How to get into my pants.

posted on 03/12/2010 by 22 Comments

I was going to call this post “How To Get Into A Woman’s Pants”, but then I realized that is very general, and women are different depending on personality, age, circumstances, etc.  Then I thought- okay I’ll call it “How To Get Into A Married Woman”s Pants”, but still too general, considering whether or not they have children, how many, how old, blah blah… But in general, I think men and women are very different. With guys, you get into their pants simply by unzipping them. I, however, need a little bit more.

In reality, this post is about how to get into my, personal pants. Someone who is married, staying at home with a child under 2, and exhausted most of the time. Although, ladies, if you feel the need to print it out and deliver it to your significant other- be my guest.

It’s funny how sometimes when you’re in a committed relationship for a long time, you start to take for granted that the sex will always be there. That you don’t have to work for it- or worse yet, that it is owed to you.

I admit to being a complicated gal, but there are some very simple things that will put me on the track to putting out.

  • Ask me how my day was. – That means you care. I realize that you actually have no idea what my days are like or what is going on in my life. That’s because you don’t ask. But there is a tricky part to this: you have to actually then listen when I tell you about my day. Nod, ask questions, feign interest- first date style. Actually that just leads me to my second point…
  • Listen when I speak. – No one likes to feel ignored. When I say anything (anything at all) I like to feel like I’m being heard. No grunting and nodding while playing with your iphone. Make eye contact!!  It is my personal opinion that men do not know how to multitask. If you are not looking at me and are doing something else, it is impossible that you’ve heard any of the words I just uttered.
  • If you use up the toilet paper, replace it with a fresh roll. – If I’ve had to drip dry, then I’m not feeling nice and fresh, which means you don’t get to go near what’s inside my underwear. If you don’t care about my vagina, why should I let you play with it.
  • Do something just for me. – Just a little something. Not something for the both of us, or for the family, or for the house… just me. I know you’re very busy, and there probably isn’t a lot of room on your list of “things to do” for me. But if there is no room for me on your list- there is probably no room for your penis in my vagina. PLEASE NOTE: the whole fresh roll of toilet paper thing doesn’t count here.
  • Get chatty. — If I haven’t seen you in a couple days, I wanna know what you’ve been up to. I need to feel close to you. Tell me you’ve missed me. I’m a stay at home mom- I don’t get a lot of adult conversation. Talk my ear off!! Then, maybe jump my bones.
  • Thank me. – Every once in a while, thank me for making you breakfast, lunch, and dinner. For ironing your clothes. For cleaning the house. For raising our son. I don’t get paid to do any of these things, so I should at least get some thanks. If  I feel like simply your maid or chef, I most certainly won’t feel like being your lover. (Unless there is a maid or chef costume involved, then- maybe).
  • Cuddle, damnit. – Hold me, touch me, caress me when you’re NOT TRYING TO GET INTO MY PANTS. There’s nothing hotter than knowing there is no motive behind a gentle touch.
  • Don’t make me feel like I owe it to you. — If I am not in the mood, don’t roll your eyes and sigh like when someone cuts you off on the highway. Just because I am your wife, it doesn’t mean I have to put out whenever you want it.  Perhaps ask if anything is wrong, or if I really am just too “exhausted”.  The ring on my finger is not connected to a nerve that leads directly to my clitoris.
  • Tell me I’m pretty. – Yes, I’m a girl and I like to hear it. Even when I don’t know how to graciously accept the compliment.
  • Let me get a freakin shower! – Volunteer to help with child watching in the morning so I can groom too. If I’m crusty and stinky, I’m not feeling sexy.
  • Magically create 1 hour in the day that I can have just to myself. — Okay, I know this last one may not be possible… but if it were, boy would we be doing it like bunnies.

For the most part, none of these things are hard to do. But I think sometimes, we get so caught up in the stress of our everyday lives, that it’s easy to forget simple things like eye contact, a thank you here and there, a gentle touch, common grooming…

Basically, don’t take me for granted. I’ve given up a lot to stay home and raise our family. I’m not asking for diamonds (although they are sparkly and pretty and I really, really like them). I just don’t want to feel that because we got married, it means we’re stuck with each other and you don’t have to care anymore.

The things listed above are about caring. Nothing makes me hornier than knowing that you love the crap outta me. If you can get most of them down… you’ll find I can be a bit of  a slut.

Read instructions first.

READ INSTRUCTIONS FIRST

posted in Life, Sex tagged with , 22 Comments

My sh*t smells like roses. Just ask my husband.

posted on 02/26/2010 by 34 Comments

So many things have kept me from posting on my blog lately- the main one being that my in- laws were in town.

