So everyone's going to BlogHer13

It's that time of year again -- BlogHer season. I had my Early Bird ticket and I was all set to go, and then this happened, so with a heavy heart, I sold my ticket. This is not to say that I'd trade one for the other, because WHAT KIND OF MOTHER WOULD I BE? but nevertheless, I was looking forward to seeing the friends I made from last year's BlogHer12 in NYC as well as meeting new bloggy & Twitter friends.

Anyway, I'll keep this sulk short since most of you will be in Chicago, likely drinking, and not reading this anyway! I've channeled my inner teen angst for this one . . .

YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

The Orgasm Bootcamp

OK, so I've been staying at my dear friend's place all week because of work shit, but since I was going to be staying, I thought as a hospitality gift, I would give her the gift that keeps on giving.

As I had mentioned a while back, I had my personal, umm, awakening last year, thanks to thee most beautiful piece of ergonomically crafted stainless steel that mankind has ever created.

Being the giving person that I am, I need to pass on this efficient knowledge that I have acquired; I feel it would be rather selfish of me to keep it to myself. So, I got out my dynamic duo of sex toys and sat down with my friend of 15 years. A friend, like many other women, is in her 30s and cannot give herself an orgasm. This isn't cool, especially when she's currently single.

Cue the smirks.
Ok, ok. Get out those giggles, woman. This is serious shit!

I was trying to channel my inner Sue motherfucking Johanson and do my very best "this is your vaginal canal with my hands" as I explained to her how to giver herself an orgasm with these special, special tools.

Warm up the steel with your hands a bit - it can be fairly cold to start.
You slide in the 3 bulbed end like this.
And move it from 10 and 2 like that, while also going in and out.
Rub it against the top of your vagina.
Push down your pelvis like that.
Start the vibrator on low and build up to a higher setting as you go along...

"Wait. I have to use both? That seems like a lot."

Yes, you use them in tandem! And no, it's not a lot. You're doing most of the work with the njoy. The vibrator is just pressing against your clit and surrounding area with only subtle motion. You'll know the spot when you hit it.

Trust me.

That is why I'd personally found the rabbit didn't work for me, since its dual prongs are one entity and the motions are symbiotic. However, what I want and need the internal and external stimulators to be doing are really quite different. One is thrusting and turning fast, while the other is slow and firm.


****8 hour time lapse****


I came home from work and found these in the bathroom, neatly washed and air drying on a towel...

I just love it when my student does her homework.

And yes, she tried. And tried. And tried.

"That steel really is more amazing that I ever imagined. I got close a couple times, buuuuuttt..."

GAH! THAT'S WHEN YOU KEEP GOING.

I have worked up a good sweat to the point when I have to blow off beads that roll freely down my brow. Hell, I have had a cramp in my arm that was on fucking fire, but I could feel that I was close, so I persevered for the cause. That little bit of pain is worth the pleasure - every time.

Anyway, I certainly think she is closer than she's ever been; the key to cracking her big O safe is just around the corner. She definitely gave it a good shot, and I think the more she gets comfortable with exploring her own boundaries and then pushing those boundaries, she will finally explode. Although, she's now going to have to get her own steel toy. I'm leaving today and there's no fucking way it will be without my njoy. Sorry, but I also have boundaries.

Just relax and it too shall cum... kind of like all those dead baseball players, except they're all mind popping orgasms instead. 

Yes, exactly like that.

The Quick & the Dread

A BlogHer '12 Experience

It was an early Friday morning and since I had not been partying the night before, I was there really early. This turned out to be a blessing, since one of the only people there earlier than me was Alexandra. It was calm and lovely and exactly how I prefer to talk with people - especially a person I admire just so damn much. Breakfast was relatively civilized and divine, while also meeting A Lady in France, Marinka, Two Busy, Avitable, Suniverse, Buried With Kids and many others.

Then, the chaos happened. In my brain.

Very quickly, thousands of women began filtering into the conference hall and my brain began to short circuit. I don't know if it was my ADD shifting into super-sonic bat crap crazy mode, but I was hearing every single conversational humm, squeal and laugh. I was on over-stimulation meltdown.

