Communication Is…


…key in every relationship!

It doesn’t matter whether you’re talking about a personal, social, or business relationship, because if you don’t carefully word what is about to squeeze out of your lips, you’re probably going to get screwed.

What you say…better mean exactly what you mean, because words can be misconstrued so easily these days.

If you really want your partner to listen to every word you say…talk in your sleep. Most men will wake to the slightest verbage coming from a woman’s lips once they’re under the covers.

I’ve had a few beneath the duvet, sweaty, roll-about, night-night conversations that have only served to confuse my husband.

“Run….RUN…” (could simply mean I’m about to let one rip, or, the dog has gotten himself into yet another predicament!)

“Touch it and pull back a bloody stub…” (could mean just what it says aka: ‘Hands Off’…or…it could be a prolific hint not to wake me up!)

“That’s on sale, fantastic!” (all men hope to hear this come from their woman’s lips!)

“Oh…..Yes…yes….yes!” (this will keep them paralyzed as they wait for the rest, hoping you’ll whisper their name somewhere in the rest of that phrase.)

On the other, men usually respond best to eye-to-brain, or more likely eye-to-groin sensory tactics.

If you want your man to listen to you, just wear a low-cut top. For many years women have always complained that their man stares at them and never listens to them.

Sure…there’ll be no eye contact, but they’ll be mesmerised long enough to hear every word you say. I know this for a fact.

After years of being a cops and crime reporter, I realized this was the quickest way to ascertain many of the fine details about a case I’d be reporting on. The detectives would be mesmerized, completely enamored with the girls, and would pour their hearts out, which often times led to a phone call later asking me to delete certain information that should not be public yet! Yes, the girls can work their magic just about anywhere and anytime.

Funny thing though, if I ever asked any of these (mostly) male detectives what color my eyes were, they’d often reply, ‘black… with a hint of lace!’

Truthfully, when it comes to communication sometimes you think you’re talking to the wall.

Why?

Because sometimes you are talking to the wall.

For instance, if I ask someone if  they’re done with their dinner plate, they assume I’m waiting to get up and take it to the kitchen for them.

What that really mean is, get off your lazy damn ass and put it in the kitchen yourself!

Better yet, rinse it and put it in the dishwasher. If I wanted to be a maid, I’d go get a job at some luxury hotel who’d pay me to take your Goddamned plate, and I’d have access to all the free bedtime pillow-top chocolates as an added benefit to the job.

When I say WHAT during an argument, it does not mean that you need to answer. It probably means…you should stop talking. Or at least respond with one of three things.

“Honey, would you like to go out to dinner tonight?”

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

SAFEST BET:

“Honey, let me get you another glass of wine!”

Get it?

When I ask if you have laundry, ditto!

Oh communication is definitely the key to every relationship!

Women love to pontificate about daily happenings even if they’re about completely mundane topics. We like the warm and fuzzy feeling it gives us as we toss about useful and totally ridiculous information.

Men on the other hand keep a cool front. That’s why men are so quick to fall into bed with a woman, even on the first date, because it will usually bring about silence. This is also probably why men fall asleep immediately after sex. Once they’re placated all bets are off.

So don’t believe that bullshit that he won’t respect you if you have sex on the first date.

The worst thing a man can say in the heat of it is C.A.L.M. D.O.W.N!

Not only will this escalate the problem, it will likely be the catalyst for your sleeping on the couch for the next week or so.

Calm down in layman’s terms is the same as saying ‘Shut The Hell Up!’

I’d use this cautiously if I were you. But, if you have the balls to use it, be prepared for the consequences!

‘Chill Out’ is also another verbage that could land you in the dog house…literally!

Women who are told to ‘chill out’ usually do. Meaning, there ain’t no light at the end of the tunnel if you’re expecting a little sum-sum later on. It could lead to a long cold winter in the bedroom.

Oh yes! Words are a funny thing, and not necessarily in a good way!

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Bad Valentine’s Day Gifts (Part II)


I remember one year in particular when hubby brought home this tiny little, sweetly wrapped box. I was atwitter with anticipation.

