Have you ever made your boyfriend/husband make a list of the people that he's slept with...

I did.

All because we found a game called the Newlywed's game...it's not mine, it's not his....so uh, we're not totally sure from whence it came. I will say this, it does not ask questions about "making whopee" as it did with Bob Ubanks, instead it talks about "making love." John and I are still puzzled. But that's not my story...

"The Newlywed Game" (as in the board game) is meant to be a deal breaker. It's full of stereotypes...such as "Why does yout wife get headaches before sex?" and "What color slip did she wear at your wedding?" (slip??? are you kidding me? um headaches??? I jump that poor boy anytime I can!!!) Anyways, there was a question that asked my loving husband if he'd rather more or less lovers (lovas) in his lifetime before he was married. My husband, being the complete analytical person that he is--decided to make a list...you know, to make a determination.

I was going to keep the list ( as he was a little buzzed) for blackmail purposes but then he said I could make my list on a legal pad.

Touche.

PS. I don't know what he's talking about...do you?

I'm not dead yet, nor have I given up blogging for live. In fact, just the opposite. John got me high speed internet! Whoo! Fare thee well dial up, I was sick of the last person alive with dial up.

I just haven't had time to sit down and write anything...getting ready to go back to work (Monday...uggh/yay! I'm a little conflicted about how I feel), and get our lives happily situated.

I'll just sum everything up with: All's well here...fill you in sooner than later.

I tell ya kids being married for almost a month and I'm slipping. Let me tell you about it:

-My chubby cheeks are getting chubbier. Oh diet here I (better) come before John has to cut me off the couch with a scapel ala Nip/Tuck.

-I didn't think twice when I left the house yesterday with a tshirt that I used to use in college to dye my hair. From the looks of the stains, I favored black hair a little too much. To complete my ensemble, I went to the grocery store wearing a pair of John's boxers and sloppy side ponytail...honestly, I couldn't be bothered.

-Now this one goes beyond good taste--don't read further if you like or respect me....hmm, still reading huh?? As Dangerfield said, "EH I don't get no respect"...on with the story then. It's a good thing that Johnny loves me because um...you know sometimes when you're going down on a guy and you gag??? Well, I went well beyond gagging (always the overachiever)...let's just say it'll be a long time until I can eat chicken wings, that's for sure. John calmed me by telling me that there's tons of porn featuring such acts for those fetishists who enjoy puke. Needless to say this did nothing for my embarassment...the only thing that helped was knowing that he couldn't leave me without lots of lawyers, money and paperwork...ha ha...he's dirty boy, he can take it. I hope.

-Finally, this morning I heard boxes being dropped off out front and then a UPS truck driving away. I didn't think twice about going outside in (yet) another pair of John's boxers that are so old and worn out that assless chaps leave more to the imagination. It was actually nice to feel the breeze and sun on my ass whilst I dragged more marital loot into the house.

This is bad, isn't it?? I'm going to put on make up and make myself look as much like a dark haired Barbie as possible before my Ken doll gets home. Must. Not. Slip. Further...

John and I were talking about getting another dog...he wants a pug. We talked about names and we think we came up with something genius. We want to name the dog after one of John's good friends. It's not that this good friend has a particulary interesting or odd name but it would be just so funny...For example, let's say that his friend's name was Nipsy Russell (which it's not):

Me: "John! Nipsy Russell just pooped on the floor!" or

Me: "Nipsy Russell!! Stop humping my leg!" or

Me: "That Nipsy Russel, he's incredibly flexible, he just won't stop licking his balls..."

The possibilities and funny scenarios using this boy's name are endless and (to us) hilarious.
We told the boy we want to name our dog after our idea last night...he was less than thrilled.

It's a very different experience going to the bar with your husband than with your boyfriend (not another man--I mean, the man that was once your boyfriend and is now your husband). First of all, you can't just cocoon him all to yourself, you have to share him with others...particularly his friends...who, at times, feel that you (evil wench that you are) have stolen their comrade. Sorry boys, I have a vagina, and that is power. So you sit at the bar with your friends and you sit at the bar with his friends and you talk, and you have a lot of fun and you drink a lot of beer...

...but then you realize something shocking to the party girl within. You'd be just as happy, at home, snuggling on the couch with your husband, maybe sipping a few beers, maybe reading a good book or watching a good movie with his strong arms wrapped around you and keeping you warm and safe. I squelched these mature, adult thoughts with mind fuzzing shots and beer but the thoughts remained. I'm not saying I didn't have a good time, I most certainly did, but wow...as I keep saying, things have changed--all for the better.

