And then I peed my pants

Elton JohnThe first thing you need to know about my trip to Tahoe to see Elton John is that I am in my early 40s. And although I didn’t realize it at the time I was buying the tickets, that makes me a little young for Elton’s demographic.

When I pointed this out to my sister, the man sitting in front of us said, “I heard that,” and gave us a scowl.

The second thing you need to know is that even BEFORE WE HAD DINNER at a nearby restaurant, my sister and I polished off a fifth of vodka. Yum yum! Thank you very much. We had a nice buzz going which is why we had two glasses of wine each with dinner.

Yeah, I know. You can see where this is headed already.

So we had dinner and drinks and then called a cab to take us to Harvey’s to see Elton John.

My sister had ordered two stadium seats for this event specifically and she told me, “Make sure we don’t forget them.”

Yes, I’m sure you can see where this is going.

While we each drank 4 Lagunitas Sumpin Sumpin beers, Elton John performed:

  • Bitch (which Lisa and I agreed was Gavin’s theme song)
  • Benny and the Jets
  • Goodbye Norman Jean
  • All the Young Girls
  • Levon
  • Tiny Dancer
  • Love
  • Daniel
  • Philadelphia Freedom
  • Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
  • Rocket Man
  • I Guess That’s why They Call it the Blues

And then I got too drunk to actually write anything else down that makes an iota of sense to me now.

But THE BEST PART was how Lisa and I got home.

We actually were so drunk and turned around we couldn’t find our hotel a mere 4 blocks away so we HOPPED INTO A PRIVATE CAR WITH A COMPLETE STRANGER and my sister paid him $40 to drive us 4 blocks to our hotel.

BUT THERE’S MORE…. I had to go to the bathroom so bad, I peed a little in my pants when we were in his car.

Yup.

I peed my pants.

Nice, eh?

What a night!

Burning Man 2019

It’s THAT time of year again!

The time when I pack up my belongings and head out to the Black Rock Desert in Nevada for Burning Man.

I won’t be able to post while I’m away so I’ve prearranged some blog posts from PREVIOUS burns to entertain while I’m away.

In the next 12 days you can read all about my Burning Man adventures, including getting there, Saunadome, lessons I’ve learned, men I’ve (ahem) “partied” with, cocksucking certifications, the trash fence, and half hard cocks.

That’s right, I said half hard cocks.

Regular posting will resume on September 4th and I hope you enjoy reading all about my latest adventures on the playa with my friends.

Until then I’m sending dusty hugs from Bombshell!

Dating Pet Peeves

1

Bad tipping.  Maybe it’s because I worked in food service in high school and as a barista in college, but bad tippers are my pet peeve.  I once went on a date to a fancy cocktail lounge where the bartender takes 3 – 4 minutes to mix and muddle the perfect $14 cocktail.  On a $30 bill, my date left a measly $2 tip.  I hastily dropped a few more bills on the tab when my date wasn’t looking.

2

Being late.  I waited in a wine bar for my date to show up for almost an hour once.  I ordered my first glass of wine and the waitstaff felt so bad for me they gave me a HUGE pour.  When my date arrived, he received a SMALL pour.  Ha ha.  Divine justice, if you ask me.  There was no second date.

3

Bad kissers.  You’d think by the time we reach 20 we’d know how to kiss but no, there are people out there that still suck face like amateurs.  I have little patience for someone who is a bad kisser.  If you can’t figure out it’s a game of mutuality instead of tonsil hockey, I’m done with you.

4

Bad breath.  Oh god, you know what I mean.  I once went on a date where I could smell his breath from across the table.  I always carry a discreet packet of mints with me and I wanted to discreetly suggest that he eat them all.

5

Being negative.  You know who I’m talking about.  That person who will list of 10 things that are wrong before they list one thing that’s right.  Mr. or Mrs. Downer.  It’s exhausting and draining to be around them.  Next!

7

Being self-absorbed.  I went on one date with a fireman.  He was so into himself his head fairly floated above his body.  If at the end of the date he could’ve told me anything about myself, I would’ve been shocked.

8

The alcoholic.  This is the person who sits down across from you and then drinks nonstop throughout the meal, barely pausing to eat and breathe.  Or they talk incessantly about all the parties they throw/go to and how obliterated they’ve gotten.  Yawn.  We’re not 21 anymore.

9

Being rude.  There’s nothing worse than going to a restaurant with a date and watching them be rude to the waitstaff.  This drives me completely batty.  Again, I worked in foodservice so I know how hard it can be.  I do not trust a man who is nice to me and rude to other people.