I ripped off the wrapping and looked at the box.

Lip Plumper….

Mmm…………………….

Somewhere in the back of my mind, the child side of myself felt insulted, but being the nice girl that I am, I kept my tongue in check. Maybe it meant nothing, a harmful little gift he’d found out about from…..Mmm……………

I digress.

Now I know there is nothing sexier than those puffy pink lips that have become so famous, especially here in Hollywood. But Really? Really?

I accepted the gift graciously, then spent the next hour looking at my lips in the mirror, trying to figure out why they needed to be plumper. Apparently, I have inadequate lips. Bastard!

My theory in life has always been, ‘if a little is good then a lot would be better’! I mean, seriously, how much plumping can this stuff really do.

Well–some of us find out these lessons the hard way.

I decided to try it the next morning.

I work out early and usually look like crap so I thought, what the heck, let’s give this stuff a test run. I brushed a thick layer over my lips, then headed off to the gym. I work out at Curves (for obvious reasons–Actually, it’s just that I can’t afford the clothing you need to work out at 24-hour-fitness). The gals at my gym have no problem saying what’s on their mind. And under most circumstances I love this.

Anyway, about ten minutes into my routine, one of the gals said, “Pssst, you’ve got something on your chin.”

When I reached up to wipe whatever it was away, my finger poked my lip. WHAT? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

I got off the machine and dashed to the ladies room. When I looked in the mirror……there ‘IT’ was! My bottom lip had plumped so much it had taken over the lower part of my face. That would explain why every time I took a drink of water on the way to the gym it would trickle down my chin.

I looked like I was ready for my Hollywood debut on ‘Housewives Of Beverly Hills Surgeons’!

When I got home, I showed the hubby what a real lip plumber looked like.

He didn’t see it coming! Actually he couldn’t see anything for about a week until the swelling went down and he could open his eye.

~//~

Another year he got me one of those ‘Naughty Or Nice Masks’! I actually thought that was cute. It was soft, and pink, with fuzzy stuff all around the edges. What the hell I thought. Let the games begin.

The problem ended up being ‘the element of surprise’, thus brining out the naughty side of the gift!

I startle easily.

I could not see him.

I did not hear him.

When he touched me with his cold hand, my knee-jerk reaction put me in full Karate mode.

Doctor told him the cast would only be temporary–5- 6 weeks at most!

~//~

Last year, hubby came home unexpectedly in the middle of the day, so I decided to take things into my own hands.

I said, “Darlin, instead of a gift, let’s just play around!”

He lit up like a fucking firecracker.

Next thing I knew…………..we were playing 18 holes at the Country Club!!!

~//~

There were several other things that came and went in a flurry over the many years we’ve been married. Things like arousal oils, sexy books, and scents for the body. We’ve soaked in the tub of bubbles while drinking a ton of bubbles. We’ve lit candles in the bedroom, which is always romantic (except that one time the curtain caught on fire) . We’ve taken walks holding hands. We’ve dined out. We’ve stayed in after sending the kids off somewhere else just so we could have the house to ourselves. We’ve really tried to make the best of Valentines Day!

To be honest, I give him a lot of credit for his efforts. He is a romantic guy. Bless his heart. I do so love him!

But honesty, I think Valentines Day has become too commercial. The ads on TV, on billboards, in the newspapers and magazines, and on the radio are all about throwing cash at something that may or may not be appreciated. There’s too much pressure to please!

If only we could simplify this?

As the old saying goes…”No woman will ever be truly happy on Valentines Day unless she finds a man with a chocolate penis that ejaculates money!”

Sexual Napalm…


…is the latest catch phrase according to a new report.

Leave it to the Gen-X crowd to come up with that one. Obviously they have yet to be medicated, and secondly, they haven’t got a fucking clue about life yet.

Guys revealing their inner most desires when it comes to what turns them on is nothing new. Selfish bastards!

They say they like girls who go down on them because that doesn’t happen that often…

Excuse me while I puke?

Hello!

I call Bullshit on this one! Just ask the Hubby!

In my limited experience with dating, the first thing out of a guys mouth was definitely not my ‘gina’.

