Bed Mates…

…means you’re about to, or are thinking about taking your relationship to another level.

But should you?

Are you sure you’re ready? Are you willing to give up your ‘I don’t have to answer to anyone’ lifestyle?

The answer may be yes in some cases and no in others.

So, say you’ve got a new Beau and you’re trying to decide if you should take your budding bond to the next level… to the bedroom. For sex. For intimate relations. For partnership. And last but not least, a non self-induced orgasm!

Sure, he’s hot! He’s got the Adonis body hidden beneath the layers of his clothing. (Which of course makes you double check yourself naked in the mirror whenever possible.)

His eyes look deep into yours and you feel that hot lava burn in your groin.

So there you are.

You’ve got two choices here.

You can sit there wondering if you’ve got a urinary tract infection……or…….you need to decide whether this guy is really turning you on? You’re on the fence and you don’t know which side you’re going to land on but you’re ready for something to happen!

I digress…

His lips beckon to be smothered by yours, and the sexy scenes playing out in your head make you want to high tail it back to your place. You want something hot between the sheets but you’re not sure you’re willing to throw in the towel on your hot water bottle just yet. You have to decide whether having hot skin versus your non-verbal companion is worth loosing your freedom over.

But there you are wondering is this guy really sex-mate material?

Great sex, at least the kind you want to have more than once with the same person, isn’t just about having skills. That kind of hotness between the sheets grows cold fast.

Really memorable partners are all about tuning into your needs and being willing to please in all the right places. This is the first test that will allow you to figure out if this guy is really into you or if he’s a complete selfish bastard.

Thankfully, there are some signs that will give you a little insight as to whether or not your new love interest is worthy of becoming your next lover.

Let’s see if your new hunk looks promising for the role.

First of all, a guy who opens the car door for you is showing you that he’s willing to be polite, at least for the moment. Sometimes he just wants to watch you get out of the car in that ‘far-too-short-skirt’ you decided on to taunt him with.

Best advice: don’t linger with your hand on the frame of the car because he’s already planning his next move, especially if he’s already glimpsed your undies during the car exit. Hey, it seems to work for celebrities.

It’s likely if you don’t move fast enough you might just lose a finger. His mind is on overdrive. He’s already embedded your lacy panties in his head. So pay attention to keep yourself from being an emergency room statistic.

His next move, if you’ve decided to dine together, will be to pull your chair out. What determines if this is great is based on whether he pulls the chair out first and then you sit, or whether he pulls the chair out as you sit. The latter will likely leave you flat-out on your ass on the floor in the middle of the restaurant. This is what determine’s whether or not he’s serious or whether he’s a perpetual jokester. Most women will prefer the gentleman side to the moronic prankster that may be lurking just below the surface. This is especially so now that people are dropping their health coverage due to economics.

So…maybe you’ve gotten through dinner unscathed.

What’s next?

You arrive home after the date. You’re sitting in the car wondering whether or not the first kiss is coming or whether or not you’re about to tell him ‘Adios Muchacho’. You turn so you can take a really good look at his puckering lips. You move in just close enough to determine whether there’s anything about his lips that, may in the long run, require medical attention down the road on your part. Okay, so you’re satisfied that there are no open wounds so you’re good to go. But is it a good idea? Was he what you thought he be? Did he treat you like you expected or did he leave you with a bad taste in your mouth?

This is where you have to decide whether to pucker up or not. This is where he’s deciding whether to fucker up or not!

He reaches over towards you. You close your eyes awaiting the lip smacker but realize he’s already run to first base on a bunt (dinner). Your nipple responds but your brain is screaming, ‘hey, wait just a bloody minute here groper!’

NOTE:  There is only one exception to this rule and that comes if you’re dating in your 50’s, 60’s or 70’s. Your date may very well have been going for your knee when he nicked the end of your breast, this is especially true when you’re sitting down. #gravitysucks

Does that touch mean he’s in it for the skin, or in it for the duration? If that ‘touch’ comes (A) too quick and too forcefully heading straight for your girls, then he’s in it for a possible one nighter. He’s looking for contact not content. If all you’re looking for is a ‘fuck buddy’ without all the trappings, then you’re well on your way if you stick with A.

