People Still Love Britney

Yesterday I was having my Sunday afternoon beer, sitting next to some reasonably attractive 40-year-old men, one clean-cut, the other like a teddy bear. Clean-cut was looking at the paper, which had a picture of flabby-tummy, bald Britney.

Me: I like Britney now.

Teddy Bear: Crazy Britney?

Me: I guess. She has more character now.

Clean-cut: Yeah, I wanna fuck her now.

Teddy Bear: Me too. She was just a cliche before. Now I want to bang her in a cheap motel room with a bottle of Wild Turkey.

Clean-cut: No, with Rum and Peptol.

Now, you see, ladies. You don't need a huge head of hair and a flat tummy to be a hottie. You don't even need to seem sane. So just let it all hang out.

Big on Small Town News

Sometimes I look at newspapers from around the country--not the big ones. Today I looked at the Lexington Clipper Herald (of Nebraska). One of the top news stories was that:

Lex and Cozad men inducted into Cattlemen's Hall of Fame:

My favorite quote from that was:
...Some people have gone so far to say Joe is a character, noted Chris Hagedone, Dawson County Cattlemens president...

My gawd! A character?

But if you want to really know what this place is about, check out this fine young man who won a wrestling championship:



Is the smile beatific or insane? What is he thinking?

I don't want you to think I'm making fun. I'm fascinated. This is a life completely different from mine, which, if you want to look at my local news, click here.

Fun with Corsets

For Valentine's Day, I asked my boyfriend what he wanted me to get--for me to wear--white and satiny, red lace, black and leathery. And he said black and leathery. Although I was disappointed at first (I had hoped he would want more romantic than whore), I didn't say anything. After a few days I felt better about it and started hunting for something black and leathery I could afford. I can tell you, it wasn't much. Thigh-high black patent leather boots went for $80 at the porn shop near my house. And really, I wanted more "bang" for my buck.

So I went shopping online. A lot of the prices were similar. What I really wanted was a corset--the kind that lace up in the front and back. And my boobs are big, so it'd need to be cupless. But after looking at a few sites I found the price was around $120. Finally I googled "sexy shoes" and found snaz75.com. I found the $80 boots from my corner store for $40, and just looked at their corset page with little hope and found a red and black patent leather number for $40. I bought them both. The company expedited the shipping, and I got them in 4 business days.

Everything was the right size, in good shape, etc. The day came, and I wanted to just slip on the corset and zip it up when I saw him later--which left me to trying to fit the corset all by myself. I had to untie the back, pull the laces looser, try it on again, and then tighter, put it on again. I think I did that about 4 times before it fit right.

All of my effort paid off: I was really glad to have bought that black leathery stuff. We were both really turned on, and very sweaty--all that patent leather can do that. And I got to hear the words all women want to hear:
I've been looking for you all my life.

Thinking Too Hard About Girls Gone Wild.

Almost every night, I watch some CSI reruns on Spike TV, and almost every morning I wake up to a snatch of very, very long commercial of "Girls Gone Wild" and I cringe a little before changing the channel.

And I'm not the kind of girl who cringes at these kinds of things--I've clocked in enough hours watching porn to have had favorite actresses, actors and directors. At one point, when I was 20, I tried to get my boyfriend (29) to be in a Dirty Debutante movie with me. (He wouldn't do it--and he was the one who got me into porn in the first place!) I even met the director and everything.

On the other hand, I did tell my present boyfriend that if I ever found one of those in his possession, I'd break up with him. Like that.

So, what is so wrong with GGW? Is it just because I'm getting older? mmmm, no.The boyfriend thought I was upset that these young, drunk chicks would be taken advantage of. I mulled that over, and that, while noble, is not it.

I look at the suzy-Q chics that they choose, and their giggly faces, and I can just tell that they are the kind of girls who were cheerleaders in high school, who teased but never did it (or pretended that they never did), who do not in a certain way, take the needs of others or their own boundaries very seriously. Example: If these 18-year-olds thought of the fat, hairy men who were wanking off to this stuff, they'd be grossed out.

Some people have accused me of never being a virgin. That isn't true of course. I was as big a fantasy-fangirl as you could find with a bad perm and large glasses with horn-rimmed frames. I liked unicorns and jingling purses. But after my first boyfriend or two...I guess I just kind of skipped over that sweet-sixteen stage somehow, and went straight to Sex-In-The-City. So maybe I just don't understand the GGW/tit-flashing gals.

Or maybe, I just like my smut...smutty.

Why the Heck I Haven't Been Writing

Since 1/11, my boyfriend's sister-in-law died, leaving 2 kids in their early 20's, and one in his mid-teens. She had lung cancer, and I logged in a few hours on her deathbed, even though I had only met her briefly, twice. This roused a little argument with my boyfriend at first. He thought I didn't want to go to visit her in her last hours, just because it wouldn't be "fun." I was just uncomfortable at first because I didn't know her and she didn't know me and I thought it would be very...strange and uncomfortable for her and her kids if I came by. But soon I realized that he, being a smoker, needed me there. And so I went, weirdness be damned. The hospital room was darkened. TV was on, and the boyfriend's sister was taking care of all the details, forgetting where she left her pocketbook in the process.

I have run into this problem at times with boyfriends, especially if they don't move in with me soon enough: they think that because I like to have fun, that's what I want and expect all the time. It's not true. When it's time to have fun, I want to have as much as I can. When it's time for other things, I'm ready for all that too.

I've also been recovering from a visit to my parents' house. My mother's old age is not her mother's. My grandmother lived alone without animals in a nice city house, and did fun errands during the week and went shopping with my uncle on the weekends. She watched a lot of tv. This went on for about 25 years. Now she is having dementia, and still spends a lot of time in front of the tv. The difference between her old age, and my mother's, is that my mom spends her time driving between the South Shore and North Shore of Massachusetts, running back and forth, taking care of my aging dad (in the past 6 mo. diagnosed with diabetes, heart disease and skin cancer), and her mother. The whole thing makes me so depressed, I basically cry for a month after I come back from there.

I think, for a while, I forgot I had any of my 3 blogs, but I'm glad to be back.