Maybe I missed the class in semaphore they offered in high school that said go here not there!

Another biggie that came to ‘light’ in this report is that guys like girls who like having sex with the lights on. Some said they’d like to do it under a spot light so they could see every inch of whom they were about to do.

AT MY AGE…

FUCK THAT!

Not only would this make me uncomfortable, I don’t know that I could suck my stomach in that long. My biggest complaint is that this ‘revelation time’ could add an extra hour to what should take under ten minutes.

Romantic Interlude under the SPOTLIGHT:

Me: “Are you done yet?”

Him: “I think you’re going to have to roll over one more time, I think I missed a spot. Can you move the light closer?”

I begrudgingly move the freaking light.

Me: “Why is this taking so long, are you fucking blind?”

Him: “I didn’t know it was going to take this long, okay?”

Me:“What are you saying?”

Him: “Ah…absolutely nothing!”

I begrudgingly roll over.

Him:Hmmmm…!”

Me: “What?”

Him: “Nothing!”

Me: “Then what was the hmmmm for?”

Him: “Do you want to walk in the morning?”

Me: “WHAT?……Why do you ask?”

Him: “I don’t know, just thought we could use some exercise.”

Me: “Bastard!”

Him: “What, I’m just sayin…”

Me: “I’ve got a suggestion too! Why don’t you just roll  yourself over and get some sleep.”

Him: “But?”

Me: “Nite, nite!”

Spotlight…my ass!

If hubby had to take that extra time to scan every part of me we’d probably end up not having sex.  With two kids still living at home our time’s limited to stolen moments so there will never be a spotlight in the bedroom. Besides that, I don’t want to always wonder whether this is another one of those obviously un-obvious fat checks?

At this juncture of my life the words ‘sexual napalm’ bring to mind my ever constant problem…my mid-life gas tank.

Now there’s sexual napalm I can relate to.

I’ve learned over the years to keep a spare pack of GasX in my bedside table in case I see that glint in hubby’s eyes. There’s a lot of things we let slide in our long time marriage but the passing of gas during a romantic interlude is not something we can let go. There has to be rules and this falls into the top ten.

This theory has been tested here and there, when on rare occasion we’d pull out ‘the book’ and try on a few Karma Sutra positions. Most of the time I’d just stare at the pictures completely dumbfounded. I’d sit there wondering whether, if even in my twenties I could ever accomplish some of these positions!

This is where you double up on the GasX!

I know last time we tried one of those convoluted twisted up, twirling, crazy ass positions it wasn’t exactly what I’d  call fun. Shortly after the paramedics left claiming that our dilemma did not constitute what they’d call an actual emergency…I put that book away.

If I want to look that ridiculous I’ll just dust off our Twister game so everyone can laugh their ass off!

I’ll tell you what sexual napalm is.

It’s when your guy takes out the garbage without you having to ask ten times. It’s when they don’t drop their clothes on the floor in their normal heap because they know you’ll go into  maid mode as soon as you get out of bed. It’s when they look at you ‘that’ way without you wondering if there’s something wrong with your hair/makeup/clothes/size. It’s when they see that little bit of cottage cheese hanging down at the bottom of your butt but they hold their tongue. It’s when they hold your hand when you least expect it. It’s when……………

Dear Ms. Le. Bido…


…I know you’ve had a lot on your mind over the years but I wanted you to know that I miss you terribly.

O M F’ing G do I miss you!

Oh and yes, if you’re wondering, Mr. Dick Wad misses you as well!

I know that for a long time you’ve been down in the dumps and tossed around like a cheap salad because I’ve been so busy with my life, but I just don’t understand why you’re not responding to any of my e-mails or calls?

I don’t remember abusing you or misusing you in any way so I just don’t get it!

I’ve been searching for you non-stop these past few years.

I’ve looked under the couch hoping maybe you’d somehow accidentally slipped out that night I had one to many tequila’s and slept with my legs askew. That would have been an easy fix since I could have just slipped you back inside and no one would have been the wiser.

But no, you were nowhere to be found!

