Dr. Oz Messin’ With The Vajooge!

Posted on October 1, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Thanks to Joel Mchale and The Soup, I came across a show that Dr. Oz (whom I’ve never watched and now I know why) did on the “real age” of your vagina (and for you men who are reading this, he did the penis too). I don’t normally link for y’all, but this is just wrong!

Apparently if I don’t have sex at least once a week, my vajooge is going to be 84 in like no-time! This is unacceptable! My face looks like I’m in my 30s, my body looks like I’m in my 20s…. I’d like my teenage vajooge back! Okay, I’ll settle for my 20-something vajooge.

According to Dr. Oz the way to reverse my aging vajooge is getting more sleep, taking zinc (I’ll have to check with Nutritionist to see if she’s in agreement), and sex once a week.

How am I supposed to have sex once a week when I’m single and not slutty?! Why should good girls have old vaginas? It’s not right.

And the men I’m meeting are not helping! You should hear some of the lines I’ve been getting lately. Mrs. Rockbody and I were working out together in the gym last week, when a giant juice-head walked up to me and whispered in my ear that ‘while my underwear is very sexy, I may not want the whole gym seeing it’ and then walked away because I was so stunned that my normally quick wit, was thrown and I just stood there staring at him as if he were a martian.

I was stunned because A. I was wearing a black thong which is hardly interesting, and only the top rim was peeking out, so he couldn’t even tell it was a thong and B. WHO DOES THAT? Who tries to make conversation starting off with a line like that?! Needless to say, he was back 10 minutes later to apologize and this time I was ready for him… or so I thought.

He said: I’m really sorry. That was a douchebag thing to say.

I said: I’ve heard worse… when I was naked.

WHAT?!?!? Did I just insult myself with my comeback line? I think so! Anyway, he thanked me for being cool about it.

Then last night I was out at a bar and pulled a doozy of a comeback line out of the air. It was a cheese meets sleaze situation. A young, hot-in-a-Jersey-Shore kinda way, guy wearing a very tight black t-shirt with a silver pattern on it that would give someone on mushrooms a very bad trip, thought he would hit on me by using this line:

Cheese: Your body is so beautiful. It’s like a blank canvas and I just want to paint all over it.

I know, horrible. Yet, Miss Quick-on-her-Feet, came up with this gem of a comeback line-

Sleaze: Who are you, the Jackson Pollock of sex?

When he asked, “Who?” I realized that having to explain Jackson Pollock’s art in regards to my spot-on comeback line, was actually really gross and obscene, and therefore, I just excused myself from the entire conversation.

Ladies, I think upon re-reading this I have figured out why I’m still single. I need to shut my mouth! But back to the immediate problem at hand. How am I going to reverse my aging vajooge? Why oh why did Friend With Benefits have to get all serious on me? That would have been such a perfect arrangement! By now, my vajooge would be 13 instead of 61! (I’ve decreased from 84 to 61 because I plan to get 7 1/2 hours of sleep tonight).

There has to be a way for a single attractive woman to have sex on a regular basis with an attractive man without paying for it. I just haven’t figured out what it is.

Maybe I have to start a “free sex with attractive people” MeetUp group. Hmmm perhaps I’m onto something…

©2011

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Pub Crawl AKA Bus Loop

Posted on September 25, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Thanks to my new friend Socialite, I have been discovering how many fun things there are to do! She has this calendar and is on tons of event lists, which she RSVPs for and then puts on her social calendar so she never misses an event. This weekend was the Bus Loop. It’s like a pub crawl only on trolley cars. Being a non-drinker, I’ve never been to a pub crawl before, so when Socialite sent me the invite for this one and I saw that Designated Drivers were welcome, I jumped on the Trolley.

It was so much fun… and it started at 6pm so I didn’t get home so late that I had a sleep deprived hangover. The first stop was basically a zen garden style bed and breakfast. It had great atmosphere and we beat the other 300 people with orange bracelets to the bar so Socialite could get her drink and we could walk the grounds. That’s when we befriended the Lollypop Kids, who would be our go-to guy friends for the rest of the evening. I named them that because Socialite and I were towering over them in our heels and a couple of them had drunken alter-egos that actually enlarged the size of their head. So their nickname is two-fold.

