tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44937394986137546632024-03-04T22:03:28.063-08:00A Girl's Guide to Groping and KissingThe Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-67254692366029895592010-11-11T20:31:00.000-08:002010-11-11T21:09:04.553-08:00All Fo Sho'I am in my big girl bed. I have my laptop balanced on my knees with a pile of papers surrounding me. I'm in my final year of law school, so there's this sense of peace and optimism about my life that I have never felt before. I get up in the mornings, make my green tea, get on the bus to go to school (with all these idiot teenagers), and I think "Yes! Hell yes. On my way to...Well, it doesn't matter where, but I'm on my way somewhere." I haven't felt this way in a long time. <br /><br />Which has led to to this other area of my life that seems to be totally lacking in anything glittery and new. Yes ladies and gents (if there are any gents out there reading), it is my relationships or lack there of. I made an ode in second year that I wouldn't think about it. I wouldn't even touch that area of my mind that thought "Man...he is smokin' hot" because I went there. I went there, and I got burned (please see October of 2009 where I professed to a guy that I liked him and received a resounding "Are you serious? I don't feel the same way...Ummmm...." We haven't talked since). <br /><br />The self-doubt was everywhere in 2009. It was about my hair, about my face, about my body, about my nose, about my teeth, about my (gulp!) personality. I decided that I needed to do a "man cleanse". I decided that I was done searching for someone and that it was time for HIM to search for ME. <br /><br />Giving up was easy-it involved me turning inward. Not going out. Sitting at home watching re-runs of Fraiser, going on solitary walks, reading books, etc. But alas, being alone blows. <br /><br />So, I decided to try the Mixers, the bar rights, etc. and my first experience was interesting...<br /><br />I went to this little event called the "Med/Law Mixer." Basically a mixer for med and law students...in hopes of creating the Crosby Show. It was not successful. But I haven't given up...So here I am putting it all out there for you to see!<br /><br />Wish me luck.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-58902121129356919662010-06-30T06:53:00.001-07:002010-06-30T12:15:03.951-07:00To cheat or not to cheat?<em>Ava says...</em><br /><br /><br /><br />Is it crazy for a woman to ask the question, "is it ever okay to cheat?" Don't get me wrong, things are still peachy in my paradise but I've always pondered whether there are situations where cheating can be justified or forgiven. Are you unhappy in the relationship? Having trouble communicating? Had one too many margaritas that night? Are these reasons cause for justification? For "forgiveness?" I guess that's debatable. Do we forgive and forget solely because of that age old fear that we just don't want to be alone....don't want to single.....again? I would lean towards this option. Maybe it's easier to try and rebuild the broken trust because it's harder or more stressful to find someone new.<br /><br /><br /><br />I've been cheated on. It was the worst feeling in the world knowing your man has been intimate with another while claiming to love you. You want details; how he touched them, did he kiss them the way he kisses you, did she cum? The level of trust you two once had is broken and it's really up in the air whether you'll get it back again. I forgave...I "forgot", but is it ever the same after the damage has been done?<br /><br /><br /><br />What's worse?<br /><br /><br /><br />Everyone's heard the argument of physical cheating vs. emotional cheating. Is one harder to move on from than the other? On the one hand, it was only sex. On the other hand, why did it have to happen in the first place?? Was I not enough? Did I not give him enough? yada yada. On the flipside emotional cheating is having genuine feelings for someone other than your current partner. I've been the cheated and it's been physical.....I moved on (tried to move on). It was only sex, I can forgive that. People make mistakes yada yada. However I'm thinking the emotional cheater would be more difficult to forget. Having real emotions for another person behind the back of the one you claim to love...I can't imagine how awful that would feel.<br /><br /><br /><br />Am I just naive? Can you ever really forget something like that? I could count my blessings and say that he wasn't in love with any of them. But there's the rub; if he was only in love with me then why get your hands dirty in the first place?The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-44501090518714440392009-10-17T14:59:00.001-07:002009-10-17T15:22:35.820-07:00Dear People In Relationships...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzHIsao7lVnxC-ixbCJTIdB6xXbD1X9zEitSJhmI5IxxO5yyV2xbDLh0td8rQijUUjirlXNo7HgyM3bHwlZlowXYb0-dtZDSOpIvOCV9PY0xKWKWc1Vca3FNm0YEcCBSm5WACCqz5mzpd/s1600-h/istock_000002269475xsmall.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 133px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393697813555665010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAzHIsao7lVnxC-ixbCJTIdB6xXbD1X9zEitSJhmI5IxxO5yyV2xbDLh0td8rQijUUjirlXNo7HgyM3bHwlZlowXYb0-dtZDSOpIvOCV9PY0xKWKWc1Vca3FNm0YEcCBSm5WACCqz5mzpd/s200/istock_000002269475xsmall.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><em>Anna says...</em></div><div> </div><div>Dear People In Relationships (excluding lovely Ava and Amelia),<br /><br />Please stop inviting me to things involving your boyfriends or girlfriends. Yes, yes, I know it's their birthday and it's the VERY last time night they will EVER be 25...but, to be honest with you, I'd rather shove a toothpick in my eye that catch a glimpse of you and your bf/gf making out or licking eachother while I try to enjoy my eighth martini of the evening.<br /><br />And! While, I'm writing this little note to you...I'd appreciate it (sincerely and deeply) if you would refrain from speaking about said bf/gf to me every time I run into you or speak to you on the phone. Honestly, I don't want know how hot the sex is (it really doesn't help when you're not getting some), or the fact that she's not spending enough time with you (might I suggest getting your own life?). And, just to let you know, when you say "God, I'm talking so much about him. I'm sorry..." your subconcious is giving you a signal to shut the fuck up. Follow it. For the sake of my sanity.<br /><br />Also, would you mind not giving me sympathetic glances while you cuddle on the couch? I mean, I'm really, REALLY trying to hold back the urge to pour my red wine all over your white see-through blouse and literally jab the jagged edges of my broken wine glass at your boyfriend's neck. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>While I'm at it, can I also inform you that the "Oh, you're leaving already" remarks at 2:00 AM make me want to scream. As much I LOVE and I mean LOVE hearing about your Euro-trash friends and your Euro-trash music, I would rather be sleeping or chugging sambuca straight from the bottle. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So, friends in relationships, although I know how much you just LOVE getting together for large gatherings of ALL your closest friends (where the single people in the room stare awkwardly at the interesting cracks in the walls while you give eachother handjobs under the table) please don't invite me. Really. I mean, come to think of it, you would be saving YOURSELVES the trouble! I mean, I tend to drink and stuff my face quite a bit when I feel uncomfortable, so just think of the money you'd be saving in booze and food alone. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>xoxo</div><br /><div>Anna</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>P.S. Do you mind forwarding this to your friends too? It really would save me the trouble. </div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-37599523241710949402009-10-16T06:19:00.001-07:002009-10-16T06:28:22.974-07:00Quick Coffee With Anna @ Starbucks.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00PfkP9mI9ewO7lhkTJ4ThWo8lLtcKBNi-U3U5Q1SeEXCw-a5CvWwt8AhUqeBopy6qIHhmOcSpRPHHwJIMRz68igiPcCLLcQl5V4A0Thgn6l1IKWgwP8ZiBpKFqUVpxhyphenhyphenMn-W7UOYwSt_/s1600-h/starbucks_cup.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 165px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393189123032909762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00PfkP9mI9ewO7lhkTJ4ThWo8lLtcKBNi-U3U5Q1SeEXCw-a5CvWwt8AhUqeBopy6qIHhmOcSpRPHHwJIMRz68igiPcCLLcQl5V4A0Thgn6l1IKWgwP8ZiBpKFqUVpxhyphenhyphenMn-W7UOYwSt_/s200/starbucks_cup.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Anna says...<br />I'm at Starbucks at the moment...10 minutes until class starts. I'm sipping a venti Passion Fruit tea on a leather couch. It's cold. I wish that I had an enormous throw to cover myself in because on a fall day like today...that's totally what a person needs...a warm blanket and something hot to drink. That's all I've got for erotica over here! I suffer from no imagination. It kind of sucks.<br /><br />This past week has been a haze of assignments, mid-terms and sweat. I haven't much time to think of relationships (which is a good thing because at this point the entire prospect makes me depressed).<br /><br />I had a meeting with a lawyer recently who talked about non-traditional legal careers. I was expecting her to tell all of us that there are other things you can do with a law degree...like join the circus...but really her whole message was "Bury yourself into your work. Become the law. Join every committee and say yes to every opportunity." So. I've decided to (attempt!) put sleep aside and get out there and meet new people. Will this get me a date? I have no idea. But perhaps the key is to stop looking and something will come along all on its own.<br /><br />Ta for now. Off to sit through a three hour class (while sipping my tea...basically the highlight of my day!).<br /><br />xoxo<br />Anna</div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-61018781082870667402009-10-14T21:34:00.000-07:002009-10-15T14:18:21.647-07:00Neurotica Part 2<a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/58/220279254_17c20cbec5.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 470px" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/58/220279254_17c20cbec5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em>Ava Says...</em><br /><em></em><br />So Amelia gave us her installment a couple months back and I found it so amusing I thought, <em>why not make it a regular column of sorts.</em> So here is my approach, for your reading pleasure.<br /><br />“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” He said taking her hand in his and pulling her close.<br /><br />She rolled her eyes. “Please, if Megan Fox was sitting in this living room I’m sure you’d trade up.”<br /><br />“Nonsense” he exclaimed. “I think you are the most attractive, seductive, intelligent, funny, and charming woman I’ve ever met and I thank my lucky stars every night that you chose me.”<br /><br />She turned her head away from him so to conceal the rosy flush surfacing on her cheeks.<br /><br />“Don’t shy away from me” he started. “I mean every word. When you blush with embarrassment, I fall even more in love with you. You are so sexy. I hope you know that you’re the only one for me; it infuriates me to know that other men have hurt you in the past. Although at least their shortcomings have brought you to me so I guess in our case I should be thanking those douche bags who have hurt you” He smiled and enveloped her supple lips in an explosive kiss.<br /><br />“I love the way you kiss me” She sighed. He smiled as his hands slowly trailed down to her ample bosom, gently caressing each mound.<br /><br />Soft moans escaped her lips as his hands continued to explore every inch of her body.<br /><br />“I love that you’re a real woman. I hate women who think starving themselves is attractive. You are perfect.”<br /><br />“Really?” She asked surprised.<br /><br />“Don’t sound so surprised” He said. “Real women have curves; there is nothing sexy about touching a bag of bones.”<br /><br />His hands continued to wander, trailing down her stomach, landing comfortably on her moist, aching butterfly. He stopped, smirking as he slid out from under her clutches.<br /><br />“Such a tease” She sighed slumping further into the couch.<br /><br />“As much as I would love to pleasure you all night long, I have to make us dinner first” He kissed her forehead.<br /><br />“Do you need any help” She called.<br /><br />“Oh no” he replied. “I’ll be rewarding myself by having my gorgeous girl for dessert. Oh, and don’t feel the need to return the favour, men don’t really like oral sex.”<br /><br />“Can I return the favour anyway?” She asked seductively.<br /><br />“As long as I can have you first and for as long as you can take it. Me? Two minutes is enough, I don’t want to take time away from you” He responded kissing her gently on the nose.<br /><br />“Deal” She replied.<br /><br />“Deal” He smiled as he tied an apron tightly around his muscular frame.<br /><br />"Picture perfect" She smiled.</div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-18190744659494634292009-10-14T20:11:00.001-07:002009-10-15T14:21:34.016-07:00Reason #374 Why I'm Not Making Babies<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Amelia says - </span><br /><br />Reason #97<br />I work with young adults who sometimes act like babies, sometimes could use some parenting, sometimes have babies of their own. And those babies are so vulnerable - they have no idea what kind of shit mom's been through, or how angry dad gets, or how easy it would be for both to screw up and that precious little baby family becomes broken beyond repair. I love those babies (both the adult and the new kind) and I will take them, bounce them, cuddle them, coo at them and then they puke in my face.<br /><br />Reason #132<br />I have a lovely relationship with my twat. We get along great. I treat it with respect and demand that others do as well. It's only fair you know.<br />I remember surprising the crap out of a guy once who asked me if I were a red head. I said I'd dyed my hair red but no. He asked for clarification (because he's apparently crude AND stupid) - "so the carpet doesn't match the drapes?" He looked to his buddies for their smirks of approval while I said "I don't have a carpet. I like hardwood floors."<br />Now seriously, if I am protective, loving and completely responsible to my twat, why on earth would I ever want to force a watermelon through it?<br /><br />Reason #256<br />When they're your babies, you can't give them back<br /><br />Reason #374<br />I don't want to have to explain that I don't know whose it is. I thought about this the other day when trying to calculate my next period. If it didn't come, I would have no idea who was responsible. And I don't think it would go over to well when I tried to explain to everyone that we'd just have to wait 9 months to see what color it was.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-51032991776114955822009-10-07T06:05:00.000-07:002009-10-07T06:30:49.729-07:00Japenis<span style="font-style: italic;">Amelia says - </span><br /><br />I've seen a lot of dick in my life. Some of it intentional, some of it not (whoops!). And seriously, my idea of "a lot" is probably much less than your's - except you Anna - I've probably seen more than you assume. I'm not saving myself for marriage and I don't believe that my virginity is my "self", and I do believe in test driving cars and men, and sometimes I just believe in fun. Case in point, I am very comfortable with my dick-seeing.