I found myself wandering around looking for people for a big chunk of the time. Because I was only there for the one day, I really wanted to meet everyone that I have grown to love so much, whether through this blog and/or The Twitter. Perhaps I tried too hard to achieve my goal, but I'm a gawd damn over-achiever, so because of that, I felt quite rushed and anxious for a big part of the day. Crap.

If I introduced myself by my alias, people would ask me, "Ahh, but what's your REAL name?" Then, if I introduced myself by my real name, people would ask, "Huh?" So that was an interesting social experiment. Lady Estrogen won out, for sure :)

And there was lunch. 

Saying that lunch was impressive would be an understatement, since The Next Martha totally went above and beyond with an amazing centerpiece. She over-achieved the FUCK outta me! Ever the gracious hostess, darling. Apart from that, I also got to briefly chat with Ooph, The Bitchin Wife, Ann Imig and Toy With Me (among others). Seriously, it's mostly a blur. I'm impressed that I have managed to remember this many people so far! Oooh, yeah... and Martha Stewart was FABULOUS. She really does have her perfectly groomed fingers into absolutely everything! I bow to her greatness.

Ahhh, yes. My special packages. After totally FREAKING out in New Jersey while I was stranded at a train station in 102 degree weather with 50 Lady Godiva chocolates in my suitcase, they miraculously all made it to BlogHer. I was so excited to give these to the wonderful ladies that I had met - it was the LEAST I could do to show my admiration to each and every one of you! I swear to god that I didn't have them with me when I saw Adam Avitable, so suck it! But I did have them when I got to ambush meet The Bearded Iris.

The "Sessions" were OK and although the premise behind them was great, the whole "Wait, you didn't sign up on this sheet first?" chaos was a bit intense. And it wasn't just me - there were a whole lotta newbie chickens bobbing around the corridors mumbling, "What the fuck's going on?" which was hilarious to watch and admittedly be a part of. Then I ditched and hung out with Suniverse, checked out some panels and we brought on the bitch, together. Wurd.

Then there were drinks.

Another personal highlight was just hanging out with The Animated Woman and chatting with booze being imbibed. Apart from gaining a true "IRL" friend, I also got this... which is by far the best swag I received:

My arms have never looked better! Snort. What is that I'm holding? That is the Trojan Pulse, which they were handing out like candy. Speaking of candy, did I mention MY package also had that too, because I'm a fucking marketing whore-slash-genius. Suck on THAT, Trojan!

I tried to stay for Listen to Your Mother "Open Mic" for a little while. After FINALLY meeting two of my heroes, Mama Kat and Scary Mommy, I couldn't stay much longer. There was no gong OR giant cane dragging people off stage if they went way (way, way) over their allotted 5 minutes. What the shit?! I wanted a gong; it needed a gong... at times.

And Sparklecorn happened.

Drinks being $13 a shot made having 8 drink tickets fan-fucking-tastic. Hello, New York City prices! The music was spot on - they soooo knew their target audience. It was like a high school dance party, but we didn't have to hid the alcohol in a flask down our pants. I finally got dance (to Vanilla Ice) with Mommy NaniBooboo. Whut, whut! And got some hugs from Michonblog, Tough Cookie Mom, The818, and Whatnowandwhy. And by 1 o'clock in the morning, I was spent!

To wrap this shit up -- 

All in all, it was a cool but busy time; I will indeed be going back next year. My main goal at BlogHer 2012 wasn't to get help with technical issues or re-fuel my blogging engines -- it was to meet people, but I ended up spending too much time trying to find them and not enough actually meeting them. I have posted the few photos I managed to get on my Facebook page. Check those out!

Because I was so fucking lost half the time, I still have 4 of my special packages left! It seems a shame to not give them away! If you were at BlogHer '12 and didn't manage to find me (or even if you weren't there and really want one), leave me a comment and we'll work something out.

5 Things for BlogHer 2013 in Chicago...

1. I will sit my fat ass at a centrally located numbered table and drink for 3 STRAIGHT HOURS. I so want to meet everyone, but I don't have it in me to play cat & mouse again next year -- it stressed me out beyond these words.

