All I’m sayin’ is, your tits are bigger than mine, sir, so if I’M not allowed to be topless in public, YOU shouldn’t be, either.
“Hey, Smug, how’s online dating going?”SO glad you asked, gentle reader!
This amuses me more than it should…
Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)
But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.
Talk Monday, shitheel.
^^^ This should all end well, right…?
A horrible ad has been popping up on my Pandora Radio lately, telling me, “This Valentine’s Day, give your man a not-so-subtle hint: Tell him to order flowers from Such-and-Such Place.”
Wow, what a spontaneous and romantic gesture that’ll be for me. Should I go select the exact bouquet I want and just send him a link, or does he at least get THAT much credit? Because OMG, men are SO clueless, amirite, ladies?!
I once had an ex tell me I “hint with a hammer,” because I usually just say what I want, but I’ve never pulled THAT shit.
Jesus Christ, if Valentine’s Day is that important to you, your Person should know to get your fucking flowers.
I like Valentine’s Day. When in a relationship, I personally like to spend it at home with a movie, pizza, and nudity, because I’ve generally felt loved every day in my relationships and don’t feel the need to make it such a Thing. (I am also cheap and lazy.) But still, I like love and celebrations thereof. I like flowers and hearts and pink crap and on-sale candy the next day.
But I hate the implication that all women are whoreticulturists and all men are inept.
…It’s possible I have too many feelings about this.
Via USA Today: Four Stars Bare All for Allure Annual Nude Issue.“For Minnie Driver, 44, the timing was right. ‘I never could have done this when I was 25. No way. All I saw were the flaws. I still see flaws, but I see what’s great more—and I’ve got a banging body.'”
Go on, girl, get it.
So I went to a sex shop last night. Like ya do.
And I think I figured out what I want for my next birthday. And how I want to decorate my apartment.
This is amazing. It’s like a Color Run. But instead of running, you get to roll around naked, which is just SO MUCH BETTER than running! You’re naked, and you throw paint on each other, and you tussle around on this blank canvas, and then it’s ART.
Fuck you, Degas — your silly little dancers totally should have done this.
Da Vinci, you bush-league bastard! Why didn’t YOU think of this?! Mona Lisa would have had a WAY bigger smile!
If you guys get this for me, and then also bring me a playmate (Wait! Make that an “artistic collaborator!”), I’ll SHOW you “Expressionism.” My birthday is in a couple of months. Make it so!
Oddly, the only time I’m NOT self-conscious about how my body looks is during sex. Because:
a) I don’t think my partner has enough blood in his brain to judge;
b) if he is judging, I’m reasonably sure he’s still delighted that a naked woman is writhing on top of him;
c) if he’s truly revolted by something, he can piss off, because he doesn’t deserve to be in me; and
d) anything either of our bodies is doing out of pure pleasure is AMAZING to watch.
This woman wrote this: “I do vaguely realize that I can’t be some kind of deformed unicorn, a rare and uniquely hideous creature fit only for sex that a medieval Catholic theologian would approve of. ”
And so now I must share this article with you all.
My date this weekend has been upgraded to an overnight-optional event.
I worried briefly about what I should wear to bed if I stay over. But then I remembered that I’m a girl and sleeping naked is the among the simplest and sexiest things I can do.