Not The Same

Yesterday afternoon, I was upstairs cleaning and I hollered (I really tried to think of a better word, but asked just didn't work) down for my Love to come help me for a few minutes.

Afterwards, I said, "Thank you!" and she said, "Sure."

"Don't you mean you're welcome?"

"It's the same thing."

With that, she was down the stairs.

Now, maybe I'm old fashioned and maybe she's a Yankee, but I don't think it's the "same thing." Although, I may be guilty of a quick, "sure" myself.

I need to take the time to slow down and make sure that I'm practicing what I preach.

Touch Me Right There

The other day on the beach, all of us lesbians were talking about that Oprah show where Dr. Laura Berman told everybody to let teenage girls have vibrators.

Yeah, THAT got everyone's attention.

I just don't get it. Little boys get to play with themselves because their equipment is more conducive to doing so. But because our equipment is more hidden, we shouldn't? Or it's not polite? Or what? WTF?

What's wrong with a teenage girl having a vibrator? How will she ever know how to have someone else please her if she can't learn to please herself?

Frankly, I think that's what's wrong with a damn lotta women. I've been around.

Entirely too many of us have never had an orgasm. Don't touch ourselves. Don't know how to enjoy sex. Just don't get the *feel good* part of it.

Loosen the hell up, people. It's just an orgasm. At least, she won't get pregnant.

Finally, Something She's Not Good At

Her: What are these doing here?

Me: I thought *I* would have a little fun later.

Her: Can I watch?

Me: Sure. I love an audience!

Apparently, she's not very good at *just* watching! ;)

I'm In Love And It's NOT With My Girlfriend!

On our little beach vacation, all four of us took our bikes. Mine's a mountain bike that I've had for a long time, and frankly, I don't ride enough to be comfy on it.

When we arrived at the beach, I told everyone that I'd just stay back and they could ride around the island. Cars scare me. My own lack of athleticism scares me. I'm a chicken-shit.

My "lime in the coconut" friend, whom I love dearly, offered to let me ride hers. She has an Electra Townie that looks like something your grandmother might ride. I tried it, knowing that it was me, not the bike that was the problem.

WRONG.

Who knew I was such an athlete?

I honestly haven't had this much fun since I was 12 years old riding my Baby Blue Schwinn with a Psychedelic Banana Seat! She never got to ride her own bike. I claimed it for the entire time!

Since we've been home, I've wanted to do nothing more than ride THAT bike. I've dreamed about it day and night. Yesterday, I called Eastside Cycles in Nashville, TN, our local bike shop and asked if they had one in stock. Dave told me that they had one in every color. All I had to do was pick.

I couldn't wait for yesterday's work day to be over. My Love, The Singer and I all piled into the little pickup truck and headed to the bike shop. I immediately fell in love with the blue one....until Scott told me to take the Leaf Green Metallic one out into the sunlight. Angels sang. I knew she was for me.

Then, My Love started looking and decided on the Baby Blue Pearl after taking it for a spin around the block. The Electra Townie truly rides like a dream.

As we milled around the store, The Singer spotted a tricked-out Electra bike that the owner had used for the last year and had for sale. Truly stunning, this bike is. With a dark green body, a gorgeous leather seat and handles, plus big white side tires. It took very little talking to convince her that this bike was for her. We all three came home with new rides.

I can't wait to get home and play on our new bikes. Honestly, you've got to get your ass on one of these bikes if you ever enjoyed riding as a kid!

P.S. We traded seats and handles, so my green one has white ones now....but someday soon, it'll be tricked out with the candy stripe ones...

Penises and Pigs Blood

That's what you call an attention getting title. :)

I'm still catching up with everyone and today, with my 2 extra minutes, I popped over to Vodka Mom's house and found a link to Mommy With A Penis. How can you NOT click on that title?

Since I've been out of touch for the past week, I totally missed the FUBAR that was the Miss USA Pageant last Sunday. Apparently, Miss California and Perez Hilton got into it.

Mommy With A Penis does this topic such great justice. That's why I'm sending you over there today to read Anyone Have A Spare Bucket of Pig's Blood?