If it’s (B) a slow move in, a caress, a touch of the hand, a stroke down your back (that stops before he hits the crack of your ass) he may already be thinking long-term. If you’re looking forward into the future, you might want to stick with B.

It’s decision time!

You’re in or you’re out!

What’s it going to be?

Were you looking for dinner and dancing? A stroll in the park holding hands? A few more stories under your belt before a toss beneath the sheets, or were you looking for a quickie that would satisfy your immediate wanton desires?

Are you willing to dive into the water without testing the temperature, or do you still have the life vest strapped securely around your torso?

So many bloody decisions, right?

Okay, so he may or may not have jumped the gun trying to run the bases before the ball has even been pitched, but you’re kind enough to let it go…


…because you’re still trying him on just as you would a new pair of shoes. You want to first determine whether they fit perfectly or whether they’re pinching the hell out of your toes together. Is the arch supporting you or letting your foot lay there sloppy and uncomfortable? Is he real leather or a cheap substitute? Is he a sharp pointy stiletto that may twist or break your ankle, or is he a strong, solid platform that will support you under the worst of circumstances?


The next thing you have to consider is consideration. If all he can do is talk about himself you’ll find very little room to shine. You’ll likely be competing for the mirror for the rest of your life. If however he asks you all about you before revealing one item about himself, there’s a good possibility that he’s actually thinking about you. He’s trying you on as well. Don’t kid yourself here, he’s probably checking out your lips too.

If you see a twinkle in his eye as he gazes into yours you’ll have to decide whether he truly likes you or is still buzzing from the alcohol he sipped at dinner. Like many men out there, alcohol may diminish the ability to get a hard on (or keep one) so this also factors in at this time.

(to be continued)


Now available on Amazon.

If you’re old school and like a book in your hand it’s available in paperback.

If you’re new school techie it’s also available on Kindle, and soon to be on nook (Barnes and Noble)






While most of the female baby boomers today are sweating it out, ranting and raving under the guise of Menopausal Madness, author Jacqui Brown has taken it one step further with her hilarious, guffaw-filled stories about surviving menopause in her new laugh out load book, “BITCH PLEASE!”


LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA – JUNE 19, 2012 –If you ever get the chance to meet this hilarious author, you would, without a doubt, never use the words shy or reserved to describe Jacqui Brown. Her work has been compared to the late, great Erma Bombeck only with a 21st Century, nothing is off limits, twist.


When faced with the inevitable, menopause, Brown turns the table perfectly on this mid-life trauma as she address’s issues such as broken down libidos, unrequited boners, her 50-year-oldish gastrointestinal catastrophes’, as well as all the other fabulously funny tribulations brought on by the change of life, and she does it with such humor you will find yourself first commiserating and then laughing out loud as you relate to each short story.


“Jacqui Brown is smart, funny and witty!” said friend and fellow comedienne Cynthia Gold. “Once I started reading this book I couldn’t put it down! It made my day!”


Brown is a former reporter, and has written several other books including a memoir “Dancing With The Devil” and it’s hilarious sequel “Recovery’s A Bitch!…as if menopause alone wasn’t bad enough!”


She is a mother, wife, comedienne, artist, and author extraordinaire, and as she likes to call herself, A Goddess of Menopause. Her humor knows no bounds when it come to telling tales about everyday occurrences brought on my ‘the curse of aging’. She lives in Sherman Oaks, California with her husband, two children, and her beloved Golden Retriever ‘Miles’.


This book is available on Amazon in Paperback and on Kindle.


For more information about “BITCH PLEASE!”, please visit or contact the author directly at (818) 288-0037 or by email @





…got it going on.

I see a lot of my friends on Facebook posting things like, ‘just had the most romantic evening laying about naked in front of the fireplace, drinking wine, having sexual relations with the hubby. So nice having the house to ourselves now’!