<br /><br />I'm also in a point in my life that I'm very proud to be in. After my last relationship I felt kind of broken for a good chunk of time. And when I make a mental image of myself now, more often than not, I am ducked and covered. But I think that new protectiveness comes along with some self-awareness that I didn't have before. I'm ENJOYING being single. I'm not closing doors. I'm kind of seeing one guy - an artist - and I'm sleeping with another. And I'm happy. I know that the artist wants more, that he wants a relationship with me, he knows that I'm not ready but he's ready to give me whatever I need because I'm important to him. I know that I will probably never have more with the booty call. And I'm comfortable.<br /><br />The first time I slept with the artist - who is Japanese - he asked me "what do you think of Asian penis?" I jokingly said "you know, it does the job". But I was thinking - seriously, I don't think you have an Asian penis. I was ready for disappointment and it didn't happen. I've seen <span style="font-style: italic;">Cauc</span>-Asian penises that were smaller. The fourth time I slept with the artist he asked me "what is your favorite position?". I told him. The fifth time I slept with the artist we tried it. To no avail. I quickly suggested another position which disappointed him. He had wanted to enjoy my favorite with me. But with him, it was no longer a favorite. He said "I don't think we fit together". I balked - we're great together! We're hilarious! I love spending time with you! He said "physically".<br /><br />I guess we're made with bigger bits (or should I say bolts), us caucasian girls are. Realizing that was one of the hardest relationship issues I've ever been faced with. There was nothing I could do. My innards were just too long, my body too tall. Realizing that I was crying was one of the most surprising revelations I've had. This guy could hurt me! I am SERIOUSLY into him! I ducked and covered.<br /><br />We decided to keep seeing each other. That it worked before, it would work again, just not in certain positions and we may have to be creative. Creative is my middle name. Bring it on. But bring it slowly because I'm not quite ready to be seriously serious.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-62871213574223513652009-10-06T21:14:00.000-07:002009-10-08T11:17:02.187-07:00Gerard Butler...if only I could get in your pants...Anna says...<br /><br />I remember once being asked (in grade 11) by my psychology teacher "Anna, how many times do you think about sex a day?" I remember being moritified. THINK...ABOUT...<span style="font-size:78%;">SEX</span>?!?!? Me?? Of course not! I NEVER think about <span style="font-size:85%;">sex</span>. I mean, it crosses my mind, but really for for a fleeting moment...(ehemmmm...can we change the subject please???).<br /><br />Maybe I should clear something up. Just so that you know. Just so that we're all on the same page. I'm a 24 year or virgin. Yup. Nearing the cusp of actually being the 25 year old virgin soon. Funny, but I feel embarassed writing that even though I know I shouldn't. I mean, who cares? I don't think about <span style="font-size:78%;">sex</span> afterall (....).<br /><br />Okay. Question time. You're asking me why? A lot of reasons. I'm a practicing Christian (although I struggle with my faith weekly) which means that the 'big romp' only comes on your wedding night (in more ways that one...bodoomch). I'm East Indian which means that I come from an uberconservative East Indian family who thinks that if I ever did have sex (outside of being married) everyone in the mother country would eventually find out and the family reputation would be tarnished, no one would ever want 'used goods' (ha!) and I would be destined to be single and childless forever.<br /><br />I don't think about sex.<br /><br />That's a lie. I probably think about sex more than people who are actually HAVING sex. I'm curious... I wonder what it would feel like...Do you change afterwards? Is it like the sun explodes and you are never the same again? Does you mind become butterflies and fluffy cupcakes???<br /><br />Religiously, I've always been sold that at after that point that you become one person, one flesh. I like that idea. I like the idea of being fused emotionally and spiritually with someone. You can't share that bond with just anyone.<br /><br />I like the idea that a person would actually want to share something so personal and sacred with you. What a compliment.<br /><br />I'm romantasizing. I know, I know. Sex can happen without a spiritual connection. Sex can happen without an emotional bond. But something in me wants that bond. Something in my head wants the "first time" (oh the cliches!) to be awkward and clumsy...and for the person who I shared this bond with to still be there when I wake up in the morning...to still think that I'm beautiful with no makeup on and a head of hair that remembles a bird's nest...Who will love me. Just me. All that there would be is love. Pure love. No dirty jokes. No crude comments...just love.<br /><br />Can you imagine having that with someone? I can't. I cannot for the life of me imagine myself loving someone so much that it would literally hurt to see them leave. I cannot imagine waiting until the end of the day when I could see them again. Wonderful and painful.<br /><br /><br />So that's where I'm at. Very frank. But I'll keep you posted on my pro/con list. :)The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-86585301131295696562009-10-02T09:52:00.000-07:002009-10-02T09:57:50.241-07:00To the Exes in my life....<em>Ava says....</em><br /><em></em><br />We’ve grown up, we’ve grown apart, we’ve moved on. We may have lost touch purposely or by accident. We fell for someone else, we fell out of love with each other, we just weren’t the same. You used to be so cute, so sweet, so unbelievably amazing. Now you’re not but you are to someone else. Yet, I still think of you.<br /><br /><br />I learned things from you. I learned that who I was with you is someone I’ll never be again. I learned who I should be and who I have become now. I learned what I don’t want and what I do want in terms of a relationship. I learned what I want for my future and why, unfortunately, you can’t be a part of it. I learned that in many ways, I’m happier now. I learned the touches I like, the kisses I want and the positions I yearn for. I learned that trust, communication, and chemistry are the most important parts to a relationship. I learned when one disappears, how difficult it is to get it back again, if at all. I learned that I’m always willing to try until the trying becomes fruitless. I learned that I believe the best in people even if they hurt me. Fool me once, shame on you….fool me twice, shame on me. I learned to stick to my guns, love myself and believe that I am a fabulous femme who doesn’t need a relationship to be happy. I learned how to bury you and all your associated baggage. I learned I can move on with someone new without looking back too much.<br /><br />But sometimes I still think about you. I wonder how you’ve been. I wonder what you’re up to and whether you treat her any differently than you treated me. I’m sure you do. I think about your family and wish them well and wonder whether any of your dreams, desires, or aspirations we used to talk about has come true yet. I think about how we were each other’s “one before the one” and how maybe you’ve finally found your “one”. I realize it still hurts to say out loud. Although, I’m happy now…..the heart still misses what once was. I guess it’s the human condition.