I’ve looked in the back of my closet and inside all my boots thinking maybe you felt you needed a break and quietly slid down my leg that day I had to stand in line at Costco.

I have a vague memory of a horrible itch that day. I seem to recall it was really hot and my panties were making me uncomfortable, but it would have been too embarrassing to scratch ‘down there’ in public. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable , so again I apologize if you felt neglected.

I’ve searched and searched endlessly!

Hell, I’ve even scoured my underwear drawer several times hoping that perhaps you just got stuck on one of my thongs but my search proved fruitless. You have simply vanished.

I recently put up posters hoping that someone would recognize you and bring you home safe and sound, but apparently posting pictures of our atrophied ‘Ms. Gina’ is against the law here.

I found this out the hard way after two uniformed officers showed up at my house informing me that in order for me to continue putting up these posters I would have to add a pair of underwear to the picture to cover Ms. Gina and I wasn’t sure, since you’ve been gone so long, which underwear you would recognize.

It’s been a tough road without you, and although it’s far more work these days to get my mojo on, I persevere.

I’m still holding out hope that one of these days we’ll cross paths again.

Until we meet again,

Mom

**********************************

Dear Mom,

Whaa, whaa, whaa!

Here’s the deal. You’re very needy. I had to make a stand. My biggest beef is that I felt over worked.

Sex, sex, and more sex! Whoo Hoo for you!

Jesus Christ!

You never gave me a break so I did what I had to do. I slipped out the back door during one of your, ahem, midnight silent killers.

I knew this would be the only way I could make a clean exit. Well actually, I guess it wasn’t exactly clean in that sense, but your hubby was so busy trying to get the pillow over his head I knew you wouldn’t even notice my abscence.

Just to let you know, I plan on coming back some day, but it’s not going to happen any time soon. I NEED MORE TIME. You’ve worked me hard for the last 35 years or so, I think I deserve some time off for good behavior.

I know you’ve been trying to lure me back and I’m appalled at the depths to which you can sink.

That Horney Goat Weed shit was child’s play. You actually thought you could drug me into returning?

By the way I’m currently in rehab THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

You’re such a fool.

If you were serious about trying to get me back you might want to step on the treadmill once in a while. I hear exercise really helps.

And while we’re on the subject, perhaps you’ll consider one less shot of tequila at night. This fucks with your brain as well as mine.


These are not threats but, I want you to take me seriously!

I know what you said to Thing One and Two and you just don’t scare me anymore.  One and Two still speak to me and they agree with the exercise thing.

Your’s truly,

Ms. Le. Bido

*****************************

Dearest Bashing Bido,

You suck!

Please do not rush back for my sake…bitch!

You should know better than to bite the hand that feeds you!

You know who.

Hot sex…


…is something we all strive for. Who on earth wouldn’t? There’s absolutely nothing else like being immersed in someone else’s skin.

You know what I’m talking about. First you flirt, or ogle if that’s your style. Then you feel that little tingle start somewhere deep inside. Your toes start to curl up,  and then suddenly your body’s on fire. You’re entire being is pulsating like a giant time bomb. The anticipation of a good orgasm keeps you in the moment. You start the countdown 10, 9, 8…

You’re just about there when all of a sudden your mind wanders and you wonder whether or not you switched the laundry from the washer to the dryer…

Crap!

Hot sex to me is when I accidentally burn my finger cooking dinner and I start hopping around the kitchen screaming ‘fuck me, fuck me’ while I dash to the sink to run cold water over it.

Of course this could actually lead to hot sex because if hubby’s in the house and he here’s this gut wrenching scream, the next thing you know I hear him sprinting through the house to get to me. I’ve seen him actually breaks a sweat after maneuvering the furniture in the living room, running hurdle over the dining room chairs, where upon entering the kitchen I can see he’s already got his pants undone, and yep, there it is, the boner. Unfortunately, there are just some fuck me’s that cannot be resolved with anything short of cold water.

Now don’t get me wrong here. I am uber-grateful that after more than thirty-one years of marriage he still wants to jump my bones! He’s forever grabbing my ass at the most unpredictable times, and while this is all well and good, I often times wonder whether this is a sex thing or is he just checking to see if I’ve been working out or not.

