Last night when John came home from work we were snuggling on the couch and then you know, a back rub turns into a lower back rub and then your pants come off...like always. Boys, they are so slick with their seduction tactics...and wouldn't you know it, it still works on me! Anyways, so there we are in the beginnings of pregnancy sex which if you didn't know is like 99% awkward, trying to find ways in which my belly doesn't hurt or doesn't get in the way--and I don't even want to get into the fact that the baby decides to pound my kidneys at the same time John's pounding er...well... anyways...on with the story. I have the utmost faith that we'll get the handle on it, but since this belly seemed to just magically appear overnight, I've been having issues with balance and every day maneuvering...again, on with the story...

So there we are, John doing his best at trying to make me feel comfortable and not at all like I have a volleyball where my flat stomach once was when all of a sudden he says to me, "Do we need to stop?" I give him the crazy eye, and think to myself, "Are you crazy? There is no stopping at this point!" I think I even dug my heel in his back to emphasize this. In case he didn't catch that clue I said, "No, why?" and then I followed his gaze towards the Band-Aid on my calf (that was resting daintily on his shoulder). It appeared that black ooze was coming out from under it. I panicked for just a second and then realized that it was just a combo of Neosporin and fuzzies from the black pj pants that I had been wearing minutes earlier. I explain this in as few words as possible, "No amputation necessary! As you were soldier! I'll explain later!" And then we were back into the game of pregnancy sex twister...but I thought it was pretty nice of him to offer to stop. I don't think he would've when we were dating, he would've just told me afterwards, "PS, your leg is gangrenous, you might want to get that checked out." It just shows he cares...about whether or not my leg is going to fall off.

.

True quote from John:
"I don't even remember having this much sex when we were dating!"

...and he sounded wistful.

Well my excitement (from yesterday's post) came to an end this morning which is no big deal we haven't been trying long enough to be concerned in any way, shape or form...but damn was I excited and I think I got John a little excited too and that makes me sad because the let down isn't all that fun especially when most of our friends are getting pregnant just by looking at each other! However, there's always next month and that means more sex and who doesn't love that deal? Seriously? In fact, I'm already looking forward to it...

And because I don't want this blog to turn into something where I post when and if I get my period this is the last I'm going to say anything about it all until/if I'm actually pregnant. So sigh a little sigh of relief my faithful readers. And John put on your game face becauses now that means that you and I have to do something truly ridiculous, hilarious and/or scandalous so that I have something fun to write about.

...or are you just excited to see me?

Gents, if you want a blowjob grab a bowl full of leftover Thanksgiving mashed potatoes and smear them on your penis...because if your wife, girlfriend or woman you picked up last night likes mashed potatoes as much as I do you will surely be greeted nicely, if not a tiny bit greedily.

Happy Leftover Day,

Love John and Melina

When you're hosting Thanksgiving for 13 family members it might be wise to replace the two couches that you and your husband broke while having sex. It saves the awkward explanation why the one cushion is ripped open and pulled away from the back of the sofa and why the other couch is no longer structually sound.

At least that's what we think, so we're going couch shopping tonight. Otherwise there would be 13 pairs of wide eyed stares looking at us with what I would expect would be awe and pride. Or perhaps, disgust? It could go either way really.

The other day I was feeling frisky and so while John was setting up his Fantasy Football line up (much lamer than D and D I think--kidding John) I said, "When you're done with that, take your pants off."

He looked at me and said, "Really? I'm not feeling all that sexy right now..."

So you can imagine my surprise when later he did take his clothes off that he wasn't wearing his best silk panties or a cute little bustier--because that's what I'd do if I needed to feel sexy.

I may have to buy him a feather boa or a silk smoking jacket.

All's well here...perhaps I'm understating-- it's simply perfect. But perfect rarely breeds inspired posts. I could tell you about how John and I have become afficienados of both Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble (that Genus edition is harder than I remember! I think my parents cheated and gave me fake questions growing up!). I could tell you that I needed my mom's help in paying my $1,000 bill to get my car cleared for inspection---it is seriously amazing how much better the car runs---it no longer sounds like Fred Flintstone is using his feet to carry my little econo-car along!

