My Dog Hates Me!

Every girl knows that the one fail safe remedy for those monthly “Aunt Flo” cramps is a nice steady string of kegel contractions.

I like to deliver my personal form of pain medication via my “magic wand” a tried and trusted method otherwise known as… a little taste of self determining heaven that comes with a long cord and plugs in behind my nightstand.

She really is the true gift that keeps on giving. I don’t have to tell her she’s pretty, witty or charming. Happy to deliver exactly what she promises, she never asks who is texting me at 3am. She is simply perfect.

I was recently asked “What? Battery operated isn’t good enough for you?”

Hell No! If I could find me a sexual partner that required a kick start and a stand… I’d take it!! Batteries are so 1992… Come on really? Who wants to be “RIGHT THERE” to then hear that tell tale battery whine sound… as you begin to buzz slightly lower and lower and lower and…. God Damn it!! Where is the Advil??

Not I, Ladies… Not I. No, I want a surefire consistent buzz!

What does this have to do with my usually adoring 8yr old German Shepard? Aha! I’m getting to that…

So my last period found me like a vice grip to the ovaries. It was a real doozy of menstrual cramp hell. The pain told me it was going to take a seriously committed relationship complete with U-Haul between “Wanda” and myself to elevate my girl parts to where they felt almost human again.

Man’s best friend apparently had other ideas.

Now, both of my dogs are pretty well trained in the bedroom department. They don’t stare… they don’t try to join in… they definitely don’t ask to go outside…No, my babies settle in and wait it out. I am blessed with discrete and considerate animals. Well, I thought I was…

That was until recently when I was in severe pain – chasing the “O” dragon as far as she would go… So, I was WAY past dinner and a movie with “Wanda” when my German Shepard (Mackie) decides to lie down on the power strip, subsequently shutting it down via the surge protector.

BOOM! Wanda has left the building along with Elvis and I am thrown unceremoniously back down the mountain I just spent the last ten minutes climbing.

Dammit, up I get – move the dog… switch the power cord back on and settle in for an attempt at round two towards the summit.

My eyes are closed and I am gaining ground pretty quickly, stupidly I open my eyes and BINGO… there’s my boy staring right at me with those big brown hound dog eyes… tongue hanging out – hot breath panting in my direction… that was a buzz kill... a true deflating moment. I beg my truest companion, in very few words, to go find a corner and lie down. He obligingly grumbles his way to a corner of the bedroom. I am back in business!

No time to be sweet talking foreplay with Wanda, we pick up where we left off. We have our little dance down to a fine art – so we skip past “GO”…pick up our “get out of jail free” card and are cruising towards Mayfair…. Jesus! Mother! & Joseph! The damn power goes off again. My sweet boy has scooted his butt right back onto the friggin power strip – OK, now I’m pissed.

In a verbal buckshot of frustration – I’m yelling at the damn dog to move his ass… how do I know he hates me? Because he moves off the power strip only to lay his hulking frame onto Wanda’s usually pretty lengthy cord.

I am so desperate to finish the job – I hit the reset on the power strip and give up on moving the dog.

Have you ever tried to write a check at the bank? You have, right? Ok, well you know the damn pen attached to the desk by a chain…Why is the chain is always too short? No matter where you go… it’s always too friggin short. I want to meet the pen chained to a desk designer. It has to be a man, it has to be. Every woman knows in order for them to be fun useable tools, pens and vibrators should always have ample cord length.

The only thing you can do with a pen on a chain is recreate your childhood penmanship inadequacies (Like it wasn’t embarrassing enough the first time around).

Apply this EXACT SAME THEORY to a corded vibrator.

It wasn’t the best date Wanda and I had ever been on but by sheer determination, we did make it all the way through the movie and even managed to share some buttered salty popcorn along the way. We didn’t bicker or argue, we didn’t seek couples counseling or support groups for people in similar situations… It did take a long time, however to her credit she was still the finest rendezvous I had had all week.

I think it’s pretty obvious my dog hates me. Why would he mess with me so badly otherwise? It’s not like I get my hands in the mix when he’s licking his balls and make him stop. I simply avert my eyes and pretend to be disgusted. I do make an effort to disguise my jealousy at this self ball licking talent. Man, if I could do that… Wanda and I would be over!
Don’t get me wrong, just like my other exes… I’d wish Wanda well and try to remain friends leaving open the smidgen of opportunity to perhaps pick up a date here and there during a dry spell.

You can’t blame a girl for leaving her options open.

Common Sense Rule to Vibrating Techniques:

Always try to plug “Friends of Wanda” directly into the wall, if at all avoidable – stay away from power strips with surge protectant switches.


Christmas Shopping Tip:
Search The Sharper Image high and low for wireless, non-corded vibrating devices for any ladies in your life that suffer from extreme menstrual crampage.
Find that item and you will shoot your way to the top of my Christmas card list!

Women's Week P-Town Part 1.

People fascinate me - Lesbians and Lesbian culture is especially intriguing to me - for obvious reason, I mean really… I am a "little" invested. This is my tribe, ya know?

I just spent a week in P-Town for my first ever "women's week" experience…

It has been a week of loss and recovery. By that I mean, my wallet, my car keys (2sets), my money, my phone, my id and my traveling companion.

The week began as it meant to continue, a call to the police station and an "almost" missing persons report. As the week progressed and much alcohol was consumed…2 lost purses, more lost and found police reports, a call to AAA and an ex-girlfriend… everything but my dignity was recovered.


What I really want to know is why do ex- girlfriends have to know everything, really…

Why?


In order to regain my lost belongings I was forced to place a call to my ex girlfriend who was in Atlanta Georgia with her Mother attending a family Bar- Mitzvah. It's not exactly the phone call you want to make


"Um, Hi! Yeah… it's me. I appear to have lost a couple of things, do you happen to have Sally's friends phone number… I think she may know where my shit is…"


Sure enough – she tracked down my missing items like a bloodhound. It was reminiscent of the years following our break up. I swear she would hide things from me like my favorite pair of shoes and my tax return from 1999.


"Hey, it's me! Do you happen to know where my snakeskin boots are, the ones I bought in England?"

"Upstairs closet, top shelf… way in the back… the shoes your wore to my cousins wedding are up there with them"

"Shit! I've been looking for them too!"

"Well, if you need anything else…just call me"

"Um, actually... do you know where my taxes are?"

(Heavy Sigh - from the ex)



Ok, Back to Women's Week…


It seems to me (and anyone that possesses a reading level over the age of 8) that the stand up comic is to today's lesbian culture what folk musicians and Kum Ba Yah were to the lesbians back in the 70's. Just read the women's week guide – every 20-30 minutes you can catch a stand up comedy show of some description.


All I have to say about that is…. THANK GOD!

Way to go, lesbians!! We are now choosing to laugh at our selves rather than sitting around singing odes to butch gym teachers. I think it is a possibility that we could be on the verge of shaking our dumpy dour reputation as unfeminine, unfunny creatures. You know, the ones that just can't find a "good man" and therefore are forced to turn to lesbianism.

I could never figure out what "good man" meant and we've all heard it. Does it mean Hung? Gives good head? Won't beat you for serving brussel sprouts with dinner? I have come to the conclusion that it means filthy rich, impotent and welcomes your lesbian lover to move in to west wing of the Malibu mansion. If you know this man – please send him my way… I think I could be forced to make a life change.

With this new wave of beautiful, funny chiquitas…perhaps the straight people will finally accept the fact that I truly am one of the horned, card carrying members of our little club. Not that I am either of those things but I'm hoping it will impact me in some way.

Now I don't want you to think I am bashing the unshaven, patchouli wearing, earthy chicks hauling guitar cases around town. Please don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the lesbian folk musician. I have accumulated quite a few of the musically inclined type on my ex-gf rap sheet. I even have a professional pianist from Amsterdam on there and let me tell you… "Chopin" will never sound the same again… (ahem).

I considered working my way through the comics but thought better of it… I mean, really there's enough material out there in the world without having an auditorium of potential ex-wives laughing at my personal sexual escapades. At some point a 37 year old woman in a French maids outfit just isn't funny anymore.

The single women blew me away. The pick up lines were amazing – even to me! Now, forget the lesbian handbook, I think I missed the women's week "single woman's: handbook – I have never been yelled at so many times for my apparent failure in the making out department. Apparently the pre-requisite errs more to the side of making out with and sleeping with drunk chicks whose last names you don't know, can't spell and for the love of god…forget good pronunciation!!

If you try to swim upstream against this rule… you get yelled at!


