"Why do I end up with the weirdos?"

I have a friend who has a penchant for weirdos. Somehow she finds them. Or they find her.

Originally, I had planned to write an actual blog about this. Like, paragraphs, illustrations and everything. Instead, I'm just going to give you the notes. So here they go.

(this all happened last weekend, btw)

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-Ash and drunk guy
-blue hair (her hair, not him0
-in a band (emo) (him, not her)
-uses hair straightener
-drank almost an entire liter of vodka-ZELKO VODKA
-i spent the entire time worried he was going to puke on the carpet or my stuff
-at one point he sat up and said 'i'm not sure what's going on' LOVELY
-he was good with kids-it was one of his redeeming qualities
-we kept asking 'how much did you drink?'
-we couldn't tell if he was crying or giggling. they sounded the same. i dont know about my friend, but i can't be dtf with a dude like that

he got totally tanked and slammed his head into the glass coffee table. there was a loud crack. then, he hid under the blankets. like we would forget about his drunk ass or something.

at this point, he had a crazy mood swing and turned into a dick. he was getting belligerent and went from making little sense to absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever. i couldn't even figure it out and i speak drunken slurs fluently. he tried to kick my friend out of her apartment. then he kept asking 'what time is it?' and saying 'some people wanna sleep' but when she'd try to leave the living room he'd keep mumbling at her to come back.

what i've concluded based on this evening? i will never date a guy in an emo band, ever.

That awkward moment when you run into your ex and his new girlfriend says...

"Is she the one that used to do that thing?"

And you wonder...what is she talking about? I always assume the worst and take it to mean something sexual. You can say just about anything to me and for at least half a second I'll perceive it as sexual innuendo. I will either be extremely flattered or extremely freaked out. Both faces look the same so you won't know which emotion is racing through my head or loins. Its like I have a sex poker face or something.

So, given the ex it was-the ex I had when I was 18, this statement could have meant just about anything. I did a lot of crazy shit when I was 18 because I drank a lot and was a high school dropout which basically meant I had too much free time on my hands and little to no self-respect.

Did she mean the giggling during sex? The toe curling thing which almost always meant a cramp which meant tears-which were often mistaken for crying during sex...but it wasn't the sex itself that was making me cry! I swear! Did she mean the craving for crab rangoon almost immediately after orgasm? The time phase where I smoked lots of weed, had lots of sex and then binged on fritos and chocolate pudding?

Or was it something non-sexual, like "Is the the one that used to shake her head three times after meeting someone new so she'd remember their name?" Because I do that too.

What could it mean? Do other people assume their exes have discussed every detail of the previous sex life with their new partners? Am I weird for wanting to know where my partners have been and what they've done with them. I mean, I know I'm the best but if I"m not the first, I wanna know details.

At any rate, if it WAS sexual, I bet she was intimated when she saw my tits in real life.

Starbucks Controls My Sex Drive

Okay, I'm not totally sure if I'm right about this. Right now its just a theory that I'm developing but here goes:  I think Starbucks controls my sex drive.

When we were broke for those two months my husband was out of work, I cut back on a lot of things. But the one thing I couldn't give up was my Starbucks. I drank LESS but I just couldn't give it up completely.

Now, before you say:  you're stupid. Starbucks is expensive. Your cell phone was cut off, lemme just say:

I KNOW I HAVE A PROBLEM.

Starbucks is my crack. I can't help it. I mean, my apartment building is like a halfway house, everyone here is addicted to SOMETHING. Even my son. His addiction? Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan or whatever that show with the cartoon asian kid is. He can't get enough of that show. And I can't get enough of Skinny Iced Caramel Machiattos. I LOVE THEM. If I don't get one, I am in a terrible mood and I don't want to do anything. Especially have sex. If I don't get my daily intake of coffee my husband can kiss the mere idea of any nookie goodbye.

When we were broke, we had a lot of sex. My husband was home all the time, the house was clean, I was working all the time-thus I was near Starbucks. I drank INSANE amounts of Starbucks iced lattes. I had one in the morning. I had one in between shifts. I had one before closing the store at my second job. If I was walking around the mall on one of my breaks there was a good chance that I had either just finished an iced latte or I was on my way to getting a new one.

And when I got home, I would tackle my husband and we would have sex. Amazing sex, too, which was impressive because he only had one hand to work with.

I've noticed something;  I have gone two days with Starbucks. We have not had sex in two days. I have been irritable and my vagina does not want a penis near her. Coincidence? I think not.

"Yeah, touch it there." ..."WHAT?"

I do not have air conditioning.

