30 Tough Cookies

This morning, my son was telling me that his dad was acting "not nice" during his last visit. He said he called his mother "old," and then walked out of the room and slammed the door.

I told my son that his dad was in a bad mood because he had just turned thirty. That he wasn't really young anymore. And "when you're young and you don't like where you're at, you have the excuse that you're young. But when you reach a certain age, you don't have that excuse anymore and have to take responsibility, and that's..." I paused. I didn't know where to go from there.

And my kid finished my sentence for me: "That's just tough cookies, isn't it mommy?"

What a kid.

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.

The Tiny Population

At my work email box, I received one with the subject line: Why so small weenie? [sic]
And it went like this:

Greet man

I don't care why your meat is so small, but 70% of women do.
They are pretty sure that bigger member will make their desire
stronger. You have the chance to change your life.

Here http://xzslhg.com you can get the thing.

It will help you for sure.
The remedy can be sent worldwide.
If you wont be satisfied - we will return all you money.
No bullshit.

In a way, I feel bad for men. They have a lot of their ego put into something that may or may not work. Or only works when the chemistry is right. Later on in life, they are pretty sure it will stop working most of the time. You could say that women have a similar problem--with breast size or physical appearance in general. But if we feel bad enough to need breast implants, we know that if we buy them, they really will work--the breast size really will increase. Whatever tiger penis shavings they're selling at xzslhg.com probably won't.

I've heard there are men out there who just have tiny (smaller than 3.5")penises. I've never encountered any. They must be a minute portion of the population. What happens to those guys, I wonder.

An End to the Death Penalty

America is at an all time low for executions. Great. But we are still wasting tons of money on judges, lawyers, executioners, etc. I don't think people who are in for horrible crimes are worth my tax dollars. I have a new solution: the re-institution of slavery. I'm not talking about horrible, horrible spirit-killing stuff. Just to make the people in jail to work as hard as our grandparents and great-grandparents worked. For no pay. (Just like the immigrant great grandparents.)
I mean, wouldn't it just take the coolness out of jail if no one had the time to work out, etc., but instead had to work as farmers and as shoe-factory employees for fifteen hours a day for the rest of their lives? And if you misbehave, you get worse: cleaning bathrooms, sewers, etc. Everyone should be too tired to even consider rape.
I suppose if the system worked well enough, it could pay for itself--or even pay America back for the money we've already wasted.

35 till I'm 85.

At 35, I've finally started to see a couple of smile lines around my mouth, and said that's enough already. I want to look 35 until I'm 80. I looked on the Dr. Denese web site--her stuff is supposed to be the best: the highest concentration of vitamins, etc. Her stuff is also complicated. There's a list a mile long, with no pre-made "packs" for people in their 30's, 40's, 70's, whatever. Each product is also at least $30. Then I went looking on Q&A boards. Intelligent people seemed to be talking about going DIY, but they didn't site sources of info. With my skills at chemistry DIY, I'd probably end up making LSD instead of anti-oxident cream.

I chronicled this problem to my friend Donna, and she sent me an uncomplicated, but complete answer:

Hi Suki!
Ah...the lines and their prevention issue. You have mentioned this to the right person. My skin has been a small (read:huge) obsession since I was oh, eleven.
I have tried many products for many things (anti-acne, anti-wrinkle, line prevention, pore minimizers).
Consumer Reports came out with a big study the other day saying a lot of stuff out there, especially the expensive stuff, doesn't do a lot BUT did say the best stuff out there is the Olay Regenerist line.
I've used that- go for the serum and/or the cream, but forget the "lotion". I used something else recently that purported to impart "glow" and I WAS glowy; I ran out and intend to get more although I can't remember the name of the product. 99% sure it was Olay something but I'll know it when I see it in the store.
The general consensus among magazine articles interviewing dermatologists is that you want something with either retinol or Vitamin C for prevention. Retinol can be a little irritating at first and you need to use sunblock every day because it makes your skin more sensitive to sunlight.
Actually THAT's the number 1 prevention item right there : SUNBLOCK.
So, on the basis of my vast experience with many products and ridiculously expensive quest for good skin, I believe in serious (35-50 SPF) but cheap sunblock slathered on in the morning and some kind of retinol/Vitamin C serum topped with a moisturizer cream at night.
Oh, and also note that most line minimizers take about 6-8 weeks of use to see a difference, so don't give up if whatever you try doesn't seem to do much right away.

