Big Sexy Weekend

This weekend I am going with Nadine to the Big Sexy Brewing Company’s Big Sexy Three Year Anniversary and Benefit Party.

It’s in Sacramento.

Nadine has me traveling all over California in search of fun and exciting things to do.

This adventure comes with beer, live music, and a DUNK TANK!

Nothing more fun than getting someone all wet in a dunk tank.

I once rented one for my kids’ birthday party in 2008 and WE HAD A BLAST!

The kids all climbed into the dunk tank and took turns having their friends dunk them.

So I know first-hand how much fun dunk tanks can be.

And I know how much fun Nadine can be.

Add in a few food trucks and a good cause – raising money for diabetic alert dogs – and what you have is one hell of a great way to spend your weekend.


One of the adventures I’ve been on occasionally is flying an airplane.

Small, single engine airplanes made by Cirrus and Cessna.

Basically I decided to learn to fly because I was tired of being scared on airplanes and I felt like learning a little about flying would benefit me.

So I took a lesson in Petaluma on New Year’s Day.

I remember the date because my instructor showed up, with little (or no) sleep, and he smelled like a brewery.

Nevertheless, I got in the plane and we had a 30 minutes flight lesson right then and there.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I had absolutely NO TRAINING whatsoever before I took to the skies.

Which I suppose is okay if your instructor is going to manage most, if not all, of the flight.

I flew around a little in the sky.

Banked left and right.

All in all, it was a fun time and I really enjoyed it despite my lack of preparation.

I snapped a photo of myself, grinning from the co-pilot’s seat.

It was a nice photo so I posted it to my online dating profile.

I can’t tell you how many sport pilots I met after I posted that picture online.

Which in turn led to me flying more small airplanes.

I even flew in an experimental plane with a GPS tracking system strapped to my leg.

Now, as you may have guessed, I do not have my sport pilot’s license.

It’s far too expensive for me to get.

Maybe someday.

Meanwhile, I’ll just have to be happy occasionally hopping in an airplane with another pilot and jumping around California for a bit.

Not a bad gig.


I’ve been avoiding writing out of fear of what I might write.

Stargazer is GONE.

What happened, you ask?


One minute we were bowling, and the next minute he’s cancelling dates and GHOSTING me.

I sent a text message to see if we could talk.

It was read but I got no response.

What’s a girl to do except pick herself up, dust herself off, and try again?

In the last six months I have dated two men who ghosted me.

Both of them I CONSIDERED to be gentlemen and genuinely nice guys and I never expected them to ghost me.

I’m starting to wonder if I am a good judge of character, given the surprising turn of events.

I’m not gonna lie.

This one HURTS.

Despite my resolution to get back up and continue on the path I’ve chosen for myself, I find myself lingering in this sad place, mourning the possibility of affection that seemed so near a few weeks ago but now has turned to indifference.

To make matters worse, everyone keeps asking about Stargazer, wanting to know how things are going so I get to repeat myself over and over again telling people he ghosted me.

Hopefully this post will put all those inquiries to rest.

I’ve been GHOSTED.


Bawdy Storytelling

I happen to love some musicians who skirt the edges of appropriateness with their music.

Have you ever heard of Richard Cheese?

He cracks me up.

He takes hits and sings them Lounge Singer Style.

Hits like Rape Me (by Nirvana), Me So Horny, and Only Happy When It Rains (by Garbage).

It’s like a comedy act and a musical performance rolled into one.

I also happen to like Garfunkel and Oates – a comedy-folk duo performing satirical songs about things like blowjobs and sex.

My sister has jokingly suggested that our family song be “The Loophole” – a song about anal sex.

Today I was introduced to Rachel Lark (by my friend Dante) who, in my humble opinion, is one of the greatest bawdy storytellers out there.

Her song “Warm, Bloody, and Tender,” is about a woman trying to have a tryst with a man while simultaneously hiding the face that she just got her period.


Have we all been there ladies?

I think we have.

