Thong, th-thong, thong, thong!

When dating, sharing becomes an essential part of getting to know each other. You share parts of yourself, your likes/dislikes, your dreams, your body, etc. You, however, should not share underwear.

Skivvy was one of the first guys I ever dated. I was young, naive, and had not yet learned the ins and outs of dating. I thought Skivvy was cool. He drove a Jeep, was a Senior in high school (I was a Sophomore), and one time, I saw him drink a beer. In my eyes, there was nothing more desirable than Skivvy.

I met Skivvy in a parking lot. A well lit parking lot outside of the neighborhood Safeway. When you're in high school, that's where you hang out. After a few weeks of hanging out with friends, in random parking lots, Skivvy asked me to hang out at his house.

It was raining that day - full on El Nino storm type of rain. He didn't live far from my house, so after school, I walked to his... In the torrential storm... I was soaked. By the time I got there, I looked like a wet dog. Cute, I know. But what do you do to a wet dog? You dry it and make it warm!! (Even back then I was always coming up with ways to get frisked)

Skivvy offered me a change of clothes. I changed into his sweatpants and his favorite sweatshirt while he played video games in the den. I yelled out to him that I needed a pair of socks. He told me to go into the top drawer of his dresser.

I'm not the type of person who goes through people's things. I don't look in people's medicine cabinets or bathroom cupboards. I don't pretend to drop things in their nightstand, only to dig around and snoop. Just not my style. So when he told me to go into his drawer, I was nervous.

I opened the drawer. The drawer was filled with white socks. When I grabbed a pair, I grabbed a little something extra. A navy blue thong. Not a woman's thong. A real, live, man thong. I only know the difference because a man's thong has like weird saggy pouch area for... well you know what its for.

I was soooo disgusted. I touched his underwear. But not just underwear, his sexy unmentionables. I shut the drawer in disgust. I didn't know what to do. Something came over me and before I knew it, I was elbow deep in the drawer, looking for more thongs. I found 5. Skivvy had a total of 5 man thongs. I was mortified.

At that age, I think I only had 1 thong and that was because I stole it. There was no way my mother was going to be ok with me wearing a thong. So this guy, had more thongs than I did. It was just too much to handle. After a while, Skivvy decided to check on me. I was sitting on his bed, in his sweats, my hair still dripping wet, holding one of his thongs.

I just looked at him. He looked at me. Totally awkward. After what felt like hours of staring at each other, Skivvy finally spoke. "Did you need to borrow underwear too?"



Lesson Learned:

Stay away from men who like to wear pretty panties. It never ends well with those guys.

Get it girl!

Some men call me charming. Others call me manipulative. Doesn't matter what you call me, as long as I get what I want.

In my years of seducing the opposite sex, I've mastered a few techniques and I owe it to the world to share it with ya'll.

Here are my tricks to getting what you want in a relationship.

1. Always ask for things when naked.

Most men will agree to just about anything if you're putting it on them right. Men will make life altering decisions when you're giving them the good stuff. There's no better time to ask a man to take the trash out then after making sweet lovin' to him - and while he's at it, he can wash not only your car, but your mama's too.

2. When his favorite team is playing, keep your mouth shut.

For a man, there's nothing more romantic than when his woman leaves the house when his favorite team is playing. Letting him cheer, scream, or even cry in peace will not only make him grateful for his space, but he will appreciate you so much more when you return. With shopping bags full of things he just unknowingly bought you...

3. Gender roles keep things kosher!

Your man had a bad day? Long day at work? His favorite team lost? He sprained his ankle while shooting hoops with the boys? Put your apron on and cook something. Dinner, some dessert, and not bombarding him with questions the minute he walks through the door will not only make him happy, but I guarantee he'll be the one wanting to cuddle and talk all night. That way, it's not your fault if you forgot to mention the new dent in the car's bumper.

4. Tune me out.

Men lack the necessary genes for multitasking. Most men tend to tune their women out when doing other things, like playing video games, or even breathing. Recognize this and make demands only you'll remember. He'll be forced to do what you asked later because he wont remember saying he wouldn't do it. But remember to thank him, profusely for being so helpful. If by the grace of God his memory clears; deny, deny, deny.

Every woman deserves four pets in her life. A mink in the closet, a jaguar in the garage, a tiger in bed and a jackass to pay for it all.

I like boys.

I'm boy crazy. I think I was born this way. My first words might have been "Damn mama, that baby boy is all kinds of sexy! Do you think he wants to see whats in my diaper???" I love looking at men, talking about them, growling at them. A man walks into the room - I'm the first one to notice. It's just how I roll.

To balance out my last blog about deal breakers, I thought I'd share with ya'll my 5 most favorite things about men.