And that my friends, is my next posting… Women's Week, Part 2


Sparkles

xoxo


Currently listening :
Lesbian Favorites: Women Like Us
By Various Artists
Release date: 1997-10-28

How To Fail A Personality Test

So, here I am – some random hotel room in Connecticut, smoking in the bathroom with the fan on and the shower running – can of "Oust" at the ready and it occurs to me…



Don't people use hotel rooms to lose their virginity, do drugs and deal arms to foreign militia?


And I'm fucking smoking in the BATHROOM !

REALLY???

When did we all become so friggin conservative? It just about near kills me - the blandness of it all.


I'm going back to my roots – I have decided in this very minute. My goal every day from here to the tag on my toe – is to find one rule a day and break it… Is anyone up for that kind of challenge with me?






Currently listening : Personality Test By Henry's Anger

Indecent Proposals

I think trying to see if your girlfriends parents friends would pay you for sex is quite amusing.... unfortunately my friends now ex-girlfriend didn't think so....Other people may think it was a dick move... I personally think it's comic genius and that's why I love you just the way you are!!!

Some of my favorite conversations recently....



1. " What would it be called if you didn't have sex for 5years but abstinence and celibacy didn't seem to fit as proper words?"
"I think that's what we like to call... a Lesbian Relationship"



2. "You have to love and respect me and if you can't do that then... you have to give me head"



3. "I swear I am going to kill him! I just know he is cheating on me"

"But princess, YOU are cheating on HIM!"
"I know, but he cannot prove it"



4. "I knew she would try to make me look like the dick in this break-up"
"You were TRYING to sleep with her parents friends for money…"
"So? She wouldn't introduce me to her parents… why would she care?"


(different conversation - same topic)



5. "It's not like I would have done it. I just wanted to see how much they would offer me"
"Like, how much are we talking?"
"I figured they'd offer me at least five grand"
"And you wouldn't have done it? What are you crazy? Babe... not for nothing, but...YOU could use five grand".



I confess to groaning and even swearing out loud when I get those ridiculous forwarded e-mails...


"Send this to ten people in ten minutes or you will never have sex again"


Hey people...guess what? I'm probably never going to have sex again anyway so I don't give a shit... keep sending em... my undoubted response will never change... DELETE!!


I got this a couple of days ago; it is almost worth all the crap you have forwarded to me over the years...hoping your phone will ring telling you that you won a million dollars.... Bear in mind, I did say ALMOST....



THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:

1. Innovative

2. Preliminary

3. Proliferation

4. Cinnamon



THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:

1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.

2. Nope, no more beer for me.

3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.

4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?

5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing



And that my lovlies... is it for me, since I have to get up at the crack ass of 5am.... Good Night!

xoxox

Exactly how should a person clean their sex toys?

It has been a good source of conversations – all this business of what to write next.


Everyone seems to have their favorite stories. Our gatherings have recently been filled with..."Oh my god, do you remember when…." "You have to write about that time when..."


The call is out for some classic "Dukey" Stories…. Karen Duke…. I will try to do her some justice, it is a challenge to bring to life a personality so large and compelling….. there are not enough words in the English language but as Dukey herself would say, "That being said..."

When she is on her game, Dukey is not the life of the party… she is the party. She can pretty much get anyone to do anything…. She is magnetic…. No matter who you are, she can get you to dance to her selected tune – it wouldn't surprise me to hear she had gotten cloistered roman catholic nuns doing body shots with the satin doll strippers… Yup – she's that good when she's "ON".

The flip side is when she's not – Oh, Holy Hell… But when you love her – you just gotta love it all, it's a helluva ride no matter where it takes you.

Meet Karen Duke

My personal tag line is:

"Have you met me?"

It means everything, it means nothing and sometimes it's just something absurd to say….

Karen Duke's Tag line has always been:

"Kid, you don't even know my middle name"

Always a variation on the same theme, in her cocky, boyish I got the world by the balls routine… what she is really saying is that you don't know her well enough to either say what you're saying or do what you're doing. As she is posturing her fine social graces over these poor people – you'll usually find me in the background saying "It's Marie…. Her middle name is Marie…" Would you expect any less of me?

Karen had a bad week… I mean a REALLY bad week…. It started with the hair dye…. an allergic reaction to a botched home hair dye attempt, my "swaggering, butchy" friend gave herself second degree chemical burns. Her neck and face were a mess.

A couple of days later she proceeded to fall down the basement stairs and tore her ankle up bad enough for a trip to the hospital where upon her limping, swollen,bandaged return home… her friends dog apparently took offense to the limping and bit her. I confess I'm already laughing because it does get worse. I realize it's not funny stuff but you just can't imagine that so many things could happen to one person in such a short amount of time; there's gotta be an element of humor in the horror!

Karen returned to the emergency room to get her hand bandaged up and a nice tetanus shot in the ass…. No word of a lie, same week… She got a call from relatives in Canada, her Father had died.

The services were in Canada and she needed to get there but couldn't drive…. Arm in a sling, ankle bandaged and swollen, burns on her neck and face – thank god someone stepped up to the plate and offered to drive her. Off they go on the not so fun mini road trip heading for the border by Niagara.

6 or 7 hours later they get to customs and realize Karen forgot to bring her license along with the rest of her wallet…. I kid you not!! There is no way around it – they have to go home get the stuff and have a trip "do-over".

Finally she makes it back across the border and the family she hasn't seen in years. Reconnecting with long lost aunts, uncles and cousins they are telling her stories and giving her memorabilia she didn't even know existed. For some reason an aunt had Karen's original birth certificate and decided now was a good time to hand it over…. I got the following phone call…

"I can't believe it"
"What?"
"I can't tell you"
"Karen what?"
"It's awful"
"Oh honey, I'm sorry it must be so hard"
"No, it's not that!"
"Huh? What do you mean? Then what is it?"
"It's my name"
"Your name?"
"My middle name…."

She sounds like she is gonna break down any second, like the world is ending… and please… at this point she owned the"I've had a bad week" saying….

"I'm not following honey; you're not making any sense"
"It's not Marie!"
"WHAT?"
"My middle name is NOT Marie!"
"Your middle name isn't Marie? Yes it is… Honey, it's always been Marie"
"It's MARY"

Silence on the phone – it's starting to dawn on me… she's actually trying to tell me something and I am desperately trying not to laugh at the plight of my dear, dear friend…..

"Nik, it's on my birth records… my middle name is Mary…"

I don't wish to appear callous... I had globs of sympathy for the hair dye chemical burns, busted leg, dog bite and her inability to get out of the country without any identification.... Her Father had just died and I have a heart filled with love for that kind of grief, but in that very moment....

The ONLY thing I could think of was......

"Hey Kid! You don't even know my middle name…"

It's too good of a weapon to ignore…. When the ball busting begins and strangers are drawn into her company….. you'll find me somewhere tossing out inflammatory comments…

"Hey Kid, don't listen to her – she doesn't know anything… Hell, she doesn't even know her own middle name!"

(told with love)

………………………………………………………………………………………

NEVER SLEEPING

At least 5 years prior …. A small crew of us went to Provincetown for a holiday weekend. We had an ocean front room with two beds, a pull out couch, kitchenette and balcony. Sounds nice, huh? Yeah… there were 9 of us sharing the room!! You heard me… NINE…. 3 to a bed, 2 on the couch and Foxy Brown was the floater… she hooked up 24/7 so we figured she really just needed a place to shower!!

Karen had recently started dating a cute 19year old baby dyke – just home from college with a hockey injury. The underage thing was mildly freaky but the girl was so damn cute, everyone adored her. Karen convinced most of us to go to the Pied at 3 or 4 in the afternoon before they started id'ing for the evening and just stay right through till close – since it was the only way to get cute baby dyke in the bar.

It was the summer of swishy pants; you know those sporty things you're supposed to wear if you're athletic? Well Karen started wearing them like it was her job; after all she was now dating a 19yr old field hockey player whose entire wardrobe consisted of 15 pairs of swishy pants and 10 baseball caps.

Not the most attractive choice on the planet but it wasn't the look of them that actually bothered me… it was the goddam swish, swish, swish, swish noise…. REALLY? You want to "Swish" EVERYWHERE you go? For Real?

The early hours of the 3rd night we had all fallen into our respective beds only Karen and her young love interest had not yet returned. They were last seen headed for a romantic stroll down the beach. They creep in an hour or so behind the rest of us. The room is in pitch darkness and they giggle their way into bed. Quiet ensues for about 5 minutes then it starts….

"Swish"
"Swish"

Quiet

"Swish"
"Swish"
"Swish"

Pause

"Swish"
"Swish"
"Swish"
"Swish"

Then comes the drunken sexy whisper

"You don't know what you do to me"

Up until that point I think each of us….. all 7, thought the remaining 6 were asleep. I know I personally was holding my breath trying not to let the amorous couple know I was wide awake – a listening audience to their swishy love fest.

