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Lit’l Smokey Gets in Your Eyes

1 Sep

Last Thursday I found myself somewhere that I never thought I’d be.  Not in the women’s correctional facility-been there, done that.  Rather, I found myself sitting next to Lit’l Smokey at the last Raven’s preseason game.

When I was presented with free tickets to the game, I jumped at the chance to go.  I hate sports with a fiery passion.  I don’t get the allure.  I have no idea why people want to talk about running yards, and stats, and blah, blah, other boring stuff.  When I was in high school and college, I enjoyed going to football games.  But that’s because I liked hearing the shoulder pads click when the players tackled each other.  Also, I thought that it was a great place to meet boys.  Now a days, I know better.  A professional football game is not where you go and meet single men.  Instead, it’s a place where you drink over priced beers and try to get a man’s attention while he yells at players miles away that will a) never hear him, b) never take his sporting advice even if they could.  Still, I enjoy going to the games and people watching.  I enjoy my chicken tenders as I wonder about the life of the middle aged fat man dressed in head to toe purple camo.  Is he happy with his life?  Does he actually think that cheerleader on the end is going to go home with him?

Lit’l Smokey happened to be there when I was given the tickets, and I invited him to come along.  As he loves me deep down inside-so deep down that he doesn’t even know it-he said yes.

The day of the game arrives…and it’s freaking pouring.  I mean raining cats and dogs.  There’s so much rain that it’s practically like we’re living in a waterfall.  It sucked.  Thankfully, the rain cleared and we were able to make it.  We decide to get some dinner first.  He offers to pay since I brought him along.  I told him that wasn’t necessary.  So we’re outside the restaurant and I stop at the ATM machine.  It was wicked awesome when I tried to withdraw money from my account, only to find out that I had -$95 in my account.  So not embarrassing when I told him that I had less than no money in my account and he was going to have to pay for everything.  Just the kind of impression I was hoping to make.

Okay, so screw dinner and screw the game. Let’s get to the good stuff.  I learned more stuff about Lit’l Smokey that night than I had ever hoped to learn.  As we are both recently single, we enjoy spending quality time bitching about how crappy relationships are, and how much our exes suck, and that we still love them, and that we need to get some ass, etc.  Well, Lit’l Smokey went into overshare drive, and this is before we started boozing it up.

You’re in luck, kids, because I’m going to share with you what he told me:

  1. Baby Tramp told him that she had never had a cookie with a guy before she met him.  She told him that she thought she was broken.  He showed her the light, so to speak.  When I told some of my girlfriends this story, they all had the same reaction that I did: Baby Tramp lied through her baby teeth.  Guys, I hate to break this to you, but when a girl tells you that, it’s a lie.  We just say it to you to make you feel all manly and sexually competent.
  2. Baby Tramp didn’t give good head.  I’m sure this is probably because she’d rather have a binky in her mouth than a dick.  I’m just saying.
  3. He loved it when the 2 of them were doing it doggy style and she grabbed his smokey sac.  I could have lived my whole entire life not knowing this.  Really.  Ugh.  Yuck.
  4. Baby Tramp was one of those girls that was…how should I put this?…like a sprinkler.  I think you get my drift.  If you don’t, then you’re going to need to learn a little something about female ejaculation.  Ugh, just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
  5. The first time he had a bartles & jaynes was when he was in 8th grade.  Yeah, you read that right, 8th grade.  Oh, and here’s the best part.  The girl that gave it to him, also gave one to his very best friend.  On the same night.  Right in front of him.  I was shocked to hear that she later went on to develop a coke problem and then became an escort.

I’m sure you’ll all be shocked to hear that later on, when he made a pass at me in the parking garage, I rejected his advances.  After all his “sweet talk” that night, there was no way that I was going to hook up with him.  Oh, and also, it was kind of hard to reject his advances because he actually never made them.  Unless his idea of seduction is talking about how hot the sex was with Baby Tramp.  Yeah, didn’t quite do it for me.

