So...last night...at about 10-ish...I'm sitting on the couch
sipping red wine...& eating a few chocolate chips...
(the combo is seriously awesome)...when hubby
comes into the room. He looks at me...
says that I may have a problem...
(in a kinda kidding way)...& goes upstairs...
What the hell do you think he was talking about...
problem...what problem?...
the wine...or the chocolate?

& no...I didn't actually put the chocolate in the
wine...but that DOES look wickedly good, doesn't it?

It’s sometimes unexpected what you remember about a particular event after
some time has gone by & the memory of the details starts to fade a bit.

A couple of weekends ago, Hubby & I found ourselves out with another couple.
We’d been invited out for dinner with friends. Dinner turned into drinks at the
bar with friends of our friends, whom we’d never met. Drinks turned into going
back to the couple we had never met’s place (you follow?).

OK, if you’re looking for sex to take place next, it’s not going to happen
(this just ain’t that kind of story).

We walked a few blocks to a beautiful brownstone. It was a grand old building
that was now divided into four apartments. We entered John & Delia’s second
floor apartment & they immediately made us feel at home.
They got us drinks & kicked off their shoes.

Soon we were all talking & laughing (& half dressed...just kidding).
John started telling stories about all of the places he had traveled.
At some point, while he was talking, he had picked up one of his
girlfriend Delia’s shoes. He was absentmindedly turning the shoe
over & over in his hands. As his story continued, he kept playing with her shoe.
No one seemed fazed in the least by this, except me & I said nothing.
Really...what could I say anyway? I couldn’t say what I was thinking.
Saying, “What the hell is with you & that shoe...are we interrupting something?”
didn’t seem entirely appropriate.

Maybe, I was reading too much into the way he was caressing her shoe.
I could have been way off when I saw him tracing the outline of the opening
of her shoe with his fingers ever so gently & thought of sex. What he did next
put me over the top, he slowly put his hand deep into her shoe & started gliding
his fingers up & down, from the heal to the toe of her shoe...& back again.

That was it for me. I could take no more. We said our goodbyes & left.
There was only one thing left for him to do to her damn shoe & I didn't
think I wanted to stick around to witness it.

Explain this to me...'cuz I do not get it.

Why do women love Ty Pennington?
I have a friend who'd seriously leave her husband for this
guy. I'm sorry but...extremely goofy guys do not get me hot,
they just don't. And what is with that little patch of fuzz
on his lower lip? Or did a caterpillar crawl up there...& die?

I'm not saying he's bad looking.
I deeply looove the whole tall/blonde thing he's got going
on...but add annoyingly loud goofball to the picture
& the effect is lost on me.

I'm not a huge fan of Extreme Home Makeover
(I'll tune in to see the end result sometimes)...but if I'm working...
& he came up to me with a bullhorn...& screamed ANYTHING at me...
anything at all...he'd have that thing shoved so far up his butt...
he'd either cry out in pain...or enjoy the whole damn thing...
(I'm not sure what floats his boat...if you dig what I'm saying).

I have nothing against goofiness either
(I love Dick, don't I?)...but unlike the Dick you all know
& love...Ty Pennington has zero sex appeal.
He oozes idiotic wackiness...not sex...
& no good can ever come of that.

My girlfriend Pat (the jewelry designer...remember? you may have seen one of her designs on the girlie with the heart shaped nipples) has a little brother in law school. He works & studies hard. What I like about him is that he’s intense & serious...most of the time. Every once in a while, he needs to take breaks from all the seriousness & intensity. He does this by being incredibly silly. He’ll text me short little nothings (that mean absolutely nothing)...just to make me laugh:

Law Student: Anything new & exciting...
Law Student: any new men in your life?

Chick: um...no (he knows I'm married...he's just being...silly...told you).
Chick: any new women in your life?

Law Student: no

Chick: how can we fix that?

Law Student: hmmm
Law Student:: get together and have crazy monkey sex.

Chick: monkey???
Chick: what does that mean to you???
(I'd be very interested to know)

Law Student: the kind you have to clean up with a mop and bucket.

Chick: hmmm...
Chick: now you've got my interest.

Law Student: good.

Then...just like that...he's gone...(& I won't hear from him for months) & I'm left smiling.
Pat thinks he's nuts...& he is.

Imagine this...

You’re riding the train into the city on your way to work.
You’re having the sort of shitty day that starts with a fall on your butt
in the shower. You feel every bump of the train & your sore ass aches
on the cold hard seat.

There’s a man sitting across from you. He’s reading the paper.
He’s nicely dressed in a Canali suit & Mephisto shoes (I tend to notice
well put together people...but if that last sentence annoys you about me...
skip it...I’m OK with that). He looks up from his paper long enough
to look at me & sense that I’m having a crap ass day. He puts his paper down
on the seat next to him.

I’m grateful & surprised at what happens next. He comes over & stands
in front of me. His eyes lock onto mine. His left hand reaches down
& touches me precisely in that spot. At first I think,

How did he know I am having such an unfulfilling day?