From the pull out couch comes the comedic timing and sarcasm only "Mental Dental" (she's a dental hygienist) could execute….

"No…. but the rest of us do. We all know EXACTLY what you do to her!"

The room erupted in hysteria….

Lights snapped on and our swishy pant lovers were caught in the ridiculing glare of their closest friends….

The lesson of that particular trip?

Your friends are NEVER sleeping…….. and yes swishy gals – we now know exactly what she does to you and vice versa!!

……………………………………………………………………………………….

Nice To Meet Ya

The Swishy girls dated for about three years and then broke up. Cute Baby Dyke (now legal) dropped off the scene for quiet a few years. None of us saw much of her, when we did occasionally bump into her – she had leaned out and had really bloomed from cute baby dyke into a striking young woman.

Foxy Brown and Karen were out and about one night doing their usual work the bar for the cute girls, routine… The infamous, tried and tested… "You're hot, you need a shot" … cheesy as it sounds… works for them every time.

Fox strikes up a lively conversation with someone at the bar and orders a round of shots. Karen seeing shots in play, strides over to join the meet and greet – She shakes the woman's hand and introduces herself

"Hi, I'm Karen Duke, very nice to meet you"

Foxy Brown is just standing there with a screwy frown on her face – a puzzled look, the girl is just looking at her and saying nothing……Karen has no idea what just happened…Finally Fox spits out…

"You Dumbass!!! It's Kelly Silva…. You know? KELLY… You dated her... for THREE YEARS…. Swish, Swish, Swish?"

Dukey's response?

"Well, I can't remember everybody!"

…………………………………………………………………………………..

Exactly how should a person clean their sex toys?

Fox and I went away for the weekend and left Dukey to house sit for us. Saturday night, my phone rings it's Karen and she's getting ready to go to the club.

"Where are all your hair products… I can't find anything"
"K, go in the bathroom – everything you could possibly need and more is in the bathroom closet"
"Got it!"
"OK, have fun tonight, call if you need anything"

We resume our evening. Half an hour later the phone rings again,

"You have the crappiest hair products, this stuff doesn't do anything"
"Karen, there's a ton of stuff in there that you will like, just search through"
"I did already and this… what is it? Um, Toy stuff… doesn't do anything, what is it supposed to do?"
"Toy stuff? I don't know what you are talking about, what does it look like?"
"It's in a small spray bottle it's clear liquid"
"Dukey? What does it say on the bottle?"
"Hang on, um, it says… Toy Cleaner"
"What do you mean it doesn't do anything? Did you use it in your hair?"
"Yeah, I put a ton of it in there – it's not doing anything"

Fox heard "Toy Cleaner" and "did you put it in your hair? "she is beside herself….

"She didn't? What did she do? She used the toy cleaner?"

I nod because I can't speak… I catch my breath…

"Karen…. You put "TOY CLEANER" in your hair?"

"I told you this already"
"Karen, That's not a hair product!"
"What? What? But it's in with the hair products"
"Dukey, it says Toy Cleaner on the label… what did you think it did?"
"I thought it was that shiny stuff you use, it looks like it"

Fox and I are now peeing in our pants laughing….

We weren't there to see it – but I have the image in my mind of Karen "I don't know my middle name" Duke – standing in the bathroom mirror spraying "Sex Toy Cleaner" into her hair getting frustrated because the only thing it's doing is adding a nice layer of germ killing disinfectant to her scalp!

It really brings "clean hair" to a whole new level.

......................................................................................................................

THE BODYSHOT BIRTHDAY

Dukey's 40th birthday was a scene straight out of the movie "Fame"and "Flashdance" combined. It was tagged as the "Bodyshot Birthday" at least a week beforehand.

"It HAS to be the bodyshot birthday, doing bodyshots after 40 is crossing the line into creepy"

"Are you really telling me that after this weekend you are NEVER doing bodyshots ever again?"

"Yes! I'm telling you. There's a fine line between creepy and charming…. It's time to grow up – this is the last of the craziness and I am going out with a bang!"

I fix Dukey with a skeptical look and shake my head with a mixture of sadness at the possibility and complete utter disbelief that she is serious about retiring this bar room pastime that has spiced up many an otherwise uneventful evening….. I agree to the madness with a half conviction that she is actually serious about it.

It was INSANE!

I should end the story there with no further incriminating details…. However…. That would just be silly!!

Karen had every hot girl she spied that evening in some kind of compromising situation on tables, bent over chairs, laying flat out on the bar. At some point she threw out the challenge to have all the bartenders everywhere we went – on the bar covered in sugar… all I have to say is… mission accomplished!!

We bar-hopped leaving chaos in our wake – the birthday entourage doubling in numbers with every bar… we collected clientele and took them with us to our next targeted spot. Our final destination was a gay club downtown– typically a gay men's nightclub with a mixed clientele…. Body shots ensued. The gay guys were in love with the crazy chaotic lesbians who stormed the place and took no prisoners… if you were there you were part of the party.

The club promised to close down way too early for Karen's liking. Before the ugly lights came on, she slipped out and pulled her brand new black and chrome tricked out Mitsubishi Montero up onto the sidewalk in front of the club. All doors, windows, trunk and sunroof – wide open. The Souped up Stereo turned to max – dance music filled the city around us.

As the gay population poured out of the club – they were greeted by a street version of the dance party that was shutting its doors for the evening. It was crazy, everyone just stayed in the street – dancing, singing, making out… all kinds of boundaries were crossed… Gay guys were making out with the lesbians; lesbians were making out with each other… a couple of straight dudes from a bar up the street joined right in to the milieu. It was like a free-love convention right out of the 1960's.

A couple of us went up through the sunroof and were continuing the party on the rooftop terrace. From this vantage point we spotted the cop car in the parking lot across the street. Our city's fine law enforcement official was sitting watching the disorderly conduct with mild interest. I figured we were sunk for sure – he must have been waiting for back-up to come so he could disband the gathering of 100 or so drunken queens and dykes, right? It had the makings of a mini stonewall all over again! Nope!! Apparently, dude was just enjoying the show - he must have gotten a call because after half an hour or so he took off in the opposite directions – lights and sirens blaring.

No-one got hurt, no-one got arrested it was a surreal night of bodyshot birthday fun. The after effects weren't too bad either… It was repeatedly brought to my attention that I was probably responsible for the small dent on the roof of the Montero. Personally I blame the kissing bandit…. A 6 foot 3 inch straight dude that was up there having a good old time with the gay girls! I swear he was the one who wasn't aware of proper weight distribution techniques…

My GF and I stopped by Banana Republic the following week where my she proceeded to step on the sharp point of a security tag in the dressing room – it was a bloody mess. The nervous nellie staff member called for manager assistance…. Enter gorgeous gay guy… who stopped dead in his tracks. My first thought was…. he was squeamish and the blood was a shocker but no… "Oh my god! Wasn't I just making out with you two on Friday night?" The uptight staff member almost choked on her own saliva "Oooooohhhhh you two are great kissers" he then proceeded to be super charming and with true gay man flourish he gushed…. "I can give you a great deal on those pants if you promise not to sue…"

The following Saturday we headed out with very few expectations – after a night like that not even New Years Eve 1999 could compete… we were in for a long haul of just "OK" nights out. It was pretty mellow until Karen spotted a hot chick… she gave me the look – I saw the girl…. I saw the devil take root right on Dukey's shoulder.

"Nik…. Bodyshots?"
"Wait a minute creepy lady! Didn't you say…"

I couldn't even get the sentence out – she cut me off with a glare as she flashed her cocky grin at hot chick – did her boyish shoulder thing and went into full swagger…. Me? Yeah, I was at the bar ordering a round of lemon drops with extra sugar on the side…. So much for turning 40!!

Things I learnt so far in 2008

Never to choose the sensible option

My body does not want to be impregnated quite as easily as I thought it would

To stay away from psychics – no matter how much fun it may sound at the time

My capacity to love and grieve is infinite

Feeling vulnerable pisses me off

My ego can be problematic

Most people have to be shown how to do a body shot

There are many things I never thought I would do and now that just seems so silly

Sharing yourself and your life really does bring a measure of joy to other people – even complete strangers you may never meet in person

Digging someone who doesn't dig you back is part of natures plan and actually isn't as bad as one would imagine

My personal cologne line will be called "I'll do what I want and then you'll thank me"

I really want my own porn film called "Smoke and Mirrors"

If I ever get a tattoo – I'm committed to one of those cute little Chinese designs… I swear I'm taking the delivery menu right into the tattoo parlor…it's gonna say Chicken Fried Rice

That Lovely British Girl... The one who pees on herself!