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-19039656368637654522009-09-21T17:35:00.000-07:002009-09-21T17:36:49.454-07:00That's what he said<em>Amelia says - </em><br /><em></em><br />You’re very cute when you’re tired and sleepy.<br />You’re like air. And some people think there’s nothing there but it’s everything and it’s so easy it can’t be anything but comfortable. You’re it.<br />I could say you’re like water but I don’t feel like I have to work at swimming with you, I just have to be and I love that.<br />You’re beautiful.<br />I want to eat you all day but my stomach will never get full. I always want more.<br />I don’t seem to be able to get enough of you.<br />I want to sleep with you just so I can wake up beside you.<br />Every little thing I do is much more fun with you. You’re a box of fantastic surprised!<br />It seems my heart beats a tiny bit faster when I think of you.<br />You don’t have to bring anything as long as you don’t forget to bring yourself.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-67520490750983723422009-09-18T08:50:00.000-07:002009-09-18T09:25:58.851-07:00Butterflies<em>Ava says...</em><br /><em></em><br />You know that feeling you get when you kiss him for the first time? Or when his hand "accidentally"grazes yours even though you know he was just trying to hold your hand and chickened out? Or when he looks at you and you can’t seem to stop smiling? It sort of feels like you need to vomit or that there are hundreds of fluttering butterflies taking refuge in your stomach. It might not sound all that appealing when describing it in words but really there’s nothing like it and no one should settle for anything less than vomit-inducing butterflies.<br /><br />It's hard to keep that feeling alive when you're in a long-term relationship. I was in a very (accent on the very), long term relationship and the butterflies disappeared far earlier than expected. It was my first relationship so really, I assumed it's just what happens when you stay with someone for so long. Don't get me wrong, I loved him very much but he was my first love and because I didn't have anything to compare him to, I figured it was normal. On the flipside, I've been dating my current boyfriend for just over a year now and still feel nauseous every time he touches me. This is the way it should be. Those butterflies are a surprisingly important part of a relationship. Your senses are heightened. Every touch, every kiss is just better. Every experience is special, they stay with you far longer and are the subject of many day dreams when you still have that feeling in the pit of your stomach. I can't believe I stayed in a relationship for so long without them.<br /><br />Now I know all of you cynicists would argue that I could still be in the "honeymoon" stage with my current beau and that if I stick around long enough, those butterflies will flutter away also. Call me an optimist but I really don't think so. I have a fluttering feeling that those butterflies won't fly away anytime soon.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-91630703846892148002009-09-05T13:19:00.000-07:002009-09-18T08:49:40.978-07:00Anything But Love<em>Amelia says...</em><br /><br />Do you know what an ABC party is? It's a party where you wear Anything But Clothes. I recently ended up at one of these parties in a recyclable grocery bag top and garbage bag skirt (talk about sweaty inside all that plastic). My accomplice - who I refer to as "Just Friends" - wore a potato sack, coming extremely close to revealing his nut sack. Not that I haven't seen it before. Once or twice, under 20 times, I swear. We're just friends. Who kiss in public when we're drunk and make out like 13 year olds when we're bored. But that's just to pass the time. I'm not into him - I don't have that feeling, that vibe, that thing that you can never put your finger on but makes the really special ones so flipping special ... we just have everything but. And really, so long as it's anything but, and within reasonable limits, bring it on.<br /><br />I went to eat Mexican food last night with a photographer pilot who changed our reservation from 6:30 to 7 without making sure I got the message that he left on the cell phone I don't have. It started out really well, I was half in the bag when he finally showed up. And he just wasn't as cute as I'd thought he was, and he wasn't as laid back as I'd hoped, or as open minded as I'd like, or as funny as I was looking for. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this guy except for the fact that he was into me, tried to hold my hand, and took it as a good sign when I agreed that I would maybe answer the phone if he called me to ask me out again tomorrow. I have no idea why not, but there is no way I am going. No, you can't make me, I won't do it.<br /><br />So what the fuck is wrong with me? I practically have a relationship with a guy who I refuse to admit I practically have a relationship with. I go on dates with guys who I refuse to see the good in. You'd think I want to stay single and just be on my own right? Then why does my chest ache when I see sappy movies? And in India, why did I tie a red thread to a grate in a mosque and wish to find my person to be happy with forever? Why do I go to bed wishing I had someone in my bed to curl up against, to feel their warmth, their body, and to give the same sense of security back to? Why do I want to fall in love but refuse to do it?The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-57577471809517503902009-08-17T19:54:00.000-07:002009-08-17T19:57:10.658-07:00Lessons On LonelinessAnna says...<br /><br />Here I am. It's the middle of August already and the summer seems almost like a flash of heat, sweat, rain and light. I spent my first summer away from home...away from my family and friends working for the man. That actually seems more depressing that it is. In all actuality, my summer was fantastic. I knit two scarves, I learned about wine, I learned to cook a few amazing dishes, I worked on my body, I went for walks, I tried new restaurants, I got some pretty good work experience, I met a few new people, I watched a ton of movies, I read a couple of books (more like magazines, but really what's the difference)...I cried myself to sleep only about three times (which really isn't that bad...I mean that’s like within 100 days of summer).<br /><br />I read somewhere that humans aren't meant to be lonely. We are meant to be social creatures. When we become solitary we get trapped in our minds and within our own fantasies. Suddenly the world doesn't seem so wonderful because your thoughts become more fascinating and superficial chit-chat with colleagues and acquaintances seems almost like a bother. I'm at that stage right now. I've become so trapped in my own little world...in this white house in Edmonton looking outside blaming them and not me...<br /><br />It's a lot easier when your alone...no one challenges you. You are always right, because you simply are. You enter the real world and when someone attempts to enter into a discussion with you on something that you have accepted as being a truth-you refuse to budge. Instead, you nod politely and wish you were alone to silently fume to yourself about their stupidity and ignorance.It's a dangerous place your mind.<br /><br />I cried myself to sleep on July 28th because I reached a low. It was 9:00 PM (or so) and I was in bed early. I had been invited out to a friend's house but decided I would rather be alone in my own bitterness. I started to feel that way...(do you know what I'm talking about?) when you are just plain frustrated with yourself. You're frustrated with how you feel. You're frustrated in the insignificant speck that you are in people’s lives and you realize how small and inconsequential you are and that you are most likely just a passing thought in your friends' and family's minds.