When Allie came to work for us, she insisted on submitting to a strip search before we began.
Inspect Me!
At this time, we invite our readers to submit the anticipated response– something about “lethal weapons” or “those things might go off!”
Well, the strip search WAS fun!!!
So, something interesting of note to me…and perhaps you’ll find me totally naive…but there’s A LOT of younger men out there who wanna get it on with an older woman? Perhaps they’ve been watching too much Desperate Housewives or The Housewives of Orange County or something. I don’t know…?
When I initially put my profile up on the dating site, I said I was looking for men 35 to 45 because that’s close to my age and I thought men in that range would be most interested in me. I did, however, note that I’d be willing to consider younger men if they were looking for something similar. So, the younger guys started sending me messages.
I met up with a couple of them and quickly learned they just are not for me. Sure, they’re hot. But, they just do not have the maturity level I’m interested in…and they don’t have the life experience either. The conversation mostly centered around sex and as hard as I tried to move it away, they always moved it back. Mostly, I think they just wanna tell their friends they banged a cougar or a MILF! I’m very clear on my profile that I don’t want to hook up. But, the two that I met definitely thought they were gonna get some that night…they didn’t…both said let’s go out again…and guess what? I didn’t hear from them again. I have no time for that kind of shit. And, thus the process begins of separating the boys from the men!
My profile no longer states that I’d consider younger men. This process is hard enough and I don’t need to waste my time with boys. I need a man!
In the great Wiki-type Dictionary in the sky, under the word “hoochie”, the name Amy Fisher should appear, at least as a footnote. The picture below is courtesy of Monsters and Critics.
If Not Her, Then Who?
Then again, given her criminal background and dubious past, maybe we’re not being fair to OUR hoochies, who haven’t shot anyone in the head ( as far as we know, anyway! )
Hey there, or should I say, Aloha? I think if you asked most people in the United States, they’d tell you that the place that they’d most like to retire would be Hawaii. Well, let’s just say one thing. Hawaii is a way of life and if you want to live there, you need to learn a little bit about the people and the language. It isn’t just about volcanoes, luaus, hula skirts and catching the perfect wave. Well, maybe it is a little bit about that, but you can’t enjoy it unless you adopt that aloha spirit first. So take off your clothes, work on that full body tan and sink your toes in the sand.
Want to look up my grass skirt? Want to see this wahine in her bikini? Well let me tell you a little about the 50th state in our union! Come in and join my luau. I promise you’ll get to see me sway my hips!
So, after MNIK, can Kajol be called the first true bollywood MILF? Off the top of my head, can’t think of anyone who has had a success like MNIK after having children and being cast in the leading role. Call it what you will, but the movie did collect over 100 crores worldwide, and this is only its first week.
Kajol was yummy, as usual. She always had a good set of knockers, not the nearly flat ones like a few going around today. She could do with a little work around the hips, but that can very definitely be overlooked. Her boobs seem to have grown, and she looks to have just the right amount of meat everywhere.
Can’t wait for this trend to catch on!! Here’s more power to you, MILFs of India!!
Greetings from 37,000 feet! Man, does Virgin America get it right! This is the only way to fly domestically. As much as I adore Sir Branson’s latest, let’s face it: Singapore Airlines A-380 International Cabin Class it isn’t. Unless there’s a rose petal-sprinkled, Pratesi-wrapped fold-out bed hiding in first class about which I am not aware. I’m here with a mini bottle of Karma Brut CA “Champie” (I sound like the Ladies Man- “I’m here with my Courvoisier…”), free Wi-Fi and violet mood lighting that has my current environs mistaken for my own private corner of the Boom Boom Room. And how amazing is it that I can watch an episode of Maury entitled “Before the Wedding I have Three Shocking Sex Secrets!?” Part of me hopes we never reach LAX.
Everything about air travel has always fascinated me. I don’t know if this is due to Mom’s frequent trips to New York during her pregnancy with me, “We’re Going On An Airplane Trip” being one of my favorite childhood reads (who needs “Good Night Moon” when you’ve got that and “Snow White in New York?”) or the fact that I flew PSA’s L.A. to San Diego route almost monthly as a tot so I had the reassurance that Grandpa and Grandpa were always a mere 25 minute plane ride away.