It's funny how nicknames and sayings come into being, its almost like they have a life of their own. I am and will be forever know as "That lovely British girl, who pees on herself".

I have a few peeing stories, which I was so sweetly reminded of today by someone who knows every nook and cranny of my closet. Why would I share this information publicly? Well, it completely ties into my self depreciating sense of humor. I have always said…. "If it's funny it's fair game" and that my lovelies applies to me first and to you second.

So to share my humiliation, here goes nothing.

I once dated a girl named Little Lynne, we were together on and off for about a year. Both in our late teens we were still young British renegades with no real direction in life.

I have a million stories about this girl, she was trouble. Capital T trouble! I seem to go for that sort whenever the opportunity arises. (I think Slam would have been the troubled sort too).

Among other things, Lynne was obsessed with the idea of golden showers. She would constantly beg me to pee on her. I must have been destined to become an American citizen because I just couldn't get my head around the eroticism in the act of peeing on ones lover. My thoughts would always, without fail, go to the practicalities of such tomfoolery. The bed… the sheets…pee smell… the hygiene…you get the idea.

There's not much I would say no to if the gal I was sleeping with was really into it… but I have to say that on a scale of ONE to DID HELL FREEZE OVER? That really was a… did hell freeze over? Hmmmm…..No!

We were in the throws of sexual experimentation. We were young and thought we invented half of the stuff we came up with, which is quite amusing to think back on now.

At Lynne's request we had a threesome with our roommate, Debbie (not to be confused with Dumb Debbie – Thank You!). Yes…even in England dykes move in together on the 2nd date. We couldn't afford a u-haul which at the time really was fine… since all of our (combined) worldly possessions fit nicely into three Asda shopping bags. The move was smooth sailing as we boarded the number 58 bus and headed to our new home in Chorlton-cum-Hardy (you couldn't make this shit up if you tried). Three packed plastic grocery bags, she carried two of them and I begrudgingly carried the third. Oh – the good times…. Anyway, back to this threesome thingy…

Lynne apparently really dug Debbie therefore seizing the opportunity to cash in on the fact that Deb and her girlfriend Cheryl were in a humongous fight … I didn't care much either way, I mean the girl was nice enough…but not nice enough for me to wipe away her tears and then offer to fuck her.

I do hope Lynne became a Multi-Bagillionaire – because she was one hell of a sales person… I mean think of this…. "Come on honey, forget the Kleenex and the ice-cream, me and my girlfriend will have sex with you, that'll really give you something to cry about"… sadly, I'd wager, she isn't making six figures selling honest goods to a customer base…she's probably selling crack to junior high school kids in the bowels of Manchester…I have such great taste in women!!

Meanwhile back at the relationship ranch… the sales pitch was more along the lines of "You won't do the golden shower thing for me so at the very least you could do this… I mean, you like Debbie… you guys get along". Yeah … when we borrowed each others clothes!!

I considered it and since I had turned down repeated requests to convert our bedroom into a urinal (which I know really was quite selfish of me)… I agreed. The event didn't pan out exactly as Lynne had envisioned. The encounter turned primarily into a two-some with an audience of one. It seemed our "roomie" dug me a little more than she dug Lynne. I believe Lynne's statement to me the next day was "Let's not do that again", I'm guessing she didn't appreciate being the third wheel. That's the problem with threesomes… one person always gets left out.

Cheryl and Debbie made up and shortly thereafter Lynne and I moved to Hanbury Street in Miles Platting. The golden showers request remained in play. Because the threesome hadn't worked out "exactly" in her favor, Lynne used it as a negotiation tool… I finally buckled…

"Fine! Fine… Bloody Fine! But… there is no way I'm peeing on you in my bed"

A bizarre conversation to be having, at best.

"I'll do it in the bathtub"

She was over-fucking-joyed! I directed her to lay down in the tub and I would pee on her. Oh my God… why am I even writing this? The memory is excruciatingly humiliating and yet the image – which thankfully you don't have access to…. is hysterical!!

So there she is, this little "5 foot' nothing" Napoleon, lying in an empty tub… with me, the naked 5'9 Amazon, crouching over her trying to pee. I couldn't pee. I couldn't do it to save my life; I had gone completely pee shy. I ran the water in the sink… that wasn't working so I leant over and put my fingers in the stream of water to see if that would help… nothing… nada! I had her making those pee pee noises; you know what I'm talking about, the ones mothers make when their children have the same problem with a dammed up aqueduct. How sexy does this montage sound? Trust me, it felt about as sexy as it sounds…


I managed one tiny un-sexy dribble and I had had enough…. This show was over. The golden shower was attempted, failed and put to bed – forever!

She didn't ask me again – yet another thing that didn't live up to the fantasy in her head…. (Please refer to Lesbian Sex… it's called a "fantasy" for a reason).

Surely amidst my humiliation I have to get SOME props for even trying??? No? Sigh…. OH WELL! I must move on to my second peeing episode.

Less than five years later I was a resident in the States and no American girl I knew was asking me to even pee in front of her – so I figured I was safe, for now…


It was Easter of 1992, Big Bell had just gotten a fire engine red Kawasaki Vulcan, sport motorcycle. It was all cranked up – chrome, sport seats … Unfortunately, I have an aversion to motorcycles; I lost my cousin to bike accident in 1991 – needless to say – not my family's favorite mode of transportation. The loss was still so new and raw it was a huge deal for me to be around these steel ponies, let alone have someone I loved riding around on one.

The plan was to spend Easter Sunday with BB and family where I would meet BB's Mom for the first time. Momma B was making the family a ham dinner with all the fixings and maybe a little egg painting activity thrown in for fun. BB begged me to ride bitch over to Momma B's house… Bell was so excited and so proud of the new power toy that I didn't have it in me to rain all over the macho parade as it gathered speed.

There are only two people on the planet, as I live and breathe , that I trust enough to get on the back of one of those two wheel monsters. I just rode with Dykes on Bikes for Pride 2008 and what a bloody fiasco that was … let me tell you! Well, maybe another time…

Subsequently, Easter of 1992, I let go of my fear and saddled up for the short ride across town.

BB was in heaven!!

It was my summer of mini skirts and cowboy boots… quite the look!!

I had been shopping especially for the occasion and had discovered an amazing invention called a skort. I am a hater of shorts but sometimes skirts truly are just impractical, especially if you are engaged in any kind of physical activity that requires you to bend over. The SKORT is an amazing tool in a girl's wardrobe….. It looks like a skirt but in actual fact is really shorts with a skirt façade!! Genius!!!

Definitely not a motorcycle outfit – but apropos for Easter Dinner!

Macho Bell is driving the Vulcan mean machine wearing jeans, motorcycle boots and a black leather jacket, I am riding bitch in a blue skort, tank top and cowboy boots. We got the response Bell was looking for as we whipped through the outskirts of Boston. I was happy to oblige Bell's ever increasing testosterone filled ego….

We arrived at our destination in one piece. I loved Momma B on sight… we just bonded there and then for no particular reason and yet every one I can think of. The Ham was fabulous… The family was less than creative in their attempts at egg painting and I am putting myself at the front of the line for the least amount of skill and artistic talent…

Momma B did what mothers all over the world do…. She broke out the family photo albums to show off her babies! From dirty faced toddlers to prom pictures… we went through them all and there are some doozies in there let me tell you… I'm pretty sure BB would kill me if I described the prom outfit!!! LOL!!!

Well fed and well entertained I excused myself to go to the ladies room.

Women's clothing occasionally requires a physics degree to figure out exactly how certain pieces "work". I have many things in my closet that to the naked eye – you would be wondering… "What the Hell do you do with THAT?" – Forgive me, but… well, I was new to the "skort" world and I didn't fully understand it myself. In order to pee in a skirt you pull it up, now shorts… you pull them down…. So what, pray tell do you do with a skort which is neither a skirt nor a short?

It took me a minute but I finally figured it out… you pull it down like shorts…. though I didn't happen to account for all the excess flowy 'skirt" material. Yep…This genius somehow landed all the excess fabric into the toilet bowl and pee'ed all over it. As I stood up to flush I realized that the back of me was completely soaked.

So now what do you do? You're in someone's Mothers bathroom (who you've just met) and you are soaked through, covered in your own pee! I was horrified! I took the damn thing off and washed it in the sink… but now I was left with a sodden skort and nothing to put on…. I did the best job I could to wring it out and donned the now "not so great looking" wet rag.

The person that I am today… I would just own the situation and have a good laugh at myself – the younger version of me cared way too much about what others thought. I fought it but I eventually had to extract myself from the bathroom when even I, could no longer justify the time I had spent locked away agonizing over my wardrobe malfunction.

