A site on dating, debauchery, and dirty deeds

I have a secret…

Written by red811 on

Monday, July 13th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

I spent this past weekend doing a little shopping. I needed to pick up a few things and I wanted to check out the new bathing suits so I headed for the local mall. While I was out, meandering through the stores, all I kept seeing was all the couples and it reminded me how I was once again single this year. I could have let it get to me, but I decided to do what I do best. I employed my age old trick for battling the blahs and indulged in some good, old-fashioned retail therapy! I know it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, what with the state of the economy right now, but who cares. I made the money, and I have the right to spend it on myself if I want to.

I have to admit that in the past, when I was in a relationship, I shopped at one particular store. I did so for very specific reasons and my partner was always very appreciative of my endeavors. Now as I passed by that store, I was once again reminded that I was alone. I looked up at the sign. Victoria’s Secret.

What the hell, I don’t really care if I am single or in a relationship. Every woman likes to feel sexy. When you feel sexy, you act sexy. Let’s face it. We all want to feel sexy, even if there is no one there to appreciate it at the end of the day. So in I went, and shop I did! My pocketbook might be a little lighter, but it was well worth it. I love to feel sexy and my purchases will serve that purpose quite well.

The thing I thought was the most amusing was that just the sight of that pink bag with the VS logo was enough to garner a man’s interest. You could almost see the wheels turning in their minds as they first glanced from the bag to me. Their imagination runs wild. I guess that’s what Victoria’s Secret is. As for what it was that I bought? Well, I guess you can just say that will remain my sexy little secret, at least until the next time I chose to show and tell…

Why was 6 afraid of 7?

Written by Lace on

Friday, July 10th, 2009 | Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Because 7 8 9! (Or Seven ate Nine!)

Sunday night, after a harrowing day of wedding invitiation shopping, I came home, sat down and said “enough”. I was tired of planning. I was tired of running around. I was tired of trying to budget. I asked Micah if we could just elope. I think the joy in his eyes at the suggestion was enough to tell me I was on the right track.

I asked him what day he would like to get married. He said “I have Wednesday or Sunday off this week.”

He also asked if I was sure. As I mulled the question over in my mind for a minute I checked my email. The top email was from a wedding invitee asking if I would mind making my wedding time later in the day (actually evening) so they could make the season opener of a football game.

I’m not saying this to be harsh or mean or woe is me. But we had such a small guest list and this person was actually from my side of the guest list which was considerably smaller than Micah’s. The fact that my wedding even had to compete with a football game pretty much confirmed to me how unimportant my event was to others. At least to some others. It also confirmed that we should just elope and save ourselves the time, money and stress. If my wedding wasn’t good enough to skip a football game for to 2 of the literally 6 people I had on my invite list (that’s a third of my invite list folks) then I didn’t want to waste anymore time on it.

I called a minister on Monday morning and paid the fee and we wrote our vows on the way to the Colorado courthouse to get the license.

The thing with Colorado that makes it a great destination wedding is that there is no waiting period. You just go down, pay your $30 and you get a license. That day. We did that Tuesday since we had already taken the day off for Dr’s appointments (1 lb weight gain in the month for me!) and errands (adding my name to his bank account). We told one online friend.

Micah called and asked his Grandma to come to dinner at his mothers house on Wednesday. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. Micah asked his father to come to dinner. He wouldn’t. Micah told him it was really important and he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a big deal. He still wouldn’t. He told him (via Grandma and a lot of phone calls) that we were eloping Wednesday. He still wouldn’t. Once again, loved ones telling us that our wedding wasn’t important enough to them. More confirmation that we were glad we weren’t wasting more money and time on this.

I had tricked Micah’s sister Melissa into coming to Leslie (Micah’s moms) house by telling her it was to assist with wedding invitations. Leslie was told via Micah it was to sit down with all women in the room and do wedding planning. I showed up and Leslie helped me carry what I’m sure seemed like a ridiculous amount of food into the house and a bag of invitation makings and other assorted items (non-traditional wedding dress & marriage license).