The next bar was very Venice Beach. It was an artist bar and people graffiti on the building. It felt like I was in someone’s house who gutted the place and put a bar in. All the crap that was in the house had been thrown out in the yard. There were also pool chairs lined up as if there were a pool.

The ride to the third bar was fun. People were two drinks in and singing on the trolley. I didn’t have to be drunk to chime in for Living on a Prayer, although upon arrival, I disliked third bar instantly. In we walked to be greeted by two Philadelphia Eagles banners. B-Bye! But Socialite wanted her free drink, so I put Metallica on the Jukebox and made the best of it.

The fourth stop was a beautiful restaurant on the water. Socialite got her free drink and we went to sit at the outside bar. Her friend met us here and the Lollypop Kids were wrecked. I don’t know if it was the cheap liquor or if they were buying extras at every stop. I was starting to feel like a zebra in a lion’s den, even if I was a head taller than all of them.

The fifth bar took me back to my metal days and NOT in a good way. The place was filled with smoke. It was awful! And the crowd was a direct reflection of the air quality; old haggard men with long stringy hair, biker facial hair, shootin’ pool, drinkin’ beer, and smoking! Yuck! We didn’t stay long.

By now, the trolley drivers obviously had had it with our singing and blew us off, so a big group of us decided to walk over the bridge to the next bar which was Mexican, hence, cheap tequila drinks for everyone. RCG is thinking to herself, after all the cheap wine, mixing it with cheap tequila is not going to end well for people. And I was right. So we pushed on to the final two bars on the loop. They were overcrowded and under inspiring.

Socialite needed food, and me being me can always eat, so we headed down the street to an open aired bar where they serve good burgers and have great live bands… this night was the exception. Not on the burgers, they were good, but the live band… well can you really call a guy on a keyboard and a singer a band? They did, and they called themselves, wait for it… Hot Rod, because he was a Rod Stewart impersonator.

Here’s the thing, just because you look like Rod Stewart if he were twenty years older, still strung out on drugs, with a sock shoved in his pants doesn’t mean you’re an impersonator. To be that, you’d have to be able to SING! This guy was killing cats with the notes he was trying to hit. He was destroying beautiful songs, although you wouldn’t know it by the way the 60-year-old women were climbing on the tables to dance with him. Every once in a while an audience member would get up to sing with him and would be SO much better, I’d pray that he or she would grab the mic and finish the show.

In the end I suggested that he dye his hair black and impersonate Alice Cooper or The Scorpions which his cackly voice was better suited for.

All in all, good times! Next week Mutts and Martinis…

©2011

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What’s Your Number

Posted on September 17, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Yes, I’m talking about the movie and yes, I’m also talking about the question  I got last night.. for my phone number not the “number” of guys I’d slept with. I started thinking about the movie What’s Your Number, which I’m really excited to see because I think Anna Faris is frickin’ hilarious!

However, what got me thinking about this, was washing my zucchini tonight. That is not a metaphor, I was cooking. Before I cut up my zucchini, I wash it down with Veggie Wash. As I was rubbing it down with the vegetable wash, I was thinking, ‘Man, I miss rubbing zucchinis!’. That was a metaphor. The last zucchini I rubbed down was Friend With Benefits’ and that was a while ago!

Last night I went to a club with a girlfriend. A guy she liked met us there and brought his very cute friend.. and by cute I mean young! I sized him up at about 22, I was off by 3 years but I think that’s because he was foreign which made him a bit hard to understand, which made him giggly, which made him seem that much younger. So 25. While my girlfriend was flirting with the guy she liked, this kid was chatting me up, asking about things that guys who want to get to know you better, ask. And I was just not responding. I’d give him one word answers and then not reciprocate the question as one normally does in a social situation.

When he said, “You don’t like me?” I responded, “You’re too young for me to like.” He asked me how old I was and I responded by showing him with my fingers so there would be no confusion in the loudness that surrounded us. He still made me repeat it on my fingers, and the look of shock on his face was priceless. I’m guessing his mom isn’t much older than me.

Then when he was able to collect his thoughts, his first question was, do I have any children? Again, look of complete and utter shock when I said, no. Of course, next comes are you married? No… still shocking. Then, Divorced?…. No. “Why not?” he asked. “Why not what?” I asked in return. “Why, you’re not married or divorced?” My answer of ‘because I’m smart’ completely flummoxed him.

