or write to knows but he did have a serious beef with the "Exfiles".

"Why did I have to write about sex?" he asked. No one else was doing it. Everyone was writing about families, friends and whatnots. Why did I choose sex and naughty subjects?

Because I did.

Because it's what I find fascinating. Peoples views, thoughts and interpretations interest me. It's something that I think most people are dying to talk about, but feel a societal pressure to hush up....it's taboo, it's promiscuous, its downright dirty. Fuck that! It's natural and everyone does it. Why shouldn't I dish about it? $89.00 a minute is spent on internet porn. Forbes Magazine estimates that people spend over $4 billion a year on porn. So, I'm not alone. I'm just not afraid to talk about it.

TH has never been able to deal with my somewhat promiscuous past. I had a 6 month spree when I broke up with my high school boyfriend and a quick go around after we tried it again. I was also kinda "free-spirited" in high school. TH has always had very serious relationships. "One night stand" is a foreign phrase to him and he's always been a one-woman man. Unfortunately, we were good friends before we became involved, so we each know EVERYTHING about each others past.

I have never been ashamed of my slutty ways. I was young and dumb. I look back at those days with a half smile and think, "What the hell was I thinking" and "I was such an idiot". Those experiences are part of my past and I just laugh about them now.

Not TH.

He hates that I acted that way, dated alot of guys and have such a carefree attitude about it. He wishes that I had sprung forth from a fountain, virginal and untainted. He has never been able to fully stomach my adventure seeking youth. He pretends that the side of me that has a "devil may care" way about sexual subjects and will "talk to anyone about anything doesn't exist". It is the pink elephant in the room that no one talks about.

Before I get too into it, I should mention this: I love my husband more than anything. He is hands down the greatest, most gorgeous, sexiest guy imaginable. He is a God in the bedroom and my best friend everywhere else. He spoils me rotten, treats me like a princess and not a day goes by when I don't look at him and think that I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

And some days, like this past Friday, he really pisses me off.

I could tell on Thursday that things were really off with him. He tried to pass off his dark mood as troubles at work. But, after 9 1/2 years together, I can feel when he's mad at me. It's almost as if he is sending off bad vibes (quick, where's the sage when you need it). I asked him at least 14 times if something was wrong, each time told me he was fine....just fine.

On Friday, he got home from work and plopped on the couch. Then he dropped the bomb.

"I don't want you to get mad or anything. But, I really need to talk to you about this blog"

Then he proceeded to tell me that he hates the Exfiles and any mention of my past transgressions. It hurt his feelings. I tried to explain to him that I was basically humiliating myself for the joy of my readers and I thought that the stories were funny. It had nothing to do with him or my feelings for him.

And it got worse from there....

He brought up my slutty behavior from 11 years ago, I brought up the letters, pictures and cards from his ex-girlfriend that he felt he should be allowed to hold on to and keep in a truck in the spare room. This is something that drives me nuts. I know he should be allowed to keep memontos of his past. But, this girl (who I've never met) really burns me. I was TH's first love and he had thought about marrying her. Granted this was over 20 years ago and it's only a few cards, letters and pictures in a trunk full of tons of other crap. But, I hate that they're there and I wish he would dump them. The box is buried in the back of a closet and the closet has tons of stuff infront of it. I'm sure he hasn't looked at that stuff in years. But, I know it's there and it digs at me.

It got worse from there. We were due for a good, knock down, drag-it-all-out fight. We hadn't had one in at least 6 months to a year.

This was a doozy. It lasted 3 hours. We hauled all the bad shit out and threw it at each other. I cried, he was mad, I tried to got for a drive, he made me stay and talk about it.