As Micah’s sister Mel pulled up with her kids and my youngest child who had spent the night at her house the night before I asked Leslie to read the wedding announcement we had created the night before. Those reading should expect those in the next week or so via mail. As I let Mel and her family in the door I was under the impression that she already knew as Micah had told me that the only way to get his brother in law to come was to tattle. Apparently he didn’t actually tattle because BIL didn’t come initially. But I didn’t realize that.

It took Leslie quite some time to read the announcement and then you could see the confusion before she spoke. She told me later she just assumed it was a sample and we had simply gone to the courthouse to get our license. Her question to me was “did you get married?” I said no.
“But we will be in about 30 minutes.” More confused look. “Here”

That’s when Crazy started. Melissa said something along the lines of WHAT and Leslie looked SHOCKED and I told them we were eloping tonight at the house in the backyard. We all went to the bedroom (two of us faster than the pregnant bride) to change clothes and prep. There was a lot of madness of changing and explaining and talking.

The only part of the whole thing that I regret is that Micah’s stepdad Rex couldn’t be there. We honestly couldn’t think of a way to ask him to drive 2 hours from where he’s been working during the week and then back 2 hours without telling him it was a wedding. And we wanted the wedding to be a surprise to everyone for the exact reason of avoiding the Crazy. If we had told him he would have told his wife and then our cover would have been blown. There would have been massive amounts of Crazy everywhere. Rex is a wonderful man and of all the father figures that we have in our lives he is the one who was geniunly happy we were getting married, happy for us and loves us wholy and unconditionally. He loves my children like they are his own and is happy to share all that he has and all knowledge he posses. The fact that he wasn’t there yesterday is the only part that I would change if I could.

The minister, Maureen, and her husband Jeremy, showed up at 7pm. She was dressed in her robes, we had about 10 minutes of prep and then Lulu and P acted as flower girl and ring bearer offically while Kylie walked me down the aisle. My bouqet was 5 sunflowers and I wore a red dress that I had bought for Cancun. Micah wore a white shirt, also for Cancun, and pants. I’ll post our vows tomorrow as this is already wordy and long but it was beautiful and perfect and everything we both could have wanted.

We dined on BBQ (from a place called Piggin’ Out) and a fruit and veggie tray and had chocolate and strawberry cake from King Soopers. We got home close to 11pm and were wiped out but happy.

I’m now, officially, Lacy Gonzales.

Funniest moment of the day:
When I told the grisled old guy at the BBQ place that the food was for my wedding and that I was getting married in about 30 minutes he said “Mazl tav”. I kid you not. And gave me an extra potato salad.

Better Together

Written by Mia on

Wednesday, July 8th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Some things just go better together…

The one where I face a tough decision

Written by ruserious on

Saturday, July 4th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

I’m facing a difficult decision.

There are certain things about my life I have never blogged about. A few people that read my blog and actually know me know part of the story. A couple may know almost all of it. But I am not sure anyone really knows the whole thing. But I need to kind of write this out to help me think through something.

First, I have to explain something. If you read my blog you may have noticed sometimes I refer to my dad and others to my father. That is intentional and it references two separate people. My father is my biological father. My dad is the man my mother married me who adopted me when I was 9. One of the two was with me most of my childhood. The other basically disowned me so he wouldn’t have to pay child support.

For a long time I kind of avoided dealing with a lot of realities about my father. What little I remember of the time he was married to my mother is not good. Don’t get me wrong. Like most children I loved my father. But that doesn’t mean that love was deserved. I was crushed when they divorced even though I was a very small child. I remember distinctly crying my eyes out because I could not understand why he wasn’t there. But, looking back, I also remember a big part of why they divorced. And I also remember what it was like the brief period after the divorce where he actually had me visit him.

Basically, about the time things got screwy in my life, and I divorced for the first time, I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted from a relationship with my father. Yes, even though he disowned me and asked my step-father to adopt me he had wanted to be in my life, pretty much on his terms. As a kid you just adapt to that, mostly because you do not want to face the fact that your father doesn’t really want to be your father. I don’t even know how to describe what role he wanted to play in my life but it certainly wasn’t parental.