10

The cell phone addict.  I once went on a date with an attorney that was so horrifically bad – involving two standard poodles and a 6 year old.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, he kept answering his phone.  We barely said 10 words to eachother.  I’m still traumatized from that date.

I’m a man-eating whore (just kidding)

I’m a man-eating whore.

At least I MUST be since I write this blog about sex, dating, and relationships.

Okay, maybe I don’t write about relationships. But trust me, if I had a relationship, I would be writing about it.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy being single.  Every available (unmarried and unattached) man I meet is an opportunity to make a connection.

But there are times when being the single girl sucks.

Like when a married woman assumes if you’re talking to her husband you’ve got designs on him.

Or when you’re the only single at a couples party (á la Bridget Jones).

Or. . .

. . .when the wife of a friend CONTACTS YOUR SISTER to accuse you of trying to steal her husband because. . .

. . .wait for it. . .

. . .you replied to his IM on Facebook.

Indeed.

So there you have it.

This man-eating whore with the trashy blog is obviously so lacking in morals she would message A MARRIED MAN.

Better put a scarlet letter on me. Or maybe stamp “tramp” on my forehead.

Obviously, I’ve committed a grievous offense.

You know what I have to say about it?

HATERS GONNA HATE.

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Crazy little thing called love

I’ve noticed a new trend popping up on Tinder.

Men posting profile pictures with them posing with models.

I have one thing to say about this:

Why?

I get that models are beautiful women.

They’re photogenic and look amazing.

But really?

I don’t want to see a future boyfriend posing with a HUGE smile on his face while he poses with these models.

It makes me think that they’re modelizers and looking for the same in a partner.

Legs for days and a face to make the angels weep.

Since they don’t seem to have a clue, I’ll give them a big hint about online dating profile pictures:

We want to see you with your dog, having fun with your best friend, perhaps even a family shot with the kids.

But NOT with models.

Which is why I like the newest man to email me.

We’ll call him Stargazer.

He’s Scandinavian and Scottish with a hint of German in him.

He’s also 6’3” which isn’t something I look for but it certainly doesn’t harm his sex appeal.

Stargazer and I have a lot in common.

More importantly, we reviewed our red flags together and I’m happy to report he is a monogamous man with lots of hobbies and interests who has been divorced for several years now and has a good job and education.

However, as vanilla as he sounds, he has friends in the alternative community and he would easily fit in at Burning Man, unSCruz, the Bare Burn, or a naturist resort.

He’s open-minded, which I like.

Wish me luck.

I’m trying my hand at this crazy little thing called love.

Again.

New tattoo

Not long ago, I went on a tattoo bender.

My sister, ever the enabler, took me to tattoo shops in Reno and in the span of less than 2 years I went from ZERO tattoos to FIVE tattoos.

Then I stopped (in large part because I got cellulitis from my last tattoo) and since then no artist has added any ink to my body.

My SON, on the other hand, opted to get a tattoo to reflect his love of the United States of America.

As is practice in our family, he enlisted the help of my sister to get his tattoo:

Now personally I WOULD NEVER get this kind of a tattoo.

But I love the ink on him and I must say, despite the unusual location of the tattoo (on the back of his forearm), it suits him well.

He is BEYOND happy with his tattoo and I imagine that it’s the first of many that he will get.

And clearly he’s not afraid of his tattoos showing, like I am.

My hips, ankle, foot and shoulder blade are tattooed and all of them can be hidden, if need be.

I think, given his current occupation of soldier, that it’s a pretty neat tattoo to get.

At least he didn’t accidentally get a polyamory tattoo on his shoulder.

Wellness

There’s a wellness program at my work that assesses our fitness on an annual basis.

I skipped taking the assessment for the last two years but this year (since I get paid to do it), I took the assessment.

Lo and behold, I am in WORSE shape than I was in 2012.

Le duh.

Just so you know, it takes a tremendous amount of strength and character to get your health measured when you know it’s pretty bad.

I found out that in seven years I’ve gained 55 pounds.

OMG!!

How does that happen?

Well, I’ll tell you how:

  1. Eating too much food and beverages (specifically alcoholic beverages)
  2. Not working out enough
  3. Skipping daily weigh ins
  4. Living a sedentary lifestyle.

As it turns out, I’m only too aware that I can’t continue on this path.

Therefore, I’ve begun a fitness regimen.

I’m weighing myself EVERY DAY and going for walks on a regular basis.

I’m working myself up to 10,000 steps a day.

If you ask me what has changed between this post and my last post on dieting, I can tell you this – I AM EXERCISING.