Now, he’s 25, so from him the questions don’t really bother me, but from older guys it does… especially when they’re divorced. My answer is always ‘Because I was smart enough to never make it legal.” I don’t understand why this is a confusing answer.

Okay, if I was my age and never had a long term relationship, maybe I would understand their concern. But I had everything a typical married couple in their 30’s had: a 7 year relationship (actually, my non-marriage lasted longer than many legal marriages), no sex in my relationship, a kid (granted the kid was my fiance, but he still acted like one), fights about money, talks about dreams that would never come to fruition…. I mean, I WAS SMART ENOUGH NOT TO MAKE IT LEGAL..

So, these divorced guys, who had to give their exes half of everything, including their retirement funds and savings, are judging me, who kept my savings, kept my retirement fund, (plus all of the other investments I have) and kept everything in our house that he didn’t personally buy or that I didn’t want, AND I kept the dogs? AND he got to keep his debt that an ex-spouse would have had to split? …. They are judging ME?

Anyway, again I tangentalize…

After our evening ended, my friend brought up that she wasn’t sure if this guy was ‘dating material’ and she had made a commitment to herself to stick to guys with possibility for a future. Yet, she was on the fence because she hadn’t had a zucchini for a long time. I understood her pain and told her about the What’s Your Number movie.

The problem with that theory at our age, is there are a lot more years between losing your virginity and now, compared to the age of the girls in the movie. Although I remember being in college and hearing about some of the girls numbers who had no problem shouting out that they were in their 50s, 70’s or 90’s… gulp! That’s not me. Between 3 long term relationships and 2 -4 year zucchini gaps, I can still go see that movie and know I don’t have to revisit any puppeteers, but still, zucchinis are a beautiful thing and I miss them terribly!

Off to eat my zucchini dinner… again, NOT a metaphor this time.

©2011

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Gym Woes… Timing Is Everything

Posted on September 16, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Okay, so I switched my gym so I could be around guys my age, and it worked. This time last week Mrs Rockbody and I were keeping a close eye on a very hot guy, imagine Channing Tatum only 15 years older and 6’1″. I told her “He’s my type!” Then, as our work out was winding down, we passed another very good looking man, and turned to each other at the same time in agreement that we had just found another. Yes, the gym was a lake of fish just waiting to be swooped up in my net.

So what the heck happened today? I was back there, same time, same place, and where were they? Don’t guys know that women revolve their gym schedule around when hot guys are going to be there? This isn’t just single women either. When I was with Shady, I still scheduled my workouts around when hot, straight, men were working out in West Hollywood. I wasn’t always right about the ‘straight’ part, but that’s beside the point. The motivation isn’t necessarily to meet the hot guys, it’s to get you to the gym to watch them.

Now, my motivation has changed… I am indeed there to meet them. Although I always wonder what a guy is doing in the gym in the middle of the day when most are typically working. Then I remember I have my own company and I’m at the gym so, who knows. One country boy, Denim, works at night. Now, that could mean a lot of things. First thing that comes to mind is bartender, although with the size of his arms, not sure he’s flipping around drinks. And he’s got sleeves (that’s an armful of tattoos for those gals who don’t know that expression).

Any way, I’m tangentalizing. The bottom line is, if a guy is a ‘9’ or above, he should be required to post his workout schedule at the gym. This would be a great marketing tool for gyms, because women would join just to follow the schedule of  the hot guy they want to sweat near.

Here’s the thing. It’s very disappointing to want to see the hot guy and then show up at the same place and same time and have him not be there! In fact it’s wrong. Did I still get a good work out? Yes. But not the point. I know I would have added in an extra 10 minutes for abs if hot guy had been there.

Plus, it’s putting a damper on the plan Mrs Rockbody and I concocted. She and Mr Rockbody have a boat. I want a rugged man who likes the sea. So our plan is to invite potential “dates” for me to come out on the boat. This way, it’s not an awkward first date, I get to see what he’s like out on the water, and Mr & Mrs Rockbody can give their unbiased opinions…. so I don’t get drawn in by a great set of abs.

Of course none of this can happen if the timing is off. Timing is everything! And don’t think I haven’t been to the gym on Monday and Wed at the same time looking for him. I suppose I can go to the gym at other times, just to check out the possibility that he actually has a day job and comes in at night and every other Friday is summer hours or something.

