The Fungus Among Us

It's summer. Therefore, it is sticky, humid, damp, wet and just plain uncomfortable. The moisture creeps into your basement requiring a 24 hr dehumidifier, it climbs up the walls in you bathroom resulting in mold along your tub line and in TH's case, it makes a home in his pants.

We were enjoying a lovely brunch on Sunday morning when this conversation took place:

"We need to stop by the drugstore after brunch" said TH as he shoveled up another forkful of syrup soaked Belgian waffle in his mouth.

"We're out of toilet paper AGAIN!" I said. "We just got at 48 pack last weekend! What is wrong with you? You really need to see a doctor"

TH looked at me blandly and said, "No. I need to pick up some cream for jock itch"

My forkful of egg and bean burrito stopped halfway to my mouth. Immediately, I had images of those ancient Greek marble statues whose crotches were covered with moss. EWWWW!!!

After taking a moment to compose myself and eat a bite of egg I said, "So, what you're saying is that you've got a fungus on your balls"

"Not on my balls, you dip shit. It's just around the sides of my legs." he said as he paid the check and we got up to leave.

I was already in full swing smart ass mode. I was gonna bleed this baby dry.

As we got into the car, I asked, "So, when we get home, can I applied the penis cream?"

TH sighed with annoyance "I said it was jock itch, not cock itch. Can we just get this and be done with it."

I smiled coyly. "But, that doesn't mean I can't put it on" I was enjoying this whole episode.

We pulled into the drugstore parking lot and I bounded out of the car, eager to continue TH''s humiliation.

I pranced down the drugstore aisle with TH in tow. We stopped at the display of anti-fungle creams and TH squatted down to pick out a package.

"Do you know which one you need" I said. I was scanning the labels and they all seemed to be for Athlete's Foot or something else that was foot related.

"I think that this is the one. Lotrimin." he said as he eased up to standing and was reading the label.

"Why don't we ask the pharmacist." That was my classic answer for anything drugstore related. When in doubt ask the man in the white coat.

"No" he said, "I'm pretty sure this is the one".

"But, it says it's for Athlete's Foot. I don't think you're suppose to put stuff like that on you balls"

"For the last time, it's not on my fucking balls" he said.

"I'm gonna ask the pharmacist" I said.

"Ya, why don't you do that" he said, eager for me to leave him alone.

I walked up to the pharmacy counter and said to the pharmacist, "Hi! What sort of stuff would you use for (said in a stage whisper) jock inch. Would you use Lotrimin?

"Yes. Use Lotrimin Ultra"

I trotted down the aisle back to TH. "He said use Lotrimin Ultra. Apparently, he knows that your balls are ultra awesome".

TH just glared at me and walked to the check out counter. I guess I had said that last sentence a little too loud and the pharmacist was looking at us funny.

I lost my steam on the ball fungus topic once he distracted me with a trip to Eastern Mountain Sports. Oooh, look shiny things!!! I was also remembering in that I was in my own anti-fungal battle. Hours of spending time in hot, sweating running shoes and walking barefoot in the gyms yoga room had given me my own moss covered body part. I thought Athlete's Foot was only for gnarly, smelly football players. I thought I just had a weird blister until it refused to go away. I'd had my own conversation with the pharmacist (different drugstore) a week before. I just didn't tell him that it was me that was suffering from icky foot syndrome. I lied and told him it was my husband. I didn't want him to think that I perfect little ole me had a festering sore in my fabulous stilettos.

And before you guys start thinking that I passed my mold to TH thru some kinky footplay, you're all wrong. Don't look at me like that. You know your mind went there, you sick perverts. I may be freaky, but I draw the line at feet. Just thinking about it give me a full body shiver.

Bare Neked Experiments

There has been all of this stuff in the news lately about Naked Hiking Day. A bunch of people use one day out of the year to hike around in the buff. Imagine taking a daily walk along your favorite nature trail only to come across a hairy, 50 year old man traipsing along with his doodle on display. Then there was the guy who decided to strip down to his birthday suit on an airplane. I guess those FAA laws and all the terrorist stuff just didn't apply to him. He claims he suffers from bipolar disorder and forgot to take his meds. I say he just wanted to get his freak on. And there was the chick who stabbed her roommate because she was asked not to walk around naked in the apartment. I can understand that request. I've had roommates before and I didn't want to see then naked either.