Consider Yourself Warned

4 Apr

I’ve been inspired after reading this little gem of an article about Herman Flores who sold his sister for drugs.  I don’t do drugs, never been my thing.  But there are a few things out there that are getting expensive.

Sister, you might be sold for gasoline and or cocktails.  Pack a bag because you never know when it’s going to happen. Oh, and make sure that Damien and Lucy(fer) are bathed and they have a bag too.  I might put them up on ebay-I could use some heating oil.

This is a far better plan than my original one: Bartles & Jaymes for booze/fuel.  That’s being thrown right out the window.  This is what family is all about.  You mean a lot to me, and I hope I can get a high price for you.

I Have a “Head” for Business

21 Sep

My friend, Claude, and I were emailing the other day, and he informed me of a special agreement that our friend, Mary* Diva, had made with her boyfriend.  Mary Diva is a delightful young Mary whom I find to be extremely entertaining.  She is your stereotypical gay man: she knows every single showtune in the world, loves fashion, worships Victoria Beckham, and has 2 Chihuahuas (plus outfits for each one).  Last month she made an incredibly sweet deal with her boyfriend. In exchange for 1 blow j per night for a month, Mary Diva’s boyfriend would present her with this Juicy Couture rabbit fur trimmed hoody.  I hate Juicy Couture and think all the things are both lame and trampy, but I think Mary Diva is on to something.  You see, this hoody costs $675-that’s equivalent to a little over $21 per bartles & jaymes.  That’s not too bad.

This got me thinking: could I do this for other fashion products?  The answer: yes.  I am now starting my own business called Fellatio for Fashion, and there will be a small subdivision called Hand-jobs for Handbags.  It’s genius!!  In exchange for couture, bj’s and hj’s will be provided. 

I want a Chloe bag, god damn it, and I’m willing to work for it. 

*Claude and I have a mutual friend who is gay.  It was this friend who told us that we must refer to all gay men as “Mary” and use “she” instead of “he”.

Diva-licious Times

17 Aug

Lola, Muffy, and I are taking our show on the road.  Tomorrow, we’re headed off for a lovely diva’s weekend in NYC.  That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to be treating the New Yorkers to our treats (tee hee).  It’s going to be Michael Kors’ first time up in the big city. He’s pretty freaking exciting!!

We have so much to do.  First, we’ll be attending the 2:00 show of the Tony award winning Spring Awakening.  Then we’ll have to walk around and shop.  At some point we’ll have to check into our hotel so we can beautify ourselves for a long and delightful evening.  We’ll be dining at Tao.  I know, we’re fancy.  THEN, we’re going to Bar Americain for drinks.  I’m pretty sure that Bobby Flay is going to be pretty excited to see us.  Of course, the evening wouldn’t be complete without a little visit to 230 5th.

 Oh, and we’re going to Zabar’s on Sunday.

I’m pretty sure that I’m going to have to give out some Bartles & Jaymes in Central Park at some point, because Mama is not made of money.  How much do you think I could charge for one of those suckers?

FYI: Where’s my multimillionaire man candy that can help bankroll this little weekend of ours?  Damn it, I keep forgetting that I have a mortgage and other stupid bills to pay.

The Details

9 Jul

A few of you have asked for details from the Saturday night “festivities”. I’ll provide you with the short and sweet version, and the longer much less sweet version.  Please enjoy. . .

Short and Sweet

We were both drunk, we started hooking up at the bar and moved it over to my room. I served him up a Bartles & Jaymes, he reciprocated. We hit it and it was superb. Sadly, there was no cookie. He slept over, I kicked him out at 8:30. We met up with friends for brunch around noon. Said our goodbyes shortly thereafter, and the story ends there.