Fortunately BB was sitting on the couch by the door. I walked up behind the couch and tried out my sweetest quietest indoor voice, I half whispered…
"Bee, Come have a cigarette with me?"
"In a minute, come look at these pictures, Mom wanted you to see this.."

BB was engrossed in the family pictorial history. I upped my volume a little…

"BB, come have a cigarette, we'll look at those in a minute"
Bell can get really stubborn and single minded every once in a while… and picked that moment to make a stand for the family history.

"Come on Nik, Mom just got these out"
"I know, but I really want to go outside"
"We were just outside ten minutes ago, it won't kill you, I really want you to see these"

BB was not picking up what I was laying down. I put my hands on BB's shoulders and dug my nails into the flesh… I half hissed through clenched teeth and (what I was praying looked like) a very sweet smile to the rest of the family…

"NOW, BB…NOW!… come outside and have a cigarette with ME, NOW"

I spoke very slowly and articulated every word… stressing my point with a glare and raised eyebrows.

BB finally got the hint..

"OK! OK! We'll go have a cigarette, what's all the fuss about?"

I used Bells body as shield to get from behind the couch and out the door…. Bell took one look at me…

"What the HELL happened to you? What did you do?"

I regaled my bathroom woes, BB was in hysterics before I could even finish… sensitivity and discretion does not run in Bell's family.

The front door flew open – Oh the horror… Momma B…

"What is all the ruckus about? What's so funny?"

"It's Nik…"

BB spits out, pointing in my direction….

"She peed all over herself!"

In that moment… I became….

"That Lovely British Girl…. The one who pees on herself"

16 years later…. Momma B still refers to me in that manner … "And how is Nik, That lovely British girl that pees on herself?"

Like I said…. These things have a life of their own

Group Sex Etiquette is as follows:
A Threesome / Ménage is just a convenient term to use for having sex with multiple people. If you really want to engage in such skirmishes I find, even numbers work out much better for everyone involved.

Common Sense Rule 5.
When faced with a fashion choice…. Wash and Wear is ALWAYS the way to go

Christmas Shopping Tip
If in doubt….. Buy the girl a sweater

Currently listening : Sexy Pee Story Release date: 1995-11-21

Betty Blue meets Dumb Debbie

Since I am selling a car and in the market to buy a new one – the process sets my mind back to all the other cars I have owned since the day the British Government gave me a driver's license and sent me on my merry way to get completely lost at any and all opportunities. My new swanky GPS helps, but she seems to like the scenic route too.

I was once the proud owner of a dark blue Honda Accord. Her name was "Betty Blue". For those who don't know… Betty Blue gouged her own eye out of its socket with a spoon… all in the name of love. My "Betty Blue" alas, also came to a tragic end.

Betty was souped up – she had all the trimmings – the only thing she didn't have were leather seats. All of her accoutrements whizzed and hummed – she was the one car in which I, yes the grandma driver, actually got speeding tickets!

I was working for a technology company and handled all of the Government accounts in Austin Texas….Yeehaw! Therefore it was required that I travel once per quarter to my 2nd favorite City in the USA… Anywhere there is a lesbian bar that promotes a "Bring Your Own Meat Night" has to be in the top three – right?

And so it was…. my quarterly trip to the music and crawfish capitol!

Flying out of Boston's Logan airport, I decided to drive in the night before and have my best friend (who luckily lived in vicinity) drive me to the airport and keep my car for the week – since, at that juncture she was without a vehicle.

My week went great! I landed some deals and signed a couple of new contracts that would bring the company a couple of million in revenue, Sweet!! My Government clients threw the biggest Bar-B-Q (I had ever seen) in Zilker Park. They hitched a smoker to the back of a truck and drove it on in… it was crazy!! Everything really is BIGGER in Texas.

One of my clients was an ex-rodeo clown. He took me to an event that everyone should see once in a lifetime… Rodeo clowns are not to be messed with. Those guys are tough… Shit… there aren't words to describe them – they are the ultimate cowboys…. When their bodies give out I guess they become purchasing agents or something similar. It's a sad end for these macho studs… but hey, we all gotta pay the bills somehow.

I hit the "Bring Your Own Meat Night" and watched with awe at the big old dykes two stepping around the dance floor… I still wish I could do that! I strolled up and down 6th Street – I sunbathed naked at Hippie Hollow and bargained with myself about whether or not to move there. The ultimate deciding factor was the fact that my hair just refused to behave in the heat – so fuck that… at least in New England – it's only unruly for 2 months or so….

I was sad to leave but happy to be coming home….

Safely back on the ground in Boston, I walked through the double doors and spied my beloved Betty Blue parked by the curb… Life was good!
Leaning against her shining drivers' side door was someone I will love till the end of time….

I'm not sure what to call her – since "she" is now a "he" and my gender references are all fucked up… Ah, the joy of having a best friend who is Transgendered!!!! It's a whole other story and one I will eventually get to – but in the interim… my memories are split…. There are those where I think "she" and those where I think "he"…. It can get confusing – especially when telling stories from the past!

For the sake of this story – I will call her BB, Big Bell…. Since it's a combo of two nicknames and will work for my purpose… (it seems only right that the car and Big Belle have the same initials). I guess I will come to a better description when I finally get to "his' story… anyway, I digress…..

BB is leaning up against the drivers side of Betty Blue… she (weird to even type that)…. She, lights up when she sees me and immediately takes my bags and fusses over me. The car is immaculate... she points out that Betty has had an oil change and has been cleaned inside and out! I am totally impressed… gotta love the butch girls for taking care of these mechanical things!

I am oohing and ahhing over how great Betty looks…. The sun is shining so Betty's windows and sunroof are open to the world – we take off with the wind whipping through the car and the country channel playing on the highest volume setting it will go.

Me and Big Bell tear up Boston. Of course I have a million Tex Ass stories to share with her…

Finally, I begin my trek home to Lil Rhody. It's after dark and the New England chill is setting in… I close up Betty Blue and hit the heat. That's when it strikes me….. I was psyched and grateful that Big Bell had cleaned my car , yet at the same time it was a little odd – since she wouldn't usually go to all that trouble…. Hmmmmmm, something was fishy and speaking of fish…..

"What the Fuck is that SMELL???"

Betty Blue had a definite odor. It was weird, one you couldn't really put your finger on. The smell was mixed in with the pine tree air freshener hanging from my rearview mirror, so that was the first thing to get hocked ….. I spent a week spraying the car with aerosols of any description….. Finally I broke down and called the third in our trio… SueBee….

"Hey, I have a question for ya"
"Shoot"
"It's a weird one"
"OK"
"You know BB had my car last week"
"Yeah"
"Well, it smells funny"

SueBee – managed to keep her composure but I could hear the suppressed laughter in the voice.

"It does?"
"Did BB have sex in my car?"
"Um, huh… I um, don't know"
"Yes you do! I think BB had sex in my car with Dumb Debbie"
"You think there was room… I mean Dumb Debbie is a big girl"
"Don't get funny with me! They did, didn't they? I know you know, so you may as well just tell me"
"Well, what does it smell like?"
"You want me to be technical?"
"Not really but I confess to being a little curious…"
"It smells like old ladies stale pantyhose"
"Ewwwww"
"Ewww is fucking right and nothing is killing the damn smell"
"I thought she cleaned it for you"
"SUUEEEEE…. I knew it! They did didn't they?"
"Um, I um… I really don't know. I think you should just call Bell and ask her"
"You chicken shit! You better answer your phone, I'll call you back"

The next call was to Big Bell

"Hey"
"Hey"
"What's up?"
"Not much, just got this funny smell in my car I can't get rid of"

Long pause

"You do?"
"Did you have sex in my car with Dumb Debbie?"

BB buys time with expletive outbursts as she tries to gather her game plan.

"What? Are you crazy? You have a smell and you want to know if I had sex with Debbie"
"I see you're not answering my question"
"I did not have sex with that woman in your car"
"Yes you did"
"No I didn't"
"Yes you did"
"I can't believe you, you've gone stark raving mad. What does it smell like?"
"BB, it smells like old ladies stale pantyhose"
"Ewwwww"

The call waiting beeps in, BB says...

"It's SueBee, lemme call you back"
"Don't you dare answer that call… I know why she's calling you – you guys are in this together"
"I did not have sex with Dumb Debbie in your car!"
"BB, why did you clean my car within an inch of it's life?"
"Um, um… um… because I, um, thought it would be a nice thing to do?"
"Are you asking me or telling me?"
"I cleaned it Nik. There's no way it smells"
"You SON OF A BITCH! You did!"
"We fooled around a little, we didn't technically have sex"
"AAARRRGGGHHHH…….. BB, my car stinks! It's got Dumb Debbie juice in the upholstery and it won't come out!"