The second thing I learned is that I have no idea what kind of woman my husband finds attractive! Like all humans, you still find other people attractive...it's just when you're married, you don't act upon those feelings of attractiveness. So when a good looking girl or guy walks into the bar we confer on their hotness and supply the "Yoat" when it's warranted (Yoat is a term my boy and his friends have created as a salutation to hot people and to each other...It's kind of like a "Yo what up?" kind of phrase. I used to find it ever so annoying but somehow it invaded my vernacular as well and I find myself muttering it under my breath when someone hot walks by). So, you can imagine my surprise when a girl who's super cute with a button nose, blond hair, green eyes, cute perky breasts and perfect little body walks by and John's lips don't even begin to pucker and form a yo... Instead, he swivels his head at a slightly chubby, dark haired girl with a funny looking expression on her face and a full leg brace/stabilizer and elbows me and bellows out "Yoat!" to her. Apparently, my husband finds sexiness in flaws...all the better for me...I'm severely flawed.

Jumping on a tangent here...

You all know I'm vain right?? I'm vain, like super, super vain, it's one of my least attractive qualities. When I was little I used to get in trouble for just staring at myself in the mirror all the time--yeah, I know--it was that bad. When I was in college, I took this psych class where it was explained that people of like attractiveness are attracted to each other. Very simple right? So if you're a solid 7 and a half, you're expected to be attracted to another solid 7 and a half...you're less likely to be rejected and you'll be a perfect match (obviously, this theory has flaws since it doesn't include personality, it's only based on physical attractiveness. We've all met 10's who are more boring than earth worms and their attractiveness level falls somewhere below 0 degrees kelvin). From that moment on, I thought to myself any time a 4 hit on me, "Am I a 4??" (again, I know I sound like a jerk...and I'm sorry. Don't hate me because I'm insipid sometimes). I'm proud to say, that I've finally gotten over it, a solid 9 and a half married me...me, a solid 7 and a half--I mean, if we include personality and my ability to crack horrible jokes that no one laughs at, I'm clearly an 11. But he's not really a 9 and a half, he's a total individual not a number, with a personality, flaws and total loveability...something that that scale and theory declined to acknowledge...and I guess so did I.

My mom put it best a couple of weeks ago when she said, "So...are you happy now M?? You finally got the popular guy..." She said it as a joke but there was a little truth the question...there were times that I was seeking out people, simply because they were HOTT and their hottness, in my blessedly stupid mind transferred to me...because if they were hot, I was hot...isn't that what I learned in psych??? (Oh lordy, I'm an idiot *slapping forehead realizing her stupidity, and realizing why this blog is peppered with names of jerks*) I am happy, not because I got the popular guy (which good lord I did...people line up at the bar to talk with him as if they're standing in line to get blessed by the Pope) but because I got the best guy--and now my inner scarred nerd can stop trying to get the cool boy to like me...because he does.

Ok. I'm done my tangent now. Tomorrow's our wedding reception, we should have lots of fun stories to tell because our friends are all a bunch of drunken buffoons and there will be hilarity and quite likely fist fights to regale you with.

It's all wonderful and all that I love my sex toys (see post below) but there's real things to be celebrating...

You should go visit Meg. For months now I've been reading her journey through her attempts to get pregnant, first naturally and then in her IVF treatment...
and...
She's pregnant!!!

Congratulate her for me...and try and convince her that Melina is a gorgeous name for either a boy or a girl...ok, maybe just a girl.

Well long time no write...don't read this post if you don't want to hear about sex toys .

When we last left off, this heroine and her love slave (read: her loving husband) were going to pick up a few sex toys that I purchased at his sister's sex toy party, a fun but awkward event since my mother in law sat next to me and peered over my shoulder watching what I was ordering--nothing like cock rings to bring a family together. I also enjoyed when his mom would hold an enormous vibrator and say, "Nope, this one's not big enough...". Hmmm...

Well...we picked up our toys and ended up staying and drinking at his sister's house for the evening and then after his sister had a major drunken mishap (she broke her ankle) and his mom came over to help her (since we were all drunk as skunks) we decided to go home and test the toys out while watching Kill Bill 2...let it never be said that we don't multi-task--quality sex/quality movie--it all works.

