Pow! Right In The Kisser

So, back to my twat. Twat tales, we'll call 'em. I know, I know, you're excited now. I'll pause a moment while you go get a cuppa coffee and a muffin.

Pause.

Pause.

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Okay. Now we're all set.

Saturday night was my 25th High School Reunion, as you'll recall from my previous post. Part of my "natural look" for the event involved having a professional face applied, and therefore I had an appointment at The Powder Room. I'd read about this place in a magazine some time ago and bookmarked it for special events needs, and lo and behold, I finally had a need.

While using the powder room at The Powder Room, I noticed this on the back of the toilet:

Bidet-in-a-Bottle starter kit?? And it was just out there, opened up for all guests to just give their twats a little squirt when they were finished up with their lady business. I especially loved the logo design:

There's no mistaking where the Sweet Spot is. Nope, it's right there - right in the Bermuda Triangle.

I pondered using it or not. It was sort of skeevy. I mean, it's public-consumption twat spray. That's a little intimate, isn't it? What if someone had actually touched their vagina lips with the bottle? Or really wedged it up there to get a squirt?

After a bit of an internal debate, I knew this would only have one outcome, and that of course I would have to give my vagina a refresher from the bidet-in-a-bottle. I gave it a few squirts. It felt good. Balanced. Right there in the old Sweet Spot.

Imbalance

I'm not mad anymore - hooray!! Maybe it had something to do with my hormones. Maybe. I'm not going to lay all the blame at my ovaries' doorstep, some of it must reside with Mr. Anderson, but my hormones have been a bit askance since March when I ... well... I ... sorta fucked them up. There! I said it! I'm taking some blame here! I'm all grown up now, I guess.

The fucking-up of the hormones all began with my cruise in March. I thought I'd outsmart my lady parts and "trick" them into not having a period while I was on vacation, so I started taking some old old old packets of birth control pills I had lying about. Good idea, right? Right? So I did that, and nothing's been quite the same since. The old trickster, that's me. Tricked it right into being more irrational than ever. Cause now, now I get very interesting mood swings and things seem more dire than EVER at times, but then it can be all "Oh, Joy!!" like it is today. Today the world is nice.

But today is also my 25th high school reunion. I'm happy my hormonal ovaries are in a nice place. I have no more time to write nonsense, I have to leave shortly to start my appointments for the Big Reveal that begins at 7 p.m. First stop, hair. Next, makeup. Next, outfit. Manicure. You know,my "natural" look.

As Facebook says, "It's Complicated"

I'm mad. I'm mad and I'm tired. I do not adapt to change well. I am in a love/hate relationship with my new Mac, with Mr. Anderson, with my job, with the house (always the house!), with the thought that I've squandered a beautiful summer day with a giant layer of mad that I've worn around like a polyester leisure suit. I know I should take it off, but I am just not ready to.

I broke up with Kenny on Facebook. That is, I've removed my relationship status. I don't want to be in a relationship today. Maybe not even tomorrow. Hell, maybe all week. You can't put a timeline on a good hard mad. Maybe you should, but I have been unsuccessful joking myself out of it, or even reading my books on being more Zen - fuck Zen. Where has Zen gotten me?

So there it is. Whatever it is you're doing, I hope it's more enjoyable than sitting around in a great big pile of mad, because it truly is a waste of a day. But knowing that isn't going to stop me.

Knee High By The Fourth of July

We spent the 4th of July in St. Louis, Missouri. Harrah's casino invited us to Come On Down, free airfare and hotel for 3 nights. I had grand plans to lay by the pool and read during the day, with some nighttime gaming action, see the St. Louis Arch, and do other touristy things. Then we got there and realized that it's not actually in St. Louis, but a 30-minute away suburb, with absolutely nothing else in the vicinity. No pool. Shit-hole closet they called a workout room. But the hotel rooms were nice and the casino was large. Good thing, we spent a lot of time in each.

We made some new friends, one couple who lives right down the street from us and it was a serendipitous moment. I had actually met the lady back in April while we were getting our nails done and we hit it off so well that I wanted to get her number then, but thought that might be creepy so we said goodbye and I figured that was that. But then she recognized me at the airport, told me she had been wishing we had exchanged numbers but SHE thought it would have been creepy, and we had a great three days together. We took a taxi to the little town called Old St. Charles. It was quaint and we shopped at stores that looked like this:

We watched at least twelve different firework shows booming bright from the rooftop of the hotel, drank beers, laughed with our friends and were proud and happy to be Americans, living in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.