<br /><br />So I cried. I sobbed into my pillow for about 15 minutes (loudly because no one could hear me) and then turned on "The Holiday"-the scene where Kate Winslet in her little cottage in the U.K. to remind me that it’s okay to feel like crap sometimes.<br /><br />I started talking to my 30 and older friends and family about loneliness. They all agreed that it is phase that everyone must go through, kind of like a rite of passage. Being 24, I have no answers for you. I am lonely. My weekends consist of me going out to get groceries and quickly running back to the comfort of my own home.<br /><br />I don't feel depressed, but sometimes at night...when I start to feel it...I start imagining what it would feel like for someone to hug me (isn't that pathetic?) or what it would be like to hold a baby in my arms (even more pathetic because having children is the furthest thing from my mind) but closeness, warmth, connection (and not in a sexual or romantic way) is something that I long for. Maybe it’s the woman in me, but I have the feeling that it’s more like the human in me. I can't wait to come home and get hugs and give hugs. CHEERS TO HUGS!!!The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-44364998685065057522009-08-11T19:44:00.000-07:002009-08-11T20:30:50.485-07:00I lost it to Kenny G<span style="font-style: italic;">Amelia says - </span><br /><br />And ever since there has been a string of men coming (cuming?) in and out of my life. I know, I'm often cruder than there is any need to be. They come with more and less interesting names than Kenny G did (not the singer - I do have standards). Like Demba (mmm .... favorite name, favorite face to go with it. Fuck he was beautiful) and ... Joel (favorite body, it's a shame he's a stripper with no brains).<br /><br />I got stuck a few times. For progressively longer periods with guys who were progressively imperfectly suited to me. Shit hey?<br /><br />And now I'm jaded and protective. While that's a fun place to be (sometimes), I'm not sure it's the kindest.<br /><br />So I plow through them ... enjoying myself as often as possible along the way. Because I really do enjoy enjoyment, but if it isn't happening, I really will rip your head off and eat you alive. And now I'm on my second Sean (who I'm really into but in denial about), Ryan (a friend I sleep with when I'm bored), Jay (a friend of a friend I sleep with when I'm drunk), and Jerr (who I've yet to have a successful date with but who I'm strangely attracted to (at least physically - what?! the physical ISN'T all that matters?!) nonetheless.<br /><br />(I didn't mean to but this seems to have turned into a post (host) of asides).The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-38827300401644807692009-08-06T11:35:00.000-07:002009-08-06T11:52:51.962-07:00He told me he loved me, I puked my guts up<em>Amelia says - </em><br /><br />My ex and I keep in touch - ish. About every 3 months or so I'll give him a call or he'll call me just to check in and see how the other is doing. We say we're going to meet up for coffee or something and then I consider my job done and forget about it until 3 months or so later when I figure it's time to give him another call.<br /><br />But this time he called me on it. He asked me if I was ever really going to get together with him. I felt like a dick. So I said yes! Of course! Let's go to dinner next week. How about Monday?<br /><br />So we went for dinner. At my favorite restaurant. A little Vietnamese place complete with bubble tea and all. Which I drank with my chow mein. And then I started to feel sick. I thought I'd just eaten too much so agreed to go for a walk with him. We started walking toward my house and I started to feel progressively sicker. So I said "walk faster. Just get me home without puking on myself ok?".<br /><br />I made it so close. So close. I made it as far as the building next door to my house before I was bent over, one hand on the wall holding me up, puking pink noodles all over the place. He stood behind me rubbing my back and discretely stepping backward so I wouldn't vomit on his shoes. I managed to hold it down for a sec which I used to say "nice to see you bye!" and ran into my house.<br /><br />That evening he called me. How nice. To see if I felt ok. To tell me that it was nice to see me. To tell me that seeing me brought up old memories. To tell me that he loves me. I'd successfully avoided a guy for 3 years and finally gave in and saw him and that's what I get?! Wasn't my behaviour poor enough to guarantee my safety from awkward situations like this? So I nicely told him that I didn't want to lie to him, because I thought that would only hurt him, and I just didn't feel it.<br /><br />Now, when we are rejected, we have two options. One is to take it gracefully, or as gracefully as possible, and move on. The other, is to dig your heels in and fight. He fought. He asked me repeatedly why we couldn't be together. I explained repeatedly that I just didn't feel any chemistry any more. In my head I wished as loudly as I could for my roomate to come home, for someone else to call, for the apartment to catch on fire. Anything to get me off the phone. The pain finally ended when he, bawling now, told me that he couldn't see me anymore because it hurt too much, and my phone told me, beeping now, that it was going to cut off any second, and my conscience told me, you must have heard it screaming, that I was one hell of a bitch.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-10116645865896789932009-08-04T19:22:00.000-07:002009-08-04T19:35:03.507-07:00I just stared in awe and horrorat the woman in line in front of me at the grocery store. Easily 50, she stood there, all 4 foot 11 of her, in her striped leg warmers. Presumably she wore them to keep warm the legs she shamelessly exposed in a school-girl style mini. She topped off the ensemble with a matching hat. The hat matched the plaid pleated skirt, not the leg warmers bunched around her ankles - their lack of function indicating that she really just chose them solely for their stylish value.<br /><br />So I stood there. And stared. I couldn't decide if I admired this woman who obviously still relished in her sexuality and wore it without shame. I couldn't help but wonder if she were married. Or had a lover. Perhaps a young lover - who inspired her to wear such age-inappropriate attire.<br /><br />I couldn't decide if I was terrified of one day standing in her legwarmers being silently judged by the young woman behind me in line at the grocery store.<br /><br />xo AmeliaThe Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-5111876666365190492009-07-17T15:52:00.000-07:002009-07-17T16:52:53.163-07:00My Boyfriend Bought me a Vibrator...<em>Ava says...</em><br /><em></em><br />I’m not the most experienced when it comes to bedroom activity but the past year has definitely given me a crash course and opened my eyes to everything an active and spontaneous sex life has to offer. I don’t think I’ll ever revert back to shy and inhibited, although it still takes me a while to totally break out of my shell.<br /><br />We’ve been discussing the idea of bringing “toys” into the bedroom for a while so I wasn’t really surprised when I was given the “Fukuoku”, a vibrating finger puppet with rotating heads, for my birthday.<br /><br />My birthday was a happy one to say the least.<br /><br />There were some ground rules when the idea of using toys first came up. I didn’t want anything freakishly large (as I wanted to remain in tact rather than torn in two), and requested a vibrator because I figured anything made with my “love button” in mind was worth trying out (my man needs no help with hitting the right spots internally).