And I also faced the reality that every single psychologist I met with reached the same conclusion about things I had blocked out of my memory, and that I may never be sure of everything, but there is something there.

So I decided I did not want this man in my life. When I had spoken to him about what I did remember he denied he had ever done anything wrong and said he had no idea what I was talking about. Given the fact that there are more than a few people who remember some pretty bad shit, it’s obvious that he’s either in denial or too big a coward to own up to his past. Either way, this is not a man I want in my life. He is a big reason why my address and phone number are not easy to find. I don’t want so much as a birthday card from this man.

When all of this happened I received a card from my step-brother. Keep in mind he is not my father’s biological son. But his mother is married to my father, so they are in touch. The card talked a great deal about forgiveness. But this isn’t a matter of forgiveness. Even if I forgive the man I am not going to have him in my life. The memories are bad enough without dealing with a man who pretends nothing ever happened. So, as a result of his decision to act as an intermediary between my father and me, I made the choice to cut my step-brother out of my life as well. Frankly, anyone that close to my father is not someone I want around me.

Now, several years later my step-brother has reached out to me again. This time he did not reach out to me on behalf of my father, but for himself. But I have to be honest. I am not sure what to do. The reality is that he is still close to his mother, and anything I say to him is likely to get back to her. I guarantee anything she hears will get to my father. I do not want him involved in my life even tangentially. I don’t want him to know what I am doing in my life. I don’t want any back-channel communication from him. I want to do as much as I can to be insulated from him.

So now I have to decide how to handle this situation. I could just send my brother a message explaining why I am doing what I am doing, but I am afraid that even that will end up getting my father, or possibly my step-mother, to again start their efforts to find me. While I want to believe I can communicate with my brother without any of it getting back to my father, I am not sure that is even possible.

I have enough going on in my life without dealing with that man again, and I really have to decide if the risk is worth it.

Smooth Away

Written by BuckeyeGal on

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Let me start by saying that I am in no way, shape, or form related to anyone working for or promoting 3M. So I am getting no advances or cut of the profits. Darn it. Anyway, ever heard of the Smooth Away product? You know the one. The easy, safe, and painless hair removal method as sold on tv (so it’s gotta be good ya know!).

Let me start by saying that I have always had an issue with hair on my body. What is excellent for growing thick, full, luscious hair on my head is not the greatest thing for hair on other parts. I get my eyebrows waxed on a regular basis as I have been told that I typically have Brooke Shield eyebrows. No unibrow…but you get the picture. I have undergone laser/light hair treatments on my upper lip and chin. That gets a little expensive but I think one or two more sessions should take care of it. I shave my pits and legs on a regular (i.e. daily) basis. If I don’t and I get a cold chill, then I get stubble almost immediately. It’s terrible but I think you get what I am saying. I’m a Yeti if I don’t keep up on the trims and removal methods.

Needless to say, I have always been kinda embarrassed about the amount of hair on my forearms in particular. Although I didn’t think ahead and take a before picture, it looked almost exactly like that in the below picture…freckles and all. Not pretty.

http://content5.videojug.com/1a/1adf2adf-f3dd-80d4-915c-ff0008c99dca/how-to-gel-wax-arm-hair.jpg

So I saw the commercials and had been thinking of trying the new Smooth Away. I mean, why not? They made it look so easy! So I gave it a try.

I peeled off the paper backing of what looks to be extremely fine sandpaper pads and stuck one to the rubbery applicator thingy. I am very technical with my jargon….don’t hate. After carefully reading the instructions to rub in a CIRCULAR motion (their emphasis, not mine…apparently this is an important thing to know ahead of time) both clockwise and counter-clockwise, I began. I picked what I thought was the most obviously hairy spot and went to town. After several rotations in each direction, I stopped and had a look. Not much happening except there is now a white round patch on my arm. That is to be expected they said due to the dead skin cells coming off as well; however, the hair is still there.

