Monday, December 31, 2012

Admired... Shamelessly So.

I have a friend whom I admire.  Not only is he an impossibly talented writer/blogger, but he is responsible for introducing me to his wonderful wife, who in turn, introduced me to her two friends.  The four of us have become the best of friends and every day I am thankful I have them in my life.  They accept me for all of my flaws and love me for who I am. They also get me into loads of trouble, convinced me it was a good idea for everyone at a party to do jello shots out of my belly button and just this weekend, helped me drink most of the alcohol in Rhode Island to celebrate my bravery as I left a horrible situation and entered a new chapter in my life.  They are diamonds in the rough. 

While I admire my friend for his life partner choice, I also admire him for other reasons.  He is not afraid to be who he is and write about what he believes in.  For as long has I've known him, he has tackled the tough subjects and controversial topics which have affected his life.  He has covered abortion, the death of a child, depression, politics, the harassment of his parents and other heavy topics.  He has written his unfiltered thoughts down with unapologetic honesty and shared it with the masses.  He's received hate mail and threats. He's made his wife angry - once enough that she threw something at his head - and has annoyed his friends on numerous occasions. But never, in the past 4 years that I've known him, he has never been ashamed of who he is and what he stands for. That is to be admired and respected.

I write under a pen name.  I don't see it as an act of cowardliness, but more of a safety measure.  I write about sex.  I get some interesting mail.  Some of it can be a little sketchy.  Sometimes I think the writer could be a good candidate for "stalkers anonymous."  I like sex alot.  But I do like to chose my partner and I would like to be the only one who posts nude photos of myself on line. (No, I'm not going to do that.  Don't even ask. Not for all the bacon in the world). I'm really a very private person who likes to entertain the masses with little snippets of my life. So sue me.  It makes me happy.

Today, I found out there are a bunch of people in my professional life that know about my little blog and Facebook page.  In fact, they've known for years.  How they found out is unimportant and the source is next to ridiculous.  But, they know and they think it's awful.  They've been sipping coffee with me all while knowing the scorching details of my sex life, my drinking exploits with friends and every other personal, heartbreaking and utterly sinful thing I have written about.  Everything.  When someone told me this fact, I was shocked and slightly horrified.  But then I felt something that scared me the most; I felt ashamed.

Now, we all know the saying "If you don't want anyone to know about it, don't put it on the internet".  More people have been fired, divorced, dumped, humiliated and scorned by a simple status post on Facebook.  We all have been there.  You can't take it back. Even if you delete it, someone has already seen it. It's etched in stone.  Everything I've written is up for the world to see. I cannot hide it.  Even if I delete it, more than likely, there is a copy somewhere. 

I am proud of what I've written. The momentary feeling of shame was quickly replaced by anger then pride.  I like what I've written.  It makes me happy.  Many of my ramblings may be silly and mindless. You may find them disgusting, stupid, insulting, ridiculous and poorly written. But, for every person who has a negative thing to say, I can find 5 people who think I'm brilliant, talented, funny, thoughtful, honest and sexy. I have been overwhelmed at the passionate, positive responses to my posts. While I write for myself, it is fun to think I write for others as well.  Someday I hope I'm admired by someone the way I admire my friend.  Coincidentally, I met him because of my blog.  If I had never started to write, I would have never met his wife.  Then I would have never met her friends. There would have been no jello shots and the wonderful night in Rhode Island would have never happened.

It's funny how life works out.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Wisdom of My Ages