Denise

I started exercising not too long ago. Probably about 3 months now, and I've really noticed a change in my body. Richard Simmons has gotten too easy, unless I turn every knee bend into a deep squat, and add a hop every chance I can. But I didn't have Richard when I first began exercising. All I had was an old Denise Austin tape from 1986.
I hate that tape. It's from the early days of aerobics, so all it is is Denise running in place and waving her arms around different ways. For the first few weeks I would feel like throwing up after I was done with it. When I exercised, I would imagine she was a puppet. I would swear at her, say I hated her.
Then I discovered my library had a huge exercise collection, so I started doing those instead, leaving Denise as my "punishment" tape--punishment for not having the forethought to get something better at the library. Believe me, I did not revisit it for quite some time.
Then one morning, all I had was Denise and a Harry Potter movie. I put them on, side by side, (yes, on two tv's!)and worked out. The Denise exercises were easy, and I followed them out of the corner of my eye. Maybe because it was from the corner of my eye, I noticed this:

Poor Denise! Her '80's hair is all sticking up wrong, she's staggering about, her hand movements all limp and uncontrolled. And I felt really bad. I don't know how many takes it took to do this one half hour of film, but it looks like they ran her ragged--and I started to wonder if I were in better shape now than she was then, even with my beer gut.

Do Women Have the Moral High Ground?

Last night, after several drinks with my boyfriend, I said I was going home. He said he was going to his usual watering hole for another beer before he went home. I must've expressed surprise (he had just said an hour before that if there were no bar from the bar to the ferry, he probably wouldn't drink hardly at all), because he asked me, "What, do you think that's morally wrong?"

No one puts the word "moral" and "you" (meaning me) in the same sentence. Ethical, yes. Because it implies something more open than the sort of biblical "good" that "moral" implies.

And then I put pi x r2 together and saw the whole picture. In shock, I called my best friend for advice. "Charles! My boyfriend thinks I'm his moral compass!"

Charles said that was quite common. He said he feels that way about his new wife. I said, first of all, that I'm not Christian. My idea of being good is being more of one's self and bad being less of one's self. So, if being a drunk is who you really are, that's who I want you to be (though I think that's not necessarily what I'm looking for in a long term relationship). And besides, making a woman (or anyone) your moral compass is really dangerous. "Women aren't more "good" than men. They are just more conniving and sneakier about their--their--"

"Evil-ness?"

"Yes."

Charles promised to be careful. You be more careful, too.

Sexual Positioning Furniture

The chair and the swing look the most interesting for the brave folks who don't have children asking what those contraptions are in the bedroom. The "liberator" stuff looks like it might be good for people with lower back problems. To see the whole site, click here.

You probably should click there, it will get you past disclaimers a mile long. I don't want to think about injuries on some of these things.

Sex in Shape

My boyfriend was horrified to hear that sex had gotten better "since I started working out." He loves me for my mind of course. Who else can go from talking about comics with gorilla covers to condoms in less than two sentences? (And don't you wish you were around for that conversation?) But I have noticed a difference, not only all the new moves I can do but how long I can do them and how fast and aggressive I can be. He feels like he gets in deeper--can't be that much deeper! I haven't lost that much weight. The most important part for me is the difference in the way he touches me. His caresses are more aggressive and firm, a real turn-on for me. It's not a conscious change for him, but we're both still just animals, and physical appearance is still an interaction, whether we find that "shallow" or not: we still see and are seen, and that in itself is a love affair.