There's no talking to her since she sounds like she is having an asthma attack and can't breathe…. Apparently she thought it a whole lot funnier than I did in that moment.

Her disjointed responses were

"I swear I…" laughing "tried to" trying to catch her breath "clean" laughing some more "I thought" wheezing "it would come out" hysteria….

"BB, I'll call you back"

I hang up and call SueBee. She answers on the first ring, apparently anxious to know how it's going down...

"Hi"
"You knew she did"
"Well, I didn't wanna be the one to…"
"I'm gonna kill you guys! Sue… it stinks"
"It is kind of funny though…"
"Why does it smell so bad?"
"That I can't help you with – the girl is nasty"
"That's reassuring, thanks"
"I didn't mean…"
"Never mind, never mind… I'll call you back"

I call BB back, she has regained a little composure…

"Dude, I'm sorry"
"BB, I don't want to know the details but where was Debbie sitting in the car… Passenger seat? Back seat? Where?"
"You really wanna know? I don't think you wanna know…."
"Ugh, you are so nasty!"

With that I gave up on the details. I really didn't want to know the exact location, positions or activities of Dumb Debbie in my car.

Betty Blue was cleaned so many times and no matter what… the instant you put on the heat… there she was… Dumb Debbie in all her finery… by the end of the ordeal I felt like I had dated Dumb Debbie too!!

Betty Blue had to go. It really was that bad! She was sold at auction and some poor soul is out there, right now, driving her around asking themselves……

"What is that SMELL?"



BB loves to tell this story!! Every time, without fail he… I mean she… says "I'll explain why she was dumb in a moment". To which my retort is always…. "No explanation necessary. I mean, she was dating you wasn't she? Enough said!"


BB…. You set yourself up for it, I don't feel bad, not even a little… the whole damn affair cost me a car….. and Dumb Debbie wasn't even good in bed!!


I would please like a moment of silence for Betty Blue. She was a good girl until she was mercilessly violated against her will!!


Car Borrowing Etiquette is as follows:If you are going to have sex in a friend's car make sure the basic rules of hygiene are followed and if that seems like too much trouble at the very least put down a towel.


Common Sense Rule 4.
Know when you are flat busted and just come clean…. So to speak!

Christmas Shopping Tip
$100.00 for a car detailing gift certificate goes further than you could ever imagine.

Currently listening : Return of the Pantyhose By Beyond Lickin' Release date: 2004-09-01

Voicemails for Lesbians from Straight Girls (2008)

Top three straight girl voice mails of 2008….

I have stellar reputation for not answering the phone or listening to voicemails.
99% of my voicemails begin like this:

"I know you're probably not going to listen to this …."

I'm usually in the persons company by the time I actually check my messages or I have either bumped into them at the grocery store or the bar where they are more than happy to fill me in on the highlights of why they called in the first place.

Gay chicks don't seem to care so much – but STRAIGHT GIRLS…. OMG!! Now those chicks care on a grand scale. They hate it when you don't listen to the "OH", so important shit they have to say. I have finally come to the conclusion that there is a creativity happening out there in the world and these chicks falsely believe if they make the voicemails bizarre or kooky enough – I will actually depress the number 1 key on my phone just to hear the nutty things they leave in the recording land of telephony.

My top three straight girl voicemails so far of 2008 – pretty much went like this:

1. BURGER QUEEN… Have It Your Way


"Here's my advice – never date a man with a dead wife in the ground after 16 years of marriage – I don't even think she's in the ground – I think she's in the fucking attic… a lot can happen in 6 months – apparently you can go from loving someone to wishing they were dead…call me if you're single – I need to get out of this fucking condo"

Burger Queen leaves the best verbal recordings. My favorites are when she gets tired of being witty halfway through and announces:

"Ok I'm bored with this message – goodbye"

Literally middle of a sentence….

The BQ voicemail of 2008 is the update she left about the guy she'd been dating for 6 months. A widower with 3 children and a house furnished like a shrine to his late wife… Last time I talked to BQ all was well and they were cruising along the dating game – I had no idea they had broken up…. The voicemail above is pretty much verbatim!


2. SOUTHERN BELLE

"Hey Nik, I'm freaking out! I had unprotected sex last night and I think I'm pregnant. I know, I know….I'm going crazy but I can't get anybody to give me the morning after pill and I'm Super, SUPER Fly… TNT… going crazy and I thought you might be able to answer some questions, I don't know why… But I'm freaking, so talk to you later –Bye!"

My ex's sister – is a pseudo straight version of yours truly. Well… kinda… we have some personality traits that overlap. I get one or two voicemails a year – usually when she is in a desperate situation and wants to talk to someone who "gets" it and won't blink an eye at the bizarre crap she's done, said or gotten herself into….. or when her sister is drunk and convinces her it would be fun to call and harass me. That's when I get voted ON the Island!

This one almost got me in trouble…. (Tip: never drink fluids hot or otherwise – but especially hot liquids – whilst checking messages). Picture me in a professional environment… I'm standing in the middle of a training room – with my fellow trainees and our instructor – having just been dismissed for lunch – I think it's a good time to depress and hold the number 1 key and take a quick listen to see who loves me on this particular day.

The 1st message was 2 days old – and knowing who the caller was I probably should have waited before I took a big slug of my steaming hot cup of coffee….

Imagine the prettiest southern drawl – every word has at least six vowels to our one, despite the drawl – the message was quick and to the point. It sure as shit grabbed my attention along with the coffee I was now choking on!

The first voicemail was followed up by a message the next day (which of course, I listened to at the same time). It was a twofold effort to gain an immediate call back.

"Hey Nik, I solved my problem from last night – but I do have a question about a mortgage – and I need your professional opinion – if you could call me back I would really appreciate it. Talk you later – Bye!"

Now try the art of NOT explaining why you spit coffee all over the training room and laughed so loud - that everyone is looking at you. "Um, it's my ex-sister in law... she's calling a big dyke about women stuff - I wouldn't know anything about... Oh and the spitting - um yeah, the coffee really was THAT bad..." - It was far easier to just say sorry and walk away as I was praying they didn't hear any of the message .... sometimes it's hard to maintain professionalism!!

3. THE BOSTONIAN…Pahk the Cah in Hahvad Yahd

"Hmmm! Huh! Hmmm! Blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah!.... Blah Blah! Blahblahblahblahblah….. Blah Blah Blah Blah! BLAH! BLAH! Blah? Blah? Blahblahblahblah blah blah….Fucking Blaaaaaah Blah Blaaaaaah blah blah blah? Blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah!.... Blah Blah! BLAH? It's me, CALL ME!"

This chick is hysterical and I have loved her since she pointed her finger at me on the street and yelled "You! Yes, You! You are having dinner with me even if I'm paying… I wanna talk to you". No need for clarification, that is exactly who she is (and if she's paying for food, I'm eating).

"Bostonian", thought she could break me of my terrible phone skills. Coming from a large family with many sisters, they practically live on the phone with each other. The day we cemented our friendship – I confessed my phone problem. She promised to stalk me until I answered or returned her calls. It worked for a couple of months, she would redial so many times that eventually I would have to answer and I loved it! It was hysterical. Alas, I finally broke her… I mean you can only keep up that persistent intensity for so long before it just becomes more effort than it is truly worth! Sadly, she now leaves voicemails and waits for days until she calls back. Methinks I am a lost cause!!

Her voicemails are terrific! Funny, witty – taunting or guilting me into calling her back. I confess that when I look down and see I have a voicemail from Bostonian – I do call in quicker to see what recorded gift she has left for me.

I listened to the blah voicemail and of course got it immediately. She is compelled to leave a message knowing full well I won't check it in a timely manner – therefore her taunt for the day is blah blah blah. Saying something current will simply date itself, guilt trips won't make me call you back either – BUT…. If you can make me laugh or mock me enough…That is sure to get a return call!

Yes, each of these lovely ladies had their calls returned as soon as I hung up from the voicemails. Straights girls, got it going on… they know the game and they play it better than the rest of us!

BONUS VOICEMAIL NUMBER 4.

I know I said three and all from straight girls – but there is this one straight guy I have been friends with since my early twenties and since he is more butch lesbian girl than straight white guy…I just have to include my 4 am voicemail from last night – since I just listened to it and it set my day off with a chuckle….. Apparently the voicemail followed a text message that simply said "wake up" (at 4am – when I would usually still be conscious and doing shit).

His message was short, sweet and simple – and of course got the call back to say; What the fuck was that?

With his classic male sense of humor after listening to my voicemail asking callers to leave a message re: Home Equity Lines and Mortgages – his went like this, exactly!

"Yeah well, No I don't have a fucking mortgage question…. I have a COCK question"



Tip of the day

If you want to get my attention… TEXT me… and if you would rather leave a voicemail message make sure it's truly pee in your pants funny…. You can then expect an immediate response!

