Busted!

Ok, guys. You were pretty sure we had the ability to do it. You've wondered if it's ever happened to you. And you finally figured out how to use technology to prove it.

I don't know how I missed participating in this study. Wait, yeah I do. You had to provide your own partner. Dutch researchers used a scan to study brain activity during orgasm. It seems that large portions of a woman's brain shut down during orgasm, including those controlling movement. Meaning when we moan out your name and dig our fingernails into your back it's sub-conscious and involuntary. (To the men whose heads I've almost crushed between my legs while they were 'south of the border'...I told you it was involuntary!!). It also explains why women need a few seconds of down time afterward. Our brains have to switch back over voluntary control. Maybe that's why we like to cuddle afterward??

The participants were then asked to fake orgasm. The portion of the brain that controls movement lit up like a Christmas tree on the scan showing that the woman was thinking about what she was doing. Voila! Your proof finally in hand.

It still doesn't mean you'll be able to tell when it happens to you. But, as the portion of the brain that controls voluntary movement deactives during a real orgasm, if she jumps up and starts washing dishes immediately afterward....you probably have an Academy award winner on your hands.

For the record, no I haven't....ever. And I won't either. I figure if you can only hit a grounder to center field, I shouldn’t have to score it as a home run. Besides, after a while you’ll think you’re always hitting home runs when you’re really striking out at the plate.

As an aside, the study also determined that men must know they will be physically stimulated in order to orgasm. They needed a study to determine this???

Next Time I'll Throw A Parade

Traffic was heavy as I tried to pull out of the gym the other night. I waited my turn but it didn't let up enough for me to squeeze in. Finally, the light changed and a woman in a large SUV left a half car length of space for me to pull in. I nodded in appreciation and proceeded to pull into the lane. About 30 seconds passed before the woman started honking her horn, waving her hands wildly. It was fairly apparent to me that either she hadn't seen me nod or she expected me to throw a parade in her honor over her grand gesture of leaving me all of 4 feet of space to pull into. At this point, I could have appeased her by showing some sign of appreciation but I was too busy watching the show she provided by her antics. Her face now bright red from screaming vulgarities, still honking the horn and waving wildly. And finally a one finger salute that I'm pretty sure meant I was number one in her book. All this because she thought I didn't say thank you for being let into traffic.

The whole production started me thinking about what we expect when we do something nice for someone else. Random acts of kindness are our way of showing that we can still act civilized in society. Yet too often we perform them with an expectation of receiving something in return. When I hold a door open for someone whose hands are full, I don't expect to be thanked. Sure, it makes the feeling of helping others even sweeter but I don't do it for them. I do it for me. I do it because I like to know that in my hectic day I can take a few seconds out to help someone else. Shouldn't the feeling of doing something nice for someone else, especially for a total stranger be payment enough?

We Interrupt This Broadcast....

Yeah, I know I promised a post about drunken teens, fake hooters and daisy dukes at the concert. I'll get to it. My mind is elsewhere today.

I quit smoking last week...yes, cigarettes, not crack. I've wanted to do it for a while, tried several times and hadn't been successful. Between my family history of heart disease and the lung I kept trying to cough up I had enough reason to quit. But when the little princess who rules your world starts to mimic your smoking...it's time to stop for good. See Princess below...

I knew it would be hard I just wasn't aware of how hard it would be. There have been moments when I would have sold my soul for a cigarette. Hell, there have been moments when I would have sold your souls for a carton. I have a new found admiration for anyone that has kicked an addiction (and no, your $6 a day Starbucks habit doesn't count). If you've never done it I don't know that you can understand the cravings and I'm not really sure I can even explain them to you.

Anyway, I wanted to apologize for not commenting on your blogs like I normally do. The lack of nicotine has adversely affected my thought pattern. It resembles this now:

want a cigarette, want a cigarette, want a cigarette, damn I'm horny, want a
cigarette, want a cigarette, want a cigarette, oooo cookies, want a cigarette,
want a cigarette, want a cigarette, [cursing over latest source of
annoyance], want a cigarette, want a cigarette......

Evidently, the nicotine addiction was hiding my nymphomania, ability to eat large quantities of sugar, and the ability to cuss in 5 languages!!! Who knew?

Rednecks on a Train - Part Deux

Well, Blogger has decided that pics aren't necessary for this entry, so on we go...sans pics.