Blogicide

Overwhelmed by myspace blog subscriptions, vast numbers of worthy "friends" and underwhelmed by how much attention I could pay to each, I committed blogicide on myspace a few weeks ago. Well, not really blogicide--I cut and pasted the whole thing into a word doc, and then killed my myspace account. I don't miss it. I think it hurt for an entire half hour. I'm glad I made a few real friends out of my myfriends.

I wish I could be funnier about this but my tube socks are too tight. Ow.

Hot Moms in the U.S.A.

So, in my morning Metro newslet, there was an article on the new tv show, Hottest Mom in America, in which the writer said that it's basically fuktup (and I agree, but I don't think this is any more fugtup than any other reality show), and that moms shouldn't be worried about hotness. The rules said that the age of the contestants could be anywhere from 18 to 60, Gilderman commented that 60-year-old moms had real problems.

When I went to the Hot Moms web site, I couldn't help noticing that fake boobs were prevalent among the contestants.

Here is my response:
----- Forwarded Message ----
From: me
To: thedatinglife@metro.us
Sent: Thursday, October 12, 2006 8:53:19 AM
Subject: Hot Moms?

Dear Mr. Gilderman:

Thank you for pointing out the insignificance of so-called "hotness" in a mother's life. Hopefully, your article will reach the desks of Ms. Jolie's, Ms. Witherspoon's, and Ms. Paltrow's respective publicists. I am sure, once they are informed, they will start eating Twinkies(R) and bow out gracefully. And you are completely right about sexy mothers at 60! I shall send letters to Catherine Deneuve, Jane Fonda and Susan Sarandon myself.

"Suki"

http://love-suki.blogspot.com
http://23rd-mandalation.net

the '70's returns.

I always heard the '70's would return. Not the cool, hippie '70's, but the nasty, long-haired balding aqua-velva gold chain "what's your sign,baby" '70's. And there it is. Living proof. Not only did this dude have all the aforementioned things in that list, but he also had streaks in his hair. Streaks!

Oh, man.

I always knew things would get bad if I got a camera phone.

Easy-Lay Crab Stuffed Shells.

Once again, I can't believe I haven't written in so long.

For an "Artist Date" (that is something that you spend time doing, just cuz you feel like it, just for fun) I made crab-stuffed shells for my boyfriend and his dad. They loved them so much, they were smacking their lips, and eating even after they were full. This is how you do it: when you go to the grocery store, grab the box of giant shells first--make sure it has the recipe for shells stuffed with cheese on the back.
Get all of the ingredients, but only buy 1/2 of the needed ricotta cheese (one container of it, instead of 2).

Then buy: 2 cans of white crab, plus a small onion, or 3 cans of white crab.

When you are ready to cook:
1. drain the cans of crabmeat, and, if you are using it--dice half the onion (that means chop it into as small pieces as you can without cutting your fingers off)
2. sautee the crab and if any, onion in butter for 3 minutes. set aside.
3. start following the directions on the back of the box. when you make the filling, add the sauteed crab (& onion?)
4. finish the recipe just the way it says on the box--timing/temp, everything.

Deeelish! If you want to make it a little extra seafoody, you can get a can of tiny shrimp to add to the sauce before baking, too.

yes, this was a bit of an aphrodisiac.

:)

Good Girl Sex vs. What I Like

Some people have asked me what good girl sex is.
Simply put, it's the sex your parents would want you to have:

no clothes, including "uniforms" (see below)
no handcuffs or rope
no vibrators or other machinery
no spanking or other implements of pain
no fantasy games
no pornography
in a bed
between 2 people who know and love each other
and lasts a half hour, including making out, etc.

I think I was bored of good girl sex around age 16. My boyfriend did me naked in the missionary position every day for a month. All I thought to myself, is this it? Is this what everyone's excited about?

For me, sex is also an art--and by that I also mean not just high quality in technique, but also a means of expression. So, I not only enjoy clothes, hand cuffs, games, public sex (yes, and at times with people I don't know) and porno (though I have, sworn off porno for months at a time) I also need some of these accessories to feel like I'm really express myself fully in this art form. Which isn't exactly "bad girl" sex-- a lot of religious people wouldn't like it, and certainly not what my parents would want for me.