2. I will save up and go for the ENTIRE conference.

3. I WILL BE ON A PANEL. (Or at least, I will attempt to be more motivated to follow through with my application to be on a panel, now that I know what they're all about.)

4. Since it will not be my first one, I vow to be more relaxed, more happy-go-lucky... and probably much more intoxicated.

5. I will be designing a "Sausage Queen of Chicago" special edition Blogher'13 t-shirt, because HOLY SHIT, THAT'S SO DAMN HILARIOUSLY AWESOME.


************
I'm going to shamelessly quote Avitable's blurb right now:
I know I left out a lot of people in this post, but that’s because of me, not you – don’t hesitate to chime in in the comments and give me hell for forgetting you!
************

Another 'ship has sunk

Was I popular in high school? I guess it depends on what is considered "popular". I was out-going, out-spoken, moderately entertaining, usually friendly and had my hands in a lot of different honey pots. So, did most people know my name? By that sense of the definition, yes.

But did I have a lot of people that I genuinely valued their company and friendship? No.

After the completion of high school, I was so glad to give the majority of the people I knew a big giant "FUCK YOU!" (Queue the creation of my living nightmare that is Facebook) But there was a small handful of friends that I loved, and apart from extenuating circumstances, I fiercely valued those friendships.

Then life happens.

We grow apart.

But you know what? Even with spouses, kids, real estate, eleventeen hundred projects on the go and mild nervous breakdowns, I still love my friends. I would do anything to help them, stand by them, and support them... if they let me, even if I did show up still unclasping my straight jacket. Whatevs, right?

The downward slope began about a year ago when phone messages and texts weren't responded to. HOW HARD IS IT TO REPLY TO A TEXT, SERIOUSLY? Gah.

Then an engagement. And bachelorette party. Then a "reception" (since the wedding was essentially an elopement). All with zero communication directly from the bride. Now, I've always known that we weren't BFFs or anything, but still close enough to expect some kind of acknowledgement that I exist. But no, nothing.

During a catch-up session I was having with my rock with a cock (who was never more to this girl than a close drinking acquaintance), he tells me about an e-vite THAT HE GOT for the "reception".

And here's the moment I felt like I got punched in the stomach and spit in the face by a "FRIEND" that I have loved for the most part of 20 years.

But now I have to move on. I have to let go. It's something I am truly terrible at - I will claw myself to the surface of a relationship until my last possible breath. Apparently, with this relationship? T'was about 18 months ago and I've been making myself sick over it for no reason.

And that's time I'll never get back. Sleep I'll never gain. Tears I'll never replenish.

And she most likely doesn't give the slightest ounce of fuck.

So here I am, standing at the edge of the proverbial ocean as I shoot the last bullet into our 'ship and let it sink to its grave, once and for all.

I wish her well in all that she does in life, but I'm done staying sad about being ignored and excluded by someone that clearly hasn't valued me for a very long time. I have more important things that I can be happy about instead.

And then there were three..

11 Blasted Questions

I said, I said, I said, gawd damn you, Leighann! In all honesty, I loved that she emailed me ahead of time and politely asked me to not hate her for what she was about to do. (Twisting imaginary handlebar mustache) We shall see, Leighann. Weeee shhhall seeeee.

So, here are my answers to that bloggy chain shit thing...

1. There are $3 cupcakes in the supermarket but you have everything to make them at home. What do you do?
Do I look like motherfucking Betty Crocker? I would buy the $3 ones, every time. Wait. Is that for a dozen,  or are they $3 each? Never mind. It just means I'd buy less, like one or two, instead of a dozen.

2. How many pairs of jeans do you own?
This is a bit of an open ended question. How many do I OWN? Probably about a dozen. How many don't fit? 8. How many have giant holes in the crotch? 3. So, that leaves one pair that are currently wearable and I can do up the fly without a pair of pliers.