The old me is tempted to see him again and be bold and ask him “When do you work out, because I find I’m far more motivated when you’re here.” To which he would smile and politely make conversation for a while and something may or may not happen, but if it did, it could never go anywhere, because I came on with major masculine energy on our first encounter.

I’m working very hard at staying in my feminine energy around manly men. It’s the only way it can work. I’ve got to give up the reigns, and stop trying to break these guys. I need to face the fact that I am the wild horse who needs to be tamed. I need to let men be men, so I’m going to put on a dress and go out tonight and be a lady and see what happens…

©2011

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Monica Geller Is My OBGYN

Posted on September 11, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Don’t be jealous! Just because going to the ‘lady doctor’ is the worst day of the year and I just happened to have spent it with a character from Friends. I’m one of the only people I know who doesn’t mind going to the dentist, but the gyno… is there any woman who enjoys that? I don’t think so. Although a few of my friends who will remain nameless, all go to a particularly hot gyno in Beverly Hills, and then talk about him for days.

I don’t want a male gyno and the thought of a hot one? OH NO… no, no, no, no… Why would you want a hot guy poking around in your arousal zone for dangerous cells. Hot guy and Pap Smear do not belong in the same sentence. And what about the breast exam? It’s like the scene from Dirty Dancing when Patrick Swayze brushes Baby’s boob in their dance lesson and she keeps cracking up. That would be me. Hot gyno would be feeling me up and I’d be cracking up… because what is the alternative? Enjoying it? That’s just wrong, y’all.

So, I’ll stick with Monica. Let me preface this by saying, she was a new doctor for me. Being far from my LA doctor, I had to find someone local. There’s nothing worse than the anticipation of meeting a new gyno. Well, that’s not true, there’s plenty of worse things, but in the moment, this one feels pretty bad.  I loosened up when I got to the waiting room. All of the women were about my age and beautiful. They looked like girls I’d want to hang out with, which probably was good for Dr. Geller because it meant that they were all waxed and quite possibly vajazzled.

And then it was my turn to go in. When the doctor came in she WAS Monica Geller! Not only did she look exactly like her, she embodied her energy. It’s good to have a frenetic, control freak, perfectionist as your gyno! And she was funny like Monica. I told her about the work I’d done with Nutritionist, and  she has found that an extremely large percentage of her patients over 40 are coming in with Gluten intolerances, so we talked about it for a while. Then I told her about my Buried Treasure (you’ll have to seek that one out in the archives), and she gave me some sucky news! I told her the results of my hormone test and she told me in her experience you could take that saliva test every day and get a different result. I told her that when I don’t take the supplement I feel like I’m in a constant state of PMS. And here’s were it got sucky… she said that I AM in a constant state of PMS, “Welcome to your 40s.” What the French, Toast? Why do the 40s have to be so hard on the body? Hair turns gray, eye sight gets bad, constant state of PMS? Sucky!

On the other hand, for all those guys who were players in their 20s and early 30s and then settled down, after years of hurting women, they get their payback in their 40s when their wives turn into PMS monsters.

The good news is, Buried Treasure is doing the trick, so there is hope. Then it was time for Monica to leave the room so I could get into my pink and white paper out fits. I’ve been working out with Mrs Rockbody so when I went to put on the pink paper top, my strength tore the back halfway. Wanting to make a good first impression AKA not wanting to look like a doofus who can’t put on a paper gown properly, I did a little work on it Rachel Zoe style, and came up with a very chic, look. After all, those gowns and white cover ups are one size its all. That means they have to fit women from 100 pounds to 300 pounds. I was getting lost in all of that crepe paper! By the time Monica came in, I looked like the final model who comes down the runway in the wedding gown. I was in a giant poof of white crepe paper, with a twisted sleeve, plunging back, pink paper top that opened in the front. If I had and extra white cover, I would have made crepe paper flowers to add to the pink top, because lord knows we spend enough time sitting in that freezing room in nothing but paper waiting for the doctor to come back in.

Because my doctor was Monica Geller, I felt like she’s been my friend for years, so I asked a lot more questions than I normally would. Like the “butt exam.” What’s up with that? It’s all of 2 seconds. Finger in. Finger out. Done! So I had to ask, “That was so quick. What can you possibly learn from that?” I was shocked how much she learned from that when she explained it to me. The good news is, everything is smooth and perfect in there, and the surrounding ‘neighborhoods.’