Instead, I'll tell you how our past weekend could've been exciting, in list form:

1. It could've been exciting if I hadn't played drunken Scrabble on Friday night.
2. I consumed 5 Molson XXX and a few other lite beers and all of the sudden I was just a blathering idiot.
3. 6,000 is the number of times that John begged me that night to take a breath and stop babbling.
4. 6,0001 is the number of times I ignored his request.
5. That night, the drunken sex was spectacular...I blame my drunkeness for my reference to John as a "stallion"...stallion??? You can do better than that, right???
6. I awoke the next morning to lay on the couch and drink another beer to try to stave off the hangover...instead, I passed out.
7. I awoke again, to puke.
8. and puke
9. and eat KFC
10. and puke
11. and eat Wendy's
12. and puke
13. John, my faithful nursemaid (and sex stallion), tried to revive me. First, with more sex...nice, but that didn't help. Second, with trying to get me to T's Halloween party. A party we were supposed to be at around 8 pm...instead, he was trying to rally me to go at 3 am and laugh at our drunken friends.
14. I waved him away, puked and set him along without me...I nestled down with a lovely marathon of To Catch a Predator (I think it's probably wrong of me to love that show...but I do, I love it)
15. John returned with lots of pictures and videos of all kinds of mayhem--girls making out, John's friend potentially getting a threesome (which may have been arranged by my very own sex stallion, since he plied them with numerous shots in the two hours that he was there--that's how he got his other name--The Shot Monster!)
16. I fell back asleep and laid on the couch the whole next day watching football next to the Stallion.
17. Moral of the story...drunken Scrabble can destroy a weekend I suppose.

Oh and I'm attempting to do this:

One- John is one fucking lucky ass man. Why you ask? Aside from being married to me (why must I restate the obvious), I am sitting here waiting for him to come home from work sprawled on the couch with a wine colored three quarter length shirt, a pair of his old plaid (green and red if you must know) boxers, a pink sock, a black sock and a messy side pony tail. I put all his porn sluts to shame. At least my legs are shaved. Go me!!

(obviously I'm not leaving the house any time soon...if I do...I might be persuaded to put pants on, then again I've been persuaded to leave them off too. It could go either way, really.)

Two- Today a girl said, "Take you hair out of your ponytail, your hair's so pretty when it's down". So I did as commanded (because I'm vain and I like my hair too); while do so I did the obligatory hair shake. Immediately, Hot For Teacher came into my head and I realized I had just done a hair flip worthy of Tawny Kittain on a car kind of move...I immediately put my hair back up before there was a Dateline feature about me and said, "It's too hot to have it down" and went back to babbling about how important it is to articulate your words.

(Please note, I'm nothing but proper at work, not a MaryKay LeTourneaux thought in my mind EVER...but it was just a funny second there).

It's so tough now that I'm blocked from work. I can read blogs but I can't blog. I get this amazing idea and then I forget it because...well, I can't blog from work. So we'll have to settle for some quick updates and I promise just to start writing my stuff at work and then transfer it later so that none of my witty thoughts get lost.

What to do When There's Nowhere to Poo

John and I have been renovating our upstairs bathroom since June. We made the conscious decision not to work on it until we have money for it so that we stop racking up the credit card bills...that means that we only have one toilet in the house that's working. The other night, that toilet's seat decided to pop off. John eloquently put it, as I perch on it precariously, "We're running out of places to poop around here!" and he's not kidding!!! Luckily, I got paid yesterday so I'm buying us a new seat to place our seats on this weekend.


The Master Quoiters

This weekend, we will be participating in another "friendly" quoit tournament. Last time, it was just over six gazillion degrees and we were hungover/trying to stay hydrated and we were knocked out of a double elimination with a one two punch. This Saturday, after I proctor a fun five hour test known as the SAT, we will once again try to hold our own...or at least beat one team!! Go Team Awesome!!! (that's our team...and our name? Well, it's a little ironic because we kinda far from awesome).