People just like to be naked. There are the true blue nudists who really want to be in tune with nature. There are those who want you to believe they are nudists, but are just freaky little perverts. Then there are people like my friend James (Hi James!!!!) who just want to see lots of boobies at the nude beach. I don't fall into any of these categories. I'm more of a gee-I'm-home-and-wouldn't-it-be-nice-if-I-didn't-have-to-wear-clothes or more importantly NO TAN LINES! Most of the time I have clothes on; a sundress, cutoffs and a t-shirt or something equally as casual. But, after the Naked Hiker Day story, I thought that I'm might do a little experiment. I would spend 3 hours doing stuff around the house in the nude. Sure, it would have been fun to frolic in the state park naked as a jaybird. But, this is Cape Cod. I grew up here. There is a 95% chance I would run into someone I know with a 99% chance that it would be one of my high school teachers or even better, a client.

So, back to my little experiment.

It was a Saturday and the weather was cloudy, breezy and slightly muggy. It was a perfect day to do some housework. I stripped down to what nature gave me and went to work. It only took me 15 minutes to forget that I was naked. It took me another 15 minutes to realize that I loved laying on our perfectly made up bed and feeling the breeze on my skin. 5 minutes later....well, we ALL know what I did. After that, naked reading. Three hours were up in a flash. Housework remained undone, but I was happy and satisfied....twice.

That's it, lovers. If I cannot be naked in my own house without doing something naughty, how would I act at a nudist camp, a nude beach or hiking naked? If I am feeling the least bit randy, you can see it on my face, plain as day. I always thought those passages in romance novels were a bunch of hooey. "Her eyes became limpid pools, a flush rose up between her breasts and she felt her limbs grow heavy as a whisper of lust curled in her belly" Well, it was time for Experiment #2: What do I look like when I'm REALLY horny? I had to put in the "really" 'cuz feeling frisky is a part of my every day persona.

Well, the perfect time was this past Tuesday. I had to attend one of those Gawd awful Chamber of Commerce Business Network Events (aka The Events We Go To For The Free Booze and Food). I am Miss Sally Lightweight and after 2 beers (on a very empty stomach) I had a fire ignite my loins. I was ready for some fun and TH was gonna be my playground. To keep myself (and my fingers) occupied on the ride home, I called everyone I could think of. It wasn't a technically a drunk dial situation (I wasn't drunk) and it was only a 20 minute ride. It was a mercy dial. I only only made it to the "D's" when I pulled into my driveway.

I walked into the house and went straight for a mirror. This would have been my passage

"Her hazel eyes were hidden behind Oakley sunglasses she'd forgotten when she entered the house. Her long, thick blond hair was a windblown, salt ridden mess from the breeze that had blown off the ocean while she was at the event. A Blackberry was glued to her ear as she babbled on and on about gossip from the gym and Sam Adams Light beer perfumed her breath. Her cranberry silk shirt showed off her toned arms but could do nothing to hide the fact that she had no breasts. Her black pencil skirt hugged her curves and showed off her banging ass. Her Charles David shoes were fabulous.

After she hung up the phone, she proceeded to chase her husband around the house in an effort to mount him as quickly as possible. Her efforts were in vain. He wanted dinner and she looked like a crazed socialite. There would be no nookie that night. She inhaled a mound of pasta with pesto and promply passed out."

Oh well. Anything else you think I should try?

RTT - I Have No Snappy Title For This One.