And that’s new for me.

Usually I try to lose weight with only dieting.

But I see the importance of working out regularly now and I’m committed to being a dedicated dieter and adding exercise into my daily routine.

Truth be told, my cousin Jennifer has also inspired me to get fit.

She herself modified her diet and added exercise into her daily routine and now she looks even more fabulous than she always has.

She gives me a success story I can relate to.

Hopefully, in a few months I’ll be well on my way to better health, leaving my days of sloth and gluttony behind me.

Just watch me!

New man = new bedding

I have a thing about bedding.

Every time I get a new boyfriend, I get new bedding.

It’s an UNCONTROLLABLE urge.

It just seems wrong to sleep with a different man in sheets christened by his predecessor.

Am I right?

No jokes about how much bedding I should have, btw.

It all started 8 years ago.

I had beautiful red floral IKEA bedding which I slept in with my then-boyfriend Jay.

I have pictures I took of him smiling at me from among those red sheets and the images are burned into my brain.

I don’t even need to close my eyes and I can see his face and those sheets.

So it was necessary when we split to gift that bedding to my sister’s spare bedroom.

And thus a habit was born.

New man = new bedding.

Needless to say, I’ve been sleeping in the same bedding for years now and I finally allowed myself the luxury of buying new bedding NOT BECAUSE OF A NEW MAN but because I simply wanted new bedding.

Oh sure, I’m sure a new man will someday snuggle with me under that comforter, but until then this girl is happy sleeping solo in my new bedding!

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New bedding christened in the Motor Beast at Burning Man 2016. Can you tell I like bright colors?

These are my “SINGLE WOMAN” linens.

Standing next to supermodels

It sounds like a nightmare, doesn’t it?

Having to stand next to a supermodel.

What could be worse that being side by side with a leggy blond or brunette with perfectly symmetrical features and cheekbones that could cut wood?

I personally try not to follow too many fashion models on Instagram because it’s bad for my mental health and self image.

I try to follow curve models.

They have curvy butts and thighs and sometimes even a soft belly.

It’s comforting to me to see women with body types like my own.

It makes me feel like less of an unlovable freak and more like a beautiful woman.

I’m not sure beauty magazines understand the impact they have on young women growing up when all they promote within their pages are size 0 models.

It’s a 445 BILLION dollar industry based on convincing women that they need this lipstick, dress, purse, face cream, etc, in order to be beautiful.

I am reminded of a line in “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” that goes something like this:

DO NOT READ BEAUTY MAGAZINES, THEY WILL ONLY MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY.

Beauty magazines are in the business of making beautiful women feel ugly.

When I was younger I loved beauty magazines.

I used to subscribe to several of them and I’d comb through the pages of the magazine picking out makeup, clothes, and accessories that I really wanted.

It gave me a little thrill.

Now, it makes me shudder.

And yet, I am a beauty consumer of the first water.

A VIB Sephora member.

A Platinum member of ULTA.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t also buy makeup from Milani, Beautylish, and elf.

If the amount of makeup we buy is proportional to how ugly we feel inside, then what do my spending habits say about me????

God, there’s a frightening thought.

The pickle pouch

5681db484a9d8b0c63101aa9877d1722I have a love-hate relationship with condoms.

On the one hand I love what they do – prevent unintended pregnancy and the transmission of nasty old STDs.

On the other hand I hate for they feel – like I’m trying to pick up a dime with rubber gloves on.  There’s not much sensation.

But recently, I read MyLifeOnMatchAndMore’s enthusiastic blog post on “For the Love of Lube” and I couldn’t help but follow her link to Lucky Bloke, who sells variety packs of condoms and lube.

(Incidentally lube (Gun Oil) is something I have ALWAYS loved)

It started me thinking.  Maybe the next generation of condoms are superior to the ones I’m used to.  Maybe, just maybe I can learn to love condoms again.

Lucky Bloke has several awesome variety packs available:

  1. Non latex – For the sensitive among us.
  2. Smaller fit – For those challenged in the cock department (just remember size doesn’t matter?).
  3. Standard – For the average man.
  4. Mixed sizes – When you don’t know what size you are.
  5. Japanese Ultra thin – The very best in ultra thin.
  6. Flavored – Really?  Why?  Nevermind.
  7. Ultra thin – Ultra thin.  ‘Nuff said.
  8. Pleasure shaped – Condoms aren’t just ribbed anymore.
  9. Textured – like wearing an argyle sweater on your cock.

Maybe I can learn to love condoms a little more and hate them a little less.