Not even a window unit. I refuse to rack up that kind of electric bill. My bill is under $100 a month and I intend to keep it that way. Instead, we use window fans. These fans are great for two things. One, my neighbors seem to be afraid of them, so they don't come up to my window and talk to me anymore. Two, they make a lot of noise so my neighbors can't hear me when I'm having sex.

But they are also bad for two reasons:  I can't hear the tv so I have to crank it really loud. Sometimes the walls vibrate. Two, *I* can't hear me having sex because the fans are roaring so loudly.

Last night my husband and I were having sex and during missionary dirty talk is fine because I can sorta lip read what he's saying.

But doggy style...no fuckin' clue what he's saying. Can't hear a fuckin' THING. I know he's talking, though. Because like, there's the sound of his voice but I just can't make anything out.

So we're going at it and he's like, saying something that I'm sure is really dirty and hot and I have to turn around (and I am not the most graceful human being so I almost fell off the bed) and I'm like WHAT DID YOU SAY?

But I'm yelling loudly so he can hear my over the fans and he thinks I was turned off by what he said. So he's like "Oh...sorry. I just thought..."

Me:  No, no its cool. Whatever you said was cool. But what did you say?
HIM:  (sexy dirty talk)
Me:  *snicker* *giggle* (because YES, I am 23, have had sex thousands of times but I still crack up when a guy says 'balls.')

Then we went to bed.

This post was really bad. I'll make it funnier later.

How To Get Your Girlfriend or Wife to Give Great Head

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Cigarettes Turn Me On. Not Anymore.

My husband is a smoker. I used to be a smoker. I have my slip ups every now and then where I have the occasional drag but seriously, you can't blame me. I have a three year old, my husband is out of work on worker's comp, and I work retail. Cut me a break, sometimes I need a little release.

But my husband or should I say his cigarettes are ruining our sex life. I used to LIKE the taste of cigarettes on his mouth. Now, don't get me wrong-smoking is not sexy because its bad for you and blah blah blah you can get cancer and die and blah blah blah but being a former smoker myself, the taste of it turned me on because it was as close as I could get to smoking myself.

But we live in a crappy white trash area and something in the atmosphere is slowly turning us into white trash. And my husband started smoking Mavericks. Yeah. Really.

He went from Cowboy Killers-the sexiest cigarette on the planet-to Mavericks. Cool, its cheaper...but they're fucking disgusting.

They taste terrible. And brushing his teeth doesn't get the taste out of his mouth. This is a crisis. I don't want to kiss him. I have to find some way to get him to switch cigarette brands.

Before We Get To The Sex

I have to tell you something.

There is a ghost in my house. And he is a pervert.

My husband and I were getting it on (in this crazy position where I was like kinda on my side with one leg in the air and the other was behind my head-I dunno, whenever we have sex or I consume two shots of vodka I get really flexible) and I feel like something is watching me.

So I tell M. to hold on and he's like "You're not going to text K (best friend) are you?" Believe me, at that point, there wasn't much to talk about, so no.

So I put all my joints back into place and kinda do this little crawl in to the dining room and there's nothing there. Everything is just as it is. (Oh, yeah, we were fucking in the living room). So I start to shimmy back to the living room and all of a sudden three books just fall on the ground.

So not only is this ghost being a voyeur and watching us get it on, he's also trying to scare the hell out of me.

Bastard.

My First Time

I like to think that I am the type of girl that other girls can relate to. Really, that anyone can relate to. I am down to earth, sometimes a little stand off-ish, sometimes a little shy. I'm actually a lot like that Miley Cyrus song where she talks about how she's famous and that's great and all but really, she's just an ordinary girl who gets lazy and makes wishes and all that good crap. It describes me if you take out the part about being a girl 'cause actually, I'm a woman.

I'm a woman who has tried blogging but this is the first time I've ever had a goal. So-that's what my title means.

I am blogging about sex. I have always tried blogging about the daily day-to-day but honestly that's pretty boring and no one gives a crap about it. I am a 23 year old woman, married and I have a child. Now, that's very relatable, but its also quite dull.

I am also blogging to make money. I am blogging to make money so I can be an adult party consultant and so I can pay my way through college so I can become a sex therapist. That's right-one of those girls.

So, this is the first blog that I HAVE to keep up with. When I say I'm blogging like its my job, and experimenting with sexy like its my job, I mean it.

My husband is very excited. Please, tell your friends about this so I can go to school and have a real job that doesn't involve me talking about my vagina and dildoes.

Oh, by the way, my next blog will be about sex-not just about blogs that are about sex. Stay tunes.