• TH and I have reached a new level of intimacy. Remember how I blabbed on and on about his habit of spending WAY to much time in the bathroom and how it drove me crazy. Well, now I just don't care anymore. If he's been in there for more than 15 minutes and I need something in there, I just go on in and get it. So far, he hasn't said anything about it.
• I'm convinced boursin cheese is the food of the Gods. You could schmere it on asphalt and I would eat it up. I put some on a burger this weekend and nearly came in my pants after the first bite.
• Team Triathlon Training Update: Last week I ran in two road races. Both were 5K's. Both were fucking hard! I'm running in another race this Saturday for 4.81 miles.
  I curse my father the entire last mile of every race because he has it in his head that we're gonna win this stupid thing. Gee, no pressure there Dad. He is delusional mental case. I now have a race every Saturday until the big day.
• My website is almost finished. I swear, this time it's really happening. My launch date is July 31. WooHoo!!!
• There will not be any naked photos of me on the website. Don't even ask.
• Fancy Pants has decided to go Part Time for the summer. I am trying not to throw myself out a window on the Monday's and Friday's he's not here. We text when we miss each other. He is my buffer from the crazies in this office.
• Have you every listened to someone talk and actually feel the urge to vomit. The amount of bullshit that spews forth from some of these guys mouths makes me queasy inside. I almost got caught fake gagging the other day.
• I am getting those email spam messages from the "Lonely Horny Wives" site. It's something about wives who aren't getting enough at home and are seeking to get it on with someone else. I am sure that these wives don't look anything like those girls in the pictures. Yeah. That's right. I looked. It was lunch time and I was curious.
• I'm one of those people that is annoyingly and extremely healthy. But, my mother has a type of chronic leukemia. As a result, any teeny, tiny thing that pops up on my health scan needs to be addressed with avengance. I'm always getting tested, poked and probed for something or another. Unfortunately, these tests are of the "feminine persuasion". Just once I would like to walk into the gyno's office and say "I'm here to be violated and humiliated again! Now, where's my favorite chair with the stirrups! Giddee Up!"

And just because my favorite blog pimp Badass Geek was so disappointed I omitted the iPod shuffle last week, this ones for you babe!
1. Careless Whisper - Seether
2. Rescue Me - Pat Benatar
3. E Mi Manchi Tu - Andrea Bocelli
4. Slave to the Music - Nick Skitz (this is a repeat)
5. Face Down - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
6. Come Rain or Come Shine - Bette Midler
7. Up All Night - Hinder
8. Sober - Pink
9. Over and Over - Nelly & Tim McGraw (Tim makes my panties damp)
10. I Wanna Be A Cowboy - Boys Don't Cry (can't go wrong with a horse named Ted)

That's a Random wrap, lovers.

Waxing Derriere

I think that overall body maintenance is important. That's the main reason I torture myself at the gym, slather on creams and lotions and hide under a hat when I go outside in the sun. I'm trying to preserve myself for years to come. I watch all of those silly 20-something girls who lay like oiled sardines, baking in the sun and think, "Just wait until you're 40. You're gonna look like a alligator handbag." If I do feel the need to add some color to my pale Irish skin, I sit out for 1 hour. That's a 1/2 hour on each side. Naked. If you're gonna get some color, you might as well tan the whole caboodle. But, you'd heard all that before. You've also heard about my visits to keep my lady bits tidy. First there was the Brazilian Mistress of Pain. Now, I see the Wax Nazi whose brutal methods strip me of every single hair in my nether regions. She is dynamite, lovers. Ruthless, cold and mercy-free. Every three weeks, I meekly step into her Den of Pain and an hour later, I walk out a smooth woman.

So, I'm in there this past Saturday and she's doing her normal routine. Slap on the wax, lay down the strip and yank. All the while she's gabbing away.

"Men ez like kidz, you know" she said. "Dey need to be treat like kidz and you get you way."

I just nodded. I had just run a 5K road race, I was tired and trying not to cry as she attacked the crease of my leg with a pair of tweezers. We had done this conversation before and I was praying she wasn't going to start on the sex advice. I was aware that "women have to be both lover and whore to man". Didn't she know she was talking to an expert?

We had just finished the legs over the head routine as she tidied up the back end when she told me to flip over on my stomach. This was a new position that she'd been using lately. Apparently it was easier for her to hit a few spots with my ass in the air. She had also been using powder as a follow up instead of the diaper creme stuff. It didn't make it any less humiliating, but it smelled alot better. I was still having flashbacks of being changed as a child.

So, I'm lying on my stomach and she's chatting away while powering my bum. I'm struggling to stay awake and daydreaming about napping on my chaise lounge when I felt her swipe a big coat of wax on my butt cheek. My napping fantasy was brutally interrupted. Was she really gonna....RIIIIIIIPPPP! You guessed it, she'd just waxed my butt cheek.

Now, just hold on a minute. Do not start to think that I have hair on my ass. No way, No how, NADA. You know how everyone has a tiny bit of peach fuzz all over their body. It's left over from our caveman days when we were totally in need of waxing services. Well, the Wax Nazi HATES hair. If she sees it, she goes after it. It doesn't matter where it is. It doesn't matter if it is not visible to the naked eye. She's got these special goggles that enable her to see microscopic hair and she was wearing them at that moment.