Speaking of PSA, remember those smiley faces on the noses of their 727’s and their fleet of stewardesses whose micromini dresses and Go-Go boot uniforms basically catalyzed sexual harassment prevention awareness? The first time my dad visited my mom since they had started dating, flying from Miami to L.A. was the hard part. All he had to do was find the PSA Terminal at LAX, fork over $6 for a one-way ticket and wait like 20 minutes for the next flight. Once airborne, he struck up a conversation with the guy in the next seat, who told my father that the purpose of his trip was to get lucky with one of the stewardesses. Apparently this gentleman made a monthly sport out of taking a short, inexpensive flight solely for a hospitable hook-up. Ah, the 70’s…
Having been born in the early 80’s, I’ve always felt I came into existence at the tail end of the 20th Century’s most defining period of social, cultural and technological innovation. I feel privileged to have at least experienced the denouement, especially in regard to the Jet Age. I remember my parents dressing me to the nines when we flew so that when I sauntered down the aisle of that Pan Am 747 or Eastern L10-11, I fit right in with all the men in suits. Even though air travel was pretty standard by then, flying was still kind of a big deal in a sociological respect. Maybe that’s why I collect vintage carry-ons from defunct airlines and wear them with a badge of honor. They remind me of how exciting and respectable air travel once was. My God, what I wouldn’t give to have experienced the Concorde! I pray our beloved supersonic jets will return to flight at some point in my lifetime. Enough of these flying buses already!
Though unrecognizable from what it once was, every aspect of air travel still invigorates me. A violent descent into West Palm Beach amidst a tropical storm a few years ago has turned me into somewhat of nervous Nellie, but I still find no sensation more exhilarating than revving the engines before that proceeding initial push into take-off. And there’s no better feeling in the world than when the plane hits the runway at LAX or Charles de Gaulle, and the knee-jerk reactionary thought of “Thank God, I’m home!” consumes me (I’ve never actually resided in Paris, but the City of Lights has always felt like home and I’m actually hoping it does become my temporary home at some point in 2010). Funny how after eight years in New York, I still don’t echo that sentiment upon touchdown at JFK. Then again, JFK does house my favorite building of all time, Eero Saarinen’s Space-Age masterpiece TWA terminal. Not that I don’t possess undying adoration for the Theme Building at my dear LAX. Argh…L.A. vs. New York is going to be the ongoing conflict that haunts me for eternity.
I don’t know what’s on TV in front of me, but the actress playing Selena Gomez’s mom (is it dirty that I know who Selena Gomez is?) is a total MILF. It’s officially time to divert my attention.
I tried to be irresponsible. I tried to be spontaneous. I tried to not be me.
And it felt good. Until it ended.
Spent the day thinking.
Questioning actions and motives.
Realizing that I’m not that person. I can’t ignore what I know I’ll think and feel like.
Feeling guilty, sad, and confused.
Radio silence between the ex and I has ended but what happened may have happened for the wrong reasons.
I can’t blame it on the alcohol because I wasn’t that drunk.
But it felt soooo good to talk to him. And even though it elevated to that level, I wasn’t uncomfortable with it like I thought I was going to be.
But my motives behind it probably weren’t what they should have been and now thinking about it I feel like shit. I fear he thinks I did it on purpose. He seems to think quite low of me. He thought I was more pissed that I didn’t get to blindside him rather than being completely destroyed that he cheated on me (again). He thought I was calling that tramp ass ho because I had too much time on my hands. He thinks I intentionally led him on to prove some sort of point. True the reasons behind it may not have been the best but I didn’t sit around and go “you know what…..I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do that…” It saddens me he thinks I would.
I guess my issue is I just don’t understand the process of “oh I’m horny” to “oh I’m gonna go online and cyber” to “oh I’m going to meet up with this person.”
And then I remember, he selected this woman. Ignoring the whole process, whatever bait he put out there brought in a lot of fish I’m sure and he chose to not only cheat on me but fulfill a long-time fantasy that I’d never be able to fufill (older woman). Ouch and ouch.
He says he’s sorry but I fear he still thinks his reasons for doing so (because I was going to break up with him) are justified. And if he still thinks that, then he’s not sorry for his actions. He’s sorry he got caught (again).
And even knowing all that, it still makes me happy to be on speaking terms with him. But I know this whole issue to going to come up over and over again though and I really don’t want to put him through that. Even though I wish it, even if he told me everything, I still wouldn’t get it. I still wouldn’t understand.
What kind of effed up situation only gets more confusing as you get more answers?
Ugh.