There’s only one issue I have with Dr. Geller’s office. The postcards. It’s one thing to send a postcard that you’re due for your yearly checkup, but they send your pap results on a postcard. It’s not a problem for me. I’m used to getting it in a closed envelope, but to save on paper, I’m not opposed to the concept, until it hit me…

What about the poor mailman? He sees postcards. What if he is going to one of the nice peoples’ houses, you know, the ones who actually tip him at Christmas, and he sees the postcard that Mrs Nice House, has an irregular Pap. Now HE’S the bearer of the bad news. That’s going to weigh heavily on his heart all day. ‘Poor Mrs Nice House’.

Now imagine Mailmen seeing these types of postcards everyday. It’s no wonder they’re emotional wrecks and ‘go postal!’

All I can say to you Mailmen, is that ‘no one told you life was gonna be this way…(clap clap clap clap clap)

©2011

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We Are In Need Of Male Input

Posted on September 8, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

… No, I don’t mean that in a dirty way. I’m serious! We women need help. I know this because the single Superfriends and Sister are all out there dating, and it’s perplexing. Yes, yes, times have changed since elementary school when a boy liked a girl and he asked her to be his girlfriend and it was understood that they would pass notes to each other (this was before kids got smart phones) and eat together at the same lunch table.

Times were simple then. Communication was pretty obvious- he liked you or he didn’t. Even if he sent his friend over to break up with you at the lunch table, the message was clear.

Now there’s no clear message. It’s no longer “Yes” or “No” it could be “Word” or “For Shizzle” or “Forget It” or “Nak.” Women have been conditioned that men are from Mars and women are from Venus, in other words, we speak two different languages.

So, if this is true, we need some input from the men. Ladies, this is a call to action. Share this with your guy friends so we can get some answers.

I was going to title this blog: Kissing At The Table AKA Hi Beautiful, Bye Sexy

The reason being, there seems to be 2 unreadable guy trends happening. Here they are in no particular order:

1. The Quick Kiss: This can happen in many places; the car, 5 minutes after he’s picked you up, the movie theater during the commercials before the previews, and most commonly ‘the table’ as in the lunch table, dinner table, substitute bar if you meet for drinks and don’t sit down at a table.

The quick kiss tends to go something like this. You’re sitting at the table (on a first date) looking at a menu, and after only 5 minutes, he leans in and gives you the “quick kiss” and exclaims, “I just had to do that.”

This is seriously a trend, and it’s leaving girls wondering, ‘what does that mean?’ Does it mean he is just so attracted to you he can’t bare going through an entire date and walking you to the door like a gentleman, then waiting the awkward moment as you both wonder if it’s too soon to kiss, but then you do? Or does it mean that he just wants sex because he thinks your hot? Or does it mean he’s a sex addict who can’t control his compulsions?

BTW: side note for all you guys who are reading this. THIS is really the kind of conversations that girls have with each other. I know it makes us sound like we’re crazy, but we’re not. We’re just analytical and feel the need to analyze every moment of a date with our girlfriends. It’s a bonding process. The problem is, every girlfriend has a different opinion of what the “moment” meant, and I’m willing to guess, that they’re probably wrong, and it’s far less complicated than we make it. So please chime in…

2. Texting/Mix Messages: This was one I experienced with FWB a lot, and considering I’ve been out of the dating world so long, I had no idea that this problem was running rampant. When a girl starts dating a guy, she wants to hear his voice, she wants to feel important, so she likes to talk on the phone or in person. Texting… not so much. Yet, it seems like a reality, so let’s address two common comments: 1. Hi, Beautiful and 2. Bye, Sexy.

Normally, I would tell a friend, “That’s great, he’s thinks you’re beautiful and sexy.” But apparently the majority of texting males out there are throwing around these “hello” and goodbyes” and then never texting again.

My question is what is the point of those two terms. Do you really think the girl is beautiful and sexy? If not, why are you saying it? And if so, doesn’t saying it right after a first date cheapen it? Or cheapen her for that matter.

Yes, women want to feel sexy and beautiful, but when you guys throw those words around right out of the gate, it makes us suspicious rather than flattered. We start using words like “playa” you feel me?

