Kissing

When I went out with The Swede, at the end of our date, I thought, “Well, there’s a guy who will never ask me out again.”

Boy, was I wrong.

Of course, I based this on the fact that he was initially very quiet around me. I mistook his silence for disinterest.

And, he didn’t kiss me.

Well that’s because the two of us have completely different theories about who to kiss.

He believes in kissing only the people he really wants to kiss after he gets to know them whereas I believe in kissing as many people as will let me kiss them trying to find the good ones.

I know.

It’s a strange phenomenon.

I can kiss just about anyone, so long as they don’t have bad teeth or bad breath.

And I believe heartily in doing it.

Because let’s face it, it wouldn’t hurt the world to have a lot more kissing (and hugging) in it.

When it comes to kissing, The Swede has got to be right at the top of my list of best kissers of all time.

It may have taken a year to kiss him (he lives in Sweden, folks), but once I started, I didn’t want to stop.

You ever get so lost in a kiss that time passing by seems to disappear?

You ever lose track of your body and only feel sensation in your lips?

You ever feel the need to change your panties after a kiss?

That’s what kissing The Swede is like.

So color me happy he asked me out again and got around to kissing me.

We should have started kissing each other a lot sooner.

Who knew I’d need to go to Sweden to get kissed?!

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Thick thighs and bodacious breasts

Pretty much my whole life I have wished I had legs like Heidi Klum.

Slim. Sexy. Statuesque.

What did I get?

Thick legs.

Lately however, I haven’t minded as much.

Perhaps it’s because I no longer read beauty magazines which inundate me with images of women with bodies so very unlike my own.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve set up my Instagram feed to show me images of plus size beauties like @lillias_right

And @theericalauren

There’s just something about seeing women with bodies like my own that make me feel more confident in my own skin.

Nevertheless, I was surprised to find that THIS

was my most popular boudoir photo.

Thick thighs. Hip tattoos showing. Airbrushed skin like plastic.

I suppose that there are men (and women) out there who like thick legs.

I know they are growing on me.

My other most popular picture on this blog is this one:

A hot tub photo with a near nip slip.

Ample breasts, steamy skin, wild hair.

The popularity of this photo surprises me less.

I’ve just got to say how very impressed I am with my blog audience for liking these photos.

Guess what?

Thick thighs and bodacious breasts are IN!

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On being a singleton

I have a friend, a very good friend, who laments being single.

At their best moment, they feel they’re single because there’s no one interesting to date.

At their worst moment, they feel they’re single because there’s something wrong with them.

I take a different approach to being single.

I think I’m single because I simply haven’t stumbled across the path of the right person yet.

It’s a liberating concept.

Every day I’m one day closer to meeting someone perfect for me.

Every bad date I go on, every toad I kiss and regret, I’ve eliminated one more possible person who could be right for me.

Instead of failing at dating, I’ve succeeded at removing one more barrier to me finding someone right for me.

I have to admit, I have a lot of creative outlets for my energy.

From Burning Man to my friendships, I keep myself busy and seldom feel lonely.

But I’ve had a string of good luck lately and I find that I am most sensitive about not having a significant other when times are tough and I need someone to lean on.

So I’m appreciative that I’m living in a time of abundance, instead of scarcity.

And, you know, there are worse things out there than being able to flirt with whatever guy suits my fancy.

Like having no one to flirt with.

Or getting a HUGE friction burn on your inner thigh.

Now that would be AWFUL.

Ecstasy

There are many drugs (pretty much all of them) that I’ve never tried.

I got the “Don’t Do Drugs” message early on in life.

I watched my sister’s friend Stefan suck up nitrous oxide from WhipIts into his lungs and his lips turned a greyish black, his eyes rolled back in his head and he laid back on the couch with his paunchy belly peeking out from under his dirty t-shirt. He made the entire process look so unappealing my response was “No fucking way” when they were offered to me.

Plus, and this is a BIG plus, I was always very satisfied with using alcohol to occasionally alter my reality.

Now that I’ve gone to Burning Man, I’ve been exposed to more people taking more drugs.

And I must say, occasionally I see the appeal.

Among the many drugs I’ve never taken is ecstasy.

It strikes me that a drug which makes you feel connected to other people and heightens your sensations sounds like an ok drug to me.

Of course, given that my brain is already suffering from an imbalance, I doubt I will ever actually try ecstasy.

But I’ll tell you this:

I sure as hell wouldn’t mind being in the bottom of a puppy pile of people on E.

Sounds pretty fucking fabulous to me.

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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?

Commando

So I’m at work, wearing a lovely sunflower yellow sundress.

I got three compliments within 15 minutes of arriving at work.

One person told me “You better have a date tonight. It’d be a shame to waste that dress.”

The truth is I LOVE this dress.

I’m going to wear it to the wedding I’m going to in September.

It’s simple and understated yet festive and bright.

But I discovered a design flaw.

There is no lining.

And HOW did I discover this, you might ask?

Well I turned sideways to look at my butt in the bathroom mirror at work and discovered. . .

. . that my blue lace underwear was TOTALLY SHOWING THROUGH MY YELLOW DRESS.

Now I understand why so many people were looking at me when I went to lunch.

It wasn’t (just because ) I looked pretty.

No, it’s because they could see my knickers!

The thing is, now I have to figure out what to do to get myself through the rest of my work day without flashing too many more people my undergarments.

And I think I’ve come up with a pretty good answer.

One that will make all my “unblunder” followers proud.

I’m going commando!