In the end it worked out and we're back to being all lovey dovey. I promised to abstain from mentioning ex-boyfriends and past slutty behavior (unless it was with him) on my blog and he promised to relocate his "box o'love" to a place that I didn't have to be near every day (hopefully the town dump). I promised to remember to turn the water valve switch "off "when I'm done with the washing machine (apparently this really bothers him) and he promised that he would give me more PDA's (we're so lacking in that department. If you saw us on the street, you would think that we hated each other). We vowed to have more sex. (It always ends with that)

So my faithful readers, as much as I love you, I love TH more. Marriage is about compromises. If he is bothered by the exfiles, I must submit. But, if I find that "box o'love" some day, there is gonna be a big ole bonfire in the back yard.

The Mitch File - It All Ends With Sage and a Little Bit of Soul

Here is the third and final installment of my bizarre relationship with Mitch.


Even after the lizard pooping incident, I continued to date Mitch. I was an idiot. But, I really wanted to see if this guy was worth it.

A month had passed but we were seeing less of each other. He was busy with work and we just hadn't been able to get out. Truthfully, I had been happy with the break. He was a little intense.

But, it was Mitch's 30th birthday and to celebrate this important milestone he had decided to throw himself a little party at a small restaurant with a few close friends. I was invited too. I pulled out the LBD (little black dress), tarted myself up and threw on a dressy blazer to complete the look. I looked sassy and sexy. I loved that outfit.

Mitch and I had planned to go over together so I drove to his apartment to meet him. I knocked on the door and struck a saucy pose in my fabulous outfit. The door opened and I was greeted by my date, dressed up to the nines....as Geronimo.

Mitch had told me he was really into Native American culture. He attended the sweat lodges put on by a local Native American tribe and the chief of that particular tribe was planning to attend the party this evening.

Here he was dress up in full Native American garb. He was wearing a fringed leather jacket complete with beads and embroidery. He had on leather pants and moccasins.

I was horrified. What was a preppy white boy dressing up like he was going to pow wow.

He saw the shocked look on my face and took it for surprise.

"Do you like my outfit? It's genuine" he said. He was preening like a peacock in front of the mirror, straightening out the fringe.

I didn't know what to say to him. Except that I didn't know if I would be able to go out in public with him. Here I was dressed for a cocktail party and he was ready to ride the Missouri River with Lewis and Clark.

"You....look....great. It's very creative" What the hell else was I going to say. He looked ridiculous!

We arrived at the party before everyone else. Mitch wanted to be early and check out the set up. Did I mention that this restaurant is owned and operated by a cult? The food is amazing, but they will leave you with religious pamphlets and often invite you to their commune to hear talks. They're not pushy, but it's a very weird experience. It's worth it for the food.

So here I was, walking into the Jesus freak restaurant with He Who Walks With Lizard. How could it get any stranger!?!?

The meal was wonderful and the guests were eccentric but nice. The Chief (who was dressed in street clothes) was fascinating to talk to. The others were hippish and a bit odd. The conversations were very political with brief sprinklings of new age.

After the dinner was over and Mitch blew out his candles, we were all invited up to the 2nd floor. This was the gift shop part of the restaurant where they sold creams, candles and other whatnots. I was always afraid to buy something cause it might have some sort of weird drug in it and the next thing you knew, I would be wearing homespun and chanting.

Mitch asked us to form a circle and hold hands. I was a bit apprehensive. If he had us start singing Kumbyya I didn't know what I would do. And besides, I don'tknow that words.

He had the Chief say a few words. I don't remember what they were about because I was distracted by the sweaty hand that was holding mine. EWW! Then, Mitch asked each one of us to give him some wisdom for the coming year.

DUH?

I am not an "on the spot" kind of person. If I have to say something, especially in front of people, I need time to prepare. Coming up with clever advise in 1 minute or less was not a skill I possess. Of course, the panic coursing through my body gave me an immediate mental block.

When my turn finally came, I freaked out and did what I always do when a dozen people are staring at me, waiting for me to say something and I am unprepared.

I started giggling.

The giggling turned into full blown laughter which makes me snort. In between the snorts and giggles, I mumbled something about "living life to its fullest". It was the only tag line I could remember. Coincidentally, it was the pick up line I used in my ad that snared Mitch.