1. Shower Time

I love when a man uses my body wash. When a man smells like my Midnight Pomegranate or Armani Diamonds shimmering body wash, I want to bury my face and sniff his now super soft and lavish body. Men are supposed to smell like Old Spice but every now and then, I love a man who smells like sugar and spice. But, start using my body wash everyday and we're gonna have a problem. Don't get it twisted.

2. Security

Scary movies - you let us dig our nails into your thighs. Bar fights - when someone tries to break a Corona bottle on our heads, you break their necks. Nothing says love like defending us in bar fights.

3. Huggies

I love to hug men. Not because I'm a pervert, not because I like to press my chest on people for shits-n-giggles, but because it just feels right. There's nothing better than manly strong arms wrapped around our bodies. Wait, I take that back. There's nothing better than you hugging me when covered in chocolate frosting. Oh em gee, it's bananas!!

4. Furbies

A man with stubble on his face drives me absolutely wild. I like to scratch my palms on stubbly cheeks. And when we're done kissing, I dont need to exfoliate my face. While sometimes it causes irritation and makes me bleed, it's still so sexy to run my hands across a stubbly, lumberjack-chic man face.

5. Chivalry

I have arms, I can open my own doors. I can walk on the outside of the street and get hit by a car first, trust me. I know how to drive, you dont have to pick me up as though I'm 12 years old. The fact that men go out of their way to show us that they want to take care of us, that's got to be my all time favorite thing about them. It just shows me that if I were to lose my arm or license, I could count on you. So sweet.


Men are simple creatures. You can almost always count on them to fix your car, they're really good at answering yes or no questions, and it doesn't matter how many times they've seen you naked, but every time is like the first time.

Thank heaven for little boys. *


* Little boys meaning those over 18 years of age.

Deal Breakin'

Some of us want a man too sexxxy for his shirt. Some want a man so sexxxy it hurts. Then there's those who just want a man with all his teeth and limbs.

All of us have deal-breakers. I made a list of mine:

1. Dirty Fingernails

There's something absolutely repulsive about dirty fingernails. Especially if those nails belong on the hand of the man who wants to hold my clean finger nailed hand. I'm not saying that I want a man with perfect cuticles and weekly manicures, but the black festering darkness in your nails has got to go if you even want to think about putting your hands anywhere on this body.

2. Bad Teeth

Not everyone grew up with a dad in the dental field and I understand that not everyone can afford braces, zoom whitening, etc etc etc... However, if brushing and flossing your teeth is something you only do the day before your annual dental exam, please feel free to use your mouth on someone else. Like maybe a tree.

3. Pathetic Wuss

Some girls like men who like to cuddle. Some girls like dating men who wear pink lacy underwear. I, however, like to date REAL men. Hairy, sweaty, rough and rugged (but clean finger nailed), aggressive, passionate MEN who grunt, spit, swear, and can kill with their bare hands (if necessary). If the sound of gunshots scare you, go away. If it turns turns you on, please send me an email. I think I love you.

4. Bad Joker

Every girl wants a man that makes them laugh. No woman wants to constantly laugh at their man. Unless he's George Lopez, Dane Cook, Jim Carey, Russel Peters... you get the picture. If you're the butt of all my jokes, how will I ever learn to look past your stupidity and love you? If your jokes cause Lung Cancer, Heart Disease, Emphysema, or may complicate Pregnancy, I will refer to you as the weakest link. Goodbye.

5. The Player

I don't want to date an ugly man, duh. When another woman flirts with my man, I take it as a compliment. Until my man thinks that he can flirt back with the low-down, dirty, monkey with a wig on. If you feel the need to date everyone and their mothers, I'm sorry to inform you that mine is happily married and that's not how we roll.


If only I could find a man who could kill zombies in his sleep, decapitate evil with a swing of his light saber, throw me over his shoulder to carry me over puddles, fire two Uzis at the same time while driving a Mac truck through a mine field, I'd be the luckiest girl alive. And the safest.

I mean really, is that too much to ask for??

Mission Valentine

Most of my blogs are from dates that I went on a while ago, only a couple are recent. This tale is about LAST NIGHT.

Being single on Valentine's Day leaves 3 options: Send a mass text message to the men in your phone and hope one will take you out, stay home all alone and hate the world, or go out with your friends to make fun of the couples out to celebrate the day of love.

Naturally, I rounded up the girls for a Valentine's Day lunch and then spent the rest of the day with my bestest friend. Our mission = find a Valentine before midnight. We decided to stay local and check out the dive and sports bar. We figured that's where the single men would be hanging out.

We were wrong.

After 4 tries, we gave up looking and found ourselves at an Irish Pub. We decided we'd set up shop and hope the Sweet Baby Jesus would send men directly to us. There were a few couples enjoying drinks together, good music, the Olympic games were on the TV's and most impressive of all, there was a child, with a pacifier in his mouth, sitting at the bar... drinking from a plastic cup. This place was awesome.