BCT

Bitches Coming Together (the girls I work with) will be holding another meeting on Monday, this time the theme is October Fest. I'm literally drooling in anticipation for good German beer and potato pancakes...oh, my poor thighs, they hate me.

Sexy Time

I'm still trying to decide if we're ready for a baby. Some days I totally am, and then some days I look at my bank statement and think, "Yeah dude, it doesn't matter if you're ready, your money really isn't." So yeah, I think I'm ovulating this weekend and for once instead of being jealous of all my pregnant friends (you know who you are!! Cr, Chelle and Tash!!) I'm ready for a lot of sexy time with Johnny...with no thoughts of conception whatsoever. So, prepare yourself, brace yourself...do whatever you have to do John, because in some of the immortal words of Ice Cube, you will be putting your back into it! I'm just sayin'!!

Savings and Loan

John and Melina are trying to be good little boys and girls by avoiding the bars at all costs so that we have a little spending money rather than breaking even every week (don't fear, John's stacking away lots o' cash towards retirement too...and I, well...at least I have a pension...). It's going to be rough to stay out of thitwbar, but hopefully we can manage. The first weekend is always the hardest. Hey! You try turning down anywhere from 6-15 of your closest/drunkest friends when they come begging you to head up to a bar that's a block and a half away from your house. We may have to turn off our phones, lock our doors and sit in the dark.

And yeah...that's what's going on in my neck of the woods.

Like all married couples we like to mix it up a little in the bedroom...

so last night was no surprise when John made quite a bold suggestion, and then I took that suggestion and ran with it! I could hear the incredulity in his voice as he said in the dark, "You're really going to do that?!?"

And kids, I can proudly say that I really did it...

I switched sides of the bed with him and we slept at the foot of the bed.

You don't have to tell me, smugly I can say that we are totally wild.


Sorry this is a way better story than when we were sitting on the couch and I started giving him a blow job while Cash Cab was on last night. What can I say, I'm competitive...if I know that the answer is "Mei Kong Delta" you damn well better believe I'm going to come up for air and shout it out. That's just the kinda gal I am.

For our first anniversary, John and I went to Chicago for a few days, and now we're back...le sigh. I want to be on vacation all the time. I can't think of a fancy schmancy way of doing it so, here goes:

Day 1- We left the house without a hitch, including instructions for the dog who I kept trying to figure out a way to fit her in my bag. Unfortunately, I could not. We managed to pack tiny little bags chock full of stuff and didn't forget a thing--in fact, I think I packed about 20 outfits for four days. Of course, I gave John the "Lady of America" gym bag to pack his stuff in. I didn't alert him to the pink embroidery until we were boarding the plane. I thought it was nice of me to tell him at all, really.
Arriving early (wow! our lucky day!!), we checked our bags at the front desk (our room wasn't ready) and headed off to find a local bar to get ideas as to what to do over the next couple of days from some locals. I'm so glad that John and I don't plan our itinerary minute for minute... it's much more fun with just general ideas. Our bartender was super helpful and sweet, since he cut us a huge break on our check and lots of ideas scrawled all over our little map. With ideas in mind we left the bar, grabbed a few bottles of champagne and a bottle of Jameson (it was our anniversary, remember?!?) and headed back to our room. What is it about hotels and vacations that equal the most fabulous sex?? I don't know, but I'm half tempted to sell the house and move like a nomad from one hotel to another for life! After toasting many times and drinking numerous glasses of champagne we headed out (and no John, I'm not forgetting our little skit we worked up as we attempted to figure out how you have the "talk" with your kid, I just don't even know how to put it into words--it was just too funny!). Most of this night I can skip...it wasn't one of our finer moments as a bickering couple (particularly in public), and on our anniversary day no less! But it was resolved quickly enough and we shared a tasty meal in the city we were to inhabit for a few days. And I don't know if it was the alcohol but I ate a few pieces of John's tuna steak and loved it. This is a big break through...I haven't eaten fish since my dad stopped making me at 18 because in my mind, fish is yucky. See? John's good for me...expanding my horizons and such.