Sometimes he’ll rub my shoulders only to let his hand wander down the front of my shirt. Sometimes I stop him and sometimes I don’t, it all depends on whether or not those little stray nipple hairs have been removed or not. It is not cool to have more hair on your chest than your husband. But all in all–it’s all good!

Yes, in my world, hot sex is something that happens when the air conditioner is not working. Oh there’s plenty of steam and sweat but I can’t actually say it’s caused by body movement.

There have been times when we’re engaged in ‘you know’ and I get caught up listening to my spine cracking every time I move. Yes, at my age, it seems like all my bones are a little cranky when put to the test. My hip bones doth protest on occasion too and I wonder if I’ll be stuck in that god awful position forever. I do not want to walk around looking like I just got off a horse after a day of riding bronco bulls.

I got an e-mail in my in-box the other day. You know the kind. The ones that randomly show up and peak your curiosity. Well I clicked on the link and low and behold I got schooled on how long a man can have an erection. Forty-eight to seventy-two hours is what they claim.

WTF?

Are there really men out there willing to walk around like that for two or three days in a row? Is this stuff safe? Does it come with a side order of nitro glycerin for your heart? I’ve seen all those televised ads for Cialis and Viagra and they always have a warning about “if you have an erection longer than four hours” you should contact your doctor. With this product if your doctor is not female and horny, what’s the point of seeing her?

What makes their ad particularly appealing to many consumers out there is that you can get absolutely shit-faced drunk and this stuff, ‘ViagPURE’, will still have the desired effect, and better yet it claims it can save a failing marriage and can make your sperm shoot farther and with more precision than an arrow leaving a spear gun.

Hellooooo!   Is the distance sperm can shoot something we give a lot of thought to? Mmmmmmmm! I guess I may have to ponder on whether there are actually any benefits to this.

Now unless you’re a famous golfer claiming ‘hole in ones all the time I don’t see the point. Or maybe, just once,  for two or three days I would ‘get’ the point and then wonder what’s the point.

It’s already bad enough that I don’t get enough sleep. I can’t imagine staying up for that many hours in a row just to wreak the benefits of this man enhancer, nor would I want to.

And what about the kids? Don’t you think they’d wonder where we were for those three days even though we were home the whole time? And how would we explain the bags under our eyes and the fact that once we emerged from wherever we’d hidden away that we could no longer move? That we actually might need medical intervention.

I don’t know, call me old-fashioned. I like a good romp in the hay but I don’t think my gina would be as acceptable to participating in this kind of marathon sex any more. Of course this would all boil down to whether I gave in to one of those middle of the night commercial I told you about earlier. You know…for VD–vaginal dryness. Maybe this is where that old adage comes in–the squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Now I’ve known a few men during my lifetime who proclaim they can go at it all night, but seventy-two hours under the best of circumstances seems, well, a little excessive to me–for anything.

I can’t help thinking that with all the blood running down there to keep that sinking ship alive, what the hell is keeping the rest of the boat floating? Doesn’t the rest of the body need some of that blood? But then again, women have always said that a man thinks with his dick so maybe the brain IS getting exactly all the blood it needs. I don’t know, call me crazy.

I say forget about a drug that keeps it up like the energizer bunny and instead just get one of those miniature life alert bracelets and attach it directly to the penis. You let your imagination run wild until a situation ‘arises’, the life alert goes off, and whammo.

“Oh honey….did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“It’s beeping.”

“Oh…I thought that was the oven timer.”

“No, it’s me, hurry up, turn off the oven. We’ve got about two minutes.”

“But it’s a souffle, it’ll deflate without the heat.”

“Yeah, well…so will this.”

Maybe I’m just old. I do not want to have sex for seventy-two hours in a row, nor do my hip bones.

Let’s be real hear.

If you have the ability to stay awake for several days in a row you’re probably still in your twenties and don’t need this shit anyway. If you’re an alcoholic in a failing marriage, hello, it’s probably not lack of sex that’s causing your marriage to fail.