Here's the report card on the toys from my perspective (John can fill you in on his take in the comments):

1. The double bullet with the rubber rabbit cockring-- although a mouthful ( oh I'm so full of bad jokes and double entendres today! somebody stop me...), I thought it was pretty darn good (now trust me...I'm not the type that feels the need to be hooked up to machinery while having sex). The vibration could've been a little stronger ( the vibration part is run by the ever popular bullet, which I had never have had the pleasure of experiencing before...I experienced it again on my own while John was showering--and it's nice all by itself, without the rabbit attachment...real nice).

2. Jelly cock rings- Now these things were little tiny wonders! (By the way, I just made you click on the word cock...and you did it! I have such power). They looked a wee bit painful to put on, but kids, let me tell you...take an already virile man (that'd be John) and add something to keep the blood from flowing out and it's like making Bruce Banner mad...it turns into the Hulk (too much information?? Sorry, I thought this was my blog...). The next day it was tough to keep John away from the cock rings because he had fallen in love with them soo much (I think because they're pink, that's my theory). I have absolutely no complaints about John's pink jelly "bracelets", they may be the perfect male accessory.

3. A glass piece- (not exactly as imposing as this one...but close enough). At first I was somewhat fearful of this thing. It's heavy, it's a little scary...it's a whole lot of glass, going to a place that I usually keep glass free. But, I'm no prude so I hopped aboard (so to speak, of course). The jury's still out on this one. As John says, "You're this thing's bitch!!" which is totally true. The thing drives me wild, but when all's said and done, I feel a little bruised (see? I have taste...I will go no further in explaining this...).

So now that I shared...what are some of your favorite secret weapons???

PS. I bet John's breathing a sigh of relief with what I didn't share...aren't you? he he he...

PPS. I truly enjoy watching porn with my husband, pirated porn on his computer...We were watching an exceptionally hilarious one where the girl continuously barked like a seal every time she was "supposedly" having a great time.

Ok, off to church now.
Kidding.

why I love my Johnny...

He sent me flowers today, for no apparent reason other than he loves me.
He put an adorable poem in there from a famous poet...because he's the cutest.

and ...

he found out that we can pick up the cock rings tonight from his sister's house (she ordered them for us, they're not hers or anything!)

Last night John and I kept missing each other a little all the time--and not in the "OH baby I missed you" (because when he's out of the house for 12 hours a day, that's a given...I miss him all day long--like a crack whore, I'm going through withdrawl of seeing him every day 24/7 like I did for 10 beautiful days before he had to be a good boy and go back to work). We kept physically missing each other.

He hadn't been getting home until 7:15pm from work so I thought it was safe to run out and drop off a baby bib to my friend Tash who was having a little post baby sneak out for dinner/happy hour at one of the semi-local bars...guess who came home early from work for a little pre-dinner romp? Uh huh, and I missed it. At least I was on a baby bib mission and I wasn't there getting drunk while he was sitting at home waiting for me...that would've been bad. But nope, I had a glass of water and headed home to my husband.

Then we went to dinner at the country club where we're having our reception (next Saturday!). After the meal, we stopped at thitwbar and had a beer or two. I was inspired when John took one of the famous thitwbar coasters and started calculating prices of our reception. When he was done, I grabbed the pen and wrote on it, "I heart U" and said, "There. Now you have your very own love note on a coaster!" smiling. And he said, "Hmm, that's for me? Maybe you could work on some new moves?" (as an avid reader of blog archives, he knows me a little too well--seriously, those archives are going to be my personal hell someday) and I said, "What?!? C'mon, the love note coasters never worked on anybody else, I thought maybe they'd work on you..."
"M, you already know I'll sleep with you..."
"How do I know that? Maybe you won't. I gotta keep that game going."
"Oh? I could play hard to get if you want me to."
"Nah John, I like you easy."
"I like you easy too!"
That's when I belted John on the shoulder and got back for my meager pounding--a grin and a "What? Did you get those new unbustable balls?"
"Ok, ok...I'll think of something new to do..." and then my mind got to work thinking about how I could seduce my husband...

We headed home and watched It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (which is a hilarious show by the way), and then John tried to go check his email. That didn't sit quite well with me because I wanted sex or at least a little snuggling, so I jumped on the couch Matrix style and attacked him. This resulted in a little wrestling (where John nearly killed me twice--one by almost cracking my head open on the coffee table and two, when he nearly impaled me on the bathroom doorknob) and then it resulted in some of the best stuff on Earth...I'll give you a hint, John and his mouth do the work, and I do the moaning.