I was just running through some old Twitter postings (yes you should follow me on Twitter @Utterlysinful.)  I gotta say, I'm a funny bitch.
  • Up close pictures of a penis are never attractive.  EVER.  Yes, even when manscaped.
  • A warm toilet seat should not be trusted.  You never know who was there before you and what they did to stay so long they managed to warm a piece of plastic.
  • "Butt-load" load is an acceptable unit of measurement.  Still not sure if it's metric or standard.
  • Bouncy castles are ageless.
  • You never see a person with a hot body streaking. Sadly, there is a website dedicated to these idiots.
  • Office assistants were put on this earth for me torture and sexually harass.
  • People who don't masturbate don't know what they're missing.
  • Do not wear a shirt that says "Free hugs" if you don't want me to try.
  • Remember when you hated spankings?
  • The number "69" will always make me laugh.  Every time.
  • Bacon makes everything better.
  • So does coffee, cake and things made with cheese.
  • Standing up for yourself is awesome. Always be brave.  Always be ballsy.
  • You're still thinking about masturbation, aren't you.
  • People are all pissed about Instagram having the right to sell their pictures.  We should all start taking crotch pictures and see what happens then.  (See first item)
  • I will always stay at a Doubletree because they give you a cookie when you check in.  Best marketing idea EVER!
  • Stalking someone is a sign of flattery.
  • Underwear is overrated.
  • The best part about airports it the ability to drink at anytime of the day.
  • Some days its fun to rip off the mask and show people what a true psychological mess you really are.
  • It's fun to mark mundane voicemail messages with "Urgent" just because.
  • I had my first french kiss in a movie theater, watching "Pretty Woman".  Ironic.
  • What your staff doesn't know, won't hurt them.
  • Never work for your in-laws.  It's like working for Satan and he comes over on the weekends for brunch and makes comments about your life choices..
  • Everything in your fridge looks delicious after 4 glasses of wine.
  • If you're ever on the phone with a chatty tech support person, tell them you have to pee.  Makes them work faster.
  • You also believe you can cook anything in your fridge after 4 glasses of wine.
  • Yup.  Still thinking about masturbation.
  • Never be afraid to order bizarre food combinations.  It's fun to freak people out when you admit to liking a sandwich with breaded eggplant, bacon, mayo, lettuce and avocado.
  • When you hug someone, wrap one of your leg around their legs in a "leg hug".  Totally freaks them out.  You can try it with the t-shirt guy too.
  • Um....masturbation.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

I Think It Might Be A Little Depressed

Quite recently, I had a friend call me a nympho.  I can hear you all sighing a proverbial "Duh", under your breath.  It's OK.  He hadn't seen me in awhile.  Sometimes people forget.  But, what he said is true.  I am.

Nympho: from nymphomanic from nymphomania: Excessive sexual desire in and behavior by a female.

Yup, guilty as Charlie Sheen in a whorehouse.

I love sex.  Sex with a partner, sex with myself, talking about sex, thinking about sex, dreaming about sex, watching get it.  I'm as crazy as a horny teenage boy who finds his older brothers stash of skin mags.

Buuuuuuuut, things haven't been all rosy, romantic and lovey-dovey lately in my life.  In fact, I'm currently not speaking to the person that is suppose to be giving me the sex.  By speaking, I mean having normal, human conversations.  Screaming matches?  That is something we've been having regularly and I have to say we may reach Eminem and Kim Mathers level.  We're getting very good at it. So we're not having sex.  Not even make up sex.  Everyone's had dry spells before.  And what do we do, Lovers?  We reach for our favorite box of goodies.  We keep ourselves satisfied until the storm blows over and we are free to fornicate again.

Well, nobody relayed that information to my crotch during this whole ordeal.  My brain must be spending all its power working on my lack of appetite (you know I'm depressed when I don't want to eat) that the naughty messages were being stopped around my spleen or something.  I've got nothing going on down there. Not even a twinge, twitch or tickle. I saw a picture of a shirtless VinDiesel and nothing.  Nothing!!  Usually the sight of him makes me go crazy and I'm breaking out the big toys.  I've tried everything.  I've Googled every hot actor with "shirtless" proceeding his name in the subject line.  I even tried some Salma Hayek for the hell of it.  I'm pretty sure this little ordeal hasn't made me line up for the other team, but Salma is usually good for a quick hit.

Nothing.  Nada.  Ziltch.  Zero. Dwiddly Squat. No Dice.

I have come to the conclusion that my VaJay must be depressed too.  Something must be wrong if it's not bothering me constantly to put things in it.  The first sign should have been when I wore sweatpants to the mall last week.  I know it's not against the law to do that.  But, I usually make the outfit cute.  Last week's ensemble told everyone at the mall my Vajay was depressed.  I'm pretty sure it let everyone know I'm boycotting sleep too.  I looked so bad the make up ladies at Macy's didn't bother me.  They're probably still gossiping about the girl with the scary hair, bad makeup and depressed vagina.

So I'm wearing sweatpants in public, I'm not having sex and my VaJay is on strike.  I'm still not a Lindsay Lohen level.  I may be dangling around the Britney Spears zone. Maybe more towards the Tara Reid. I've passed Amanda Bynes ranking but did not chose the driving option.  I did a David Hasselholf last week with a cheeseburger - but I did not do the drinking before hand.

Thank God I'm terrified of needles or I would have tattooed something ridiculous by now. But, not on my VaJay. Maybe I should.  It might wake her up.