Day 2- I call this the day I walked the urban jungle. We got up nicely late...for me this is 10 am. I think I let him sleep until about 11. This was my concession to John since this was really his vacation from work. I've been on vacation for many weeks and I've had many days to sleep in, this was his turn. We headed out and before long it was lunch time. With our local bartender's suggestion in hand we set out on our quest. It was then that we discovered the joy that is deep dish Chicago pizza. Mighty tasty. With food in our bellies, we began our serious walking tour...oh. my. god. I can't tell you all the places that we went because we walked just about everywhere. I remember going to Millennium Park, I remember seeing the Bean...I loved the Bean. I did not love the squat image that the Bean reflected of me and that John captured with the (disposable) camera (that you'll hear more about later)...but you can't win every battle can you? We walked down to the river and followed its meander through the city, it was one of the beautiful things we witnessed that day. It's a shame that I haven't had a chance to purchase a new digital camera...sigh. I mentioned this to John and he quickly ran to accommodate his princess by getting a disposable camera. Being the brat that I am--I was too sweaty, too tired and had no pockets to put the camera. I thanked him, but left him to do the photography. We didn't capture much. But the camera was much appreciated John, really, it was.

We walked and walked until my knuckles were dragging on the ground and John was begging to get on a boat tour just to sit down. This suggestion fell on deaf ears, I looked at him and said, "Where is that boat going to take me that my feet haven't already??" He agreed with me and so we paused at a picnic table where we both laid down like we had walked 1000 miles. Seriously folks, I no longer believe in the Proclaimers. I don't know what the deal is with the heat/humidity in Chicago but it is certainly a different beast than here in Pennsylvania. Right now it's a sweltering 90-some degrees with 84% humidity. My hair is curling in little snarls and yet it's still more comfortable than it was in Chicago. You Chicagoans are amazing with the way you handle heat. I melted into a puddle while some girl walked by me wearing a 3/4 length sleeved shirt!! But I digress with my story...
We went to the Navy Pier, walked around a bit and then headed home to rest a bit. After laying on our bed for awhile, and showering we went down for a little dinner. When we actually sat down for dinner I ended up with the largest prime rib I've ever seen in my life...seriously, I had a half a cow on my plate! After six bites, I had to declare defeat and take a calffie bag (that's like a doggie bag, only bigger) home with me. John might have wanted to go out after dinner but unfortunately, I sunk into a deep food coma. Apparently it was that night that he got to see all the sexy shows on HBO (the best of Taxi Cab Confessions)...I don't believe him, because every time I turned on the TV it was My Super Ex Girlfriend. (if you're wondering why this is even relevant, it's because we don't have HBO at home so any down time had us either jumping each other or soaking in whatever HBO had to offer us).
...to be continued
Day 3 and 4 tomorrow.

So you send a tasteful (ha ha, there's no such thing) photo of yourself topless...you know, to help a Friday to go faster for your man...

...and you hear nothing back!
What happened?

Was it:

a) You actually sent the picture to your Aunt Joanie.
b) Your husband left his phone in the car and/or the battery is dead because he never charges it.
c) Your boobs just aren't as good as you thought they were.
d) Your husband replied to another girl, thinking the boobs belonged to her.
e) He said, "These things? I see them every night...why is she shoving them down my (proverbial) throat?"
f) He's working hard today and only one of us can lay out and think of naked pictures to send her spouse.

I guess I'll find out later...

I am constantly amazed at how good John is at being a husband. He totally read my mind all weekend. This is what I telepathically told him to do, and he did it! Seriously folks, he's good.

I said:

"Make me a homemade Stromboli!" (and he did! and it was AWESOME...I've never had such an awe inspiring combo of pizza dough and every meat product I love).

"Have sex with me, and put your back into it, Boy!" (Here, he got a little confused because he put my back into it, and now I have lots of sexy rug burn on my back...but it was worth getting it, plus it never truly hurts in the moment, only after.)