I strolled out to my car today and spotted something black on the floor of the backseat. As I bent over for closer inspection, I realized the object on the floor was my bra. Suddenly, the events of the night before came rushing back to me. Most strapless bras contain rubber around the edges to prevent accident slippage and runaway breast syndrome (where the little buggers jump ship and prepare to flee). After 8 hours confined in this contraption, I was dying to remove it. And did so....at a traffic light....in the middle of downtown Atlanta...much to the amusement of the man in the car next to me. His wife wasn't quite so amused. As Gary eluded previously, I stated I made it home safely. I did not state that all my clothes made it home in the same manner.

The ride on MARTA was actually fun. One word of caution: subway trains sway side to side during travel...kind of like a boat in rough seas...which was not really conducive to traveling with a bunch of drunks. Micki and I were fine as our buzz had worn off by then. However, the inebriation of the man in front of me was given away by his extremely bloodshot, half open eyes and his slow but comical reaction to the train's movements. I knew his eyes were bloodshot and half-open because he kept staring at me, unsuccessfully attempting to pull off that "how you doin" look while mumbling to himself. As we came to his stop he started to make that vurp gesture. You know...the kind where you're not sure if you're going to blow chunks or just burp? I'm just thankful he stumbled off the train before we got to see the finale.

We ate at the CNN center, which was sort of like a mall food court with access to the arena. I do have one question. This place has like 140 TVs all showing different CNN clips. I can understand why the volume isn't on but can someone explain why there were no subtitles or closed captioning? It would have been nice to understand what was being reported. {insert your own joke about media coverage here, I'm still to tired to be that witty} And they were selling 32 oz. beers for $5...what a bargain!!! Unfortunately, you can't take the cheap beer into the arena so we stood by the door still trying to down about 16 oz. of beer. Redneck rule #678 - They ain't no wasting no beer.

The concert was fan-tab-ulous. I've decided I need to download (legally, of course, Mr. FBI man) Dierks Bentley's CD. I didn't realize how many songs of his I knew...and liked. Kenny was like a mosquito on acid...I've never seen one person jump around so much. He sounded great and looked even better. I have a soft spot for singer/songwriters because of the passion displayed in their music. Plus, Kenny's about my age and never been married either (it doesn't count unless it lasts more than 2 months) so I identify with him and his I-want-to-settle-down-but-I'm-not-settling style of music. I'm pretty sure the many beers I consumed during the concert helped my singing voice as I appeared to be able to sing all the words to all the songs and scream "woooohooooo" at the top of my lungs without being told to shut up by the people around me. Of that, I must say I am proud! Fate did smile on me in the form of Uncle Kracker's appearance for about a half-hour set. I love that man's voice. I wish someone would give him a new recording contract.

This post has grown long enough....more about drunk teens, fake hooters, and daisy dukes later.

I Can't Tell If I'm Awake

or if I'm staring at the inside of my eyelids. We made it back to suburbia safely. Staying up later than usual I can deal with....I think those 32 oz. beers did me in though. I'll tell ya'll more once I actually wake up.

Rednecks on a Train

Big plans this weekend. Micki is coming up from south Georgia. We are spending Saturday night terrorizing her brother and his band at a local club and then Sunday night we will be with Kenny Chesney, Dierks Bentley and, if there is a higher power in charge of my life, Uncle Kracker will also show up. Someone may want to start feeding Mr. Chesney his vitamins now....he's going to need them. ;)

This is a weekend of firsts for me. This is the first concert I've seen at Phillips Arena. And, for the first time in 11+ years, I will actually ride the Atlanta rail system, aka Marta (slogan: ride Marta, it's smarta....no I'm not kidding). It should be an experience to say the least. I'm not so worried about the ride in as I am the ride home....2 half-plastered redneck women on a train. If no one ends up nekkid or in police custody it will be a good night. lol. Seriously, if it goes well I may actually venture downtown more often.

I'm sure I'll have much to tell on Monday. Have a great weekend!

Corporate Wisdom #578

Employee Satisfaction........

Subject entire staff to employee satisfaction survey to prove how wonderful the company is to its employees. When survey results indicate that the employees are not the happy little bees you thought they were, force middle management to brainstorm initiatives to ensure the next survey will yield better results. Tada! Announce to all employee's that they will only be eligible for their full raise and/or bonus if the results of the employee satisfaction survey increase by at least 5% each year.