Hot Nerd’s parents have always been super wonderful to me, but we have never had any kind of family stay in our abode before. We’ve never had the room before now. So, with four adults and one child under one roof, I didn’t really get the opportunity to lock myself away for some private bloggy time.

And boy, could I have used it.

Hot Nerd still had to work full time, and he’s pursuing his Master’s degree at night, so most of the time it was just me and Hot In-Laws traipsing around town. Now, there are about a hundred different reasons why it’s insane having a parental-type figure around twenty four seven. Especially after you’ve become a parent yourself. I, however, am not going to go into any of those reasons.

I have taken away something much more important from their little visit, and it is this:

My shit doesn’t stink. Or, at least it doesn’t have to.

Allow me to paint a picture for you, because, I oh so enjoy doing so-

*****

It is day 3 of the Hot In-Law invasion, and a Saturday, so I am lucky enough to have Hot Nerd in the house.  It’s mid-morning, and everyone is hopped up on coffee, with the exception of Bam Bam, who bounces off the walls naturally. Hot Nerd and his parents are talking over each other about something, VERY LOUDLY, and Bam Bam is jumping like a kangaroo on the luxurious air mattress they’re sleeping on. I, at this point, begin to feel a very sharp, twisty pain in what I believe to be my lower intestines. I then decide it is of utmost importance to announce  that I am “going to the potty”.  Basically, it’s my way of saying, “Nobody need anything from me for a minute, and somebody watch the kid.”

Now, I don’t know if I ate something I shouldn’t have, or if stress is causing my insides to bubble, but something is wrong- terribly wrong. Now, we have only one, very tiny bathroom. I’m not sure if I’ve got the sweats, or if the bathroom is still steamy from the three showers it endured earlier in the morning. Either way, I find it hard to breathe, and I am trying very hard to hold back the whimper that my stabby insides are causing.

I realize that I no longer hear anything out in the living room (our place is small, people). There is no jumping. There is no sound of grown ups talking over each other. I can feel the pressure building up in my body and I’m thinking “Why is the loudest family in the world so fucking quiet at this moment? My In Laws CANNOT hear what I’m about to do. For fuck’s sake, somebody make some noise.”

My heart starts beating unbelievably fast, and I reach over and turn the faucet on as high as it will go. Thank God for good water pressure.

I whimper. I groan.

I have no control over what comes out of me.

It did not feel good. It did not sound good. It certainly did not look good.

It smells of death.

At this point, I want to hide in the bathroom forever, but the smell would most surely kill me. So I spray a  little sweet smelling stuff, and open the useless, penitentiary sized window.

I tell myself that I am human, and everybody’s shit stinks. I take a deep breath, almost yack from the odor, lift my chin, and walk my mortified self out of the bathroom.

There is absolutely no one around. No one is even in the house.

For some reason, they had all gone to the backyard to look at something, or sit in the sun, or plant a tree- I don’t really know. But just as I’m about to thank my lucky stars, they all come marching back in.

Hot Father In-Law announces that it’s his turn to take a shower. I panic, knowing I’ve got to warn him. I can’t just let him walk into that smell. It’ll knock him to the floor. I muster up whatever bravery I can and say to the general air, “No one should go into the bathroom for a few minutes.”  The smile on my face is ridiculous. But Hot Father In-Law and Hot Mother In-Law are arguing over something and didn’t hear me.

Oh God, please don’t make me say it again louder.

But Hot Nerd has heard me!

He walks toward the bathroom and stops short. I can tell the wall of smell has hit him. He turns to me with that look that someone gets after they suck on a lime and whispers:

“Do we have any matches?”

“No”, I whisper back.

We run to the junk drawer in desperation, only to be disappointed.

Hot Nerd quickly grabs a lighter and some birthday candles instead.

I see Hot Father In-Law swing a towel over his shoulder and head for the bathroom.

Hot Nerd intercepts him and says frantically, “I really need to get in there before you shower, Dad.”

Hot Nerd goes in and… I don’t know, twiddles his thumbs?

When he doesn’t come out right away, I actually tear up as I start to realize what he’s doing.

He’s claiming my shit.

Now that’s love.

*****

So now the Hot In-Laws are gone, and we miss them already.  As far as they know, my shit smells like roses. At least that’s what I’ve always led everyone to believe, anyway.

I see no reason for it to be otherwise.

And I’ve learned a very important thing about my husband. Sure, he leaves his dirty socks on the floor and it drives me nuts. And yes, he’s picky about having the stupid crease down the middle of his pants when I iron his clothes. And he NEVER warns me when he farts.