The rest of the guests finished after giving inspiring and thoughtful advice. I was busy wiping the tears of laughter off my face and Mitch was glaring at me across the room.

Then, we were all led up a flight of stairs to the roof of the restaurant. If we were having a mass suicide of the roof top, I was ready after my humiliating snort fest. But, it was more spiritual bonding.

We were to be smudged.

Some weird lady was waiting for us with a bundle of burning sage. We were to line up and she would slowly cleanse us all of evil and the bad vibes. Everyone was really into it. Everyone accept me. I am violently allergic to all of those incense burning sticks. Every time I walk into a head shop, my nose fills up with snot and I start sneezing in fits.

The smudging was no different.

The smudger was two people away from me when the smoke hit my nose like the smell of skunk hits you as you're driving with the windows open on a hot summers day. I choked on an inhaled breath, made a loud gagging sound and started sneezing uncontrollably. People were staring at me, most likely thinking I was possessed by the devil and the sage smoke was reacting with my evil. They probably expected my head to rotate and green bile to spew from my mouth.


Instead of bile, snot was all over my face and hands from my violent sneezing spasms minus tissues. I made a hasty break for the bathroom, blew my nose and gulp in some clean, fresh sage-free air.

I exited the bathroom as everyone was coming down from the roof and saying their goodbyes. They all eyed me warily and said their goodbyes with a quick wave and not a handshake. After all, they were smudged free and I was still harboring evil vibes.

Mitch didn't say much on the way home. When we got to his apartment, I decided to apologize.

"Mitch, I'm really sorry I freaked out on the roof. My sinuses can't handle that smoke. You know how I get kinda stuffed up if I come here just after your cleaning lady. I'm also sorry about laughing. I have really bad stage fright. I wish you would have told me about that part. I would have been more prepared"

He looked at me with understanding eyes and gave me a peck on the cheek. "It's okay. You're soul is still very new."

Come Again?

I must have looked totally confused so, he finally explained.

"Your soul is very new to this world. It's not capable of handling the workings of the old world. My soul is old. I am able to benefit from things you cannot"

Say WHAAAAAT?

It was at this very moment that I decided that no matter how cute, successful, smart and fun Mitch was, he was too much of a freak for me to deal with. I would not be able to handle a lifetime of soul experiences, smudging, scaly shitty reptiles, force field sex and fringed clothing.

Not wanting to dump him on his birthday and really needing to get out of there, I blamed my evil sinuses and went home. A few days later, after not returning Mitch's 3 messages, I finally called him back. I told him that things were moving too fast for me and I thought that we should take a break (yup, that line still worked back then). He understood and told me that he thought our "souls" would never be completely meshed, mine being so "new" and all. He bid me good luck in life and said goodbye.

Thus concludes my month long trip into freakdom. Who knows where Mitch is now. I'm sure that he's found someone to smudge with, to hang with his nasty lizard, who likes boxer sex and whose soul can handle a guy who dresses like he's one of the Village People.

The Mitch File - The Saga Continues

The second installment to my Mitch Ex file I know you were all expecting the end but I almost forgot about this part. I was talking about my blog to one of my co-workers when I remembered this episode. You will see why I chose to repress it. The conclusion will be next time!

It's been two weeks and I was still dating the boxer wearing lizard man. He was still visiting the bathroom before we did the deed, he still brought his soldier to battle with a force field. I have no idea why I was still with him. He wasn't even that good in bed. How can you be if the part of you that is needed for the action is still partly clothed!?!? It's been suggest there may have been some animal sacrifice going on in the bathroom. Who know? It would explain all the animal pelts.

But, he was such a nice guy. So cute, successful, smart and fun to be with. WHY DID HE HAVE TO BE SUCH A FREAK!!!

Did I mention that Mitch was a big shot at the now dissolved BayBank? I wonder if his coworkers knew about his hobbies?

It was Superbowl time and Mitch was having some people over his house to watch the game. I was invited too. Not being a huge football fan, I usually par take in the refreshments - be it alcohol or food - and watch everyone get mad at the TV. Now, that's a sport.