After we were both satisfied, John tried to stay up with me but his eyes kept closing, so I sent him off to bed...which makes me sad, if I could fall asleep when he went to bed, I'd go with him but I can't, so I stay up and kill zombies...someone has to damn it. Someone has to.

I had a mission though last night. Before he went to bed, I sneaked upstairs and grabbed a lipstick. I kissed John good night and then waited until I heard his gentle little snores and went upstairs and wrote "I love you. (Hope this is better than love coasters!)" I was pleased with myself thinking I had come up with a cute way to write down my love for John in a new way, never found in my archives (ok, I know it's not too original...but I've never done it before!!)

That's why I was greatly disappointed...when John woke up late for work, he never noticed my lipstick handywork (which means eww...you didn't brush your teeth!!). But even worse, I missed two text messages from my boy who obviously was having trouble sleeping...he was ever so sweet (once again, using the power of the archives) in writing me my favorite text message, "Wanna fuck?" (he means that it in the most loving way...he knows that I like the term fuck far better than "wanna make sweet sweet love?") the sad part about this is, I got the message this morning at 9 am. ugghhh. I sooo would've scampered up to my bedroom and pounced him.

And now this morning we volleyed messages where I apologized for not getting his text message and telling him how he missed my note on the mirror and now...I'm supposed to wait to hear the doorbell..hmmm. Cryptic, but cool.

Hey John...we have a whole weekend to be together. I can't wait!!
Oh and here's a little present for you when you get home...don't look at it at work!! (any of you... I have to thank Carrotpenis for finding this little treasure trove...it's all naked/pretty average every day women/exotic beauties that I know John will love. A couple who shares porn...um, shares porn).

Now I know why I blog. People often ask me that tedious question, "What made you start a blog?" and the even more dreaded one, "Why do you write about the things that you do?" because uh, yeah...I've shared too much in the past...and now I know the answer.

I write for myself. I like to keep a living record of what mistakes, fun, excitement, heartbreak, heart excitement has occurred in my life on a day to day basis and...

I write to make connections with other people who are awesome and I would've never had the opportunity to make contact with. It's not just her, it's all of you. Blogging is something fierce, to quote Tyra Banks...well Tyra was talking about some anorexic, ugly model, but you know what I mean...right??

Now don't get all teary eyed, I've had more than my share of glasses of wine.
Yes, wine. My, my, my...a husband in my bed (snoring like a freight train after the worst commute ever...he didn't get home until after 8:30!!!) and a glass of wine in my hand--things sure have changed--for the better.

But some things stay the same--he came home and I told him to take his pants off because I missed him. He misunderstood which "him" I was referring to, I think.

Let's see how well John knows me...since it is a simple quiz, all about moi!

Take My Quiz - on - QuizYourFriends.com!

My boy gets up at 5:11...at least that's when the final snooze alarm goes off. Oh that John, he's a snooze hitter, but I love him (plus it gets me a few smooches in the morning). He leaves around 5:45 after he putters around with the new fangled coffee pot (yay, I love getting gifts just for finding love!!), he smokes a cigarette and makes fun of the newspeople with me...or gives a hearty, "Yoat!" to the hot traffic girl. He gives me a kiss on the lips with his minty/listeriney mouth, he smoothes my hair with one hand, and leaves me with a deep look and a final kiss on the forehead.

He braves traffic.
He gets to work two hours too early...there's no way around it, with the way traffic is here...either go early, or sit in traffic for hours. Nothing is easy, everything is a concession. I imagine him thinking of his "old" (now only one week) life when he could get up, semi hungover at 8:15, get a shower, walk to work and still arrive at the proper 9 am.

He stays late. Traffic at five would keep him trapped in the city forever (once a dream for him), so he stays at work and manipulates numbers, does his picks for his fantasy football team and hopefully, saves a few moments to think of me.

He comes home, his several block commute extended now to 30 odd miles (an arduous 30 miles mind you)...with a smile on his face (how is this possible?) and a huge bunch of Sunflowers in his hands.
For me?
If this is the honeymoon phase, I never want it to end.
This life, this man, this bliss is too wonderful to be fleeting.

...or more accurately a zombie.

What happens when your new roommate (aka husband) brings his beloved Xbox into a home that has been game free for more years than I can count? Well no, he doesn't sit in front of the xbox and ignore me, in fact, he remains productive with his unpacking while I...I can't stop playing The House of the Dead III.