 

Sad news here

Sad news here.

The Swede will NOT be going to Burning Man with me.

Not only does he have to go to Vegas for work (poor boy), he’s got to get back home early for a commitment.

Normally, I’d be crushed.

But since I knew all along that him coming to Burning Man was a LONGSHOT, I didn’t get my hopes up too high.

However, I was fantasizing about taking my own “Burning Man virgin” to Burning Man.

What would that BE like?

We’d have to take a sauna at Saunadome AND see their electric space car.

Lay under The Firmament.

We’d get naked and washed by many people at The Human Carcass Wash.

And of course, we’d have to go by Barbie Death camp for massages.

There’d also be Transfoamation – where we’d get naked (again) and dance in foam with other burners.

Being a beer fan, I’d have to take him to Home Brew Camp for beers.

Then there are trips into the deep playa on an art car which are a must.

And this year, there’s the Symphonic Ballet “Rite of Spring” that I want to see.

Not to mention visiting The Man and The Temple and watching them burn, burn, burn to the ground.

I also imagine ALL THE SEX I’d get and if you ask me, I am most disappointed that I will not be saddle sore by the time Burning Man ends.

Because I find Burning Man very stimulating and it would be SO NICE TO HAVE A LOVER.

Nevertheless, I will have a grand time, I am sure, even without The Swede.

There’s too much to see and to do.

Too many friends to visit and have fun with,

too much booze to drink,

too much music to dance to,

too many lights to enjoy,

too much of everything to feel lonely.

Burned!

My sister-cousin Jennifer is a HUGE 49er fan.

Their biggest fan, I think.

A true 49er faithful.

This past weekend she took me to their open practice at Levi’s Stadium.

And that’s when IT happened.

I wore a pair of jeans that had a TINY hole in the inner thigh.

Can you see where this is going?

Well, in the course of walking half a mile from the parking lot to our seats in the stadium, I managed to rip that hole WIDE OPEN.

It wasn’t visible to the general public, so at first I wasn’t worried about it at all.

But that changed.

You see the jeans material from my other leg RUBBED on the bare inner thigh of my exposed leg, giving me a friction burn.

Oh the pain of having no inner thigh gap.

But I digress.

So, we walked to and from the stadium and all around the stadium and I literally ripped skin off my inner thigh with EVERY STEP.

I was in a great deal of pain.

When I got home I RIPPED my jeans off of me and threw them on a ball on the floor.

Ever since then I’ve been coating my thigh burn with gun oil lube (to minimize friction) and Desitin (yes, butt paste for babies).

It still fucking hurts!

The worst part is that I had a flirtation that night and I was off my game on account of ALL THE LIQUID WEEPING OUT OF MY FRICTION BURN.

Yeah, it was pretty gross.

I did not feel sexy AT ALL.

On the bright side, I got to see our 49er boys practice football, AND I got to hang out with Jennifer, who I hadn’t seen in MONTHS!

Arachnophobia

Many of you already know I have a GINORMOUS spider phobia.

I scream when OTHER PEOPLE squash spiders.

What you don’t know is WHY I have arachnophobia.

Way back, when I was a young little girl, I didn’t like it when spiders were in my room. So I’d ask my dad to get rid of them.

My dad, being a vegetarian/pacifist who doesn’t believe in the senseless slaughter of animals, would get a plastic baggie and try to capture the spider in a bag.

Nine times out of ten the spider would fall behind my bed and I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my room that night.

When he DID catch the spider in the bag, he’d shake the bag in front of my face (yes, I know, not very kind to the spider), scaring me witless (yes, I know, not very kind to me).

Fast forward 4 decades and here I am, still scared of spiders but SOMEWHAT able to deal with them myself (squishing, flushing, stomping, etc).

I only OCCASIONALLY scream.

Which is why I have this fear/fascination with countries with LARGE and/or deadly spiders: Australia, South Africa, etc.

More than anything I want to go to Australia.

But have you SEEN those huntsman spiders?

Or, God forbid, a funnel web spider (which I think is a man killer)?

Someday I will drag myself to Australia, and I am sure I’ll have a great time, but believe you me, it will be with the thought of deadly spiders in my head THE WHOLE TIME!

 

P.S. My last run in was with a spider crawling on my neck in my tent trailer and I threw it across the trailer and against the front door. It made a THUD! FREAKY!

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You’re not alone, sister!

Almost 2 years ago I participated in Burning Man for the first time.

As is my usual habit, I spent A LOT of time planning and prepping.

I carefully reviewed every Burning Man Essentials list and incorporated all the items I was missing into my growing inventory.

In the end, I had 16 bins full of gear.

I may have gone overboard, but let me tell you, I was PREPARED.

Sunblock for my hair?

Check.

Essentials oils for my face mask?

Check.

Ridiculous now to think about them, but at the time I thought they were ESSENTIAL.

Needless to say, I spent a lot of time looking online for fashion guidance.

Self expression is BIG at Burning Man.

I was totally disappointed to find that 99.9% of the representations of women at Burning Man include slim women only.

Where are my thick girls? My curvy ladies?

I could find no representation of women on the playa for women OVER A SIZE 12.

What up?!

I began to wonder if I’d be the only thick girl on the playa.

Of course, that turned out to not be the case, but it still bothers me to this day that the diversity that exists on the playa is not captured by playa photographers.

And, of course, I had to remedy the situation not just by posting my playa photos on the internet, but also by creating a Pinterest board with fashion inspiration for the curvy lady planning to go to the playa.

You’re not alone, sister!

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