Well, now that she's waxed one cheek, she's on to the other one. Chirping away like a bird.

"Theze ez good if yous wear short shorts" she said as she encased my other cheek in wax.

How short does she think my shorts are? I don't parade around in booty shorts with my ass hanging out. Okay....I DO hang out in booty shorts at home. But there was nothing there to wax. It didn't feel any different when she finished.

I am utterly humiliated, but, silky smooth as satin. I fear for the next time.

A Little More Redneck

I forgot to tell y'all about my fabulous weekend at the New Hampshire International Speedway 2 weeks ago. TH and I packed up the car and drove North for a bit o' Redneck fun.

If you cannot read, the t-shirt says:
SEX POLICE

K-9

Doggystyle Unit

So it's a funny tshirt. Big Whoop. What you can't see is the adorable 4 year old child sitting on this guys lap. I'm all for naughty shirts if the situation calls for it. But, even I have limits. In my opinion, this guys a bit turd. Leave the dirty tshirt back at the frat house, stud.

NASCAR embraces it's sexually confused fans.

This guy spent the entire race on the phone. I don't know how he heard anything. It's fuckin' loud, y'all. Of course, as soon as this chick started flashing her tits, he hung up real quick.

Here's Miss Free Boob getting arrested by the PoPo after flashing her nasty funbags. Why is it that only the fugliest chicks decided they should lift their shirt. The first time was interesting, the second time was nauseating - by the fourth time, everyone was turning their heads away.
Here is the crown jewel:


I know, I know....you're thinking maybe he sat on something. No. I'm not sure if it he sharted or what. But there was definitely something gnarly going on.

I'm sorry I cannot offer up more Redneck sights, but it was an exciting race and I was doing too much yelling and drinking to focus on the buffet of white trash surrounding me. Unlike my glutton filled trip to Bristol, TN, I was kinder to my system and did not ingest mass quantities of lard, suger, grease and corndog. That is a once a year occurrence, lovers. Reserved only for the holiest of races.

RTT - Underwear, Batteries and Other Bullshit

The other day, one of the associates in my office was looking for AAA batteries. I took out my purse, removed the batteries from my travel vibrator and promptly gave them to him. No, I didn't do it in front of him. He was very impressed with my sacrifice.

Do not post a negative Facebook status if your boss is one of your "friends". I had a minor meltdown last Wednesday, posted something about needing a change and Partner #1 came flying in my office the next day asking if I was alright. He thought I was thinking about quitting. Was I? He'll never know.

I told Fancy Pants I was thinking about buying a glass sex toy 'cuz I don't have on yet. He told me I should put it in the freezer before I use it. I still haven't gotten over that comment. What have I done to the poor boy. He was so sweet and innocent when I first met him. Now, he's giving me sex tips.

TH and I were lying in bed the other night. He turned to me and said, "Are these yours?" and held out one of my thongs. I guess it had gotten caught in the sheets when I did the laundry. (Damn you static cling). I frowned at him and said "You'd better hope they're mine or we need to have a talk". Who elses did they think the were? The man will do anything to fantasize about me having a lesbian affair.

Why is it when I eat a donut during an office meeting everyone looks at me like I'm ingesting toxic waste? Meanwhile, they're all stuffing their pieholes as fast as they can. I exercise four times as much as them. I think I can handle a donut.....or two. Especially if they are the homemade kind from "The Hole" in Orleans, MA. Mmmmmmmmm. Tasty.

I bought my first clementis plant this weekend. I want to train this vine to trail all over my mailbox. I'm determine to have one of those yards that people drool over when they drive by. TH is in charge of installing the new mailbox. He has decided that our mailbox is going to be bright purple and numbers will be decals from race car numbers. Apparently he has decided to go the redneck route and not the beautiful yard route. But, marriage is about compromises. I'm hoping that within a year the vine will have grown so much that it covers the entire mailbox.


BTW, I think "clementis" sounds like a STD. When I asked the guy at the nursery where they were kept, I snickered. Please forgive me. My maturity level stands at 14 years old today.


That's a wrap, lovers.

A Review - Ear-Resistible Vibrations

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