<br /><br />I must say the addition of my “adults-only” finger puppet has certainly added more sparks between the sheets and spice in the bedroom (if that is even possible, my boyfriend is Latin after all).<br /><br />For those of you out there who are a little wary of sex toys, take it from someone who was once in your shoes; trade in the loafers for a hot pair of stilettos, you just might surprise yourself.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-39870888388387628412009-05-24T14:29:00.001-07:002009-05-24T16:07:13.470-07:00Invisible Force Field.Sunday afternoon. I'm listening to Andrea Bocelli-Romanza, sitting in my new "home" watching cyclists and runners go by from my living room window...Will and Grace is on pause. Just one of those amazing (AMAZING!) days for rest and relaxation.<br /><br />I went out yesterday night-to a place called O'Byrne after doing some window shopping on Whyte Ave. I was wearing a black tank and capris and it left marvelous to walk outside without the threat of rain/snow/a jacket...<br /><br />So as i was walking I noticed that the patios were packed with people sipping on iced lattes, etc., laughing, smiling. My friend and I decided to stop for ice cream which I engulfed in a matter of seconds (caramal fudge + chocolate lovers chocolate). We then met up with another friend to have Blue Disco Lemonade at a place called Dadio's (vodka and lemonade). After three glasses-I us girls started doing what we do best...bitch (in all actuality, it was I who was doing most of the ranting). One of us had recently been rejected by one of our very close friends. Of course, this particular gal was all class and showed no sign of hurt feelings. We all applauded her grace...but then, (maybe it was the lemonade), but I started to get pissed. "Honestly, why the f*ck would he ever (EVER!) reject you?!?! You're gorgeous. You're in law school. You have a personality that every girl envies...I don't get it."<br /><br />This brought back memories of Guy at which point I dished on the fact that I had printed out the email that he had sent me and highlighted portions I had disagreed with and arguments rebutting the statements he made. In all honesty, I guess it does sound slightly pathetic in hindsight. But it got me thinking-why us? <br /><br />Sitting across from me at Dadio's were two beautiful, intelligent women-full of personality and enthusiasm. We started thinking about out common attributes (bubbly, happy, in law, etc.). Was it that men were intimidated by us? Was it that we were just too excitable? Was it that we weren't pretty enough? Is it that you sort of need to be a bit of a bitch (ie. cold) to show that you are confident? <br /><br />We started analyzing the guys that we went for. Was it that they were too good for us? Was it that they were just really really different from the average male? Was it that they thought that they were too good for us? Was it that they thought that something better would come along???<br /><br />I walked home, pondering these questions. What can I do to change myself? Is it something in my personality that is a bit too much?? <br /><br />I went to O'Byrne and stood at a table surrounded by guys from my class. Average looking guys (some would even say below average)...all with girlfriends. I looked around the bar at ugly as ass guys making out with gorgeous girls. Suddenly, I started to get that feeling. Mother f*ckers! What the hell is wrong with this picture???? I just don't understand!!!!! Here I am, looking as good as I'll ever look (I mean, I should be in my prime right?), but nothing. NOTHING. Not even a gaze in my direction (I swear). <br /><br />Finally, in sheer frustration I coaxed the girls onto the dance floor to bust a move to 90s classics like ("Miami", and Lauren Hill)...not a glance....So, here's my theory.<br /><br />You can knock yourself out trying to find someone...anyone (and let's be honest, by the time you're 24 and single you get a touch desperate), but it won't work. Why? We each have an invisible force field around us. It's not one thing like bad breath, or a bad personality, or being 'not so great looking' it's this shield that surrounds us that guys just pass over because they can't get through. In other words, it's not us...it's just how the world works. It's your religious you could even trump this us to God attempting to protect us from ass holes out there. <br /><br />This theory will keep me going for the summer. I really hope.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-61946631719557243262009-04-07T09:49:00.000-07:002009-04-07T10:14:00.507-07:00The girl who never liked/lusted/loved<em>Amelia says - </em><br /><br />Once upon a time there was a girl. She grew up in the middle of a city in the middle of a country in the middle of the world. Or so she thought. Turn the globe a bit and she's only on the periphery. She was perfect in every way. She had 10 little fingers and toes, all in the right places. 2 ears. 1 nose. A perfect easily given smile. Her mother was so happy to have her come into the world after a perfect labour and her waist line snapping back to a perfect size 6. Her father was imperfect - that slobbery, mangy, drunken bastard - so he was pushed out of the picture. But what nobody realized was that the girl wasn't quite as perfect as she seemed. She was just a little bit broken. And nobody really knew just what was broken either because no one can seem to determine whether we love from our heads or our hearts. But she couldn't love. She was made happy by gifts but they were quickly forgotten. She welcomed the attention and care she was lavished with but would not return favors with kind words, smiles, hugs or kisses. She laughed at the misfortune of others and could not understand just what kindness was made of.<br /><br />This girl (let's call her Hita) grew into a beautiful young woman. Like a magnet, she drew every young man to her. They tried to woo her with presents, kindnesses, talent, bravado, culinary skills, mastery of the fine arts of knitting, skateboarding and composting ... all to no avail. what they did not understand was, she did not know how to love, lust or even love.<br /><br />Through no fault of her own (how could someone so beautiful be at fault for anything?) she 'found' herself to be pregnant. And she began to grow in a new way. When the baby came, she too was beautiful but Hita did not know how to care for someone. She did not understand why she should be kind. She could not love the baby and she could not understand why she should stay in contact with the baby's father. He just wouldn't go away. So she killed him in his sleep. In court, she would not appologize no matter how hard his family cried or how often her lawyer told her it was in her best interest. She could not understand how two words could help anyone and she did not want to help in the first place. Deciding there was no hope for her, they had her sent to a psychiatric ward where she was chained to a bed, force fed through a tube and was rarely, if ever, bathed. No staff could stand her. She was so ungrateful and they could only conclude that she was egotistical, rude, uncivilized and boorish. Her beauty faded. She was neglected more and more frequently. She died in the afternoon with food on her chin, her hair in tangles, and her sheets full of filth.<br /><br />And that, Anna dear, is what happens when you don't like, lust or love.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-38221386278602063972009-04-04T23:27:00.000-07:002009-04-04T23:41:04.269-07:00Veno anyone?Clearly...I accidently drank too much wine. And no, it wasn't a fun story of me sharing a glass of white with some friends...more like me...alone...in my room...trying to get through Constitutional law....