Divine Intervention

Current mood: hungry

Clicking my ruby red heels together – my minds mirror throwing me an image of Dorothy, Toto and a Bicycle……. Dammit, I have a South Beach attitude, I do, I do I do!!

It was a surreal moment: SueBee and I walking the shore line in South Beach, FL after getting naked full body massages on the beach from big buff handsome gay men… We weren't just people watching, we were scrutinizing the beach natives.

Approaching a volleyball game – we spy two teams comprised of the "plastic fantastics"… thong wearing, collagen injected blondes. Just one of many images that has been reluctantly burned into the sensory neurons of my brain.

A teammate was loudly harassing a fellow Barbie athlete, "Cindy, that's just NOT a South Beach Attitude".

Sue and I were in wholehearted agreement – Cindy was definitely not displaying a South Beach Attitude!! (It is possible that Cindy may have been overdue for a botox injection, which, as we all know… will never do!).

We looked at each other, we looked at them… we looked back at each other…. Each with our own version of the quizzical questioning expression, palms and shoulders shrugging upwards…. We dissolved into laughter at the pretentiousness and thus another catchphrase was born!!

THAT IS JUST NOT A SOUTH BEACH ATTITUDE

(Put the punctuation anywhere – the catchphrase works – trust me!)

I have struggled with weight issues, like so many women. Estrogen and hormones are not always kind. I feel guilty putting anything in mouth… (well almost anything). If I fall off the gym wagon – I mentally berate myself. Please God, why can't I just be naturally skinny?? I love the T-Shirt I saw recently in P-Town, "Dear God… If you can't make me skinny – please make my friends fat".

It feels like I haven't been to the gym in years – at the most it has been three weeks, realistically it's probably only two! And that is just NOT a South Beach Attitude! So this weekend I hit the gym with a vengeance. Back to back workouts – cardio, weights, stretching exercises… anything to quiet the guilt of the massive fault line below the equator.

Now, when I get on this OMG… 40 is gonna come knocking at my door and I don't know where my boobs are… moment, I get really, really hungry. I'm working out like a madwoman and my body is screaming feed me – meanwhile I'm convincing myself celery looks really, really good!!

Last night, I'm at the gym… texting like it's 2008 – between sets of 10/12 and kill me now. My wonderful text buddy is trying to entice me with pot-roast. It's 10pm, I have to get up at 5am to make my god-awful 2 ½ hour commute – but I'm starving.

Text: My pot-roast is really good, u sure u don't want any?
Text: U know I do. I can't. I'm at the gym and I have to get up at the crack ass
Text: I'm just putting the potatoes in now
Text: It's too late to eat, I can't
Text: I can leave my house in 20 minutes and do a drive by – drop off
Text: I'm a fat fuck and ur killing me
Text: U can eat it tomorrow. It's not fattening it's homemade and healthy
Text: AAArrrgggghhhhhh….. ok, u got me… see you at mine in a few

Now bear in mind that I live in bum fuck nowhere, so it is with pure dedication that anyone would make food for me and bring it over. It's 11pm by the time we're in the kitchen with Tupperware containers filled with pot-roast and hot bread!! For the love of god… why me??

I'm shuffling mail as I am inhaling the best meal I've eaten in a week. Mid forkful I am stopped by what can only be described as divine intervention.

Apparently someone notified "The Big Guy Upstairs" – that I had fallen off the diet wagon… he in turn notified Weight Watchers – who had sent me a piece of mail … stamped across the front of the envelope in big black bold letters was the phrase "LOSE WEIGHT FOR GOD".

I was incensed – surely there were bigger tragedy's going on in the world other than my participation in the remake of Baby got Back??

"What the hell??? Lose weight for GOD?? Have you ever heard anything so ridiculous? What kind of sales pitch is that? Has the world gone completely mad… really… you gotta look at this – like women don't feel bad enough, now we gotta throw religion into it?"

I threw the envelope at my friend in utter disgust….. she picks it up…

"Um, Nik…"
"Yeah?"
"It says, Lose weight for GOOD"

At which point she is keeled over on the floor – laughing her little size zero socks off!

I think my south beach attitude is finally getting to me…. Because even though I went on a mini rant… I confess the little voice in my head was wondering which religion was promoting weight loss. Despite my outward disgust I had mentally signed up to wearing black and spending some time on my knees… not much different than any other Saturday night, right?

I realize I have gone completely mad – so I do the only reasonable thing I can think of to do….

"Fuck it, wanna let off some fireworks??"

And with that…. The evening was alight with sparks – bangs and more screaming laughter…..

Thanks for the Pot-Roast, Babe, it was amazing!!!

Personal Tips for Healthy Eating

If someone else is prepared to make it … I'm prepared to eat it

If the big guy is sending me mail insinuating I could loose a few – I'm concluding the pearly gates gourmet doesn't carry my favorite food groups. Therefore, I'm keeping my pact with Beezlebub – I know he has molten chocolate cake – for sure.


Cheers! Here's to head and fireworks!!!



Currently listening : Melting POT Roast By The New Black Release date: 2003-09-16

Lesbian Dating 103

There are many fictional characters walking among us… perhaps I should first explain the term so fondly adopted many moons ago. Just so we are queer and clear.

You all have that one friend who is a little “kooky”, the whack job, the one where the craziest weirdest shit happens to them right? You know that one friend you always tell stories about as you are sitting around your local softball diamond… coffee shop… poetry reading…Local Home Depot…Cat rescue league – wherever it is you go for fun…

It usually goes along these lines:

“What did she do this time?”
“Can you believe she…”
“I have tell you something totally bizarre”
“This shit only happens to her”
“It’s so random you couldn’t even make it up”
“How does she get into these situations?”
“She’s like a daytime mini series”
“She should write a movie”
“If I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t believe it myself”

That, my friends is a fictional character.

I am here to report that in my social group there isn’t just one fictional character. We are a self professed band of fictional characters. Drawn together possibly because like seeks like and birds of a feather make each other sneeze or some such shit…. Even though there are many of us, we definitely have two individuals that stand head and shoulders above the rest. For every crazy story and weird encounter our group may have, these two have us beat – just by walking to the mailbox.

One of the dynamic duo rented a third floor from me, we shared a kitchen and a stairwell. Our second heroine may as well have lived with us – since these compadres went almost everywhere together.

You have to first understand that these two individuals are card carrying members of the boy club. One of whom professes to have been raised by wolves. The other: Captain of one of the first women’s professional football teams. It was near impossible to lose a game with her on the defense line… (No idea if my terminology is correct – but hell I gave it a shot). You get the idea… to look at them you’re not thinking… pansy girls.

Note: I am not an athlete – nor an athletic supporter.

Our Captain Character, CC, hadn’t had a date in almost two years. Needless to say her pent up energy was driving everybody nuts…. The story varies – It is said that at CC’s request, I pulled a lovely, petite, dark haired Spanish beauty off the dance floor and forcibly struck some kind of date bargain on my friends’ behalf. It’s not completely out of the realm of possibility. However, my version is that I have no recollection of this happening and I had nothing to do with it. It’s an old argument at this point with no possible outcome other than heated debate… so there, now you’re a part of it.

The long and short of it is that CC got a date.

We were all thrilled, probably more so than CC and the Spanish lovely she had the date with. They had agreed to go out to lunch. Many agonizing hours of counsel went into choosing the lunch restaurant; it was a group effort – that’s for sure. We bestowed our blessing on CC and sent her off – hoping and praying she would at least get laid.

The age of cell phones was upon us – thank god I had a friend at the phone company because there were no roll-over minutes yet to be had. The game of telephone began after lunch and a few cocktails.

CC calls to give me the update:

“Lunch was great! We’re gonna go down to the ocean and hang out for the afternoon”
“That’s awesome hun, I’m so proud of you”
“I think she likes me”
“Well call me later and give me the update, ok?”
“Ok!”

A few hours go by and I’m up to my ears in paperwork at the office.

CC, calls while her date is in a store:

“You’re gonna be so proud of me”
“It’s going well then?”
“She’s really cool; we’ve just been hanging out, down the beach”
“See, I told you it would be a piece of cake”
“She’s coming back, I’ll call you later”
“Ok”

I’m just getting ready to head home when I get the third phone call. They are both giggly from a combination of the afternoon beverages and salty beach air. CC, informs me they are off to buy champagne and strawberries and are planning on continuing their date into the evening… To which, I am thanking the stars and proclaiming that there is a God! First dates can be tricky, they really could go either way – but so far this one seemed to have the makings of a really good first date! I make all the right noises and assure CC that she is making the right moves and she should just go with it. We hang up – they head for the strawberries/champagne fast track, I head home.