I know, I know, guys tell me all the time, tell your friends not to read into it so much… but how much is “so much”? And can’t we simplify things by going back to the notes from grade school? I say, after a first date, the girl gets to hand a boy a note that reads:

DO YOU LIKE ME? CHECK ONE  (  ) YES   (  ) NO  (  ) I like your bff

©2011

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The Moment You Know You’re In Love

Posted on September 6, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

People who ask ‘how do you really know you’re in love’ have never been in love. They certainly haven’t seen a good romantic comedy or they would know… or at least know what they don’t know.

I just watched The Wedding Planner… AGAIN.  They had a great moment. Great romantic comedies always have the ‘great moment’ it’s what separates them from the average. The moment in the park between Steve and Mary… discovering his quirk of only eating brown M & Ms, the magic of the scene structure; a classic romantic movie being shown outdoors as the couple watches from the tree base that forms a bench, and then the dance that mirrors the romance on the screen within our screen. The way that they looked at each other so that we knew what they knew. It was their moment.

I know it’s a movie, and cynics would say, “Those scenes are so contrived so cliche” and “when do ‘real-life’ guys say to the woman they love ‘I may not know you very well, but I know every contour of your face, every gold speck in your eyes.’ ?” Are they cliche? Are most women being taken on dates to parks to watch classic movies and slow dance on the grass until it rains? It’s not like it happens in every romantic comedy… oh no. Each one has it’s unique moment. So how is it cliche? How is it contrived? Because it was written for a movie? So what? You do realize someone had to be romantic enough to think up that scene, that despite what you may think does not happen on average dates and is therefore— NOT a cliche!

Someone who’s known love and known ‘a moment’ wrote those words for the actor to say, set that scene for the actors to play, and revealed himself in a very truthful way.

Yes, we writers fictionalize, we amplify an emotion to engage our readers, but it’s only because we’ve known the un-amplified emotion and turned it up.  And sometimes, if we’ve been really lucky, we’ve known it at ’11’ (to pull from Spinal Tap).

Have you ever had a moment that’s an 11? I did… once. And because of it, I believe in the moment. I know it exists. I could easily pull it out of my life and place it in a script and it would be a great moment to anyone watching it.

I choose to believe that any man capable of experiencing ‘a moment’ is capable of saying words that melt a girl’s heart like in romantic comedies. There are soooo many guys out there who want ‘a moment’ as much as girls do. Sometimes we forget that. We think that we are the romantic gender. I don’t know. I think men are better at the grand gestures. I think there is no one more romantic than a man in love.

My friends encourage me to internet date again, to put myself out there more, to stop focusing on finding female friends, and find myself a man. I honestly don’t believe that’s how it’s going to happen for me. While I’ve only had one ‘moment’ I’ve had many moments of pure splendor… sweet moments, thoughtful moments, loving moments, with men I’ve cared about deeply and even men I’ve only known for a short time.  Not one of those men did I seek out online or get set up with. Each one had his own special ‘story’ in my life.

I’m waiting for someone with whom the sweet moments will pile up, one after another, until, once again, I will have ‘a moment’ and I think THAT is well worth waiting for. And THAT is worth putting my trust and faith into. And anytime I forget that, anytime I question ‘when is it going to happen?’ I think I’ll pop in one of my classic favorites. Because while those leading men are only acting, in order to touch us so deeply, they have to be connecting to something true. I am willing to wait for that something true…

©2011

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My Kinda Party AKA When Does Taking Off Boots Sound Like Sex?

Posted on September 5, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Yeehaw, y’all. When it comes to music, I’ve always been the odd one out. In the 80’s I was into heavy metal and the only way I could get my friends to go to a club with me was on my birthday. Up until a year ago, it was still pretty much all I listened to. And then I heard Jake Owen’s Yeehaw. His lyrics about having ‘a weekend full of nothing to do at all’ completely seduced me… he isn’t hard on the eyes either.

So in typical Type-A form, I immersed myself in the music and once again found myself alone in my genre. People I’m friends with won’t even give it a chance. Not that I can blame them… I’d always said that there was one kind of music I would never listen to- COUNTRY!  Never say never…

Luckily, I recently made some new Southern friends who are happy to hang with a girl who knows all the words to Jason Aldean and Blake Shelton songs. Mr and Mrs Rockbody are my friends from the gym, who’ve become more than just friends from the gym.