And the song “You Only Live Once (The Asshole Song)” is about a woman who is trying to convince her boyfriend to let her rim him.


Not safe for work?

You bet.

But funny like a drag queen at a Monster truck rally.

Maybe I’m just warped that way, but I love me some inappropriateness and sexual innuendo.

The best part:  Rachel Lark is a burner and performed at Burning Man 2016 at Center Camp and Dustfish.  And I got to see her.

So take a moment, turn up your speakers, close your eyes and. . .

. . . enjoy at your own risk!

Glue for Idiots


I have this friend from Serbia.

Not Russia. Serbia.

There’s a difference, I learned.

She and I used to go out to clubs in San Francisco to drink and dance the night away.

One such night we went to a club in the City and when we walked in it was a sea of black – everyone wearing black wool coats in the San Francisco cold and fog.

I was wearing a red wool jacket.

I stood out like a sore thumb.

The red jacket had an interesting effect on the people there.

They started to approach me and compliment my jacket.

A few of the men even attempted to start conversations with me.

My friend, who was very selective in her choice of men, disagreed with the men I spoke to.


It’s just something I’ve learned:

Never be rude.

As the night progressed, my friend became increasingly concerned over the quality of men I drew in – to put it politely, they were not dressed well enough for her tastes.

And that’s when it happened.

She nicknamed me “Glue for Idiots.”

Now I’m not saying that this isn’t true on some levels.

I think I have a very approachable demeanor that encourages men to take their shot.

All I’m saying is that I’m not going to ignore a man because he’s wearing jeans or his watch isn’t expensive enough.

Truthfully there’s nothing much sexier than a man in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that’s a bit on the tight side who smells like freshly cut grass and deodorant stretched to it’s limit.

If that makes me glue for idiots, so be it.



Good at Romance

michelleSo here’s the other side of the coin – the one I don’t talk about all that much.

I’m a closet romantic.

Yes folks, deep down inside there is a soft little fuzzy kitten just waiting to find someone to snuggle with.

I know it’s not cool.

Or hip.

Or even useful.

But there you have it.

I’ve done some romantic things in my life.

I held an Easter Egg hunt in a tree house hotel room filled with Easter eggs containing sweet little compliments and promises.

  • Good for one backrub
  • I love your dedication and drive
  • Good for one home cooked meal of your choice

For another boyfriend I got a cocktail book autographed by the author so he’d have it for his collection.

And I’ve driven literally THOUSANDS of miles to hang out with the men I loved – especially Steve, Jay, and Luke – just because I wanted to be with them.

In the end, it would be nice to be a little more romantic and a little less bawdy.

Bottom line is – it’s not like I’m incapable of romantic gestures.

I just don’t have the outlet.

Right now.

Just prepare yourself for a tsunami of sex and romance when it does happen.

Bad at Romance

michelle1First of all, I have to put up a disclaimer that says my friend Michelle would strongly disagree with what I’m about to write.

But she always sees me in a positive light.

Still, take everything I say with a grain of salt.

What I want to say is that I am bad at romance.

Yes folks, I suck at it.

I’m like a pimple faced 13 year old boy when it comes to romance.

I’ve actually said to boyfriends, “wanna knock out a piece?” and “ready to clean the pipes?”

I can’t help myself.

I just happen to be coarse when it comes to lovemaking.

I’m not sure how to ask for it so I take a humorous approach.

And that’s not all I’m bad at.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around the mushy stuff – the romantic walks, holding hands, and intimate dinners.

My idea of romance is cooking my boyfriend a steak then “knocking out a piece” on the living room floor.  If I’m feeling really decadent, we’ll make it to the bedroom.

Yes, romance for me almost always involves sex.

Perhaps that’s why when you remove it from the equation (like with the abstinent guys I have dated) I am destined to fail.

I’ve lost my ability to communicate affection.

AND it’s frustrating.

But truthfully, do men really want to be romanced?

Isn’t a steak and a blow job enough to keep them happy?