I’m having dinner with my girlfriend when the next call comes in…. I look at my gf apologetically…. “I have to take it, you know how she is” (high maintenance, needy pillow fluff – butch girls, lol – I had to work it in somewhere).

“Hey! You have to go to your front window”
“What?””Go to your window”
“Honey, I’m eating dinner”
“Please?”
“Aargh, Ok”

I walk to the front room

“Go all the way to the right”

So, there I am – like a fool peering at the empty street outside my house. CC bursts into peels of laughter.

“What is this all about, CC? I don’t see anything!”
“Look up”
“I don’t see anything”

She squeals like a little kid

“I can see you”
“Where”
“In your window, stupid”

I’m so gonna kill her at this point and my gf doesn’t look too happy either.

“Where are you?”
“We’re across the street, walk down to the corner”

So, of course I do because I’m that kind of friend. I walk out of my house, still on the cell phone, and make it to the corner. The street is deserted.

“Look up! Look up! See me waving?”

Then I see her. She is standing on a balcony kitty corner from my house on the cross street, waving like a mad woman.
“What the hell? Why are you up there?”
“She lives here”
“What?”
“I swear to god, she lives here. What are the chances?”
“That’s crazy!”
“I know, yoohooo! Do you see me?”
“I see you. Well, that’s bloody convenient; you can just come over here and tell me all about your date when you leave…. You won’t need to CALL me…”
“How funny is this?”
“It’s funny… now go back to your date and for gods sake – get laid!”
“Call you later”
“OK”

I return to dinner laughing and shaking my head. We settle in for the evening… well, ok not so exactly because the damn phone rings again…

“I kissed her”
“Are you still there?”
“Yeah”
“Where is she?”
“Oh, she’s right here, you wanna say Hi?”
‘Noooooooooooo, CC, stop calling me and get on with it”
“OK”

This whole date has somehow turned into a sport and of course I’m the team mascot. I have a very unhappy girlfriend on my hands. “Is this gonna go on all night?” I assure her that it’s not.

The phone rings

“I unbuttoned her shirt”
“Why in god's name are you calling me to tell me that?”
“I thought you wanted to know”
“I do, when it’s all over… I don’t need a play by play as it’s going down… um, you know what I mean”
“We have the new Madonna CD, I’m gonna pop the Moet and crank the volume”
“Good for you hun, get on with it… I’m not answering any more calls”

Then I whisper : ”You’re getting me in trouble”

“I thought you wanted me to get laid?”
“I do! You can’t do that when you are on the phone with me every 2 seconds”
“Good point, Ok – I’ll stop calling”
“Ok, have fun”

My girlfriend is not appreciating the crazy humor of the situation and couldn’t care less whether CC gets laid or not. I point out that if CC starts dating this girl she won’t be over my house as much… I try to play the angle that I’m really doing it so we can have more “alone” time…. It almost works….

The phone rings

The glare is intimidating, even to me.

“You told her you wouldn’t answer anymore calls”

I shut off the ringer. The house phone rings…

“Can we just go to bed? Maybe I want to get laid”

Her tone doesn’t sound like she wants to ravish me – lovingly or not. We go through our evening routine, contact lenses out, pj’s on, we get into bed. I double check that the ringers are off on both the house phone and my cell phone.

We are just relaxing when we hear urgent running footsteps. It sounds like a herd of elephants are coming down the stairs from the third floor. My upstairs roommate (the other fictional character) unceremoniously busts in arm outstretched with something in her hand. Yup, it’s a phone!

In a rush of breath she is pushing the phone at me. Standing there in white boxer shorts and a wife beater she is nervously shuffling from foot to foot. She looks like the world is ending. My girlfriend is furious…. “What the #$!%#”

“It’s CC, you have to talk to her. Something happened”

I take the phone

“This better be good CC!”
“You have to come over here!”
“Are you kidding me? For what?”
“Theres a girl outside with a gun”
“WHAT?”
“A chick WITH A GUN!”
“Who the hell is it”
“Apparently it’s her girlfriend!”
“I’m calling the cops”
“You can’t”
“WHAT?”
“She is a cop”
“Are you fucking kidding me?? I’ll be right there”

“Can you hurry up because she’s kicking the door in”

I put the phone down and calmly explain the situation to the two butch girls who look like deer in headlights. I instruct them to go over to the house immediately. I, take a couple of minutes… put in contact lenses, throw on some clothes and I may have run a brush through my hair. I don’t know why this part is always such a big deal in the re-telling… it’s not like I showered!

C’mon… I didn’t know if I was gonna end up on channel 10 or having to pose for my first mug shot ever… every girl has her standards…. contact lenses are mine.

I then march across the street of course it’s raining like a bitch and I have the two occupants of my house, both barefoot, both in boxer shorts, standing way back from the chick who is going nuts trying to kick in the front door. Neither knows what the hell to do and they are completely useless. I throw them a rhetorical question on my way past…

“I assume we have the right house, then?”

They both nod.

Without hesitation I walk right up to the crazy lady and I point at her in no uncertain terms I say:

“You, get out of my way, NOW!”

And I fix her with a look which pretty much said … what are you gonna shoot me? I could kill you with a look and back up…

And, back up she did. She wasn’t sure what to make of me – since I didn’t appear to have any fear of her at all. I walked right by her and yelled up to CC…

“It’s me, let me in… NOW!”

“Now” is such a great word in a crisis, it gets everyone’s attention… that and “STOP”. I have used them with success many times.

CC lets me in the house. I walk in on quite the scene. CC is as mad as a pissed off tiger that just lost its last prey to a bigger animal in the food chain. She is pacing and raving that the girl lied to her and she didn’t know she had a girlfriend meanwhile the poor girl is crying and is obviously freaking out about the whole situation. Right about then – the off-duty cop manages to get through the door. Good Times!!

CC throws her hands up in disgust declaring

“That’s it. I’m out”

With that, she walks right out of the house and heads to my house… leaving me with her now crying, date and a crazy woman with a gun!

Believe it or not…it gets better still!!

Crazy woman is screaming at CC’s date, I am in the middle of this somehow and I ask the girl if she wants to stay where she is or if she wants to come with us. She opts for the latter and I send her to get some clothes from her bedroom…. Flash back…. She and CC were in quite the compromising situation when all hell broke loose; subsequently she was in need of more clothing than she currently had on.

Crazy chick doesn’t like this idea and grabs the girl by the waist. Gotta give the girl props…she was a tough cookie; she grabbed onto the door frame and sunk her nails in and would not let go. The gun toting crazy lady picked CC’s date up off the ground and was pulling her – trying to make her let go of the doorframe.

I tried my tone again and commanded that she put the girl down “NOW”. It didn’t work the second time… in my defense crazy chick had police training and she probably recognized the tactic second time around.

I didn’t have much else to use so I did the only thing I could think off. I grabbed the other end of CC’s date and a tug of war match ensued.

This is where it gets good…

We are pulling the girl back and forth and I am yelling at crazy cop chick to put her down, she is yelling obscenities back at me obviously she has no intention of letting the girl go.

While we are in the midst of this display, CC returns to the house.

She must have come back to help, right? No, not at all… CC comes waltzing in still raving on about being lied to and now wants to know where her bottle of champagne is.

“Where’s my Moet? I’m not leaving my friggin Moet here – do you know how much that shit costs? I’m not paying for her and her fucking girlfriend to sit around and drink my champagne, Fuck That!”

She pays no attention to my plight or the plight of her date… she is fully lost in the world of Moet Chandon. CC locates the bottle and wields it proudly above her head as she turns and walks out of the door for the second time. Everything happened so fast I didn’t notice if she managed to grab her strawberries.

At some point my girlfriend stepped in and we managed to get the girl out of there unscathed, leaving crazy lady to have fun trashing the apartment. Eventually we all congregate safe and sound in my kitchen where CC is merrily swigging her Moet out of the bottle.

I had to persuade CC to let the girl stay the night with her – which she did. She drove her home the next day once the situation had blown over.

I lived in that house for seven years. I had never seen her before the date episode and I never saw her there again, in fact none of us saw her anywhere until almost ten years later when she was spotted on the dance floor by CC who proceeded to buy them both shots as they relieved their first date from a decade earlier and decided it would be a good idea to try it again!!



First date etiquette is as follows:

Don't spend your entire date updating your friends via phone, text messaging or smoke signals, spend some time with your date asking helpful questions like… Do you have a girlfriend? Does she own a gun?

Common Sense Rule 3.

Don’t drop big bucks on bottles of champagne until you know your date well enough to know you won’t have to leave it behind


Christmas Shopping Tip

Consider Kevlar for any of your newly single friends that may be considering re-entering the dating market