No need for alarm. Let’s go again. Another round of rotations but this time when I stopped I noticed these little round balls of hair are now sitting on my arm. Yes, I said both round and balls of hair. I’ll give you a minute.

Aaaaand we’re back. I brushed them aside to reveal udderly smooth skin. Yes I spelled it wrong on purpose cause lemme tell ya. My skin was UDDERLY smooth. I was so shocked, I hollered at my son to come and look. He was equally amazed. Not really.

So I finished the rest of my arm and did the other one. Even now I keep looking down expecting to see all that dark hair on my rather white skin. But it’s not there anymore. It’s gone! Here’s what my arm looks like now.

http://www.md-laserderm.com/photos/hair-removal/89/hr_89_files/a-forearm.jpg

All in all if you are looking for an alternative to hair removal, I would give this one a try. Also, it was less than $10 at Wal-Mart so it’s cost effective too.

Innocence Lost

Written by Mia on

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

I feel so betrayed. An iconic piece of my childhood died. When I was a pre-teen, quite impressionable, Michael Jackson’s Thriller exploded on the scene aided by the fledgling Mtv. At eleven and then twelve years of age I was enthralled with the music, the dancing and the unlikely idol that was a black man to a white young girl. I remember watching the Thriller video and then convincing my family to participate in my delusions of grandeur as we acted it out in Gramma’s living room- Marco, Megan, Adam- sorry ’bout that. Put the therapy bills on my tab. Here’s the thing, though. I was not betrayed when Michael Jackson died last week. I was betrayed when he became a monster.

Michael Jackson’s talent has been so completely eclipsed by his despicable behavior and abuse of children that I feel betrayed. I can feel true sympathy for his family and loved ones. Their grief is real and I in no way mean to trivialize it. However, I am disgusted by the tributes and non-stop coverage that his sudden death has given birth to. He was a sick and twisted man, a tortured soul no doubt. However, when his illness(es) led him to harm children then all bets are off.

I can not mourn a pedophile. I can not celebrate an artist who allowed his fame and fortune to cover up his ghastly deeds. I’m moderately appalled with myself for lending fuel to the fire by posting this blog, however I refuse to sit idly by while he is idolized. What’s next? Adolf Hitler was just misunderstood? Jeffrey Dahmer’s parents didn’t hug him enough? Osama bin Laden has a chemical imbalance? OJ’s wife was asking for it? No, people, no! When you torture, abuse, maim and kill that which is innocent you negate any good you have done.

Michael’s contribution to the world of music and the history of entertainment is tainted by his predilection for young boys and his ability to cover it up. Any other argument is false and a pathetic attempt to brush away the harsh reality that the world is mourning a monster.

/end rant

The flip side of cakes

Written by BuckeyeGal on

Thursday, June 25th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

So I’m sitting here watching one of those cake shows. You know…the ones where they make those phenomenal cakes that look so real? And I think they are amazing. Truly. It takes an artist’s eye and a steady hand to do that sort of thing. But every now and then they show the delivery. It makes me nervous to watch because I can just picture the person tripping and toppling over the cake. I would catch my breath and feel bad for a split second but then I would laugh cause that’s just me.

But eventually, I feel an overwhelming sense of disgust. I mean think about it. These guys are carrying rather large and oddly shaped cakes. Ones that don’t fit into your usual cake box. I understand that. However, these guys just open the front door and walk outside with them. UNCOVERED! They walk out into the various weather pattern of the day….heat, cold, humidity, snow, rain, or sleet….and toss that puppy into the back of a car or van.

Again, UNCOVERED!

All of that smog and hair and germs and pollution that goes flying around in the air has now just engulfed what was once a beautiful creation. No one wants to eat that mess now. And yet, they do. Big ol’ mouthfuls of fondant. What is that stuff anyway? I mean, I know what fondant is and what it is used for but still.

