Most days, I would rather write in my blog than create content for my job. But I love my job, adore and French kiss it in fact, and would do nothing to jeopardize losing it, or worse yet, becoming bad at it.
Metro State College in Denver requires students to take a “Health and Sexuality” course, complete with sweet, bespectacled, middle-aged woman demonstrating how to roll a condom on a banana (actually, they use a block of wood now; isn’t that absolutely ironical?). The class beget a funny conversation about dental dams. If you’re gonna go “there”, visit down south and stay awhile, the better choice is a partner that doesn’t require being wrapped in Saran to go to town. We also decided a sheet of Fruit Roll-Ups would be fun.
The fittest people eat. And eat often, five meals a day, maybe more, constantly stoking the belly fire for optimal metabolic rate. I start my day wanting only strong coffee with loads of soy milk. As hunger hits, the distractions come – the gym, a conference call for work, the cat threw up – and I move into the afternoon on Joe alone. Then a sensible dinner. My new personal trainer wants to bitch slap me. She may force feed oatmeal at some point soon.
I love wine. And vodka martinis, “dirty”, filthy vodka martinis. For all the working out and eating right, I can’t and won’t let go of my drink. Yes, it’s empty calories (see above), but I like how warm my belly feels with a glass of Pinot Noir in it, how touchy I get after a dirty.
I've never had anesthesia or major surgery. Knock-out juice scares me. However, I would and may have surgery to tuck my tummy (especially as I watch it respond to weight loss). Not all together for vanity, but I’m super conscious of it during sex. It’s the mostly hate in my love-hate body relationship. I have sex wearing baby dolls or slips for camouflage. Plus they’re cute, feel nice and make the tits look good.
Speaking of food (see I don’t eat, but am obsessed), there are nibbles I adore not because of the actual food “base” itself, but the delightful accompaniment. French onion soup is the best excuse to eats loads of hot bread and bubbly melted cheese. Crab legs and artichokes? Merely a butter delivery system.
I really like to flirt. And I’m good at it.
This blog title, like most, is a song, the third single released from Duran Duran's 1993 album, “Duran Duran”, popularly known as “The Wedding Album”. John was my favorite. Still is.
Back to work, my 9-to-5 lover awaits.