Am I Over Anal-lyzing?

“It’s only kinky the first time.”

I don’t know how many times a man has offered me the glorious opportunity to engage in some sexual anal action. I’ve lost track of how many times a man has whispered the romantic words, “let me put it in your butt” in my ear, but if I had a dollar for every time, I would be a rich woman. As many times as I get asked for some anal action, if I were to actually participate, my ass would be red and swollen. Similar to Miss South Carolina’s (such as) face when she crawled off stage.

Having never tried it, at this point I would rather lick the jam from in between a fat man’s toes than have a man stick his d*ck in my butt for some “sexual stimulation”. In fact, a man who wants to stick it in my butt, I’d question his sexuality. Go to the jailhouse and hit on the first man you see with a twinkle in his eye for all that nonsense.

I’m sorry to be such a debbie, but anal just doesn’t appeal to me. I mean if do get married I would most likely experiment with my husband. However, key words: IF I GET MARRIED shouldn’t be taken lightly.

I just don’t get it. I can’t imagine sticking anything in a hole that was designed for stuff to come out of. Why can’t a man just be satisfied with a BJ, some reverse cowgirl or something? Isn’t one hole enough? I mean you can stick it in my ear if you really want to. Maybe rub your d*ck in the crease where my knee bends, or something, that might do it. We can get creative. I’m open for suggestions. And no matter how unappealing anal sounds, I have also heard a few horror stories as proof to why it is not the best idea in the Kama Sutra.

Scenario 1) I once heard of this girl who let her man do her in the butt and she had chronic diarrhea for a week. Scenario 2) I also heard from friend, of a friend, of a friend that her man stuck it in her butt and it ripped all the skin from her vagina to her butt hole. She ended up screaming and hollering all the way into the emergency room, her boyfriend walking sheepishly behind her.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” said a guy friend of mine. “You just can’t ram it in there. You have to get lots of lube and ease it in with care.”

Oh no. I’m not falling for that one again. What do I look like? A young, sweet, innocent and naïve girl who could easily be taken advantage of? I got the same justification about the first hole and I still have to remind guys this isn't a pussi marathon. Slow down! So there is no way I'm going to believe all that mumbo jumbo about the second hole being a piece of cake.

And what if his d*ck is as big as ManDingo? Then what? I'll be waddling around like a duck split in two pieces (places). I don't know what scares me more about the back door, not having tried it or the fact that everyone tells me once I try it I'm going to love it. And like I said before I'm down to try new things, but I don't want my curiosity to get the best of me.

Omg. All this over anal-lyzing is giving me a headache...

Hypothetical Situation

A pack of wolves or Geico’s cavemen not being an option, would you rather be parented by…

Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown…?


Britney Spears and Kevin Federline…?

Or Dina and Michael Lohan…?

Contemplating a gym membership...

I think the dryer in my building is out to get me.

Every time I wash and dry my jeans, getting dressed becomes a process.

I spent fifteen minutes this morning hopping up and down trying to get into a pair of skinny jeans. Then I spent another five minutes lying on my bed with a pair of pliers trying to get the zipper to stay up. (Yes, I keep pliers in my top drawer, right next to Mr. Pink). I made the mistake of standing up before buttoning the top button, but after a few more minutes of struggling, I gave up altogether and left it hanging open.

Ok, so I haven’t been to the gym in um, well (in dog years) lets just say (minus the one night I passed out at 3 a.m. and couldn’t wake up the next day, carry the two…) rounded off to about a month. Yeah sure, about a month sounds right…

Even so, why is that top button even there? And what is this phenomenon with skinny jeans and other fashion trends that are way beyond not flattering?

It’s 2007 and people are still for some godforsaken reason wearing leggings. I’m really curious as to whose bright idea it was it to bring back such a horrific fashion trend. I already suffered through a decade of spandex, bright colors and weird long pointy shoes. Next thing I know, people are going to be sporting Hammer pants, with a side ponytail wrapped in a scrunchie singing, “Can’t Touch This” or “My Prerogative”.

In all honestly my prerogative would never be to touch anyone wearing Hammer pants. Ever.

My real problem with this movement of tight pants is that not everyone looks like a 6’0 tall top model, who gets paid to wear them. In case anyone wanted to know my logic behind all of this, I went out of my way and did some observational research. The results I came up with are astoundingly irrefutable, as it is scientifically impossible for skinny jeans to look good on everyone.

I mean I could pull them off myself. On a good day. With a pair of pliers after some Olympic stretching, but getting dressed and looking good shouldn't be so stressful.

I would like to thank whoever invented those baby doll t-shirts, because without those I would never be able to wear my skinny jeans. I know they make me look nine months pregnant, but if people had the option of seeing me wear those shirts or my beer belly, I'm sure they would go with option A.

Day 2

I really feel as if I'm just going through the motions this week and it's only Tuesday. I thought this might help pump me and whoever else up...

Mr. Pink

I don’t think a woman has lived until she has suffered through an embarrassing moment with a vibrator. Since I’m so bitter, I thought I'd share mine.