But it's what makes me feel fulfilled as a person, so I try not to let other people's opinions bother me.

Night and Day. Saturday and Sunday.

Saturday turned out to be such a glamorous day...after
taking my boyfriend to Penn Station, and kissing one of the most
romantic goodbye kisses ever in a train station--that should've been
followed by me running after the departing train and waving, but
because of terrorism, non-ticket holders are not allowed on the
platform anymore, I got my own train ticket to Long Beach, Long Island.
The line for a ticket was long--about 20 minutes, and the people in
front of me--all, also heading points east, were gaggles of golfers and
bunches of the brawny beach set. I had never seen so many tan people
together at once. It made me feel...pale and alien. or perhaps like a
pale alien.

Although the line was long, the beach was long, and so was the island,
the train ride was relatively short: 45 minutes, and I was hugging my
friend, Jessica. We had been friends for 17 years now. After marching
up and down the main drag looking for an open Thai, then open Italian
restaurant, we landed at the "Global Cafe" or some such. Deeelish!
Jessica had an 8,000 calorie steak salad, and I had Japanese Pankar and
barbecue fries (fish n' chips).Afterward, for a surprise, she took me
for a mani-pedi and 10 minute backrub, and I said, "Jessica, you took
me out for my birthday and made me a year younger." Actually, it was
more like five years younger. (Toes "garnet" and fingers "Fed Up" which
matches my skin).



We went to the beach, and actually got into the water--the waves were
rough and I did some body surfing, but not before some Baywatch action.
The lifeguard supervisor's truck came, and the life guard frantically
blew his whistle. Everyone out of the water! Some people thought it
might be a shark. The lifeguard said they already had an emergency, but
no one was rescued. I thought it might be a crowd control exercise.
Guinea pig again!



After a few glasses of wine on the penthouse rooftop, complete with
gargoyles, I headed back to Manhattan in a run. I had to make my
friend's play reading of "Kryptonite Hearts." It was a costumed reading
about people who get a kinky high about pretending to be superheroes
(and the villains who like to be beaten by them.) It's too bad one of
my friends couldn't make it, but it was a packed house, anyway. After
that, dinner with the stars of the play, and back at my house by 12:30.
Strange ferry action on the way home: a group of 30 or so were singing
victory songs in Spanish or maybe Portuguese.  Some NY'ers got
really angry, and started chanting NOO YAHK! NOO YAHK! at them, like a
bunch of assholes.



Sunday, restless, and feeling the need to drink and have a laugh, I went to surprise my friend, Steve Bunche

at his job in Brooklyn. Surprise to me, though, was that his hours
changed, so I went for a walk. I think I became dehydrated with
low-glucose, because it became a very long walk:



Once I found some decent Spanish food at a restaurant my 2nd
husband and I were regulars at, I decided that cool air was better than
hot, that being in the dark movie theater was just the escape I needed
from the missing my boyfriend, and now my ex-... So I got on the train,
and went to the 20-plex nearest the ferry terminal:



By the time I got there--3 pm, nothing was playing but Clerks
II--and gee I didn't know if I'd get it without having seen
Clerks  I-- and so I hung out at the World Financial Center air
conditioning, with the well-paid tourist set and read a book on massage
so I can heal my boyfriends arms (and my shoulders) and ended up having
to run to the ferry to meet my kid.


That's it. And I still have my cold. And poison ivy.

Orgy Fun

I haven't been involved in anything like an orgy since I was a teen. Here's a group that sponsors orgies as "higher consciousness" events where you can learn about your barriers, overcome your fear of rejection (of all the people who will turn you down in your most sensitive state) etc., etc.

It might be good if you are single. If you go as a couple, be warned: someone will get more or better than the other, and all hell will break loose. Love/jealousy are ancient and intense energies. I would not fool with them.