Act surprised when subsequent employee satisfaction surveys result in 100% satisfaction!! Send email to staff announcing that this significant increase couldn't have happened without the hard work of the management staff and "please let them all know what you think of them".

Ummm, do you really want me to do that?????

The Leaning Tower of Garbage

I think humans must be on the verge of an evolutionary change. I used to be able to tell that the trash can in the kitchen was full, pull out the bag and place it in the container that I am forced to rent from the sanitation company for a bajillion dollars a month.

Lately, I've been overcome by a force that prohibits me from actually removing the bag from the trash can. Instead, when the can appears full, I put my hand in and squish down everything that's in there. I'll actually do this several times until the bag is so full that it requires a crane to remove it from the trash can. I've even found myself placing items (this week an empty 12 pack of Coke and a cracker box) on top of or beside the trash can simply because to place them in the trash can would fill the bag and I'd then be forced to remove it.

This is a new behavior for me. I've lived with roommates who exhibited this behavior and it irritated the crap out of me. I constantly removed the bag from the trash can and gathered up all the Coke cans, wrappers and whatever else landed on the floor due to lack of space in the actual trash bag and hauled it all out. I'm not sure what is driving me to do this now. I live alone so it's not like someone else will come behind me and magically remove the bag.

Is this evolutionary change happening in your house too? Have you figured out yet that I don't really have a post for today?

But Does It Work in Reality?

In my younger days, I went through a period where I thought friendships with benefits were the perfect situation. Needs were met without the drama associated with relationships. No worrying if he would call, if he heard me burp after downing that beer, what exactly he thinks of me…and all the other normal drama. Of course, it didn’t take long to figure out there were major flaws in my theory.

Sex, to the single person, is like eating Taco Bell. Once you’ve had it you want it all the time until you’ve had enough to tide you over for a while. After a while I realized that all that sex without attachments just left me longing for the attachments even more. Yes, it’s great to find a willing participant to have wild, monkey sex on the kitchen floor. But returning to an empty bed made the reality of being alone even harsher.

There also can be a certain amount of drama associated with these types of relationships. Sometimes one participant starts looking for attachments inside the relationship resulting in an end to the benefits and most often the friendship. So I made a solemn vow that sex without attachment was not on my agenda.

Which was a great idea…..in theory. And would work if there was a steady flow of committed partners in ones life. But without that flow, it just made for more cravings. We’ve already discussed BOB’s deficiencies. So where does that leave a girl? Is it possible to allow a friend certain benefits without ruining the friendship?

Enough Already

Please excuse me, but I'm going to rant for a few minutes. Before I do, I want to personally thank the people in the U.K. who foiled the latest terrorist plot. You deserve to be knighted.

Dear Mr. Terrorist:
I am sick and tired of you and your attacks. You're not scaring me. If I had the time I'd jump on a plane today just to thumb my nose at you. You're not making me convert to your religious beliefs. If anything, it makes my belief in God stronger. You're not making me change my 'capitalist' ways. I still have a strong desire to have a bigger car (have you not been reading my posts?), bigger house and make more money. I will go to work this morning and do what I need to in order to fulfill my desires. You have accomplished nothing.

The only thing you've proven to me is that you don't possess the ability to think independently of others. You swallow the propoganda handed to you like it's a life-sustaining pill. If you'll stop ingesting the hatred you'll see that people everywhere are basically the same...we're all just trying to live our life in the best way possible.

If you feel the need, keep planning your attacks. You're not changing anything...except maybe the time it takes me to get through the airport. It's ok, our men and women in uniform stuck out in the desert will take care of you soon enough.

In closing....feck off!

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack

Stop groaning. Seriously, thanks for everyone's kind words yesterday....and JD's slap in the face. He's right...he's always right...fecker. I was laying low because of someone else's psychosis which was wrong. I'm stronger than that. All better now. On with the post.....

I’ve been dating for about 15 years now. Sheesh, that sounds really bad. I’ve dated winners and losers. Ones that I’ve prayed would call and ones that I prayed would never call back. Everyone said “'it will happen when you stop looking" or "when you least expect it". I was always too busy looking or expecting to listen to them. Actually, I always thought it was a load of crap. Something people say to make the loveless feel better. Sort of like when mothers tell 1st time moms that labor doesn’t hurt that bad. Yeah...I’m not falling for that one either.

