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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.

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28 Aug

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And Where Were You A Year Ago Today?

7 Jul

I can tell you exactly where I was a year ago today.  It’s a very special and festive anniversary, kids.  Know why? Because I was totally hitting it with Notebook.  Sweet, hot, fiery, and probably gay Notebook.  Lord that was a good time.  Sometimes I think it’s a shame that things didn’t work out.  Other times I why on earth I even thought that he was interested.  Sure, his peen wanted me (when he was hammered out of his mind), but that’s about as far as we got.

For those of you nosey readers that want to relive all of the excitement, I’m including the link so you can read all about it.

You know the really super part?  As fabulous as that day was, today is even better.  My encounter with Notebook was totally unexpected, and pleasant.  BUT, today I’m totally going to have cookies with 3D.  He sent me flowers, he’s coming home from his trip, I made a fabulous dinner, and we’re totally going to get naked and bump uglies. 

I’m so klassy.

Boozy Suzy’s Birthday Extravaganza

19 Oct

This weekend we’re celebrating Lola’s 21st (plus 12) birthday.  It’s the perfect excuse for us to go to Ixia and spend far too much money on fabulous cocktails.  Sweet, sweet Ixia, I can’t wait to drink your fancy little drinks and stare at Eric, the hot bartender.  Oh, and I so hope that Kevin (the hot executive chef) comes over to say hello (and by “say hello” I mean “invite me to the kitcken to offer me a cookie.”).  God he is so hot.

Lola, I warn you: you’re going to get housed and you’ll have a brutal case of the cocktail flu on Sunday.  Don’t worry, it won’t be your fault-Muffy and I are going to make sure that you are overserved.  And know what?  If you’re lucky, your boy will come over and bore us with stories about how he’s a scientist.

Oh, and by the way, if you puke in my car, I will beat you with my handbag.

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!

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!

Birthday Wishes

20 Apr

Today is Un-boyfriend’s birthday, and I’m taking him out for a very “romantic” evening (and by “romantic” I mean “platonic and I’m paying for everything”). We’re going to dinner at this super cute restaurant, and then to see Fracture. Maybe, if he’s lucky, I’ll hook up with him-but he’s not getting a BJ from me. He can go find one of his little skanks to give that to him. I am too classy and respectful to give him one. Well, really I’m just stubborn and won’t go back on that whole coupon thing with him.

The sucky thing is that it’s impossible to find a parking space around his neighborhood. By the time we’re done with the movie it will be nearing midnight and it will take at least ½ an hour to find a spot. Then we’ll have to hike 100 miles to his front door, do it on the floor, and then I’ll have to hike back to my car (I refuse to stay over afterwards). Just the thought of having to go through all that nonsense makes me want to pass on the whole thing. If I was guaranteed a cookie out of the deal, I’d totally do it, but Un-boyfriend isn’t always cookie friendly, so to speak.

What to do? What to do?

There’s Always Room for Cookies

16 Apr

On Saturday night, Lola informed us that she has a friend who uses “cookie” as a code word for “orgasm”. Let me provide you with the right and wrong way to use this term:

Correct: Lit’l Smokey came over last night and gave me a cookie.
Incorrect: Lit’l Smokey came over last night and we baked cookies. (This is wrong as you would never bake an orgasm-maybe fake, but not bake)

For whatever reason, Muffy, Lola, and I found it incredibly amusing and decided to talk about cookies for the rest of the night. We talked about how you can give a cookie to yourself, how it’s sad when you give someone a cookie and they don’t give you one back, and the joy that is the multiple cookie. There was also talk of what a chocolate chip cookie would entail. And what about cookies and milk? What role does the milk play in the whole cookie thing? It’s a mystery.

We just about lost our sh*t at our waiter’s response when we asked the waiter at the restaurant (Tom, the scientist) if there were cookies on the dessert menu. His response, “Our desserts are better than any cookie you’ve ever had.” I highly doubt that.

The other thing that had us rolling was when Lola compared the look of semen to the nasty, clear stuff that you see on top of a fried egg that hasn’t been cooked all the way through. I also like to call it vitamin BJ- good for a sore throat.