Then I think, Hmmm...a southpaw might be just what I need today.

Next thought, after the way my morning started, I definitely deserve
an orgasm, it’s the least I can do for myself (& if he is offering
to help me out, who am I to say no?).

He moves his hand just the right amount & with the right rate of pressure.
Even through my clothes...I can feel my day begin to get better.
The heat, the pressure & the mind emptying need for release are minutes away.

Some of the other passengers look my way...
I can see that they are all thinking things like,

Good for her &

That certainly looks like it beats coffee as an early morning pick-me-up.

I start breathing heavier & my mind leaves my body & flies up over the train
till it reaches what may be salvation.

After all is said & done, the extremely accommodating & nice gentleman
I’d almost just met (could any of this count as actually meeting?) looks up
when his stop is called. He kisses me deep & hard as the doors of the train
begin to open...then he’s gone.

Did I imagine the whole thing? Could that have positively just happened?
If it didn’t, then why am I feeling so sated & satisfied? If it didn’t happen,
why was I just publicly moaning on the PATH train in front of the other
morning commuters? If it didn’t happen I say, thank you imagination,
you’re almost as good as the real thing.

Disclaimer:

OK, if you’re a guy, your spot will be different.

You can certainly substitute a girl wearing Versace instead
of the suity guy...that works for me too.

Well... it made me laugh...

On the way home from work yesterday, I called Dick.
The message I left sounded something like,

“OK, I totally get the fact that you don’t love me anymore...
but call me back anyway.”

We hadn’t spoken in about a week (you’d think he’d call a chick...
every now & then...alright...I’m over it now).

Dick called me back in about 10 minutes (he’s usually cool like that).
We talked for about 40 minutes. The conversation rolled around till it hit
a wall when the subject of relationships reared it’s buttfucking ugly ass head.
He was having issues with his girlfriend, POD Woman...but I’ll let him tell
you about it without putting my spin on the whole fabulous deal.
(I have a feeling that he hates when I write about his shit...can’t say I blame
him...actually...it’s less fun this way...but we’re all here to make Dick happy,
aren’t we?) That wasn’t a dig, Dick...I meant that.

By what he was telling me, it sounded like his gf was taking him for granted
in some ways. Dick was loading on the sweet cards & buying the chick flowers
all the time & she was giving him half assed thanks, then going about her day.
Now, I’m not advocating playing games...or any nonsense like that (because
that’s against this chick’s code of truthfulness, kindness & honesty...& that would be wrong). What I am suggesting is, do like my prick (I mean loving
& warm) husband. Hold back with the good stuff. Make the girl wonder a bit.
Make her work for it, baby (shoveling shit or mulch comes to mind).
If she expects grand gestures everyday...maybe she’s likely to take them
for granted...not that I would...I’m just saying. Kayten brought up this point
in comments (“ he may come to expect it rather than to appreciate it”)
& it really made me think. She's definitely got a point there.

I knew this blogging experience would end up amusing me to no end...
but I didn’t expect it to give me so much insight into the heart of things
as much as it has (thanks a fucking lot...to all you thought inspirers
out there...I love you all)...wait...I take that back...don’t want you taking me
for granted...because you would...wouldn’t you?

I think...no...I know I need a vacation...
or just some freaking time off.

If I go through the trouble of taking the day off,
I want to do something fun. I'm so fried from work...
my imagination's gone blank.

Hit me with some recommendations on what I should
do to have a kick ass day off. Hell, I'll even invite you
to join me if you've got some killer ideas to share...
if it's something I don't feel like doing, I will
ignore your suggestion...then ask you again & again
what you want to do until it sounds like something good
to me. If your suggestion includes anything that pleasures
me while requiring no work on my part (hmmm)...
I can virtually guarantee that I will like it.

Look here for a surprise...

What do you think? Heart shaped...cool, huh?
That’s the way they should be, am I right? (I think I am).

BTW, that’s not me. I’d never wear such a gaudy necklace.
That’s my friend Jane, showing off my friend Pat’s jewelry designs.
(Sorry about the gaudy crack, Pat...it’s just not my style).

I know you’re wondering why...oh why, expose your beautiful
(fake? I don’t know...she won’t tell me) boobies...
when you’re trying to sell jewelry?

I can only answer that by saying, Jane does things like this all the time.
Last week, a cop pulled her over for speeding, yep, you guessed it...
one flash of her heart shaped nipples & her impending ticket turned instantly
into an invitation to dinner. She freely flashes ‘em to get into clubs
(girls with heart shaped nipples never pay cover charges either).
Hell, she sometimes even flashes young waiters in lieuuuu of a tip.

I'm not saying that I don't have some heart shaped parts of my body...
I'm just saying that I am a bit more discriminating with the bursts
of flashing (I mean really...I'd take the ticket...but if he was offering a car...
or impressively large jewels...who knows?)...that's all I'm saying.