Let’s go back and talk about the making of these cakes for a minute shall we? Although you never see them do it, I’m sure everyone along the way who touches these cakes has washed their hands prior to doing so. And yet, they’ve got their hands all.over.the.thing. Rubbing it and pressing it and smoothing it out. Punching it and getting their nasty little noses riiiiiiight up close to it. Yuck! It’s a work of art, but I ain’t eatin’ that thing thankyouverymuch.

Overall, I give it an 8 on the nasty meter. Not as bad as some of the stuff my man, Mike Rowe, has seen but still eww nasty to me.

My Hero

Written by red811 on

Saturday, June 20th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

For Father’s Day, I wanted to write about my hero. You see, I’ve always been a “Daddy’s Girl.” As far as I’m concerned, he’s the cream of the crop when it comes to men. He sets a standard for which, many a man will find difficult to live up to.

Dad is a FAITHFUL man. He has been married to my mother for 44 years and never once, during all their time together, has he looked at another woman. He made vows, in church and fully intends to keep them until he dies.

Dad is a CARING man. He has shown this by holding the puke bucket when I was sick, rubbing my back when I couldn’t sleep, and even listening to me cry over the silly boys who bruised my ego and broke my heart in days gone by. His caring has extended to the community by his volunteer work with our local ambulance squad where he helped neighbors and friends in their time of need.

Dad is a WISE man. He has spent a lifetime giving quiet, thoughtful advice that was all the more profound because it was heartfelt and held truth. I’m not the only person that looks to my father for advice or counsel. He taught CPR and EMT school for a number of years and was also frequently called upon by his co-workers and friends to share his knowledge and opinions.

Dad is a STRONG man. I’m not talking “body builder” strong, but instead I’m talking about inner strength. He exudes a quiet confidence that makes you feel that everything will be okay, just because he is there. He has a way of taking control of a situation, without yelling or even raising his voice that makes people sit up and take notice. No matter what life throws at him, he just takes it on the chin and keeps moving forward into the fray.

Dad is a LOVING man. The ways he shows his love are endless. You can see it by how he gives big bear hugs, to the way he makes dinner for those who are working late, so they don’t have to. His love is evident in the way he takes care of his wife, the tears he sheds for family who pass, and even in the affection he has for his cat. He’s even been known to drive hundreds of miles out of his way (backtracking across a few states) to retrieve the baby blanket his young daughter left behind at a motel while on vacation, all because he loved her.

There are some who will say that to be classified as a “hero” you have to do something extraordinary; something that sets you far above mere mortals, such as saving a life or risking your own.

Today, I wanted to pay tribute to this special man in my life. I don’t think you have to save a life to be considered a “hero”, merely prove time and again that you are one, through your actions and deeds. This is why Dad is truly a hero in my eyes. Not because he has done anything “special”, but because he IS “special” to me. He truly is an EXTRAORDINARY man. No matter what other man may come into my life, I am and always will be, “Daddy’s Little Girl.”

I Love You, Daddy! Happy Fathers Day….

The Heat is On

Written by Mia on

Wednesday, June 10th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Disclaimer: If you are in Texas City, Texas please do not allow your children to read this blog. I prefer to remain not in jail. Thanks.

Here in Central Pennsylvania, we have four seasons. Four real seasons, not just a day or two of chilly weather we call winter or a week of over 85º when people whine. No, we often get snow measured in feet; gorgeous spring days where there is frost in the morning but breezes in the afternoon; crisp autumn days full of bright sunshine and good sleeping weather. And then, there is summer. There are few words to describe the hell that is a Pennsylvania summer. Hot, sticky and gross come to mind but they don’t quite cover it.