My bestie kept trying to seduce a handsome Irish man. She'd give him the "come-hither" look, the "I want to give you a baby" look, and she even tried the "I'll even make you breakfast" look. His thick Irish accent, the way he chugged Guinness and his eagerness to curse had my bestie all kinds of riled up. We soon figured out that he had a gremlin looking girlfriend. UGH. Abort, abort!!

When filling your bladder with all kinds of liquor, one frequents the restroom. On a trip back from the little girl's room, a Ray-J look a like grabbed my hand as I walked by and smiled at me. I kept on keepin on to my table, where my bestie and vodka waited for me. We had two options, continue drinking alone, or make friends with Ray-J and his friends in hopes that they'd be our Valentines. Naturally, I decide to attack.

I walk up to the bar, near the boys, while one, we'll call him Giggles, orders a Mimosa. I ask why he'd be drinking a breakfast drink at night. He called Ray-J over and told him that I called his favorite drink a breakfast beverage. Ray-J came up to me with all his swagger / smooth talking nonsense and told me he loves to drink Mimosa's anytime of the day. I told him that I only drink them with pancakes, for breakfast.

He then said "Girrrrrrl, I'd love to pour syrup all over you for breakfast." This could be the man of my dreams. I love me some pancakes. Mostly because of the syrup. Giggles and Ray-J join my bestie and I. I'm excited that we might have found ourselves some Valentines. It's 11:30PM. Mission almost successful.

Giggles and Ray-J are all over us. Think Lifetime Movie kind of situation where it's almost like weird soft porn. I've never had a man randomly lick my face my at a bar. I'm pretty sure my bestie has never had a man give her a deep tissue massage at a bar either. I wasn't going to complain, since, well, they were cute, smart, and totally entertaining. Ray-J works as an analyst for Google while Giggles was a professional Drummer and toured all over the world.

One thing leads to another and somehow we're walking out the back door of the bar, supposedly to play pool at my bestie's house. They ask me to give them a ride to their cars which are just down the street. These two random men, that we just met, that we definitely don't want to have to see naked, are now in my car. I haven't had the chance to tell bestie that I don't want to go through with this, but I figure once they're out of the car, we can talk it out.

We drop them off at their cars and they begin to talk to each other about who's going to drive, who's going to leave their Escalade at the bar, etc. I ask my bestie.... "Should we ditch them?!"

When she said it was up to me, I crept past the boys, as to not make it look like I was evading. I drove down the street, made a right at the light and then booked it like a bat out of hell all the way to safety.

By safety, I mean the Taco Bell drive-thru.

Lesson Learned:

Looking for love on Valentine's Day is a bad idea. Just shut it down. There's always next year.

Touch me, Dr. Love!

In my quest to reduce the size of my ass, I paid a ridiculous amount of money for a personal trainer at the gym. My trainer was short, skinny, and totally annoying. She was 21, talked about how she loved to run for miles, and would point out all the men she had dated at the gym. Like I cared. Stop talking and make my ass smaller, lady!!

Being chubby does not mean I'm weak. I used to play sports growing up, I can still run a mile faster than most of my friends, and I can bench press midgets. My trainer saw just how strong I was and began to work me out as thought I was training for the Olympics. She started to have me do things that she would do herself to stay in shape. Things which included jumping on and off a large stool.

Chubby girls should not jump off of stools. Or anything, for that matter. I jumped and ended up tearing my MCL. I spent the next month limping, not able to bend my knee, and in constant pain. After almost 6 weeks, I finally gave in and went to see the Orthopedic Surgeon. My insurance allowed me to pick the doctor I wanted to see, so I picked the cutest one. We shall call him Dr. Love.

He was tall, handsome, from Chicago, and a surgeon. I couldn't wait for him to touch my knee. My first appointment consisted of a lot of giggling and seduction ... with my eyes. At the end of my appointment, Dr. Love asked if I was Persian. How could he know such a thing? His response: "You have big, beautiful, Persian eyes." He totally wants me, YES!

Before I left, he placed his hand on my shoulder, told me to take care of my knee and that he'd see me again in two weeks. I had two weeks to figure out how to make him love me.

For my second appointment, I had an agenda. My knee was not getting any better and I had a girl's weekend trip to Las Vegas coming up. I needed a shot of cortisone. I knew Dr. Love was against it, he thought I was too young, blah blah blah, but when baby wants something, baby gets it.

I wore a dress to my appointment (easy access to the knee. duh). I made sure to smile, undress him with my eyes, and hang on every word he said. He didn't want to inject me, but I told him he was the only doctor I trusted, the only man that could heal me, my one and only knight in shining armor. He gave in. I had him wrapped around my finger and broken knee and it was only my second appointment.