But when it comes to the important things, like saving your wife from embarrassment in front of her in- laws…

He’ll pretend my shit is his any day.

Put that in your marriage vows, and you’re set.

I love you Hot Nerd.

posted in Life tagged with , , 34 Comments

What IS that scent you’re wearing?

posted on 01/18/2010 by 11 Comments

So…

We take a last minute flight to Florida to see Hot Nerd’s very ill grandmother. We rush to board the doggies, pack ourselves up haphazardly, wake up at 3am, apologize to the sleepy toddler as we shove milk into his hands and hightail it to LAX.

We are late. We almost miss our flight. We are too late to check in. We have to find a “red coat”. We have to beg and plead. We have to run. We run alot. We run,run,run.

Thank goodness we make it, because then we have a chance to almost miss our connecting flight.

After five hours on a plane with a very active, and very cranky, teething toddler- we decide to get some food (quickly) before our connecting flight. We are sleepy. We are slow. We eat slow. We argue about how slow we are being, and how to best be not-so-slow.

Hot Nerd and I split up to save time and decide to meet at the gate in a few minutes. My phone has died, and I don’t know what time it is.

I take Bam Bam to the restroom to change his diaper. It takes insanely longer than I ever thought possible. His pants get stuck on his shoes. He doesn’t want to lay down. He steps into the trash can- yup, steps off the changing table and right into the trash can, and I have to fish him out. We get changed, and somehow while holding him on my hip to wash my hands, his diaper moves to the side, and he pees all over himself and me. It doesn’t help that I plied him with water/apple juice during take off and landing to help the pressure in his ears. He let loose a monster pee. MONSTER.

Bam Bam’s left pant leg is entirely soaked in pee. My T shirt, and the tops of my jeans are also soaked. The monster pee has also found its way to the tops of my fuzzy boots. At the very instant that the warmth of urine stops spreading across my midsection, I hear a bellowing, male voice shout my first and last name from the ladies room entrance. I scream in reply, “What?”

About twenty women turn and stare at me.

“Get out here right now!  They are closing the doors!”

I look at my diaper bag and think of Bam Bam’s change of clothes inside…

“NOW!”

I screw the change of clothes and scurry out. On my way, a woman asks “Is that your dad?” I reply as I run out, “Nope… that’s my husband.”

He begins running, and I run right behind, angrily informing him about his son’s urine, and occasionally glancing down to see some of it still drip off the bottom of my shirt.

Apparently Hot Nerd had been begging airline personnel to hold the doors open for just a minute, as I was sure to return from the bathroom soon. They were not cooperative and gave him 90 seconds to find me, or get on the plane without me.

We run in at the last second, and they pretty much close it on our asses as we swoop through. We settle into our seats as quickly as possible and everyone is staring at us. Bam Bam gets his seat a little damp, but I change him right away before we take off.

As the plane starts accelerating, I begin to realize how absolutely gross I feel. My shirt is sticking to me in a very disgusting, wet T-shirt contest kind of way. I am sweating bullets from running at full speed with a 10 lb diaper bag slung over my shoulder, and a 35 lb toddler on my hip. It is at this hot and sticky moment that I begin to smell myself. I do not smell good. I can’t even remember if I put on deodorant (at 3 am, it’s likely I forgot). But that really doesn’t matter because the smell of  pee is starting to waft to my nose. I have no change of clothes, and simply fan myself, in an effort to cool off, and dry my shirt. It takes almost the full hour and a half flight to feel only slightly damp.

Note:  The only smell worse than fresh urine, is perhaps the smell of old, dry urine. Completely different smell, but not in a better way.

After we land, we go straight to the hospital because his grandmother is not doing too well, we don’t know how long she will last, and we’re certain our little boy will make her smile. An hour or two later, I’m only slightly annoyed at the faint smell of dry pee that I catch a whiff of  every ten minutes or so.

Presently, I sit here at Hot Nerd’s parent’s house- a day, a shower, and one laundry load later. We went to visit his grandmother again today. She is hanging in there, and no one is sure what will happen. We are happy we made this last minute decision to see her, and Hot Nerd-In Laws have always been super welcoming to me. I am positive that our visit is bringing the family some joy in this difficult and uncertain time.

I have however, since been peed on again- twice. We have never had a peeing issue before, so to have it happen three times in two days is weird. And I smell it everywhere. Every hour or so I get a whiff of some phantom, dried up urine smell. I smelled it at the park today and spent twenty minutes sniffing my child’s crotch, his shoes, his stroller, my shirt, the car seat, and my own clothes. I smelled it again while picking up dinner. I didn’t have my son with me at the time, so I am now convinced that it has either soaked into my pores somehow, or I somehow got some pee splashed up into my nose, and now I can’t get rid of it.