Before you get all wound up and start telling me about how hot it is in Florida- I lived there on the Gulf Coast and I know. Awful humidity, rain falling from the sun itself, bugs the size of my feet- I get it. I’ve also lived in New Mexico and visited the Saharan Desert in the summer time so I can dispel that bullshit about a dry heat being any better. No, it still sucks. (I’ve also been in Minnesota in November and Kansas during tornado season. I’ve experienced weather…)

Summer has landed here in Harrisburg. I hate it. It’s hot; the air is so thick with humidity I feel as though I need to swing a machete in front of me just to be able to walk through it. And can I tell you what a nightmare it is to have curly hair in humid weather? Just call me “Frizz.” Couple curly hair with skin so pale you may as well be transparent and the hot, mid-day sun is a recipe for disaster. I currently have an interesting, triangular-shaped patch of red on my chest from where my iPod pulls my shirt aside while I’m walking. *sigh*

The worst part of it all, though, is that there’s not a fuckin’ thing I can do about it. (I already recycle, reduce my carbon footprint and energy consumption- nothing more I can personally do to combat global warming so don’t go there Mittar!) It’s completely out of my control. There is no weather department where I can go file a complaint!

This morning I have developed a new theory: the Universe is forcing me to learn that which Alcoholics have been working on for years and that is to accept the things that I can not change. I’m trying. I really am. I’ve been searching for that serenity for some time now. I’ve got the courage piece in the bag; I’m lousy with chutzpah, I’ve got bigger balls than most men- especially those I’ve been dating recently. The wisdom piece is no problem either. I recognize that which is out of my control. It doesn’t stop me from wishing that I could, but I can see the difference. My point and I do have one, is this: where the fuck is my serenity?

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things that I can not change,

The courage to change the things that I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Adventures in Dating

Written by red811 on

Saturday, June 6th, 2009 | Uncategorized | No Comments

Anytime you go on a date or accept one for that matter, it can be an adventure. After all, you just never know what may happen. You may go out on a date with someone that you’ve been “dating” for a period of time, or it may be a “first date”, and you don’t know the other person at all. Either way, adventure awaits you. Having a good sense of humor helps tremendously. Well, that and being able to roll with the punches that life throws at you.

For example, I went bowling with a date one time. As I went to release the ball, my thumb stuck in the hole and I ended up following the ball halfway down the lane (on my belly, of course). As my date scrambled over to see if I was hurt, I sat up and was literally shaking with laughter. He started to laugh also, because let’s face it, it was pretty damn funny.o I challenged him to see if he could knock down as many pins as I had with the same move. He declined, saying that he didn’t think he had “my flare and grace.” Chicken!

Another adventure in dating was the time a date had taken me out for my birthday. We ended up at a bar where he proceeded to get drunk and pick a fight with some other guy. When this guy threw a punch at my date, my date ducked but unfortunately, I didn’t. Yep, I guess you could say I “rolled with the punch” literally on that one! The date itself sucked, but so many other guys at the bar were nice and protective towards me that it made up for the idiot I was with. They made me laugh while others were breaking up the brawl, and I got free drinks and my boo boo’s tended to by some pretty nice looking guys. I guess there are worse ways to spend your birthday.

Then there was the time I was working as a bartender. The guy I had just started to date came in to see me and his entire family showed up. Now I had only seen this guy about 3 times and all of a sudden there are 20 people in my bar to check out who their “boy” is interested in. Talk about being put on the spot. He was mortified, but I just laughed it off. I figured that if we continued to date, I would end up meeting his family eventually, so at least this way, it was over with at once. For me, the mortification came a little later when I inserted my foot in my mouth. We were all joking around and having a great time and the guy I was dating (who happened to be sitting next to his mother), choked on something someone said. Me, being the wiseass I am, snapped off the typical one liner that I would use around most of my friends. “SWALLOW, DON’T SPIT, BABE!” with a wink. All eyes turned to me, and my date’s almost bugged out of his head. AWW SHIT! MOM! She looked at me, and I looked at her and I shrugged. What could I do? I just rolled with it. I told her he loved it when I talked dirty to him, and asked if she wanted a refill. She fell out laughing, and told me I was breath of fresh air because I kept it real. I think she was more impressed with the fact that I didn’t get flustered by a slip of the tongue.

Life is an adventure and so is dating. Getting the most enjoyment out of it is what really matters, IMO. Not everything will go perfectly, but if you have a good sense of humor and a positive attitude, you can still manage to make the most of any situation.

I have a date tonight. I don’t know what will happen, but I do know that one way or another, it will be an ADVENTURE! Wish me luck!

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