"Get me drunk!" (Boy did he ever...well, to be fair, I think I was the one swallowing the delicious mixes that he was handing me--but wow! He also wins bonus points for attempting to put me to bed when it was clear that I was no longer communicating with human beings and that gravity was beginning to work against me. Of course, I did not take this bed-time thing lying down, I popped up (of course) to harass everyone while they played wii!)

"Hold my hair when I puke!" (He needed to do this because when I woke up all bleary eyed he handed me an alcoholic beverage, citing "The hair of the dog". I took one whiff of it and scooted off to the bathroom to retch)

"Feed me!" (Several times he fed me. First it was Wendy's to coat my stomach, then he made me some pork meal that used all the contents of our very bare cabinets. You see, I was too busy drinking to actually go to the grocery store and purchase items for consumption. Yesterday I learned that pork, BBQ sauce and pasta actually taste really good together...I wish I had never found this out.)

Addiction
1. It's amazing that I made it to work today. In the old days it might've been chalked up to staying out too late at bars or under strange men, but these days, a more mellower Melina has found an addiction far more time consuming and worrisome than booze and cock. This my friends,would be the Wii. As soon as I get home from work I turn the little wii on. I grab my wiimote and I begin to hone my skills, because let's be fair here...I'm a woman, I didn't spend my formative years in my dank bedroom jerking off and playing video games all the time--I need to get some kind of edge on John! (disclaimer- I don't really know if John spent his formative years doing the above things,however, I DO know that he spent quite a bit of time filming stop action movies featuring Godzilla and his own voice overs--I just needed to have that documented)
Dick
2. Having roommates has been putting a damper on our sex life lately. Because let's be honest, the place we have sex the most is not our bed (too mushy--perfect for sleep, not for sex) but our couch. Unfortunately for us, between not really getting any private couch time coupled with constant painting jobs and renovations to both our house and to ER's new place was making me a cranky lady. When there's a real penis in the house, the battery operated kind just doesn't cut it for me...because like any woman, I like what I can't have. Mr. Pink (my vibrator), never puts up a fight and is always available, thus, he bores me. John made up for our lack of couch "wrasling" in a big way last night. The man's true talent is foreplay. I'd marry him again if I could just for his mouth...and his personality, of course--his personality! He's not just a piece of a meat--he's my piece of meat. Hands off.

Last night was hysterical in its hi-jinx and creepy dreams, but it wasn't too conducive for sleep--I tossed, I turned, my arms fell asleep, I got laid upon by my husband who pretends in the middle of the night that I'm either the mattress or a pillow. You see, John and I went for wings. We weren't there long, but we were there long enough for me to come home roll around on the floor with John and the dog, then pass out on the couch while trying to watch Aqua Teen Hungerforce (which is kinda a little ritual that we have--watching ATH not the passing out...ok, maybe that too).

Apparently John undressed me, because I woke up this morning in only socks and when I went to grab my bra it was still clasped...he's the only man I've ever met that removes a girl's bra by pulling it over her head like a shirt. That got me to thinking about my dreams...but I said nothing at first because they were just soo weird. John said to me trying to distract me from my temper tantrum--I was beating the blankets whining about not sleeping enough, "I had some really crazy dreams last night," but he didn't know who he was talking to because in between getting woken up by John's sleep sneezing where he would do the following all in one swift motion:Sneeze. Sit Up. Flail arms. Hit me in the boobs--so while he was doing all that, I was having the weirdest dreams in the world.

First, I dreamed that I was trying to write a short story about mechanical sharks created by the government to kill people ( an odd little idea). Then I dreamed about the same sharks but this time they were out to get John and myself--it was like watching Jaws but my stumpy legs were in the shark's eyes view right before he chomped on me! Then I dreamed that John's mom was a heroin drug runner in a college town and that a shipment disappeared. For the rest of that dream we were frantically trying to get ahold of more heroin to replace the missing heroin so that we wouldn't be chopped into tiny pieces. We were not successful, unfortunately--I'd like to thank the creators of Fargo and Quentin Tarentino for providing me with enough bloody references to create a dream that was that gross! Then I dreamed that John and I were having sex...that turned out to not be a dream though, I think. Let me explain.