I arrived at his apartment, staked out my chair and grabbed a huge plate of junk food. Mitch may have been a sage smudging weirdo, but he stocked a mean buffet. So, I'm chowing down on wings when I happened to glance over at the iguana den.

It was empty. Sundance was in the wind.

Mitch was busy yelling at the TV and it took me a few minutes to get his attention.

"Mitch, where's Sundance?" I was praying he was at the vet having his nails trimmed or his scales polished. Or even better, he was on his walk down Main Street with a neighbor. Maybe he might....run away.

Mitch barely looked up from the game and said "He's around here somewhere. I let him out for some exercise"

Holy shit. The fucking lizard was loose.

Immediately I was having thoughts of Jurassic Park when the guy is trying to escape in the jeep and those little lizard like dinosaurs kept popping up and spitting on him. Then, they made that horrible rattling noise, some weird skin ruffle popped out from around their neck and that's when they made their attack.

I was a sitting duck. I was in a corner. I wouldn't be able to escape it he started running across the living room to attack me. Mitch was so involved in the game, he wouldn't hear my screams as Sundance went for my throat. If I died, I wouldn't be able to haunt him and get my revenge. I would be smudged out the next week when cleaning lady came and Mitch took Sundance for his stroll down Main Street, still picking my bones from his teeth.

I was a fucking dead girl.

No sooner than I thought that last statement, than I heard a sound behind me and felt something on my head. Something that felt very much like tiny lizard claws.

You know how a rabbit freezes when you look at it. It thinks if it doesn't move, you won't see it. I was the rabbit and I wasn't going to move an inch. I was pretty sure I had a lizard nesting on my head.

"Mitch......Mitch.....MITCH! I think your lizard is climbing on my head"

Mitch looked up from the TV and smiled. "Aww. He likes you. He wants to say hi"

That stupid freak actually thought that this was fun. He was so into the game that he didn't care that his scaly little friend was about to violate his date.

By this time, the lizard was fully balance on my head like some absurd hat. He was facing backwards, his tail jutting out over my forehead. I was so scared that if I moved, the scaly thing would slide off my head, fall into my lap and go for my throat.

"Mitch....MITCH! Sundance is on my fucking head. Please get him off. I'm afraid he might fall off and hurt himself"

By this time I didn't care about the fucking lizard. I was just thinking of one thing and one thing only.

And that is when it happened.

Just as Mitch was making his way over to remove the repulsive reptile from my noggin, Sundance did the unthinkable....

He took a dump on my nose.

The fucking, smelly lizard took a big ole wet shit on my freckled little nose. It wasn't like those tiny little pellet things that you see in the cages. Sundance must have gotten a hold of some tainted crickets.

Let's just say that Mitch got to sleep under the animal skins alone that night.

To be continued....

Mitch - The Ex File - Part 1

As I promised, here is my ex-file about Mitch.

Mitch began as a dare. Well, the date part did. The rest of it was my own damn fault. One of the evil bitches that I worked with dared me to place an ad in the Personals. Not one to pass up a challenge, I accepted. I was 20, stupid and tired of meeting guys who just wanted to party. I wanted a real boyfriend. Why I thought I would find this guy in the Personals, I don't know. But, again....I was 20 and stupid.

So I placed the ad. This was before EHarmony, Match Maker and those other websites. I had to place my personal ad in a newspaper. I wrote something silly about seeking some one who wanted to "experience life to it's fullest" What a load of fucking baloney. Again...20....fucking stupid.

The calls started coming in. Strange enough, they were from older guys....and I mean really older guys....50 years old older! I had listed my age and apparently there were a bunch of grandpas out there looking to get busy.

After wading thru the horny, old farts and some really creepy breathers, I came across a guy named Mitch. He seemed harmless enough and didn't leave a 5 minute long dissertation on his ex-girlfriend like the message before. I thought what the hell, I'll call him.

