Cookie Monster

You all know I like to shop at etsy.

I find really cool things on that site – like Star Wars hair clips, pirate hats, and rainbow bodysuits.

The latest thing I’ve found is a faux fur jacket.

And the woman who makes the jackets makes CUSTOM jackets.

I gave Tejas her name and contact info and he commissioned this:

A royal blue, full-length, faux fur burner coat to wear on the playa.

Pretty spiffy, huh?

Mine is neon green so we’ll make quite the pair walking around Black Rock City in our duds.

The only thing about this jacket, which I love by the way, is that it reminds me of Cookie Monster.

Once you’re seen it, you can’t UNSEE it.

And so I’m wondering, given that Tejas has TWO possible playa names at this point – Maximus and Thumper – if he will ultimately wind up with the playa name COOKIE MONSTER.

All on account of this jacket.

Wedding Season

I know there’s such a thing as “wedding season.”

When all the brides and grooms decide to take advantage of the pleasant weather and throw a party to celebrate their nuptials.

I LOVE going to weddings, but sadly haven’t attended that many.

Maybe 6 or 7 in my entire lifetime.

That’s not too many considering I’m including my own.

So you can imagine I was THRILLED when I got invited to a friend’s DESTINATION wedding in Yosemite.

What could be better than visiting the sequoias, listening to a rushing river, and watching two people I care about remind me that love is a beautiful thing?

I always feel, if only for a little while, optimistic about my own love prospects.

I am reminded that yes, I actually want something more than flings in my life.

That I’d like to invest my care and concern in another human being.

It all seems so real and possible when I’m at a wedding.

Other people find it.

Why not me?

SoulFire 2016: The Shirtcocking Chronicles

Do you know what shirtcocking is?

It’s when a man walks around naked wearing nothing but a shirt (often an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt) with his peen hanging out underneath.

Shirt + cock = shirtcocking

Shirtcocking is tolerated with amusement at Burning Man and regionals.

It is thought that shirtcocking originates when a man wants to walk around naked (a perfectly acceptable past time at a naturist retreat) but he’s worried about burning his chest, back, and shoulders, so he puts on a shirt.

There was A LOT of shirtcocking at Lupin this past weekend.

Maybe because of the 95 degree heat.

The only thing to do was get naked and jump in the pool to cool off.

I went to the pool and saw a lot of peen this past weekend.

It seems like there’s always at least twice as many men as women at the pool.

But hanging out at the pool was great.

I love seeing body diversity – tall, round, short, squat, slim, and everything in between.

Of course as my friend The Blonde Goddess put it, “There’s nothing like being at a nude resort to make you feel fat.”

I had my issues, but I fought them and in the end had a wonderful time.

I’ve drunk my fill of naked men and women.

And those shirtcockers?

Well, I just let them shirtcock.

And giggled on the inside.

Here’s my picture of all the cocks that were shirtcocking:

bratwurst

SoulFire 2016: The Heatstroke Chronicles

white witch michelleMaybe it was just me.

Maybe everyone else did just fine.

But I managed to get myself good and overheated as well as dehydrated at SoulFire TWO DAYS IN A ROW!

Tejas and I arrived on Friday at 10 am and set up camp in the heat. Once camp was set up we drank rum and cokes until I started to worry that I wasn’t getting enough liquid so I drank 3 diet cokes.

Just a word of advice: Diet Coke DOES NOT PREVENT DEHYDRATION.

No it does not.

Because at about 9 pm after battling a dehydration headache for about two hours, I gave up and went to bed with 3 Tylenol RIGHT WHEN THINGS WERE GETTING GOOD!

I laid there, freezing cold, wanting a bed partner to snuggle with while I recovered.

But no, there were no bed partners to be found.

I laid in bed until about 1 am, then got up to party only to find that the party was winding down.

So back to bed.

Try again another day.

Cue Saturday.