Why improve on perfection, no?

I ASPIRE to be a better lover but I’m bad at COMMUNICATING it.

Maybe, and this is a BIG MAYBE, maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve been in love.

Perhaps I’ll fall in love and the rest will take care of itself.

That would be grand.

Writer’s block


It’s not like I have nothing to write about, it’s that I don’t FEEL like writing about what’s on my mind.

Thus my struggle.

Instead of writing about my thoughts and feelings, I’m going to write a post about internet dating.

Namely things I’ve noticed in people’s profiles that send up a red flag and make me swipe left.

To begin with, anyone who attended THE SCHOOL OF HARD KNOCKS.

Got news for you pal, EVERYONE has gone to that school.

Oh sure, maybe a sparklepony somewhere is living a charmed life, but overall, NO ONE GETS OUT UNSCATHED.

It makes me worry a bit when you tell me that’s your alma mater.


Second thing:  Men who post every photo of themselves in sunglasses.

Call me crazy but I like to see a person’s eyes.

It’s the only way to tell the difference between smiling and smirking.

And I’m not one for the latter.

I like genuine smiles.

Third:  Single. No kids. Never been married.

Why, you may wonder?

Because in my experience those are the people who have been so picky in the past that no one makes them happy and you’re certainly not going to break that streak for them.

I trust the person who has tried and failed and knows the stresses and strains of having a family.

And another:  Anyone with my ex-husband’s first name.

It’s not that I dislike him, it’s that I don’t like to be REMINDED of him.

I know, totally unfair but do you want to date someone with the same name as your ex?

FINALLY:  Uses a celebrity’s photo as their profile pic.

I really don’t understand this.

If you’re not the person in the photo, don’t use the photo.

People who hide their photos are hiding something else too and I’m not down with that.

Le duh.

Down the Rabbit Hole

It’s nearly fall y’all.

And you know what that means – Halloween!

Yes, it’s my favorite holiday of the whole year.

As a child, I remember countless costume birthday parties my family hosted for me since my birthday falls just two days after Halloween.

I’ve started brain storming for a new costume idea (despite the fact that I have enough costumes to start my own costume shop).

A few that have started to bounce around in my brain:

Uma Thurman’s Bride character in Kill Bill:

Miley Cyrus as Ashley O:

And I REALLY would like to emulate Lizzo somehow but I just don’t think that’s politically correct:

As it turns out on my ACTUAL birthday, unSCruz is planning an overnight event at the Fairgrounds called “2nd Annual Monster’s Ball:  Beyond the Rabbit Hole.”

Ducking down rabbit holes is something I’m familiar with and I’m inclined to celebrate my birthday there this year, in which case I will need an Alice in Wonderland costume.

I already have a White Rabbit costume:

I also have a black burner bunny costume I could wear:

And a pink one:

So I’ve got plenty to choose from.

Or I just might put together something new.

Something no one has ever seen before.

It’s not every day I celebrate my birthday at a rave.


I wish I’d gotten through September 22nd in my usual fashion – by celebrating life with the ones I love and having no regrets.

I did get to celebrate my nephew’s 6th birthday, but I had regrets.

It was the first time a birthday party landed on the same day as Douglas’ birthday and I found myself longing for a birthday celebration to celebrate his 21st birthday – what we would be doing had he lived.

It turns out I wasn’t as strong as I thought I was.

I cried.

It’s a milestone birthday and I found myself wondering who my son would be, had he lived.

Would he be rushing through family dinner so he could go out and celebrate with his friends?

Would we have thrown a big 21st birthday party for him?

As a parent, losing a child is the worst experience you can have and one that we all fear.

To make matters worse, I was the only one who remembered.

No one else seemed clued in to my distress and sadness.

I told my sister-in-law and she gave me a huge hug and got teary eyed.

But then, as life tends to be, we moved on from it.

I am reminded that life is for the living and you either get on with your life or you wallow in sadness, holding on to regrets.

In the end, I choose life.