He answered, he had a great voice, we chatted for 2 hours....he seemed normal. We made a date. I would meet him that weekend at a bar for a drink. Not dinner...a drink. 'Cause if he was hideous, I wasn't going to hang out for desert.

He showed up, we met and he was really cute. No scales, fangs or horns. Just normal looking, a bit of a yuppie, but very cute. He drove a BMW, dress with style and could hold an intelligent conversation. We really hit it off, ended up having dinner and made another date for the following day. I would meet him at his apartment and we'd go for dinner and a movie.

All sounds normal right? It was a clever cover. This is where it gets weird.

The next day I walked into his apartment and looked around. It looked normal. He was a bit decorating challenge, but what guy is Martha Stuart? I cruised around looking for strange and unusual stuff, nothing was popping out until I got to his iguana cage.

Mitch walked right up, grabbed the reptile and plopped it on his shoulder. "His name is Sundance. Do you want to touch him?"

I obliged. I wasn't afraid. I just wasn't crazy about the way it smelled and the tongue was skeeving me out.

"He's really pretty." I said. "Do let him out a lot?"

"Sometimes I stick him on my shoulder and we take a walk down Main Street" he said as he eased the thing back into the cage.

Oh my God! I was dating lizard man. He walked down one of the busiest streets with a scaly creature as an accessory. I tried to think of a clever thing to say but all I could come up with was "Gee, that's neat"

"I have to take him out while the apartment is getting cleaned. He can't handle the sage" he said.

Sage?

"I don't get it." I said. "Your cleaning lady cooks with sage?"

"No. I have the apartment smudged with sage to rid the space of evil spirits and bad vibes. Sundance can't handle the smoke" he said. "Let's go. We'll be late for the movie"

He was exceptional weird. Why wouldn't I sleep with him that night? Why stop now?

I was running a good buzz from the bottle of wine we had with dinner and he invited me back up to the apartment. I figured, he was cute....maybe I could get over the fact that he was a lizard wearing sage smudger.

We rolled around for awhile, clothes were shed until I was naked and he was in his boxers, looking very yummy. Thinking safety first, he jump up, ran to the corner of the room, grabbed a box from behind his bureau and pulled out one of those gold circle coin novalty condoms. The ones that you give as jokes at bachelor and bachelorette parties. I thought he was kidding until I saw him start to open the foil. That's when I went for my emergency stash of Trojans in my purse. I didn't need to worry about having my very own sage smudger in 9 months.

With the prophylactic issue settled, I was getting ready for the ride when he said. "I'll be right back" and disappeared into the bathroom.

He was in there forever. To this day, I have no idea what he was doing in there but apparently he needed to go in before we had sex (yes, I slept with him again after all this. The bathroom became part of the process). I was mystified. What the hell was he doing in there? I knew that he wasn't "fluffing himself" cause I had handled the merchandise and things were looking very firm in that department. While he was in there, I took a good look around the bedroom and noticed something that hadn't caught my attention before.

He had animal pelts hung over his bed.

I shit you not! He had a rabbit skin and something else previously living and very furry tacked up over his bed. (this will make more sense in Part 2). If he came out of the bathroom holding a hose and asked me to put lotion on my skin, I was getting the hell outta there.

The animal skinner finally came out of the bathroom, still wearing his boxers and gave me a big smile. No hose, no lotion....wheew!

We started the heavy petting, I made sure he had his "suit" and I waited for the boxers to be slipped off. I waited....I waited....he rolled on top of me...I waited....and all of a sudden we were off and running....and he still had his boxers on. That's right! He had pulled his soldier thru the hole in the front, donned the armor and started into battle....with a force field behind him.

I was having sex with a guy who was still wearing his boxers, in a house that was free of evil and bad vibes, decorated with animal pelts, while his iguana waited in the next room for his next stroll down Main Street.

Why wouldn't I keep dating him?

Stay tuned for The Exfiles -Part 2 - Mitch's 30th birthday and why I finally dumped him. ('cause apparently none of this stuff gave me a good enough reason to.)