It hasn’t left me since we arrived in Florida.

“What IS that scent you’re wearing?”

I call it Little Boy Pee… and I wear it often.

posted in Life tagged with , , 11 Comments

Dear 2009,

posted on 12/30/2009 by 5 Comments

Dear 2009,

It seems weird to do this in a letter, but I can’t think of any other way to do it.  I need to tell you that it is over between us.  I think it has been over for a very long time. I was trying to stick it out, I don’t know why- maybe just to prove that I could. But all that did was bring me more pain and sorrow.

I’m done.

I don’t want to be “friends”. I don’t want to pretend to care about how you are doing. I honestly, just want you to go away. It may sound harsh- but I think it’s best if we just sever all ties, and go our separate ways.

In truth, you were an ass.

Don’t even pretend to be bewildered. I can just see you now, feigning astonishment as you read this. “Where is this coming from?”  “What did I do to deserve this?”

Yes, I’m not gonna lie- there were some good times, but the bad now seems to outweigh the good. I’m moving on, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

I had such high hopes for us in the begining. You swore President Obama into office to woo me, and it worked- I fell head over heels.
But then after a few months, things went sour. I felt like I didn’t know you anymore.  You were no longer the year I fell in love with. You seemed cruel, and without any cause.

In June, you almost paralyzed my dog.
My beautiful, little pup!

Thank goodness Hot Nerd and I paid thousands of dollars (that we did not have) to get her emergency spinal surgery. And thank goodness after that, and all the physical therapy I gave her, she was able to walk again. But she never did anything to you. And for that- you suck.

I should’ve known it would only get worse.

At the end of that very month, you really tried to squash my spirit. I suppose you wanted to strike in a way that was not overtly personal, but would still wound me.

You were clever.

You were ruthless.

You started killing my childhood.

On June 25th, you took both Michael Jackson, and Farrah Fawcett from the world. I admired Farrah as a little girl, and then years later as a woman, I was inspired by her fight to live life in spite of cancer.  Michael made me feel cool during so many adolescent, dark times, and was by far, one of the world’s greatest entertainers. I hated you for that.

You were so tricky, because just weeks later you made me BlogHer of the Week. Was that an apology? A smokescreen? A trick, to make me feel special and loved?

Just a month later you took the life of John Hughes (August 6th). His movies were stamped all over my teenage brain. He represents my angst and my innocence all in one.

How could you do that?

From then on, you became relentless…

And I know you remember this…

Hannah Montana- the movie.

No, don’t even bother trying to explain.

After that, you must have been a little drunk with power.  You thought it would be fun to burn over 160,557 acres of the Angeles National Forest. Is it because you knew there was a beautiful place in those mountains that had once given me such hope? Did you have to use the Station Fires to turn that place into piles of ash?

You then broke me with BALLOON BOY.  As a mother, I watched in terror for hours as that hot air balloon raced across the sky. My heart broke into a million pieces, when it finally landed and there was no little boy inside. We all knew it was likely he fell out, and most certainly couldn’t have survived that kind of fall. I couldn’t even imagine what his parents, Richard and Mayumi Heene, must have been feeling. I was ill. I called Hot Nerd in tears.

“He’s not there. He’s not in there. I think he fell out! Oh my God, they lost their little boy…”

Then, you bitch slapped me, pointed, and laughed.

It was all a fucking lie.

On top of that, you then moved us into the worst apartment on the face of the planet. Complete with fake faucet handles, broken doors, rusty water, and no working heat. After a month without heat, my baby boy got sick, I got sick, and you struck down Hot Nerd with the h1n1 virus.

I don’t know how I handled it. The tragedies, the illnesses, even the little day to day jabs from you. Endless parking tickets, broken washing machines, Octomom on TV, crazy smoke detectors, noisy neighbors, Jon and Kate,  tonsil stones, and stupid health insurance companies.

I was lucky to find an outlet in my blog, and an online community as well. But you were jealous of that and lashed out at them. You wanted to hurt the community, and you did.

Anissa Mayhew and her family suffered at the hands of your severe stroke. She is awake now, but has a long journey ahead of her. And Shellie Ross did not deserve to lose her two year old little boy. Nor does she deserve the onslaught of online mothers, who are criticizing her- a bereft mother, for being online herself.

So just stop it, 2009.

You and I are done.

I actually made this decision a while ago, and just couldn’t put it into words.

You must have sensed it, because I think you tried to lash out one last time with the strange passing of actress Brittany Murphy on December 20th. And then on the 28th, with a not- so- quick trip to the ER for Hot Nerd, myself, and half-crazed toddler in tow.

