No, I'm not dead. I'm writing...

Yeah, long time no blog. But no, I'm not dead, or dying, or even sick. (I'll thank those of you who know me that are snickering right now and thinking that you'd beg to differ on that last point, to stop. I wasn't speaking of my mental wellbeing, so there.) No, I'm fine. I've just been practicing BIC (Butt In Chair-C/O Alyson Noel). I'm coming up on the end of WIP 3 and have given myself a semi-doable deadline that realistically, I won't meet, but, I am trying. 


Anyhow, just wanted to let it be known that you didn't miss my obit. on FB or my funeral. Oh and if I don't get back for another week or more, Happy Early Turkey Day. May your turkey be filled with tasty tryptophan, your waistband elastic, and your holiday overflowing with wholesome goodness. Amen.


By the way, I think I'm rooting for the Lions, Saints, and Bengals this year...not that I'll watch much of any game because I plan to be in a food induced coma, but still.


Oh yeah, one last thing. I rock. :-p

How I Reclaimed My Virginity

A fellow Tweeter tweeted something tonight that prompted this post.

He said, "Someone stole my virginity."

I replied with, "I've reclaimed mine."

Then he asked, "Was it in the lost in found?"

No. It wasn't in the lost and found. Toast's husband had it.

See, here's what happened...

Against everyone's better judgement (I had none and had to rely on others for guidance, which I seldom listened to anyway), Toast's ex and I were kind of an item back in the days of my misspent youth, not that I'm watching my pennies very closely nowadays, but whatever. I thought he was the cat's meow (antiquated, or, making the best phrase revival EVER since Booyah? Which I hear is making a big comeback by the way...), everyone else thought he was a douche. Anyway, tragically long story short, I wasted five years of my sex life with him. (By the way, he doesn't even deserve one of the AAAs - alias, acronym, or abbreviation.)

Fast forward however many years...I really didn't keep track of how long it was before Toast and her now ex-husband got together. She and I weren't talking at the time due to some childish bullshit and misunderstanding, but I ran into --- one day at the beach and he told me they were together. What did I do upon hearing this information? Damned right I did...I threatened his fucking life if he ever hurt her.

Why? Because even though we hadn't spoken word one to each other for more than a year, I LOVE Toast. She's a part of me. And I knew him. She did, too, but we both gave he-who-is-undeserving-of-AAA the benefit of the doubt in thinking that maybe people can change. FAIL. Well, I take that back. From what I understand, they were pretty happy together for a few years, buuuut then, sadly, the inevitable happened. He fell of the fidelity wagon.

Obviously, since I previously stated that he's her ex, they got a divorce. And since we'd kissed and made up many years prior to that divorce (actually, even prior to their wedding), Toast gave me the green light to kick his ass. And believe me, I could totally take him (C'mon Toast, back me up here...I could, huh? Hey, remember that fight we got into down in TJ? Good times...) but, neither of us really wanted to waste any more of our time or effort on him (ironic that I'm writing a blog about the fucker, huh?) so I didn't hunt his weasel ass down.

Anyway, seeing as how I had threatened him physically years beforehand and was completely prepared to throw down if I ever saw him (still am, too, so bring it, you AAAless fuck) and simply because I rock, Toast and I decided, separately, that we'd take back what was ours in the divorce. I got my virginity, Toast got her pride, dignity, self-esteem, and, well, she essentially got her life back.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I say that I'm a virgin.

(Oh, by the way, Toast didn't get her virginity back in the divorce. If she wants it, she'll have to pay a visit to my cousin, D ... ;-p)

What's In a Name?

Well, quite a bit actually. And in my case, almost 15 years of wedded bliss.

I'm asked about this a lot so here's the story. I became His Lobster on Thursday February 1st, 1996. That was the original air date for the FRIENDS episode in which Phoebe explains her theory that Rachel is Ross' "Lobster". H and I had been married less than a month (after having only been dating for roughly 3 months, but that is an entirely different Blog story that I may or may not get to writing) when we sat down to watch our ritual Thursday night TV and we both felt as if Phoebe's theory applied to us. I know, but gimme a fuckin' break, we were but wee kidlets at the time...

Anyhoo, flash forward two weeks. Come on, I know you can do it. Math it out... Bingo. Valentine's Day. And it would be our first. Ever. Remember when I mentioned H and I had only been married a month or so after only dating for three? Yeah, well, little did I know it at the time, but H doesn't believe in Valentine's Day. He does make a good point though, calling it a travesty of a holiday, making women feel desperate and men feel obligated and ultimately, it just being Hallmark's way of lining its already overflowing wallet. But it might not have been a bad idea, per se, to stuff those acidic sentiments down deep and just suck it up this one time. You know, for his bride's sake. Or his marriage's. Or his dick's. So, what happened? Well, I'll tell you. Not a goddamned thing. Oh, I bought him a gift and planned a nice dinner, which he ate, but I got shit. Well, aside from H's aforementioned acidic sentiments about Cupid's holiday.

I'm not gonna get into details here, but suffice it to say that Newlywed Wars ensued. While in bed, H audibly wondered if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life and fought down his rising gorge at the thought, I cried myself to sleep thinking I'd married the most insensitive, egotistical asshole to have ever walked the planet (I hadn't heard of Obama yet) and neither of us got laid.

The next night, after having been coached in the "do's and dont's if you ever want a blow job from your wife again" area from a more seasoned, which is to say whipped, man, (H's buddy had been married eight whole months!) H apologized, gave me a gift of Sees Candy "Nuts & Chews" (no innuendo intended, they just happen to be called that and they're my favorite so stick a sock in it), silky pj's from Victoria's Secret, which I still have, and a card, which I still have as well. Yeah, the candy was consumed in record time (dark chocolate is an aphrodisiac by the way, and make-up sex is rad). The card was what did it though. And it was also where H put in writing for the first time that I was "His Lobster" and always would be regardless of what day it was on the calendar.

It's been almost 15 years since those two spontaneous and impetuous kids got married spur of the moment and then almost divorced just as quickly, but we're still together and I'm still His Lobster. The card is in a fireproof lock box along with our wedding certificate, proving we're not living in sin, and the birth certificates of our minions, which prove they're H's and not the milkman's.

And just as an example of how much I rock; I can still fit into those pj's. ;-)