Long and Dirty

It’s been a few months since I last saw Notebook as he’s moved to another state. Somehow, he talked me into picking him up at the airport. We met at the terminal, and my God, that boy has a sweet ass body. He was wearing a polo shirt that hugged him in all the right places. Yummy! I was hoping beyond hope that we’d end up hooking up at some point, but was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to happen. We drove to the hotel, ran into the groomsmen and groom, met up with some friends, grabbed a bite to eat and then checked into our rooms. We had about ½ an hour to get ready and report back to the lobby for the shuttle that would take us to the wedding location.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all back in the lobby. The wedding was held in this gorgeous Hunt club out in the country, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of old people. This meant one thing: there were less eligible bachelorettes available to him. Unfortunately, it also meant that there would be less options for me if things didn’t pan out with Notebook. We sat together through the service (which was the most beautiful ceremony I’ve ever seen), attended the cocktail hour and then went to our table.Much to my chagrin, I realized that there were 3 other ladies sitting at our table. I was clever in my seating arrangement as I had him sit between me and our guy friend that was there-less access to the bachelorettes. When they came to the table, I realized it was all for nothing-not cute. Reception was a great time, the alcohol flowed freely, there was plenty of flirting, and zero opportunity for him to flirt with anyone else. There was, however, plenty of opportunity for me to make friends with the tall, dark, and handsome groomsman from New York.

New York was handsome, and I was warned about him. The best man and the groom himself told me he was a dog. Guess what? Dogs work pretty well for a hook up, especially ones that are as tall, dark, and handsome as New York was. Things seemed to be working out pretty well, and I took it as a good sign when the wedding party left before we did, and New York told me he’d meet me back at the hotel bar. This led me to believe that I had acquired my target for the evening.

Fast forward 30 minutes, we’re all at the bar. Some people have changed, I’m still in my kick ass dress and my gorgeous heals. I kept going back and forth between New York and Notebook. As I began complaining about how painful my shoes were, New York suggested that I run back to my room to change my shoes. My room was conveniently located down the hall from the bar-I didn’t even have to bother with the elevator. Ran to my room, ran back, handed my room key to Notebook as I had left my purse in my room, New York bought me a drink, we flirted some, then New York excused himself to run to the men’s room. At this point, I went to talk to Notebook who was sitting at the bar. He said, “come here,” grabbed the back of my head, and we started making out at the bar. Klassy. Somewhere in the back of my mind it occurred to me that New York would probably not want to hook up with me if he saw me making out with Notebook at the bar. Drunken thoughts are funny to me.

As last call had occurred, the lights had been turned on, and management had decided it was time for us to leave, Notebook was kind enough to escort me back to my room. How very convenient that he had my room key (god I’m so smart and clever sometimes). We went into the room, I turned on the lamp next to the bed, sat on the king sized bed, and he sat down next to me. We started to snog some more. Suddenly, we were horizontal.

For about 30 seconds I questioned how far I was going to let him get. Then I thought, “Fuck it. Why not just go all the way?” My dress was soon lifted, lowered and crushed between us. He had a belt that required in-depth training to figure out how to remove. He was down to nothing in about a half an hour. I was down to almost nothing shortly thereafter. I provided a synopsis of events in the Short and Sweet version, all two of you that were interested in knowing what happened will have to be satisfied with that.

We hooked up 2 years ago and I had thought that he’d be a good shag. That’s an understatement. He was superb. Why? God only knows. I think it’s a combination of factors: he’s smoking hot, we have great chemistry, he knows what he’s doing and I had wanted him for a long time. Granted, sometimes that leads to disappointment, but not in this case-he far exceeded my expectations.

After it was all said and done with, I planned on kicking him out of my room. I’m not the type that likes to have sleepovers with hook ups. For me, it’s much easier to establish boundaries when we don’t snuggle up afterwards. My usual way of getting them to get dressed and go home is by using this wonderful line: I’ll be asleep by the time that you get home. They usually get the message, and call it a night. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out on Saturday. When I came out of the bathroom, he was already tucked in under the covers. Damn him! I sucked it up and let him sleep in the bed with me.

I woke a few times and was so delighted with myself when I turned to see his naked form sleeping next to me. Truly a beautiful site to behold. Seriously, he has a kick ass body. Kick ass. Ugh, I’m so proud of myself for getting to see it in all it’s glory. Go me!! I woke up at 6:30 with a crushing headache and my stomach churning. Went back to sleep until 7:00. I started rolling around in the bed and sighing out loud in hopes that he’d wake up and leave. It didn’t work. I got up to take a shower at 8:00 and prayed that I wouldn’t get sick while he was room. I woke his ass up around 8:15 and told him that if he wanted to sleep anymore, he’d have to go up to his room. He left. 20 minutes later, I puked. So hot. . .Thank freaking god that he wasn’t there for that. THANK GOD!!