Last night, while getting ready for my first hoedown, Mrs Hardbody was doing my hair. I said to her, “This is like the old days when I’d be getting ready to go out with my sorority sisters and we’d all be doing each other’s hair and makeup.” She got it stick straight… but it wouldn’t last.

I had on my new boots from Saks which go up to the knee and short dress that landed above the knee. I left the cowboy hat at home because I wanted to show off the long straight hair.

We got there in time for Line Dancing lessons which were a blast, even if I was a bit of a spaz. There was only one incident as the night went on. Some drunk punk who was not in country gear, crashed the dance floor as the Brazilian Colin Farrell was trying to teach us a new dance to Tim McGraw’s I Like It I Love It. I was sober and not pleased as I was taking my new dance style very seriously. Mr and Mrs Rockbody and their friends could see I was getting a tad pissed off… and by tad, I mean very. To be clear, there was no ‘kick’ in this particular line dance, but the punk did get kicked. I was ready for a country brawl. He of course, was too drunk to notice.

I also befriended the DJ, who was not a country guy, and was called last minute, so he took all of my requests as well as asking me to send him a list of all of the songs I’d like added to his play list… it’s going to be a LONG list 🙂

As the night drew to a close, two things became apparent:

1. Thanks to the outdoor dance floor’s humidity, my long straight hair, was now a huge lion’s mane which would have fit in GREAT if it was 80’s metal night…

2. My feet were hot and swollen in my new boots. This brought to mind how hard the boots were to get off when I first tried them on. They fit perfectly once my feet are in them, but getting them off was no easy feat.

I shared this information with the Rockbodys and Mrs R offered to help me take them off once we walked back to her place if I didn’t mind driving home barefoot. I didn’t. It was certainly better than trying to get them boots off m’self!

When we got back to their place, I sat down on the couch and Mrs R started pulling. The expression on her face was priceless when she realized no matter how hard we work out together at the gym, her arms didn’t have a chance against those boots. So she called Mr over. Now he’s a body builder… he is strong… those boots didn’t stand a chance against those biceps…

Or did they? And that’s when we started scaring the neighbors! It got to the point where Mrs Rockbody was holding me down on the couch so as Mr Rockbody pulled on the boots, I wouldn’t go flying off. Mr Rockbody had one leg braced on the couch and the other planted on the floor. Orders were being barked out like, “Keep pulling” “Right there.. keep doing it just like that.” But no luck. Mrs Rockbody suggested pouring baby powder in the boots, but I’d seen that episode of Friends with Ross, the leather pants, and the baby powder, and I knew that would end badly.

I said I would just leave and sleep with my boots on until the morning when my feet had cooled down, but they would not let me leave with those boots on. That’s when Mr Rockbody went in for round two and seriously, we should have had a video camera because it was some scene! Her holding me down, him pulling, me yelling things like, “It’s close… you’re getting it! Keep wiggling it like that. You’ve almost got it, don’t stop.” And then the collective “Ahhhhhh” when the first boot was off. It went pretty much the same way on the second side with a little more grunting and squealing as we all wanted this scene to end.

And then I was free. We all sighed with relief, drank some water to rehydrate, and I was on my way home.

So ladies, here’s the question… What do I do the next time I wear the boots? Do I wear peds? Thin socks? Will it make a difference? These boots are hot!

I am not going to abandon them because they are hard to get off!

©2011

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Man, It’s Hot In Here…

Posted on September 1, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Okay, so I was 779 words into my blog entry when I recognized that I had crossed over. I was joking around about a romance novel my mom had taken out from the library, that I was returning for her. It was a period novel, but when I opened up to a random page, I discovered that they were having sex in very graphic ways back in days of yore. So being a chick lit girl, I thought I’d mock the romance novels by writing my own ‘scene of passion’ for you…

Ladies, it turned into pure erotica. What can I say? I have a muse. And while some men prefer to remember past experiences, I’m all about the imagination. Mine went a little too wild to print. Actually wild is the wrong word. Wild is how I usually imagine, but this never-to-be-published entry was not what I usually imagine. It was filled with anticipation. He was gentle, slow, and while it tormented me, it… UGH! There I go again!