I’m drinking TONS of coconut water to keep me hydrated and yet with the 95 degree heat I still manage to overheat.

Dante took me to the Restaurant to sit in air conditioning and cool down.

I was dizzy walking up the hill to the Restaurant (even though I was wearing nothing but pink ruffled panties and a crochet bikini fringe top).

There was an art exhibit going on in the Restaurant and I found that if I positioned myself just right I could stare at a picture of a dolphin while the vent blew cold air up my butt.

It was amazing!

So, lessons learned:

Diet Coke is not the same as water

Coconut juice will not prevent overheating

Do what you need to take care of yourself

However, if you fuck up (like me) then friends are so helpful when you’re not feeling well.

Love to Tejas for giving me Tylenol and love to Dante for cooling me down.

michelle and tejas

Sneaking around naked

This may or may not have happened at Mercey Hot Springs:

After imbibing MANY gin and tonics with FRESH lime juice, an entire bottle of champagne, AND a few glasses of red wine, two women decided to sneak off to the “CLOTHING OPTIONAL” soaking tubs to take a dip in the hot water.

The hot tubs are empty and have to be filled with hot water for each user.

The hot tubs are also crawling with black beetles that have to be flushed down the drain BEFORE you can use the tubs.

So the women rinsed out their hot tubs, got rid of all the beetles, and filled their tubs with water.

Then they carefully removed their clothing, placed everything on a nearby chair, and stepped into their hot tubs to soak.

The water was hot and enveloping.

The night breeze was warm and relaxing.

One of them turned off their Coleman lantern so that they could see the lights from the stars.

As soon as the light went off, the women were cloaked in darkness.

The light from distant starts started to appear before them.

It was the Milky Way, almost close enough to touch.

So beautiful

So striking.

Before long, the women were joined by two other couples, who each snuck into their own tubs to watch the star show.

And then, one of the women started snoring.

She was sleeping in her hot tub.

Her friend, realizing it was time to take her back to the tent, rustled her awake.

“Time to go to the tent.”

In order to not put on a peep show to the light of a Coleman lantern, the women opted to wrap their towels around themselves and sneak back to their tent, hopefully avoiding staff.

The woman who was awake had a yellow towel and she wrapped it tightly around her body.

The sleepy woman did not do very well wrapping up her nudity. She was losing her towel right and left, so much that the other woman had to turn off the lantern lest they be seen in the light.

They carefully made their way, giggling loudly, in the dark to the campsite.

Home sweet home!

Privacy

Yesterday my privacy was violated.

Someone logged into my Facebook account and looked at pictures that were supposed to be private.

Ones that I had filtered from the public and friends.

Not nude pics, but close to nude pics.

Tasteful I thought.

This person then got upset and offended and proceeded to tell my mother that I needed an intervention. That I was out of control.

Nudity bothers me less than the average American. In that respect, I am less mainstream and more on the fringe.

My mother then proceeded to unload on me all her imagined “sexual trespasses” that I had “committed” in her mind.

According to her, I sleep with every man I go on a date with.

This is ironic. I can point to many men I’ve dated way more than just one time who I have never slept with.

I do the best I can to share intimacies with men who I feel have the possibility of developing into something more.

In some cases, I am right – like with Luke and Jay – and I wind up in 18 month relationships.

In other cases, I am wrong – like with The Israeli – and I wind up ghosted with a face full of cum.

I rarely spend the night and I don’t have sex at my house.

These are the rules I have.

As a 43 year old woman, I don’t think I need to justify my sex life to my parents and it’s a shame that they are all up in my business about it.

It hurts that someone felt the need to spy on me, but what hurts more is knowing that my parents have a flawed and skewed image of me in their heads.

According to my mother, I am a slut.

Sigh.

That woman has never been comfortable with my sexuality.

There is no great insight I have here.

I’m rather confused and hurt about the whole experience.

And it’s ironic that all this is happening at a time in my life when I’m focused less on dating and more on friendships.