3. Can you pass up a sale?

Depends on what the sale is for, but for the right thing? No. Sales are my kryptonite. I'll buy 3 things for $40 even if I didn't need any of those 3 items. I come by it honestly - it was passed down to me by my grandmother. My mother slowly shakes her head when the two of us 'sale whores' get together. I also used to use it to manipulate my grandmother last week when I was younger; if I wanted something, I would tell her it's on sale and I would get it almost every time.

4. When is the last time you stood up for a stranger?

I guess I'm a terrible person, because this one has got me stumped. I did, however, stand up to open the hood of my car last week. I helped a stranger boost his car. Does that count? I'm going to go ahead and say yes.

5. What is your pet peeve?
A. Blog chains.

B. Odd numbers

C. The fact that I'm having to pop zits on my face every night like I'm still 14. It's bad enough when it splats on the mirror, but when the pressure is so much that it rebounds back on to my face like banana cream pie? Yeah, that right there. Pet peeve.

6. What is your favourite quote and what does it mean to you?

"What you call insanity, I call inspiration." - Sue Sylvester 

I think it kind of sums me up quite successfully. It's also possibly the best thing that has ever come out of Glee among all those annoying douche muppets.

7. Have you ever had a speeding ticket? Did you try to shamelessly get out of it?

Here's the thing: I may or may not have received a speeding ticket in Upstate New York. The fact that I wasn't supposed to be in the U.S. makes it somewhat of a sticky situation. I will never confirm or deny the truth. Nor will I ever admit to being so nervous that I almost vomited all over the possibly hypothetical State Trooper. Ahem.

8. What fashion DON’Ts did you participate in and STILL secretly love?

I love my Crocs. Fuck you. And you. And you too! Come to think about it, their soles are wearing a bit thin. I need to get a new pair shortly. Maybe I'll photo journal the entire fashion crime in progress. Yeah, baby!

9. How many keys are on your key ring?
I have a lanyard that holds my house key, mail key, car key... and a USB stick. I never leave home without one of those - like a true nerd.

10. Why do you blog?

Because I'm a narcissist that is losing my mind. I thought it would be good to write down all the skanky things I've done before I forget it all. What I never expected is the sense of community and support among other bloggers. This was truly a pleasant and, as it turns out, much needed surprise.

11. What is your sign and do you fit its description?

Seriously? It's a real shocker. I'll let you be the judge:

You have a strong sense of righteousness and are upright, courageous and ambitious. You enjoy a very high stamina. Your arresting personality and jovial nature enhance your popularity. High impacting individual, determined and proud you put across your views and ideas confidently and with an air of authority. Blessed with leadership qualities, you have a strong urge for success and recognition. You tend to put your relationships on high pedestals which makes it easier for loved ones to disappoint you when they fall off. You tend to dominate others with your magnetism and can be haughty, impatient and egoistic.

Yeah, all that and a bottle of lube.

Anyhoozle. Going back to my answer for #5, these chains are totally one of my pet peeves. In fact, last year, I created the STD Award in honor of my hatred for them. I will not be passing this particular one on to anyone. Suck it (I think everyone's got it anyway). BUT, if you haven't got an STD from me and you want one, I am totally willing to pass that on. All you have to do is ask... and come unprotected, of course.

A Festive Parting Gift

Mark and I had been having brief encounters for the better part of a decade, off and on. Perhaps it was because there was no continuous affair as to why our 'Friends with Benefits' arrangement always worked so successfully. There was never any emotional attachment beyond our friendship, nor was there any jealously when one of us entered into a relationship with someone else. We just stopped having sex for that length of time and then when said relationship ended, it was understood that our sex would reconvene.

And so it was also understood among our other mutual friends that we had this special 'arrangement' but it was never acknowledged out loud or a part of any passing conversation, et cetera... until one Christmas. At this particular point in time, Mark and I hadn't had sex with each other for quite some time - I cannot remember if there was a particular reason or just because I lived a fair distance from him.

It was a party celebrating both my best friend's birthday and Christmas, at her parent's house. (Another sucker with a birthday too close to Christmas to separate the two) We had all been dipping into the Christmas cheer that night and things were winding down. There was about six of us remaining and it was decided to commence a card game of alcoholic Asshole.

