Swinging Pillow Dicks and Other Adventures

One of The Boy's work friends is getting married on Wednesday and she very sweetly invited me to her bachelorette party last week. I thought that bachelor parties were all booze, cigars and hookers pretending to be strippers who only accepted you money for a hummer because they "thought you were cute" while bachelorette parties were more like baby showers but with lingerie.

Well not this one. When the bride-to-be first invited me to Darcelle's I thought it was a bar. I expected fruity drinks (which I had), tequila shots (which I had), and not-so-subtle comments about the bride- and groom-to-be's sex life (which were made, mostly by the "ladies" of the establishment).

Yeah,... Darcelle's is a drag show. I wasn't completely taken by surprise (thank you google) but it was definitely more than I was expecting. I think my favorite part was when the two "ladies" on stage flipped up their bright orange tiger print wrap dresses to reveal underpants with stuffed junk attached. That's right: someone sewed two sets of oversized men's dangly bits, stuffed them like a pillow, and attached them to underwear for drag queens. My sincerest hope is that it was their mothers or grandmothers. Such support.

After the show, which surprisingly did not include and Cher, we headed out without having really decided on a destination which I can tell you is always a mistake when you're in a group of drunk (or sober, really), fickle women.

Finally I took charge and, picking up on a rather revealing comment from the bride-to-be earlier in the evening, led the group to Cabaret, my favorite strip club that just happened to be a few blocks away. It was her first time at such a place but she liked it; the dancers were very attentive (as they tend to be when a group of women come in) and the bride found a dancer she really liked and who really REALLY liked her. Let's just say that many of the club's rules were broken that night, despite the fact that the owner was on site and wandering around the club's tiny premises.

Aside from a brief interlude where we attempted to go to the nearby gay club where we had heard there were male strippers*, we stayed at Cabaret for the rest of the night. When The Boy got off work he came downtown to pick me up (I had to work in the morning and was fading fast) and one of his other work friends insisted on buying him a dance from the bride's favorite girl. She invited me to watch and it quickly turned into a couple's dance. Like I said: there was definitely a lot of rule breaking going on, I'll spare you the sexy details.

After the dance we left and although I professed my stripper-kindled desire for The Boy on the whole ride home, when we arrived I found myself unfit for the task at hand and slowly, gracefully crashed face-first into my pillow, dead to the world.

But I made sure to make up for it when I got home from work the next day.


*They didn't let us in! We wanted to see those sexy gay men strutting their stuff in technicolor banana hammocks, but they claimed that one of the girls in the party was visibly intoxicated (which she was) and they couldn't let her in (which is crap). Oh well. Maybe next time.

Sleeping with a She-Bear

My first day of work left me completely exhausted; I fell into bed at about ten. According to The Boy, he woke me up when he got home to start up some sexy time (as requested) and was met with an angry sleepy bear. We had the following conversation (or something like it):

TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand over Boy's face*
TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand back on boy's face and pushes even less than half-heartedly*
TB: Honey? You said you wanted to have The Sex.
J: shhnarggle mmmph
TB: Do you not want to have The Sex?
J: mmmph mrrg
TB: Okay, well I'm going to leave you alone then.
J: nnnoh
TB: What was that?
J: ehhhh shhhed nnnoh

Ten Minutes Later (after many more questions and garbled responses*)

I sat up and swung my feet to the floor, needing (apparently) to pee. I sat there for a minute then slowly tipped sideways until I was laying down again, only now my head was at the wrong end. I then proceeded to snuggle his leg through the covers.**

J: ahhm cohwde
TB: What?
J: cohwde. winnoh opennn.
TB: The window is already open.
J: ahh knnnohh. iss cohwde.
TB: So come back up here and get under the covers.
J: kayyy. haf to pee.

I got up and peed with the door open*** and came back to bed, this time laying the right way. Here's where I start to remember things, although they're a bit fuzzy. I also became more coherent. I believe The Boy had shut the window.

J: It's cold.
TB: I know. Get under the covers.
J: Ugh; hot. Open the window.
TB: But I thought you were cold.
J: Covers hot. Window?

He rolled over to reach for the window.

J: Don't go!
TB: I'm just opening the window.
J: Ohhh kay.

He opened the window (or just opened it more; I'm still not clear on this). He slid down into the covers again and I snuggled up to him.

J: Sexy time? *snore*


It has to be said that I never once opened my eyes during any of this. I remember the later stuff (kind of) and am basing the rest off of what he told me this morning at the butt crack of dawn, which most likely means none of it is accurate (come on, did you see how tired I was last night? can you even imagine me this morning?).

Today I'm not so tired, but Tuesday is his hard (read: impossible) day at work, so I doubt there will be sexy time tonight. My prediction is coming tragically closer and closer to fulfillment. Pity me.


*I think The Boy may have been amusing himself at my expense.
**Allegedly. I don't remember any of this.
***I NEVER do this. I can't even pee in public restrooms if there's someone else in the room. Yes, I know I'm a freak.

No Time for Nookie

Tomorrow is my first day of work. Technically it's my first day of a two-week training period, but I get paid for it, so it counts. Unfortunately, the hours for training (and possibly my shift; we'll see) kind of suck. And by kind of suck I mean they're completely normal, but don't mesh well at all with The Boy's hours. In fact, I get off half an hour before he has to start work. Also, I have to be there early, which means I'm going to go to bed early, before The Boy even gets home.

I knew that we wouldn't be seeing much of each other the next couple of weeks, but I hadn't really thought about it until today. I mean, I knew we wouldn't get to hang out or eat together or anything, but I just realized what this scheduling conflict really means: when are we going to have time for sex?!

I am a sad, sad girl.