I asked John this morning, "Did you have sex my inebriated body last night?" as I picked up the His reply, "Maybe? Why do you ask?" I looked at his little grin and said, "Well I dreamed we had sex but I couldn't remember if we actually did or not." Johnny says to me with a straight face, "Well if you can't remember then...no, we didn't have sex last night."
He's such a rascal, and I honestly still don't know.

or something like that.

Last Wednesday night I had the best sex of my life...officially, don't know what it was about it--maybe the semi-drunkeness, or the fact that we both tasted like hot wings...but it was Grrrreeeat...at least for me. And because the best experience of my life must be tempered with horrible moments, at approximately 2:45am I woke up with a choking cough that racked my body and made me unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Please note: John is able to roll over and sleep through someone hacking her entire lung up (that was me, if you didn't know).

During my reign as Queen of the Sick, John took excellent care of me. Thursday, I was just semi-zombiefied so I managed on my own. Friday I went to watch some girls play a little Flag Football and supported a good cause, unfortunately, I should've been supporting my cause for healthiness. I came home and shivered, shook and just whined a lot. John answered my whines by handing me the Tivo remote and running out to get me Wendy's...because greasy food cures all that ails you my friends. And then...then he left me blissfully alone to watch Dateline NBC catch sexual predators...with junk food for my brain and body I drifted blissfully to sleep on the couch (hopped up on tons o' vitamin C and Nyquil) while John painted the basement. (Truly, I'm not sure how I managed to get the well trained husband, but he rocks!)

Saturday was the highlight of my weekend because I hardly remember it due to various reasons. First, in the morning I dragged my body behind me and went to the grocery store because I wanted to make breakfast (feed a cold people, feed a cold). I ran into my mom's friends and they then told my mom that my "husband was sending me out in the cold and sick to buy him breakfast foods" ha ha...I love it when rumors get spread about him! He gets all defensive and hangs his cute little head and says, "Your mom thinks I'm a scumbag, doesn't she?" which isn't the case but it's just too much fun to solemnly nod to him whenever he asks. This is the night that I also attempted to drink...but it didn't really work. I claim it was all the Dayquil I was swilling, John claims I just had a lot to drink before we left the house (He's says tomato, I say I'm right). Either way, I think it was the first time I've been in bed by 8 o'clock on a Saturday in my life.


Notice there hasn't been any mention of any sex...you know for curative purposes of bronchitis type symptoms? Well no, there was no sex, why?? Because for some reason my friend/Aunt Flo/the crimson tide/the curse/lady trouble whatever in the hell you want to call it decided to make an encore presentation--this time in a way in which I wished I had purchased stock in Tampax. It made me very sad, because when you're feeling crummy...sex is the best cure, better than all the Nyquil in all the land...but cramps made me feel less than amorous and because I couldn't breathe through my nose John also suffered a bit because I couldn't perform my other favorite wifely duties.

Monday we took off together for recuperation purposes...it really became errand day. I have to say that we were ultra productive, but again my mom said to him, "She should really be recovering, you know?" Again, he just can't win!!! he he he...

Tomorrow: The origin of the term forking
When John slipped and called me Porkin
And possibly a recap of what occurs at Wing Night

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. That someone was me. I had night class last night (a really fun class, don't get me wrong) and it sucked the life out of me. Consider after working all day that the last thing I wanted to do was hop in the car, sit in traffic and then sit in a classroom all night listening to some good (mostly bad) short stories and workshopping them all night long. Then I get to hop back in the car and drive home ( at the speed of light...I got home in 26 mins last night--the University is about 40 mins away). I just wanted to spend a little time not thinking--and definitely not thinking about all the work that is pileing up for me to do.

John and I decided to watch a tivoed edition of Blind Date. After watching a particularly cringe-worthy episode, John cupped my face and kissed me, "Isn't it awesome that we don't have to date anymore?"

I didn't feel that way when we went up to bed and he unleashed the single foulest gaseous expansion my nose ever had the misfortune of being near.