I put in a load of laundry, fold the stuff in the dryer (I think I'm on load 7 of the morning...I've been doing it since 5:30 this morning...um yeah, I leave three months of laundry and still have clean clothes to wear, ask John, he can attest to this) and then quickly scamper down the stairs. I grab the green gun and aim it at the screen, testing the trigger. The look of pure concentration and determination to kill any and all zombies sweeps across my face, amusing John to no end. My eyes glaze over and I pull the trigger to unleash the carnage. Hopefully only zombies will fall today.

If only...if only I could be a housewife. I would cook, do laundry, get one of those perfectly tanned and toned bodies of the ladies I see in the grocery store at around 12pm carting around 8.3 screaming curly haired "cherubs", no doubt they hit the gym for a luxurious two hours (can you tell that I don't have my gym membership anymore?? I obviously miss it, because I said luxurious and not torturious) But the most productive part of the day would be when I would sit in front on the tv and play House of the Dead all freakin' day!

What has happened to me? I used to read all summer...just sit on the deck and read...now I prefer the shades lowered, the tv volume at a murmur, while my face remains glued to the screen. I feel I've changed, mutated...into the zombie form of myself. Three weeks left of blessed housewifedom and xbox. Oh xbox, how I love thee...and John I love you too...for giving me an xbox.

If there was only one thing that I able to love about my marriage...

it would be my dutiful husband sleeping in bed, while I get high downstairs and write him love emails for when he goes to work.

He bought me sunflowers today...it was our one week anniversary. I loved them.
I think we've officially entered Saccarin City, but I'll be really sad when we have to leave...I love all this cutesy stuff.

This blog and its fragmented sentences and thoughts were brought to you by the letters T, H and C. Sorry if you thought I was better than this or something.

from being a wife for a second...if that's possible. I'm trying so hard to make this place organized so that we can fit all of our stuff under one roof and let me tell you, for months we've been preparing for this and throwing away bags and bags of my stuff. I've dropped off 18 bags of clothing at Good Will and still...I have way too much stuff. I stare longingly at my favorite jeans that I haven't fit in, in oh, say two years and I attempt to put them back into the drawer...but I caress them one last time and put them in the garbage bag. It doesn't matter, for every one pair of favorite jeans I put in the bag *sigh* there will be a thousand other pairs, buried somewhere else for me to find...It's an arduous task, but one that has a nice outcome--a clean house, a happy husband, and well...maybe I'll be able to find some of those "favorites" I've haven't seen in a long time.

In other news...

The honeymoon was GREAT! We saw the sights, we ravaged each other as much as our slightly jet-lagged bodies would allow us (who knew that three hours would make such a difference??), John pampered me with room service and kisses, oh and then there was that little thing of us getting married!! (kidding). John got very lucky in Vegas in several ways...one, he got to marry me. Two, he put a five dollar bill in the slot machine at the Bellagio (one of the nicest places on the strip) and he won us $150 smackaroos! With cash in hand, my lovely husband took me to dinner in that lovely casino, at a restaurant we probably would've walked right past.

We stayed at a casino on the strip that will give us stories to tell for years to come. We picked the New Frontier because it was on the cheaper end, but was right on the strip in the middle of all the "cool and newer" casinos. Where the Bellagio had an entire lake and fountain shows nightly, the New Frontier offered us a lovely rock garden where it appeared that waterfalls once cascaded down...a long, long time ago. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice hotel/casino...it was just on par with the casinos that John and I are used to when we go to Atlantic City. It wasn't until we saw the oppulence of all the other casinos were we aware that our casino was just a tad bit dated. But like I said, we cracked jokes about it all week and then we learned the beauty of the super cheap drinks of our casino and we shut our mouths...over $1 beers.

We got married here. We went for the cheese of a Las Vegas wedding and embraced it. They offered to take our picture as husband and wife, but we declined...but if you look at the lovely couples on the link, I think it was wise of us to pass on the them.

And a final note for today...if you go to Vegas, and you enjoy other sins such as gluttony, you absolutely must go to the Wynn and eat at their buffet...it's pricey, but it was so good, that we had to lay on our bed for hours, unable to touch each other because we were soo full!

Now kids, I have to put an apron on and begin preparing the evening's repast...before you get too freaked out about my Stepford wife behavior, I'll only be wearing the apron and heels...wait, that's still stepford-y...um, John? Did you take my brain out and replace me with a robot? C'mon, you can tell me...

Kids, I gotta tell you, it's fun being a newlywed!