It’s sick. It’s mean. And I’m done with it.

Yes, if you must know, there is someone else. Or, more accurately, the hope of someone else.

This someone is named 2010.

And although we haven’t officially met yet, I think things look very promising.

So don’t write.

Don’t call.

And don’t apologize, because I wouldn’t believe you anyway. You’ve lied too many times.

You may, however, feel free to kiss my swaying ass as I walk away.

A couple days from now you’ll probably find me dancing in the arms of 2010.

But don’t try to approach us,

or say hi,

or even wave from a distance.

Because I’ll just pretend I don’t know you.

Goodbye.

Something better.

Something better.

posted in Life tagged with , , , , , , , , , 5 Comments

Happy Birthday To Me.

posted on 12/17/2009 by 5 Comments

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Today is my birthday. Birthday’s are different once you get older, get married, and become a parent. I have two loads of laundry waiting for me. I have to pack for our holiday trip, and the floor desperately needs a good mopping.  Not to mention,  Bam Bam just dumped the dog’s water bowl out onto the kitchen floor- not kidding, gotta go…

K, back.

Hot Nerd and I will go out to dinner tonight, and I will feel blessed to not have to cook. It won’t be too late of an evening because gawsh I’m so freakin’ tired from getting up at 6 am every day with Bam Bam, and running around with him all day. If I had my way- I would sleep all day- not because I’m depressed, but because sleep ROCKS! And I don’t get enough of it.

But I remember when birthdays were huge. The best day ever! Before you officially enter into a grown up life, with major grown up problems.  And I remember my last, best, birthday…

I wrote this years ago, and I thought I’d share it with you. It was written about how I spent my birthday (today) four years ago. The night my husband proposed to me.

It takes some audience participation, so take a breath, use your imagination, and come with me…

Imagine it’s your birthday.

It’s a treasure hunt.. a day filled with clues, gifts, and fun.

Now, I want you to imagine spending that day with your most favorite person in the world. Are you imagining??… good.

Now, pick three of your most favorite things to do. Now, imagine that for some magical reason, the whole world wants to make you feel special on your birthday. It’s like you’ve rubbed a genie bottle.

The first thing that you and your favorite person do is exactly what you would’ve wished for. Are you thinking of your first favorite thing?… good. Then, some random person hands you a card that leads you to believe there may be more good things in store for you today. Yes, a total stranger hands you a birthday card.

POOF! There you are doing another one of your most favorite things in the world. It’s another whole birthday present. Another wish come true.

What did you wish for this time? I hope it’s a good one. I hope it makes you feel like you’re an exquisite piece of the universal puzzle. Like you belong. Like you’re living life.

Just when you think it can’t get any better, another card is handed to you, and the genie wisks you and your loved one away to a third birthday suprise.

Imagine the third thing you picked. Imagine…. Now, add something grand to it. Just do it. A little touch that makes it just a little more glamorous. Something that you wouldn’t normally have thought of because it’s too exspensive, or indulgent. Do it… trust me, it’s awesome.

You’ve had the most special day of your life, and you spent it with the one person you would’ve wanted to. It’s time for the genie to leave, but you’re not dissapointed. You feel fantastic. You feel serene. You feel special. You feel so incredibly loved that you think you might burst.

You say goodbye to your magic birthday genie, but instead of dissapearing in a cloud of smoke, The genie morphs into the one person you’ve been with all day. And just when you ready to float to bed and have the sweetest dreamms you can imagine… You’re taken to a very special place…

Take a deep breath, and imagine…

Imagine a starlit sky…

Imagine a mountaintop view…

A path, lit with white candles…

Imagine that you were lucky enough to find a genie to grant you three wishes on your birthday. Anything that you wanted.

Now imagine realizing that your wishes aren’t over…

There is someone standing in front of you that wants to make all your wishes come true… always…

Imagine…

Imagine the warmest feeling you’ve ever had…

Imagine that the entire world, for one brief moment, was smiling at you.. the lucky one… the charmed one.. the most special person the world…

Imagine…

Hold that feeling…

Now take a slow, deep breath…

and multiply that feeling by ten.

I’m a lucky girl.


Sure, things are a little different now, when we’re struggling, have a small child, and can barely find the time to keep up with each other’s schedules.  But, my genie is still there. He’s got alot of grown up crap to take care of, and so do I.

What’s my wish this year??

To have my genie be there to grant my son his wishes. To make him feel like the most special person in the world, like I did that night. So I can watch his little face light up with glee…

Oh wait, look at that-

granted.

For me??

For me??

posted in Life tagged with , 5 Comments
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