I got my first vibrator for my twentieth birthday. A group of about ten of my girlfriends and I went out to dinner, where I unwrapped a six-inch, glittery-pink, toy a.k.a. Mr. Pink. When I opened the package, a few birds fluttered out and a chord chimed in the background to mark the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We passed Mr. Pink around the table in awe as if he were too precious to set back down.

From that day on, Mr. Pink and I were inseparable. There was a rare occasion when I kept Mr. Pink locked up in my underwear drawer. Nightly Mr. Pink accompanied me in my bed and I was happy to share the space. He slept comfortably tucked inside one of the assorted pillowcases decorating my bed.

My affair with Mr. Pink was around the same time I met one of my ex boyfriends. One night he came over for the first time and I invited him into my room. At 20, there wasn’t much furniture for him to sit on, so I patted a spot offering him a seat on my bed. I had completely forgotten Mr. Pink was also lying in my bed. My new friend sat down on the bed and leaned back, his hand sliding underneath my pillow pile. That’s when it occurred to me and I panicked, but it was too late.

“Oh sh*t,” I said, almost simultaneously he responded back, with an “oh sh*t" expression. The next moment happened so quickly, but it felt like it was in slow motion.

“What is this,” he asked as he whipped the pillow from off the bed.

In doing so, Mr. Pink flew out of the pillowcase, across the room and went “smack” into the wall before going “thump” onto the floor. Mr. Pink rolled a few inches, stopped and looked back up at both of us as if to say, “ouch!”

The terrified look on my face was just as priceless as the amused expression on my potential lover’s face. Needless to say after that episode, Mr. Pink and I grew apart…

What is up with your eye?

Today was the first day back to school. Summer is officially over.

So naturally I spent my last day of freedom in a bar. (Well not the whole DAY, more like the afternoon, a little bit of the evening and a majority of the night). Where I met yet another intriguing guy. Who after a few minutes of talking with him I noticed he kept checking out every-single-moving-vagina-that-passed-by.

I don’t care, two beers or ten, I still noticed. I mean I do understand that we are in a bar and we just met, but um hello! I am still standing here talking to you. If I don’t do it for you buddy just say so. My beer and I will be happy to go elsewhere.

He could have at least had the decency to make it a little less obvious. So what if she was tall, blond and could probably knock-me-out with her melons, they are only clumps of fat. Well in her case, clumps of Tupperware.

Do men really get distracted that easily?

Never mind, silly of me to ask such a question. Yes of course they do. Tight jeans, stilettos and a tub top are kryptonite in a bar.

My cousin in fact confirmed the “wandering eye syndrome” for me yesterday. He was complaining to me that they hired this hot new chick at his job. Incidentally she’s also recently divorced and he is her supervisor, which means a majority of his time is spent with her.

“Why are you complaining,” I asked. “Would you rather work with her or some big sweaty guy named Bubba”?

“I do work with a bunch of crusty old guys named Steve, Jeff or John,” he said. “And she’s pretty to look at, she flirts. It's just annoying because she's off-limits for a few different reasons.”

( a) he’s married b) he’s married and c) he’s married).

“It doesn’t mean I can’t check her out though,” he said.

Men...

Where did all the bloggers go?

Ok so this week I have been stopping by all the blogs I usually read and no one has been posting. What is going on? Is there some offline blogging convention and I didn’t get the evite?

Am I the only one holding down the fort this week?

I just posted another short story on http://www.mspsnothings.blogspot.com/ in case anyone is as bored as I am and needs something to read...

Happy Hump Day

It still feels like Monday...

“Things tend to get a whole lot worse before they get any better.”

Getting to work this morning was an obstacle course. It also didn’t help that I hit EVERY-SINGLE-RED-LIGHT on the way over here…

So last night in the midst of making dinner, I ran out to go to Blockbuster real quick to grab a movie and some dessert. I mentioned before the BB that was close to my house has relocated far, far away in Never Never Land. So going to and from BB is already a pain in the ass as is.

To make matters worse, on my way back from the BB, I got stuck behind the Partridge Family bus, a swarm of wild monkeys, a group of senior citizens taking a tour of the neighborhood and THE slowest van EVER. I got so flustered that as the van went to make a left I peeled out towards the right.

This maneuver allowed the biggest chunk of metal to sink its teeth into my back right tire. Since it was flat, I drove it home, clunking all the way. I refused at that very moment to get stuck anywhere.

Being the Damsel in Distress that I am, when I got home I called my boy to come over and “help me” put on my spare. Naturally, the spare was also deflated.

So, I had to get up early this morning to go to the gas station and fill up the spare. Then I also had to take the other tire to the shop to get repaired. I had to do all of this and still be to work on time. (I had already called in yesterday and if I didn’t show up today I would look like an ass). On my lunch break I still have to go back to the shop and pick up, pay for and have the newly patched tire put on...

What is today? It feels like a Monday, but wish it were Friday…