However, I was more than happy when--to cure me of my sour morning attitude (after slapping the alarm clock like a pesky misquito, grumbling, moaning and sniping)--John undid my work pants that I hastily slapped on after bitching about the lack of hot water (um...who was supposed to call the hotwater heater guy? Oh that would be me...instead, I just decide to go downstairs on a nightly basis and trip the switch so that it resets rather than call for a new thermometer) and with his lovely hands eased a smile back onto my face.

I thought it would be only fair to return the favor...
as long as he didn't mess up my pink work shirt. I can only imagine the mood I would've been in, had we had just a few more minutes to actually strip down.

I lie here with a retched pain in my back watching my tivoed Project Runway (my secret dream would be a fashion designer...I can barely thread a sewing machine, I'd have to hand sew EVERYTHING!!). It is a searing pain that started as a pinch and throughout my day as a standup comedian/slave driver forced me to walk with my ass sticking out (further than usual) and bent over like a C...it was horrible, I felt like an idiot shuffling around with the pain clearly exposing itself on my face. Pain, however, was not on my mind last night.

Last night I was skipping around the house and grinning like an idiot because I got laid. Ah, when will I grow up?? I am like an endearing, horny teenage boy when I get sex, I look grateful...I act all goofy, I do a little dance...I'm probably a little annoying. While most adults lay exhausted in the afterglow, or puff on a post coital cigarette--there's me singing a little ditty, "I got a piece of asssss, yeah!" (I wish I was kidding you, but I'm not).

Oh and I'm a genius for picking berries and whipped cream for dessert last night. I'm not a huge dessert fan but if I got to have dessert like that, I'd definitely be a dessert lover!!

(Ok, shitty post but I'm in pain...bottom line, my husband gave me some seriously good sex last night, my back now kills. If it has anything to do with the sex I'm getting too old too quick).

Yesterday after a devastating loss for the Eagles, John and I said goodbye to our friends and congratulated Chelle (remember her??) on her fabulous engagement and then started making out after they left. Once John got naked and then stripped me of all my clothing, he pulled me up off of the couch and led me through the kitchen and into the dining room. I was a slight bit confused at first until I saw him push the clutter off the granite table top and then I completely understood where this was going and it made me grin.

After several minutes of being laid out on the cool granite in front of our large windows (no pun intended...ok, it was kinda intended) I saw that my boy was distracted. He kept looking out of our very sheer sheers (as seen above and then he said, "That weird neighbor across the street just came home and he won't stop staring...". (aside: he's SUPER creepy, creepier than perhaps neighbors who like to bang in front of windows) "Can you really see in here, that clearly?" (hence the reason I added a picture...um yeah, you can really see in and out pretty darn clearly!!)

"Let him watch," I said, "I don't mind one bit...don't stop!" But eventually, even I got creeped out so we moved onto the living room floor, which turned out to be perfect timing because then a bunch of kids came out of their houses and started playing basketball in front of our house. I may like exhibition but, I don't think I want a corruption of minors charge slapped on me!

So...

Yesterday I got an email that told me to wear my hair in pigtails, black panties and drink a little to get ready...hmm to get ready??

To get ready to be blindfolded and tied up! I've never had either done to me before so I was anxious, excited and full of anticipation...and so I dressed up in some new lace panties, a white button down, a loose tie, my glasses and pigtails grabbed myself a beer and waited...

I wasn't disappointed. In fact, it was the single hottest experience of my life. The fact that I never did the whole bondage thing before was because I've never trusted anyone completely before to allow myself to give up full control like that. And let me tell you...the experience was liberating, intoxicating and many times...breathtaking.

For nearly two hours, I had someone intent on making me happy...taking a little here and there but mostly giving. And then there are the pictures. I was amazed to see myself looking sexy, it was kinda cool seeing things through John's (and the camera's eyes). Plus I think it renewed John's faith in my promise that since we got married I wasn't going to slip into the "I only want it missionary, and I only want it once a week." Although, I think he already knew in his heart of hearts, that will never be the case!

Ok, back to being wifey...this place is a mess--but all I can seem to do is grab a beer from the trusty bar in the basement and sit in front of Law&Order waiting for Johnny to come home. Have a good weekend y'all!