Yes, you read that right.

I’m settling down.

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A Steady Diet of Kisses

When you’ve been single for a while, flirting comes as easily as breathing.

Breathe in.

Plant a kiss on your favorite single guy.

Breathe out.

So imagine me at unSCruz, trying to not flirt because I was there with The Swede.

All those delicious men who flirt back with me and make me feel sexy and appealing. . .

. . .they were off limits.

I’ve gotten in the habit of kissing as many people as possible.

It’s a hard habit to break and fortunately, given that The Swede has a more European view of things, I didn’t have to.

I went around kissing all my friends – male, female, trans, bi, gay, furry – you name it, I was kissing it.

Of course, the best kisser in the whole bunch was The Swede.

He would grab me and kiss me, just because.

Or say something provocative and then plant one on me.

For someone who is usually starving for affection, I got a steady diet of it during unSCruz.

So much so that I know it’s going to be hard for me to go without it.

The Swede leaves for Sweden today.

And I am going to miss him.

 

 

The Wedding

My wedding – February 2, 1996

If you ask me what are the top 5 weddings I’ve attended, the unSCruz wedding would have to be at the top of my list, just under my own wedding.

I got so emotional as I watched the father-of-the-bride walk his daughter down the rose lined aisle.

It was a beautiful ceremony and one that was infused with the flavor of the couple getting married.

The bride wore horns.

The groom wore a crown.

They were perfectly matched and watching them share their love with their family and friends, one couldn’t help but be moved by the total and utter devotion they showed each other.

It was truly a sight to see.

Of course, the family and friends of the bride and groom were equally festive for the nuptials.

I saw belly dancers, fairies, steampunk outfits, wedding dresses, Greek goddesses, peacocks, saris, you name it – it was out there on display.

Everywhere you turned there was something to look at.

The wedding was a melting pot of styles and flavors.

So beautiful.

The Swede saved me a spot up front by the bride and groom so I got to hear the exchange of vows and watch the handfasting up close.

They promised to love one another til the end of time.

What else is there?

 

Milestones

May 13, 2016

According to Tinder, that’s the day that I first met The Swede.

Some of you have been asking how I met The Swede and the truth is I met him on Tinder.

He was on a business trip to the Bay Area from his home in Stockholm, Sweden and was looking for a tour guide.

I was online looking to meet someone cool.

I agreed to take him to Santa Cruz.

I love going to Santa Cruz and playing tour guide to people who are unfamiliar with the area.

We ate on the Wharf, played air hockey, and I made him take off his shoes and dip his feet in the Pacific Ocean.

I taught him to eat raw oysters, though he wasn’t a big fan.

He was soft spoken and shy, unlike me.

He left for home the next day and I thought perhaps I might see him again if he came back for another work trip.

And of course, I did see him on his next trip.

And his next trip.

It took 3 dates to get him to kiss me, but now that we’ve kissed, the trick is getting us to STOP KISSING.

Well, the WHOLE reason why I’m writing this post is because it’s May 13, 2017 – which means I have officially known him for an ENTIRE year!

Milestones.

The Weekend Boyfriend

For the weekend of unSCruz, I had a boyfriend.

The Swede went with me and basically admirably filled the position.

  • He helped me load and unload my truck.

Twice!

  • He helped me get Tejas back to camp Friday night (after we lost him for 4 hours).
  • He helped cook and clean.
  • He wore costumes.
  • He held my hand and told me I was beautiful.
  • He kept me warm on the cold nights in Watsonville.
  • And he gave me a thorough tongue lashing.

Yes, that means EXACTLY what you think it does.

The Swede was sweet.

For all my worries that he would have trouble fitting in, The Swede did JUST FINE.

Better than fine.

He was AWESOME.

He even let me take post-coital photos of the two of us.

unSCruz was a blast and I can’t wait to blog about all the things that happened.

But by and large, the BEST PART OF THE WEEKEND?

The Swede.

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