As he was injecting, I told him that every time he touches my knee, he touches a special place in my heart. Dr. Love giggled. He looked me in the eyes and said "I didn't know the heart was connected to the knee bone!"

We talked for almost 20 minutes about growing up in Chicago, how we love Las Vegas, and our favorite buffets. He put his hand on my shoulder, almost giving me a hug, and told me to have a great time and come back to see him in a few weeks.

I went to Vegas with my friends, had a blast, and my knee didn't bother me one bit the entire time. I got home, printed out a picture of me and the girls, and put it in a card that read:

Dear Dr. Love,

Thank you so much for injecting me. My trip to Las Vegas with the girls was great! You had me feeling like a million bucks. Feel free to call me anytime, when you're not in the office."

I left my phone number, spritzed the card with my perfume, and sent it to my future lover.

Dr. Love called 5 days later. I almost dropped the phone when I heard his voicemail. I waited a few days before returning his call - gotta keep him on his toes! He thanked me for my thoughtful card and wanted to take me to dinner so he could hear all about my trip.

You'd think that an experienced surgeon, who runs a hospital in Uganda in his spare time, has worked with multiple NFL teams, and has performed rare operations, would be cocky, spend the entire time bragging, or just be downright arrogant. Not Dr. Love. He was boring.

In an effort to woo me, in a non bragging kind of way, he didn't speak of any of the cool things he did. He told me of his love for reading next to the fireplace, spending weekends in Aspen and drinking wine, and how he loved the ocean. SIGH.

I had spent years praying to my sweet Baby Jesus to send me a doctor to marry. A tall, dark, handsome doctor. He finally sends me the doctor and forgets to give him a personality.

Lesson Learned:

When praying for your dream man. Be very specific.

Ex: Dear Baby Jesus,

Please send me a 6 foot tall man, with all his teeth and limbs. One who doesn't drink too much and only swears at the TV. Please baby Jesus, let him be a doctor, funny, and have a soft spot for Chihuahuas. Oh, and make sure he washes his hands. Amen.

The Boob - Tube

Tube had a strict rule. No hanky-panky until the 12th date. Tube said he didn't want to tell our future children that they were made on our 3rd date. I agreed it would be best to wait.

I kept track of our dates in my calendar. It's not like I'm some raging sexual predator, but he was the first man, in a long time, that I couldn't keep my hands off of. Only problem was, I couldn't touch the man without him reminding me that it wasn't our 12th date. So annoying.

Our 11th date was spent playing pool with a bunch of Tube's friends. Tube and I were a team, but I never got a turn. After the first few tries, Tube told me it was ok to sit and watch. How rude; he's supposed to let me play, regardless of how bad I am. He should take this opportunity to teach me like they do in the movies. But no, Tube played. So I took the opportunity to drink everyone's beer. Ha! I win, suckers.

I drank so much beer that I needed help to the car. Tube wasn't going to let me drive home, I wasn't going to go home, so Tube drove me to his place. Because our 11th date had gone past midnight, I began to badger my Tube, reminding him incessantly that it was technically our 12th date. Classy, I know.

We get to his place, he tucks me into his bed, while he sleeps outside of the covers. Eventually, to shut me up, Tube kisses me. YES!! This is totally going to happen. The making out gets kinda heavy and I drunkenly rip my shirt off. Tube's hands start to wander all over the place.

Out of nowhere, everything stops. It's dark in his room so I can't see a damn thing. "What's this?" he asks me. My heart sinks. What could it be? I reach my hand out, feeling around in the dark, so I can feel what he's talking about.

It's a sock. That had just been in my bra. CRAP. I forgot to take out my secret weapons. I'm screwed.

At this point in my life, I had been using my dad's Kirkland Brand Dress Socks, from Costco, to stuff my bras. Don't judge me!! It works really well. It looks great AND it's an inexpensive way to perk the girls. Except that I totally forgot about my sock enhancements because I was tipsy from my boozing.

I scurry around looking for my shirt before Tube gets the chance to dig for the other sock. It was like a bad Hanes commercial. This was definitely not going my way.

I run out of the house, sock in hand, and head straight to my car. I'm too drunk to drive, and I know better, so I just sit in the car. With the doors locked. In Tube's driveway.

Tube comes out to find me. I'm so embarrassed. I waited months for this to happen, I dreamt of what it would be like, and when I finally get the chance to seal the deal, I forget to remove the rolled dress socks from my bra? Ugh.

Tube talks me into going back inside and promises to never mention my sock situation. I was grateful that he was so understanding.

The next week, technically out 12th date, Tube picked me up and had a gift waiting for me in the car. Excited, I rip into the bag.

The bastard bought me 3 pairs of men's dress socks.



Lesson Learned:

Socks should only be worn on your feet. If worn anywhere else people will make fun of you forever.