We tried that once, but after the kids complained for the umpteenth time that they were tired of stepping over us on the way to the kitchen, we had to put a kabosh on that one.

Another friend posted this one.  ‘I can’t believe how much I can get done in a day now that the kids are out on their own’!

Bite me! If I had the house to myself I could probably write a book a day! But no, I spend most of my time chasing after them to get things done, do homework, clean your room, blah, blah, blah!

I’ve tried everything to reach this point but I guess I’ve still got a few more years to go.

Last week I got so tired of the kids just hanging out at home doing nothing, where I work, clean, cook, pick up shit and answer constantly to my African spiritual name ‘MumCumHere’, I started making calls to see how I could get them out of the house sooner than later.

Ring, Ring…

Good Morning, Rapid Pest Control

Me:  Hello. I need to get rid of some pests.

Pest Control Operator:  Okay, we’ll be there in an hour. Is anyone still in the house?

Me:  No…..just the children!

Pest Control Operator:  Well Ma’am, they’ll have to get out of the house.

Me:  Why? There’d be no reason for you to come out then!


So that didn’t work, but I’m a woman of stamina. So long as I’ve got my tramp stamp in place (as in my estrogen patch) I can go at this for a long spell of time in order to reach my goal. I got out the yellow pages and started flipping through it until another number caught my eye.

Ring, Ring…

Good Morning, LA Adoption Services. How can I direct your call?

Me:  Are you looking for kids up for adoption?

Operator:  Um…yes ma’am, that’s what we do.

Me:  I have two that are available. I’m done with them now so they need a new place to stay so you can have them for free.

Operator:  Ma’am, are you alright?

Me: I will be once you take the children.

Operator: Um…

Me:  Look, I’ve already had a consult with an interior decorator. I need the oldest one’s bedroom. I’m converting it into an office for myself. Would you at least consider taking one at a time?

Operator:  Ma’am…exactly how old are your children?

Me:  25 and 18.


There were a few more calls made but seems like there are no takers out there.

Guess the only way they’re going to get out is going to happen the old fashioned way–over time!



…are such a trendy thing these days. Doesn’t matter whether you’re old or young, fat or skinny, rich or poor (although you can get a pretty bitchin’ tat if you’re loaded), male or female, the ink is flowing freely.

I’ve seen them on ankles, on elbows, on calves, on thighs, on arms, on fingers, on faces, on backs and on just about every body part there is.

Hubby has always been fond of the lower back tattoo. The Tramp Stamp as it’s more familiarly called. I’ve seen big ones, small ones, colorful ones and really, really stupid ones. Some have messages, some have pictures.

All in all I think the fact that you can’t see what the tattoo artist is doing while they are doing it is not so good. Sometimes what you ask for is not necessarily what you’ll end up with. Say you ask for a beautiful angel. Do you really want to walk around with a picture of Angeli Jolli hovering above your ass?

I have discovered though that after ingesting multiple glasses of alcohol, red wine in particular, one should not pick this moment to get a tattoo.

I decided to try one on, but not a permanent one. I’m a chicken shit and my experience with needles has always left me a little gun shy. I went for the henna tat, one that would eventually leave my body without any costly removal fees and pain.

“I’d like something different. I’m Canadian so maybe do something that would represent my country, make it something everyone loves,” I offer in the way of suggestion.

“Mmm…” That was his big response.


An hour later he stands back and admires his work. I can’t help but notice the shit-faced grin he’s sporting.

Another half-hour passes before I’m allowed to get up so the ink will be dry. He knots my t-shirt up around the middle of my back so it won’t brush on the tattoo.

I get up and walk over to the mirror to inspect his work.

“Very funny asshole!”

“Hey, you said Canadian and well loved. It don’t get any more like that than that!”

There staring back at me in the mirror was a tattoo of  the most perfect piece of bacon, Canadian bacon.


Since I couldn’t put my t-shirt down for at least another hour, I was forced to walk around with my normal back fat hanging out (ie: my muffin top previously hidden by my t-shirt) and now this semi-permanent bacon fat.

Again, I must reiterate.