<br /><br />So, here I am...12:28 AM. Sitting in bed...with my laptop...dizzy...thinking about nobody and somebody at the same time. I can't believe that this 'somebody' keeps coming up...keeps disturbing my bliss. Wouldn't it be better to never lust/like/love? I think it would make things so much more simpler. I wish I could be the girl who turns everything off...<br /><br />But I feel like, just when I turn off the feelings in my head, the light comes on again. Out of nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. I mean, it's really pathetic...and I keep telling myself "Anna...SNAP OUT OF IT! You are a strong independent woman! You are supposed to be smart and confident and everything that one is supposed to be at 24...!" But I go to sleep and my mind automatically drifts to him. And 'him' seems so much better at night after 1/2 bottle of wine.<br /><br />'Him' seems so much better after learning that everyone and their dog is in a relationship. I know, I know....this is pathetic...this is not the sign of maturity. Really the advice or whatever it is that I'm posting is a bunch of crap since I haven't really figured what it is that I want, and who I am right now is not who I want to be when I'm in a relationship (seeing as though I am constantly doubting myself and seem to get dizzy everytime someone I find attractive comes into the room....). I think I'm going to try to stay away from attractive people...really it's more work than it's worth.<br /><br />Someone told me that I needed to focus on me. Stop worrying about everyone else and do what makes me happy. I made a list...a long list (that I won't share...but it was a good one). It finally made me excited about life because I started thinking, "What does Anna want...?" The problem is that he keeps interrupting my moments of peace...and I want him to leave my thoughts. I mean, why can't he just me a distant memory...Something that I'm embarassed out and that I will laugh about later? Why can't that be it? <br /><br />I want him to want me. I want him to love me. I want him to realize that I'm all that he's ever wanted...Why can't he see that? Why is it that I can, and he can't?The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-3088215853884101442009-04-02T11:28:00.000-07:002009-04-02T11:39:53.665-07:00What do you lie about?<em>Amelia says -</em><br /><br />I was watching Sex and the City (that evil but wonderful display of female sexual liberty and independence - complete with freeom of cash flow and mostly independently beautiful, but sometimes gawdy, clothing and accessories). When it went to commercial, the network would flash little multiple choice questions related to celebs, the show, or to the things men and women do to and with one another. One such tidbit informed me that "39% of men have lied to get a woman in bed". Seriously? Could you go back and ask them all what they're lying about? Because that's a lotta lies, I tells ya.<br /><br />Just by thinking about it I'm pretty sure I can guess some of the things they might be lying about:<br /><br />"I really dig you" Often accompanied by "I'm totally sober" "I'm a successful ______" and "I've never had an STI"<br /><br />"I'm single". Often followed by "didn't I mention I'm seeing someone?" or "what we had was just fun right?"<br /><br />"I don't watch porn". Sometimes preceding or following you finding the names of multiple porn sites in their computer's "favorites" list.<br /><br />"You're the prettiest/sweetest/best girl I've ever met" ... followed by silence after they bed you because they didn't even really like you - just wanted to get their rocks off.<br /><br />and "I barely ever drink" contradicted by the drunken ass saying it.The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-42743535741376519262009-03-31T07:07:00.000-07:002009-03-31T07:09:31.225-07:00menage a deux ... non?<em>Amelia says - </em><br /><em></em><br />My boyfriend wants to have a threesome. Me, him, and … He said he wouldn’t care if it was a guy or a girl he thinks it would be kinky either way. He also said he understands if I don't want to do it. But still, wtf?! Sure he had had a couple beers but he was far from drunk when it just spilled out his mouth. I don’t even remember what we were talking about. And immediately I start thinking – it’s like cheating but I’m there, it opens the door to cheating in the future, blurring boundaries, I don’t want to share, some hoochie kissing my boyfriend, and my blood is boiling and I’m ready to kill this girl who doesn’t even exist. Notice that even though he said it could be him and another guy I’m assuming it would be a girl? Because honestly, who wants 2 guys on them? I’d feel way too intimidated and too many pressures to perform for both. It’s hard enough sometimes to perform for one when I still have to get the dishes done, and go work out, and make lunches for tomorrow, and that pile of books is getting higher and higher and there are so many other things that need doing. Every once in a while, can’t he do himself? Now he wants to do it with me – AND someone else. And if you do decide to do it, where do you do it? I’d be dead before I let some kinky stranger come into my home and find out where I live for future stalkerish purposes when she realizes just how hot my boyfriend is. But I also wouldn’t go to some stranger’s house where you could run into anyone on the sidewalk, in the kitchen eating dinner, in the bedroom closet with a video camera … And hotels are cheap. And skeezy. And I am neither of those. And how do you do it? It doesn’t bother me one bit that my boyfriend has a secret kinky fetish or two. I figure sexuality is what it is and so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, it’s all good. It’s just not necessarily true that his idea of sexy and mine are coinciding on this issue. And if he’s feeling kinky and I’m not, do I fake it? It’s like a cardinal rule that you don’t fake orgasms because for one, you’ll probably never have a real one again because he won’t know how to give it to you and he’ll expect you to be moaning in ecstasy within 2 minutes. It just doesn’t work that way. So is kinky the same deal? If you fake it once, are you stuck faking it over and over again until you decide that the guy just isn’t worth the leather pants suit and the secret password? <em></em>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-17986089700131643252009-03-29T10:30:00.000-07:002009-03-29T10:49:22.520-07:00Ode to fictitious hunky man of my dreams<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiel9MfsiXVSJZvUXJ9ctSF75_0XA8GI3QPPoj26yFyW7JLbKv9oud4JeCrxKQ8EsFEspKG2ZY1HTaBxxg6XNNnb96YprthOu3tlj7lb0MKYiGnZcuLlgiGych-_mqwdc0H-GOPH3hR-J3E/s1600-h/LoveLetterLocket.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318668187607681330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 345px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiel9MfsiXVSJZvUXJ9ctSF75_0XA8GI3QPPoj26yFyW7JLbKv9oud4JeCrxKQ8EsFEspKG2ZY1HTaBxxg6XNNnb96YprthOu3tlj7lb0MKYiGnZcuLlgiGych-_mqwdc0H-GOPH3hR-J3E/s400/LoveLetterLocket.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div><em>Amelia says - </em></div><br /><div><em></em></div><br /><div>I've been thinking lately about the guys I've dated. And the guys I didn't but wished I dated. I promise I didn't stalk them, and won't, I just think about them every now and then. And I suck at mushy but I wondered what I would say to each of them in a love letter ... And then I thought, what if writing the letter was the same as wishing and wishing was just a predecessor to real life happenings? (I know - I think too much. But it's fun so go with me). So, based on what I loved and still love about each of them, this is my call to some guy I'm sure doesn't exist. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We are in different places right now but when I close my eyes I can see yours. And if I think just a little bit more I can feel your curls wrapping themselves around my fingers. And you might be far away from me, but I know that if I need you I just have to ask and you're there. And when I see you, I smile. And you smile back, with your heart shining out at me through your mischevious eyes. I know that whatever adventure I am looking for, you're dying to take it along with me. You've always validated my beliefs about the world and showed me what it looks like to stand up for them. You embody ideals I have desperately wanted to mirror back to you. You always let me explore the world at my own pace while you sat back and adored every piece of me. And when I was ready to jump you were ready to jump with me. In you, I could recognize traits that I cherish in myself as well and I loved you for it. It maybe took a few drinks but your openness and honesty led us into deeply earnest intelligent conversations and when I became caught up in ideas I couldn't sift through on my own you would wait for me to catch up before moving on. I'm floored by your generousity and you never expect to receive anything in return. You are sturdy and reliable and I know that even when you're not here, I'm not alone. </div><br /><div></div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-35339987711111575832009-03-28T06:43:00.000-07:002009-03-28T07:02:08.938-07:00Imagine your life in movie scenes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnVfY3GFhf4RJHeXjUr4YyJSZ3L8FYlgVpKdzFOVGrVPg9PykFy9jtGKaQE8-7DRQmED1BHPqg9r25y3NiSu5MzvYmechvbKgcuIjBJzclUFmd8fj9aCaiw_65ziEFlUQHMvmXY27h96p/s1600-h/AUDREY_HEPBURN23.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318237868521657986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 211px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqnVfY3GFhf4RJHeXjUr4YyJSZ3L8FYlgVpKdzFOVGrVPg9PykFy9jtGKaQE8-7DRQmED1BHPqg9r25y3NiSu5MzvYmechvbKgcuIjBJzclUFmd8fj9aCaiw_65ziEFlUQHMvmXY27h96p/s320/AUDREY_HEPBURN23.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNRjTlL-Jal95ff_EmRl4etnw_M7FsEenN3EY2YOhONF61PP7ySaeApCk81-y9LAzIsbyvCVk6f5vI04Ua0lLLs1c7LFyLQHmIuxGRvgAORtmRsYEW1TExNOPEZZ6RBwvJznXQ2m7En-C0/s1600-h/AUDREY_HEPBURN23.jpg"></a><div><br /><br /></div><div><em></em></div><div><br />*image courtesy of photobucket.com</div><div></div><div><em></em></div><div><em></em></div><div><em></em></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><em></em></div><div><br />~<em>Amelia says ~</em></div><div><em></em></div><div></div><div></div><div>What if your life were a movie? What kind of movie would it be? </div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br />Mine might be a boring one ... or maybe my life would be more exciting because of it ... no, it would probably be boring. The movie people took back to the store and demanded their money back from. Take my morning for example:</div><div><br />I woke up alone in bed (boyfriend was out last night and crashed on the couch watching tv). So the day started as a documentary. A day in the life of the girl with bad breath. I heard the tv on so I came out to the living room. Everything's a mess. There are cushions on the floor, a blanket too, along with a load of folded laundry, a gift from my sisters, an empty sour cream container, but my boyfriend's adorable. Then he farted. Which leaves us in (I hope) a romantic comedy. The guy just can't ever reach my expectations and someday, maybe tomorrow, I'll realize he's just fine the way he is. He woke up when I came in and rolled over without leaving any room on the couch for me. Let's do this one backwards. Switch to porno. I squeeze in with him, he runs his hands through my no longer greasy hair and wraps one arm around me while the other arm brushes the unfinished puzzle off the coffee table so we can make out on it. I know, I'm cheating. But maybe I need a little porno in my life. </div><div><br />Seriously though, I think most of my life would be documentary style: studying the strange behaviour of the independently attached mid 20s young professional woman. (Notice I somehow elevated my status in my description? I'm no longer the girl with bad breath). And I think everyone's life would be - aside from my boyfriend's sister and cousin. They're so goofy it would be straight up slapstick comedy. If I could add a few genres to my life, I'm desperately craving some romantic comedy. No drama. Fuck drama. Give me a bit of action hero. And porn. And they would come along with some movie star finesse. I'd always have shiny hair. And a great body. No pimples (damn you pimples!). And great shoes. C'mon shoes!</div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4493739498613754663.post-69252136742063008982009-03-22T08:36:00.000-07:002009-03-22T22:32:01.163-07:00I'll bet you taste delicious<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_Tx3hmnJSeLk6wTBO6_nrSBJj_dnp6CRjLeKOPkv-jPH807XPQZz5etijxYU41EoqECFGqaEqrXo4b7sUz2RXEnm8QFGwCXYAqCmS80XHcWXqGmDPAJVtop3yTdOVLMq8MHwrTJOEvJb/s1600-h/pin+up+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316037094193716178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 350px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_Tx3hmnJSeLk6wTBO6_nrSBJj_dnp6CRjLeKOPkv-jPH807XPQZz5etijxYU41EoqECFGqaEqrXo4b7sUz2RXEnm8QFGwCXYAqCmS80XHcWXqGmDPAJVtop3yTdOVLMq8MHwrTJOEvJb/s400/pin+up+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>*image courtesty of profiles.yahoo.com</div><div><br />Amelia says - </div><div><br />Being sexual is so hard. You must be visually stunning. And witty-intelligent-laid back-hilarious. Your voice must not be grating. You must have the softest skin possible, the sharpest curves (isn’t that an oxymoron?) imaginable, zero body hair, and the sexiest eye to hair to rosy cheek to full lips ratio you can manage. You must smell sexy. You can choose whether you want to smell like food (mmm … vanilla), cleanliness (ie: chemical perfumes) or B.O. Which one will you choose? And like a newly cleaned and impossible to maintain home you must be flawless and spotless at all times. People must be able to take you in with all their senses and be pleased by all sensory experiences of you and your goodness. Being sexual is HARD. </div><br /><div>And people are often disappointed. I remember when I met my current boyfriend he told me that his last girlfriend called him the Candy Man. Don’t worry, he didn’t say this on our first date or anything but while we were still in the getting-to-know-you stages. I asked why. He said she told him that his ejaculate tasted like candy. He said this boastfully. Proudly. He lied. </div><br /><div>Moving on. </div><br /><div>At my birthday party someone asked me why I didn’t drink caesars. I said “I think they taste disgusting”. Defensively, he said “you taste disgusting”. Realizing it was my birthday - the day when one cannot be put down - he corrected himself saying “I’m kidding. I bet you taste delicious”. This was quickly followed by him blushing when he realized how sexual a comment that could be. Did I believe him? Who am I kidding? I taste like people. Skin and soap and well … skin. </div><br /><div>Just the other day I was joking around with my boyfriend who was eating kippers. They stink up the whole house. And definitely stink up his breath. I kissed him and then said “yuck. Your lips smell like fish”. Can you see where I’m going? If you know how goofy I am you might guess that I followed that up with “I have to lips that probably smell like fish sometimes”. Did I go too far? I can tell you, that is the direct opposite of sexy. But got me a laugh. Which I might value more than an up and down body ogling. You know why? Because once you’re sexy you have to stay sexy. And sexy, is hard work.</div>The Fabulous Femmeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11520920981853913984noreply@blogger.com1