I made myself a promise recently, in case all the married people who gave me advice were really right, that when I scrapped the bottom of the barrel I would stop. Well, not stop dating but stop looking. I decided at that point I probably wouldn’t care about looking much longer. I hit rock bottom rather quickly after saying that. Evidently, Fate has a wicked sense of humor. So in keeping with my agreement, I've finally stopped looking. No more waiting for Mr. Right to magically appear across the gym, or in the grocery, or on the highway exit ramp….hey, I just said I’ve been at this for 15 years, I had to lower my standards a little...

Ok, Fate, I’m putting all my faith in you. **tapping fingers impatiently** You can send him any time now **more tapping** Seriously, just drop him at my doorstep. **loud, ticking noise** Do you hear that????????? It’s my biological clock…get on with it already!!!

Maybe this is God’s way of teaching me patience?

Bloggy Break

I'm taking a bloggy break for a few days. Things have gotten a little psychotic in my life (oh, if you only knew how true that statement is). Hang in there misfits....I'll be back in a few.

Miss you all!

Kill Bill Vol. IV....

...Or the story of how I met BOB.

Many moons ago, a boyfriend convinced me that I needed to buy a BOB...just for fun. Add a little spice...kick life up a notch. I wasn't really sure about it. I mean manual control was ok...but the thought of adding a few bells and whistles to the process did sound exciting. The boyfriend was a little upset that I left him at home while I went shopping but I knew that taking him with me meant getting what he wanted and not necessarily what I wanted. And let's face it....BOB should be all about what I want.

Shopping for BOB was a little overwhelming. There were more bells and whistles than I had ever imagined. Some looked realistic. Some moved. Some looked like they could bring you coffee in the morning. Some...well, I really wasn't sure what some did. Which one? Which one? Finally I settled on a bottom of the line BOB. My thought process being to try it out and then decide which bells and whistles would really make me sing Hallelujah. We'll call this model BILL to avoid confusion.

One day BILL's batteries died. Now I had changed BILL's batteries before...several times so this shouldn't have been an issue. I came home from the store and sat down on the couch, batteries in one hand, BILL in the other. I open BILL's innards and 2 batteries fall out. Certain that BILL required 3 batteries, I look inside. Sure enough, a battery was stuck at the top. Now, how do I get that out? Hmmm....I poked at the battery with a screwdriver. Nothing. Man, that thing was really stuck. *lightbulb appears* I'll tap BILL lightly on the coffee table. That should jar loose the battery. *tap, tap, tap* Still nothing. Well, if at first you don't succeed....tap harder. *WHACK, WHACK, WHACK* I tilted BILL up and something fell out at my feet. As I looked at the piece that had fallen out, a cold sweat poured over my body. Oooooh Nooooooooo!!!! Lying at my feet was BILL's little vibrating heart. I had killed BILL.

I placed BILL's little heart back in, as carefully as my shaking hands would allow, along with 2 fresh batteries. Poor BILL was never the same. He only vibrated when held at a certain angle and sounded like a truck that had downshifted one gear too many. Poor, poor BILL. *sob*

Life Lesson #8467 - never whack a BOB on the coffee table.

You Know It's Time To See Other People When....

As I brushed my teeth this morning I realized I was getting really turned on. I mean like wild, hot monkey sex turned on. Momentarily, I worried that I had somehow developed a sick dental fetish. Hmmm, my dentist isn’t male…so it’s not that. I am attracted to a nice smile but usually not my own…not that. Then, it occurred to me…the sound of my electric toothbrush is identical to the sound of BOB, my battery operated boyfriend who resides in the nightstand.

About the time I started my blog, I had ended a…ummm…relationship (for lack of a better term). It was pure drama. I was tired and needed a break so BOB and I settled in for a long winter’s nap. Ok, it was spring but you get the idea. BOB was wonderful. Always there when I need him. He knows exactly the right spots to hit. He understands if I’m just not in the mood. He’s ready for duty whether it’s been 4 minutes or 4 days since our last meeting. And…the best part…the only drama occurs when the batteries need charged.

It occurred to me this morning that I may be a little too attached to BOB. I think it may be time to start seeing other people. *sniff, sniff*

BOB, dearest…you’ve been a wonderful companion…but I think…well, I need someone with…strong hands to caress my soft, tan skin….someone who can kiss their way down my neck (yeah, like I was going to leave THAT out)….and well, the girls…they’ve been complaining about the lack of attention. They’d like
some caressing too. Oh, BOB *sob*, I do hope you’ll understand.