F that S!

12 12 2007

So I did this little thing to see what my blog would be rated and I’m quite displeased!  Only PG-13?  What kind of crazy talk is that?  Maybe I should say stuff like “boobs” and “whiskey” and “drunken sluts”.  But you see how I put those in quotation marks?  Those aren’t my words!  I don’t use such language!  Priss priss priss!  This story is about to change all that. 

Loverman works for a marvelous internet advertising agency, and they are very good to their employees.  Twice a year they throw big parties, take their sales guys to trade shows in NYC and San Francisco, all sorts of good things.  I was very much looking forward to this year’s Christmas party; all the guys who work for this company are nerdy and awkward in their own special way.  I’m not sure they’d deny that.  The wives and girlfriends, however, are AWESOME and I always have a good time with them.  Oh, and two of their super super gay boys, one only semi-spectacular gay boy with the BEST girl pal ever.  For some reason the party organizer decided that this year, there would be entertainment.  I’m not sure what he was thinking when he booked the dance troupe, but I’m quite sure it wasn’t “Ooh!  Itty bitty titties!  Deeelightful!”  But that’s what we had, and it was quite entertaining.  I am mostly convinced that more than half of the troupe members were not originally women.  All right. The evening progressed, I tossed back more vodka tonics than would prove later to be good for me, and had a gay old time talking with K, L, and J about which dancers we thought were doing a great job at passing, and which dancer had the most prominent package.  Towards the end of the show, the main entertainer (and I think she was the main entertainer because she shook her booty more feverishly than any of the others) waved to a man in the crowd and said “Come on up here, baby!  And bring your chair!”  And I, never having experienced a lap dance before, was reluctant to sit idly by and watch someone else enjoy the entertainment all on his own.  So I opened my big fat mouth and “Where’s MY lap dance?” came sauntering out.  Well.

“Come on, honey!  I don’t discriminate!”  So I grabbed my chair and joined co-worker and Dancer and sat happily down.  I spent the next thrilling four and a half minutes trying to determine the gender of my lap dancer.  Her bum was squishy when she sat on me, but her shoulders were broad AND she was wearing a wig.  I didn’t spank her, although now I think I should have and I regret the missed opportunity.  However, she did pull out the top of my party blouse to check out my rack, after which she announced “They’re fabulous!  And they’re real!”  Thanks!  Thanks, Victoria’s Secret, Secret Embrace Angels Bra with up-lift and separation!  The dance ended al too quickly and Dancer kissed my cheek.  She left a very big lipstick mark and I walked around with my cheek stuck out for the rest of the evening, bragging about my slutty encounter. 

The next day at work management herded everyone into the office and apologized for the entertainment.  Apparently Organizer truly had no idea what he had booked, and they were truly sorry if anyone, particularly anyone’s spouse, was offended.  Loverman piped up “Mine sure wasn’t!”

 
I can’t wait for next year’s party.  I’m bringing some fives, though. 





I’d Like to Help, But No.

3 12 2007

I would like to take this moment to announce that I PASSED my licensing exam and, upon completion of my Masters degree, be certified to teach in the state of Arizona.  Lest you think I’m getting a swelled head over this, my guinea pigs also passed the test.