Mark was sitting beside me, and therefore following after any card I would lay down before him. After a few rounds, I put down a hell of a cruel move (like an Ace on a Nine or something like that), to which Mark flared his nostrils, turned to me and said, "YOU'VE JUST FUCKED ME!"

Another one of our tipsy friends immediately replied, "Tell us something we don't know!"

There was about 2 long seconds of complete silence.

And then roaring laughter. From everyone, including Mark and myself. Finally it was out in the open, and it only took 7 years.

Perhaps it was that burst of comical tension release, but after another group had left, Mark and I decided we were "too drunk" to go home. My best friend crashed in her old room upstairs and Mark and I had the basement rec room to ourselves.

I need to also explain that although Mark and I had had sex on numerous occasions, I had never climaxed. As I've said before, it wasn't easy for me in the past (until this year, actually. Ahem), and most of the times were just hot quickie fucks after a party; sometimes in the forest.

OK, so this time? After carefully clearing a spot on the carpet to lay down a few layers of blankets, he went down on me like a starving animal. It was fan-fucking-tastic, and nothing like he'd done to me before. Wild. At one point, I could have sworn I felt his tongue tickling the bottom of my rib cage! The only shitty thing was the fact that my best friend's parents were asleep upstairs and I didn't exactly want them (or my friend, for that matter) to hear me screaming. He put his hand over my mouth while I proceeded to achieve a HUGE orgasm while doing my best to stay quiet.

It was the first time he'd got me to climax in 7 years. And it was the last time we would ever be together.
I met and started dating my would-be husband 3 weeks later.

Well, Mark, we'll always have Christmas. Or rather, the weekend before.

Same diff.

My Rock with a Cock

I am taking this opportunity to discuss my latest health crisis as well as pay homage to one of my oldest friends.
It was his birthday a few days ago, so the timing is almost perfect.

This guy is special because, surprisingly, we've never had sex. I think the main reasons for this was because:
A) I could snap him like a twig; it would not be pleasant, and
B) I kind of helped raise him, even though he's actually a year older than me.

I think I may have had a shortly lived case of misplaced affections towards him when I was 12, but then he went and got a perm and that pretty much helped me move on from there.

Yes. A perm.
(Sorry, but he's never going to fucking live that one down. Not ever. If he dies before me, I'll make a point of mentioning it at his funeral, because that's what true friendship really means. If I die before him, I'll still figure something out.)

And no, he's not gay.

And yes, he's a boy... or since he has a hot wife and two cool kids, rather, a man. Kinda. 

He's like my son, or perhaps my man-sister from another mister...

Or my bestie with a flat chestie...

My rock with a cock.

See where I'm going with this? OK. Hold that thought.

In other news, I recently almost died from Toxic Shock. It wasn't pretty. In fact, it was slightly terrifying with a dash of mortification. The doctor laughed at my horror, telling me it happens all the time. Not to fucking me, it doesn't! I've watched all the doctor shows, thank you. I do not shove strange foreign objects up my cootch such as light bulbs, hot dogs, carrots or baseball bats.

Wait. What?

OK. I'll re-phrase. In the last two decades, anyway, it's just been the usual boxed set: Dildos, fingers, penises and tampons... ugh... tampons. Umm, yeah.

Why are these two trains of thought related, you ask?

Well, I was speaking to him on the phone the other day, revealing these latest embarrassing details.

His immediate response: "How does that happen to you? Shouldn't it have just fallen out? I thought you had a giant vagina!"

Awesome.

Apparently, it's giant enough that I had no idea it was up there, but not giant enough that it could fall out on its own. All I knew was that I was dying from the inside. Actually, not dying. Dead. And rotting.

So, thank you, my darling, for the vote of confidence for my huge vagina. Unfortunately, she, too, has now proven to be fallible.
It was truly a sad day, indeed.

Also? Happy fucking birthday to one of only two men* that openly converse on the size and state of my vagina.

A drawing by him. Not sure what's going on there.
His creative mind is disturbing, even at the best of times.
I love him.

(*PS. For the record, the other man is not my husband. He does not discuss such things. :-)