A Problem With Persnicketiness

Once upon a time (when I was still a spring chicken,) I had a beau who was a genius at ruined orgasms - except mine were the ones he ruined, not his.

If it hadn’t been such a maddening trick, I could almost call this knack a “mad skill”, because his success rate was distressingly close to 100%. We’d be fucking along merrily and I’d start the internal flutters, begin to spiral my way up that last bit, just needing that last little bit more…. then he’d wail loudly (right in my ear) and… we were done.

Like, Done.

Fini.

Kaput.

Time to snore now.

Done.

Every. Stinking. Time.

This might not have been so irksome if he just plain came whenever he felt like it, but no. 

It was always the initial flutters of my burgeoning orgasm that set him off and he could never hold out until I hit “full tilt”. 

Total ruined orgasm, every time. 

So naturally, it didn’t take my body very long to figure, “well, fuck this with a bunch of bananas!” and just withdraw from the process… A withdrawal that took several years to overcome after we’d split.

I think about this sometimes as BG has me edging…

"Because I Like It" Wednesday

Now there's a philosophy to live by!

Speaking of Ice Cream...

Today's The Day!

Actually, all of July is Ice Cream Month, so if you can’t get out for ice cream today, don’t panic. 

I just didn’t want anyone to miss a chance at some free ice cream simply because they didn’t know.

           you’re welcome

(Just don’t order cookie dough ice cream without checking the ingredients! ;-D)

Oh, and if anyone has a recipe for making cookie dough ice cream like they serve at Thomas Sweet… pleeeeeez share? (It’s not vanilla ice cream with bits of cookie dough mixed in but rather, an ice cream that itself tastes like cookie dough. It’s to die for… but I no longer live within the vicinity of a Thomas Sweet’s. *sob!*)

The Garbanzo Apostasy

Dear Food Bloggers of the World,

I am putting you on notice.

The next time one of you publishes a recipe called “cookie dough” something… 

    and the so-called dough is made of chick peas…? 

       I will be performing a citizen’s arrest.

And if you’re foolish enough to publish a recipe for “cookie dough” ice cream…? 

       I’m bringing Uncle Vinny with me. 

(just sayin’…)

Seriously… what are you guys thinking?

Any dish, any concoction at all that consists of smashed chick peas is clearly not cookie dough. Not even when you add chocolate chips to it.

No, no, and NO.

I was going to decry this abomination as an “ersatz” cookie dough, but even that is giving it way too much street cred. This stuff isn’t close enough to cookie dough to even be called a cheap substitute.

All it really is, is Just Wrong.

True cookie dough contains yummy things like butter, sugar, flour, and chocolate chips.

Not chick peas. 

     Never chick peas.

(Trust me on this - I’ve eaten enough of it in my life to know.)

If you want to eat cookie dough, eat real cookie dough.

If you’re trying to eat healthier, then don’t eat cookie dough. At all. Full stop.

If the problem is that you do want cookie dough but can’t have gluten, or don’t trust raw eggs, then go see Vegan Richa - she has an edible cookie dough bar recipe that is to die for… with nary a chick pea in it.

Just, really… step away from the chick peas and nobody will get hurt, ok?

TMI and The Blast From The Past

Once again, TMI Tuesday caught my eye with one of its questions…

Have you ever orgasmed just by hearing sexy-dirty talk?

Now, in general, my inclination is to cast a dubious eye upon those who claim to find having orgasms to be as easy as pulling off their underwear. (Undoubtedly, some of my skepticism is pure sour grapes, as my own orgasms are far too free-spirited to be hemmed in by anything so mundane as a pattern. "Always easy? I think not!") 

So the whole, “I shall trigger your orgasm using nothing but my voice” thing has always been kind of hard for this unpredictable kind of girl to buy into. 

Except… there’s one teensy little problem with all my skepticism... 

I actually have come from nothing more than sexy talk.

Although realistically, I’m not sure if you can call it “talk”… 

I answered the phone, he growled a mere four words, hung up deliberately  - and left me writhing on the couch with spasming girl parts. 

It was one of the hottest things I have ever experienced in my life. 

(And I’m still mad he didn’t hop in his car and come finish what he started - I don’t CARE that it was 11:00 pm and he lived three hours away!)

He wasn’t a Dom… tho' there was dominance in his words.

He wasn’t even ever a lover - we never did get our timing right.

But there was lust between us, heat that would flare at the smallest thing - 

     plus, he had a voice as smooth and addictive as the whiskey of his native Kentucky.

(And, oh my lord, did that man know his way around the inside of my head!)

This was many years ago... and I’m not sure I can see that ever happening with anyone again.

But I have to admit, I’m pretty glad I can answer “Yes, I have!” to the question.  ;-)

Well, This Is Disappointing...

(Note to self: Stop looking at search terms.)

Was it something I said?!?!?

;-p

Holiday Weekends

This isn't the exact view I'll be enjoying this weekend...

but it's darned close!

Let the relaxation begin!!