If all of these Illegal Aliens (I'm joking, I only hire legals with their paperwork) want a check this week, then I need to get busy on payroll.

Now git.

Reunited And It Feels So Good!

Two weeks ago, Trace Jeanell tore her ACL and damaged the cartilage in her knee. The doc told us, just like in humans it doesn't matter when you have the surgery. That's why we ALL went to the beach to romp and play a bit before 5 months of recovery for her. A little last minute fun was in order.

I took her in yesterday and was told that I could pick her up on Thursday. I'm not good at leaving her. Trace is diabetic and has been for almost four years. Two years longer than the lifespan given to diabetic dogs. I've been on three vacations without her in those four years. I rarely trust other people with her care.

That's why I flipped out when they wanted to keep her for three days. I don't trust vets or anyone else with my little girl.

Yesterday, Dr. Beckman called me and told me that he thought that I should pick her up today. I wonder if he saw my neurotic diabetic diary that I keep of her glucose levels, times, dates, activities, etc.? He felt that she'd be better off in my care since they rarely deal with diabetics.

This morning at 10am, we were reunited. It feels so good to have her home!


One of the girls at the clinic decorated her E-collar. How cute is that?!

Everyone Had A Great Time....Except Me

I think that may be because I'm such a bitch. Spoiled. Or both.

I don't travel well with others.

I'm really quite fun to be around for several hours in the evening. But on a daily basis, I'm kinda quiet and shy. I don't get up every morning bubbling fun facts and wanting to chat. Precisely the opposite.

So, the folks that have known me in the evening started to wonder on the second day "what was wrong?" Since they asked, I told them the only thing that I could think of. I had to take my dog in for surgery this morning on her ACL. She has to stay there for two nights and I'm a worry wart.

That's all. Otherwise, I'm good. Of course, that never stops them from asking.

And then, there's the incessant chatter-er. When she wasn't talking, she sang. Horribly.

Now, I'm almost always in a good mood and I'm sure to some, it's annoying that my glass is always either half full or bubbling over. However, I don't sing "put the lime in the coconut" 10,000 times every day. That gets mighty old.

For all of you that envied my trip to the beach....you can stop now or I'm gonna sing "you put the lime in the coconut....

My Momma Would Die

if I did this to my dimples. "Leee-yun" she'd say, "What have you done to yourself!?"



Although, I think it's kinda cool. I'd go for the tiny diamonds, though.

What do you think?

I'm Outta Here

And I'm going right there. See that sandy spot to the right of the grassy one? There.

Although, I'm not really one to sunbathe, I'll be doing as much of that as my fair skin and "Let's go do something!" nature will allow. We're headed to a friend's condo in Dauphin Island, AL. We'll be cooking, playing games, biking around the island, and generally being lazy lesbians.

I'll see ya'll next week!

XOXO

Does Anybody Even Care?

Adam Lambert wears makeup, earrings and is damn cute. But is Adam gay?

The rumors are flyin' as pics of someone who looks an awfully lot like him soar around the internet.

I think people are always going to be interested in juicy gossip, but will Adam's sexuality really matter to the people who are voting on American Idol? It's definitely a younger crowd with a totally different mindset than your Baby Boomers.

States are jumping on the "gays are okay" bandwagon. Gays are on television shows regularly....and not portrayed as freaks. It seems to me as though we're becoming more mainstream.

I wonder if the younger generation even cares about individual sexuality?

Just Like Cats

You won't even understand that unless you are or know someone who is allergic to cats. They're DRAWN to us. Like moths to the flame. It is the same with clowns. They seem to sense the people who are willing themselves invisible.

Saturday we arrived at the Cirque du Soleil performance of Saltimbanco. As the lights go down on the crowd, we are sitting on the floor, sixth row back. The very back row on the floor.

My Love is obviously tense as the clowns walk out. I've promised her that they won't interact with the audience. They don't do that, right? It's not like a circus circus with goofy, freaky American clowns.

A group of them stand in front of the first row. Reach down, intertwine arms with them and walk them off. Then they run back and sit in their seats leaving the Nashvillians in a group on the other side of the stage. Cute.

But that's it, I promise her. They'll start the show now.