I think I need a cold shower, but it’s too late and I’m already in bed… yes, with my computer. Maybe I should distract myself with thoughts of Rocker Yogi or Josh, the hot bartender who winked at me every time he gave me a virgin drink tonight.

Nope! Hot young boy distractions are not working. I wonder if the Yankees won tonight? Nope! Not even thoughts of baseball are helping. I thought that was a sure thing. Maybe just for guys. Maybe there’s a shoe sale happening somewhere…

That almost worked. Hold on, I’m going to go re-read that entry (I have it saved in my draft file)…

… I’m back. And who thought that was a good idea… to re-read that? Not good. I mean the writing’s good. Maybe I can sell it to an erotica magazine. Man, it’s hot in here!  Shoe sale… shoe sale…

Okay, what else can I blog about?

Nothing! There’s a huge purple elephant in this room.. I mean in this small white box that I’m typing in. I can just imagine what Page Turner is going to put in the comment box. No Page, I’m not going to print it. It is out of genre for this blog. Besides, my sister reads this, and she is pure and innocent and thinks I’m a virgin… which Sister, I am.

I know this is a short entry, but I don’t know where else to go with this. My mind is on one thing right now… the last 700 words of that entry that haven’t been written yet. Dare I finish?

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The Fist Bump Strikes Again!

Posted on August 29, 2011 by romanticcomedygirl

Background music for this post 

I never liked The Cure. I thought Robert Smith had an awful voice, but when First Love played them, I had to admit that the lyrics were great. I think this is a beautiful compromise. Kind of like the beautiful compromise that has become my life.

Tonight I went out with another guy friend. It was Monday night football and our two opposing teams were playing each other. But before, during, and after my shower to get ready I was texting with FL. Harmless stuff about his freezer… I know random. And yes, you did read that right, I was texting during my shower, and no, I don’t have a waterproof iPhone, but he’s worth going in and out of the shower for.

Anyway, I’m in a sports bar watching the game, (which was painful because my team was acting like Shady… in other words, not being able to finish anything they started!) and FL and I are still texting and maybe it was like a mirage in a desert, when a dehydrated woman sees a body of water… only in this case the body in front of me was a bartender and he looked just like FL when he was in college! Not exactly from the front, but the profile was eery! I told FL and  also told him I wasn’t going to pick him up and he wrote back, “Why not he sounds cute.” I don’t know if you’re laughing now, but I laughed!

And after I laughed, because the game was so boring and the poor guy I was there with is going to have a bruise on his arm from all of the times I punched him, I just stared at the bartender. I almost asked him if he would let me take a picture of his profile. It was freaking me out!

Of course then I think I was freaking him out because I was staring at him and not in a “cougar” way but in the way that a scientist stares at a new discovery with awe and wonder. It was probably uncomfortable for him because he knew I wasn’t “checking him out” I was just staring at him like he’d grown a second nose… but really I was just fascinated that his nose was FL’s nose and his lips were FL’s lips and then I wanted to kiss him.

But that would have been wrong. I’ve never been with a guy and fantasized about another guy.. and I mean while we were fooling around not during my alone time or I never would have made it with Shady for 7 years in a sexless relationship! I must have fantasized about 759 guys when I was with him… but who’s counting.

Anyway, so back to the lips. Would it be wrong to close my eyes and touch his face and image it’s not his face I’m touching? Would it be wrong to kiss him and imagine it’s FL I’m kissing? Maybe yes, maybe no, but I think the reality is, the moment I touched him I’d feel the difference. He may turn out to be a good kisser but he wouldn’t kiss like FL.

This post won’t be as dramatic as my last post about First Love because our texting was friendly and harmless tonight, so it was just nice to have contact with him and not want to tear my heart out after.

Then after the HORRIBLE game, my guy friend drove me home. He’s paid our bill while I was in the bathroom. I can’t tell if these guys are wired to pay for women whether they are interested or not, or if they pay it means they’re interested. This guy has been told I’m not interested in anything more than friendship. I’ve known him since I was 11 though we haven’t seen each other in 2o years. So when he dropped me off and went in for the goodnight hug… yep! Gave him the fist. It took him a few more seconds than my other friend, but finally he gave me “the bump.”

I think it was the perfect ending to watching a football game. THE FIST BUMP RULES!!!

©2011

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