We met up for brunch at noon with our other friends. I mentioned nothing to them, and figured he would do the same. He started asking me questions that I figured they would find suspicious: What did you do after I left? Did you go back to sleep? Guess we weren’t keeping it a secret like I thought we would. Oh well. When it was time to go, he walked me to my car, kissed me, and we said good bye.

I guarantee that I will never see him again, and if I do, there will never be any mention of Saturday night. I’m okay with that. I’m just wicked super psyched and pleased that I finally got to see him naked and it was everything that I imagined and hoped it would be.

Go me!

Xerox This

28 Jun

One of the benefits of working in the same building for the last 8 years, and having had various office trysts, is walking past places were I enjoyed an illicit kiss or two. Years ago on a Sunday, I “made out” (see Bartles & Jaymes) with my boyfriend at the time in my cubicle. We were nearly caught by the security guard who was walking down the hallway. Once my boyfriend left town, Hairy McBacksweat and I would enjoy 30 second groping sessions in the service elevator. I still sit in the same cubicle and take the service elevator, and every once in awhile think of them.

The one place that always brings back fond memories is the 3rd floor copy room. It was there that I enjoyed a fabulous and delightful snogfest with Hugh Grant Jr. My he was fine, fine and very young. He pursued me when I he was a new hire-I said no. He kept pursuing-I kept saying no. After all, I had a boyfriend, and he was a trainee. Finally, I gave in one night around Christmas time. He came over to my apartment and we. . .umm. . .did some stuff.

About two weeks later we had both taken a day off from work and were planning on spending the day together. As I was getting ready, the phone rang. He wasn’t going to be able to make it. He was calling from the hospital in Pennsylvania-he’d broken his leg the day before during his ski trip. Damn it. Stupid skiing accident.

When he finally came back to work 6 weeks later, he hobbled down to my desk with his walker. It was a sad scene, but he still looked hot. I promised to visit him before leaving for the day. Once upstairs, he said, “Let’s take a little walk.” This amused me as he was in no shape to be walking. Anywho, we ended up in the copy room. He was leaning on the copier while I was regaling him with one of my riveting stories. He grabbed me and kissed me while I was in mid sentence.

I love the 3rd floor copy room.

Bartles and Jaymes

25 Apr

I have a new term for bj: Bartles & Jaymes. Below are examples of the correct and incorrect usage:

  • Correct: He begged and begged for a Bartles & Jaymes, but I refused to give him one until he gave me a cookie.

  • Incorrect: I can’t think of anything! Use it freely and enjoy!

Free BJs!!

8 Mar

Un-boyfriend (AKA Best Friend-Booty Call, or BFBC) and I have known each other for almost 10 years. Back in the day, we dated for 2 years, but that didn’t work out for us. We parted ways once he decided he didn’t want to be with me because I didn’t see us having a future together. Anyway, we’ve remained very close friends and hook up from time to time.

Last year on his birthday, I gave him a card and slipped a piece of paper into the card. On one side of the paper I wrote, “BJ”, and on the other I wrote, “Now you can tell all your friends you got a bj on your birthday.” It cracked me up, mostly because he wasn’t amused.

Fast forward 6 months when he starts talking about redeeming his coupon for a bj. Coupon? What coupon? He insists that the piece of paper is a coupon and that I am bound to obligate. I disagree wholeheartedly. If he wants to pretend it’s a coupon, fine, but he’ll have to redeem it elsewhere. For months we’ve gone back and forth over the whole thing and it enrages him that I don’t see things his way. Of course, I also completely refuse just because it’s funny to see him bent out of shape over the whole thing. Cruel, so cruel.

Anyway, Un-boyfriend’s birthday is right around the corner, and the question again becomes: is it a coupon or not?