That's when I notice two clowns lingering behind us. One male, one female with freaky masks.


Two white fingers start playing the "I'm not touching you" game with her pony tail. I lean over, "Don't look behind you." Hoping that they'll move along for her sake.

She leans forward and whispers, "I know!"

I wish I could sympathize, but I can't. It's just too damn funny. Tears stream down my face.

They played for about a minute before one of them lightly pulls her pony and they run off.

They smelled her fear.

We're Okay

Thanks to everyone who have been checking in on me. I'm about 15 minutes as the crow flies from Murfreesboro, TN where 7 tornados hit earlier today.

Scary stuff.

Link to local news.

Put Your Head Between My Legs

Actually, between your legs will do.

We recently had a conversation at work about when the moon looks really big. My uncle piped up, "That's just an illusion."

Am I the only one that didn't know? Did I miss that day in 5th grade?

"The moon really isn't bigger when it's low on the horizon. It's always the same distance. It just looks bigger because of the objects surrounding it." He spouts.

I *knew* that. I just never THOUGHT about it.

Next time you see a Harvest Moon, bend over and view it with your head between your legs to change your perspective. It will totally ruin it for you. Totally.

I know, because I did it last night on my way home from the gym. I actually got out of the car and flipped my head down and looked like an idiot in the subdivision. Hey... I had to know before I could tell you!

Read more about it here, here or here.

Peer Pressure

The entire drive to the salon, I fretted and squirmed. Typical Libra style. Squashed by peer pressure, I relented and didn't get a perm.

In my defense, as you can see here, I really don't have big 80s hair. I get an extremely light body wave. Just enough to make my extremely straight, thick hair manageable. Only my girlfriend and a couple of other people even know that it's permed. Most people think I have naturally wavy hair.

I went with a shorter razor cut, a tad of reddish color plus some blonde highlights.




It's so dramatically different that no one even noticed.

Apparently, Everyone Cares....

about my hair. Odd, I know. Because at 6:30am when I'm trying to make it look like something that belongs on my head, I'm all alone. Where are all the people that care about my hair then?

Over a couple of pitchers of margaritas last Saturday night, the conversation turned to...you guessed it, my hair.

Everyone agreed that I shouldn't get another perm. I should go back to more blonde. Let it go straight and what? What then? Who's going to be there to help me at 6:30am EVERY morning when it won't curl? Who's going to listen to me cry when it refuses to behave?

Yeah, that's who I thought.

I'm on my way to the salon right now, because I'm addicted to perms and the 80s.

If Jessica Biel Is A Stripper....

You can bet I'll be buying a front row seat.

I'm still amazed that women think stripping is corrupt and demeaning. In my opinion, it's a choice. Sometimes, it might be a good choice for her.

Isn't that why we had the whole women's rights movement? So that women could choose?

Who am I to judge?


P.S. Before you call me a hypocrite, I'd make her take off that unfuckable, red bob wig. ;)

Just Don't Bitch

When I was in South America last Spring, we travelled like rock stars for about five days. A different hotel every night. Up at 4am. To bed around 11pm. And extremely full days of traveling and sightseeing.

We arrived at Cusco, Peru just in time to find some dinner and get to bed. The next morning at 4am, we took a taxi to the train terminal. We rode the train to Agua Caliente, Peru and then the buses up to Machu Picchu. We trudged up and around the mountain for 3 hours in the rain, getting completely soaked to the skin. Rode the buses back down, took the train another little town ONLY to get into an overnight bus to ride 14 hours soaking wet and not sleep next to my uncle who had obviously had too many beans that day.

About an hour into that bus ride, I thought that I would explode. If my girlfriend had been there, she would have gotten an earful of bitching. But I couldn't do that with my uncles and aunt. They wouldn't tolerate it. I'd never be invited to travel with them again and forevermore would have been considered an ass to travel with.

And so, I sucked it up. I was miserable. I needed a bath, a good night's sleep and a hug from my love. But none of that was going to happen. Not for another week.

Right then, I figured out that no one wants to hear me bitch or complain. And I don't want to hear them. I know that may seem harsh when the going gets tough, but it's just the truth.

Shut up and suck it up. Find the damn silver lining.