Who knew that helping your husband with backbreaking work outside
would make him have a newfound looove & affection for me? Who knew?
Really...who? 'Cuz if anyone out there knew this to be true...& held out
on me...didn't want to share this little morsel of information with moi
for some reason...I'll hunt you down like an animal...just to thank you
for NOT sharing. If I had known that a little sweat equity was all I needed
to get my husband to appreciate the fine chick he married...I'd have
gotten my ass outside & shoveled shit (ok, mulch) a long fucking
time ago.

2 days of intense physical work has somehow made me more attractive
to my weird ass husband.I lost track of how many times he's thanked me
& told me he loves me. He wrote me e-mails telling me that I was
a tough (insert cute nickname here..."cuz I ain't telling you
what it is) girl.

I came home last night to wild flowers, wine & dinner being cooked for
me. Let me just tell you, this is NOT a common occurance in The Chick
Household. Would I appreciate it so much if shit like this went on
everyday at mi casa? Probably not...hell, I'd probably become a spoiled
bitch princess if I was treated like the royalty that I am EVERY day).
I still had to clean up...so don't envy me so...

I hope everyone had a nice weekend. My weekend involved:

Sangria

New Shoes


Mexican Food

Moving massive amounts of mulch


Exhaustion

Hot Tubs (OK, A hot tub)

A massage

Breakfast in bed (& by breakfast I don’t mean food)

Winter Ales

Gardening



Kids selling lemonade

Mix that all up, add a squeeze of lemon & that there was my weekend.

Hubby walked into the kitchen. He’d been outside doing lawn work.
I was sitting at the table looking through one of the 18 thousand
wallpaper books I’d brought home from the decorator store.
Hubby had on grungy jeans with holes in the knees & grass stains everywhere
& a dirt smudged shirt. Actually, it all looked pretty damn good with his heavy
5 o’clock shadow & messy hair. He asked me if I had laundry to do
(‘cuz chicks dig when you ask them that). When I said yes, he went to the
laundry room & started taking off the grunge clothes.

I shouted a comment from where I was sitting...something along the lines of...

“Dance for me, baby!”

or

“Shake that sweet thing!”

I don’t remember what I said, but he came dancing out of the laundry room,
shaking what God gave him & throwing clothes at me. He swung his shirt over
his head & threw it, it landed in my lap...off came the jeans, they landed on the
table. He was rocking his ass in his tighty whities for me...then in a flash,
they were off & flying towards the stove. I was loving it & laughing
extra hard...only party because you can see into the kitchen from the front door
(which was open). I was going to tell him that my mother was due to arrive
at any minute to help me pick out wallpaper...

...but how would that have been funny?

Thankfully, this next naked story does not star me.

This story involves a beach & a baby.
A couple of summers ago, my sisters & I shared a beach house.
One sister is older than me, the other is younger. My older sis, E
is an uncomplaining earth mama type. My younger sis, B
is a crabby bitch type. I love them both completely.

We had just come off the beach after a long beautiful day in the sun.
E’s son J was a year old & covered in sand, he looked like he’d been breaded
with sand & deep fried. E decided to jump in the outside shower
that was on the side of the house. They took a joint shower & when she
was finished cleaning J up, she shouted for one of us to please come & take
the baby from her so that she could wash her hair. B & I were on the patio
having cocktails nearby. B got up from her chair & went over to the shower.
E opened the door...but the damn thing must have been spring loaded...’cause
it shot all the way open with a bag. B instantly collapsed in an uncontrollable
fit of hysterics & split seconds later...I did the same. We giggled till we couldn’t
take it anymore...we couldn’t breath & our ribs were starting to hurt.

There stood E, frozen in horror...both arms straight out in front of her,
holding baby J out like she was about to hand off a pass.
She was stark ass naked & being gawked at by her two sisters
& a family of four who happened to be walking by on their way
home from the beach.

OK, this didn’t actually happen this week, but to keep "Naked Week" going
I got another one to throw at you.

This really happened a couple of months ago. This story involves a gym
locker room & nudity (AGAIN? You say? Yeah, AGAIN!...so suck it & deal...
I might be channeling Pink here...but I can’t be sure).

On the weekends, I sometimes sneak into Hubby’s gym for a quick swim.
His gym is a part of a hotel & spa. I’m only telling you this little factoid,
because you just never know what kind of characters might be having
a convention or party on any given day. We’ve witnessed everything from big,
beautiful Indian weddings...the lobby was filled with exotic looking women
in the most vividly colored saris...to huge (Saul took a second mortgage on the
house to pay for it all) bar mitzvahs. I was actually hit on in an elevator
by a cocky 13 year old bar mitzvah boy who asked me to join his private party
up in his room. I ended up laughing & hugging him for making my day
...then I slapped him for trying to squeeze my ass (I told you, the little bugger
was cocky).

So, there I was one weekend, in the locker room, getting ready for a swim.
A woman walks into the locker room. She’s speaking German to her kid.
I think nothing of it & continue to change into my bathing suit.
I don’t know when it hit me that something just wasn’t right...but I got this
terrible feeling in my gut & immediately looked up to find what I thought
was a kid, looking straight at me.

The first thing I thought was, kids don’t usually have 5 o’clock shadow,
do they? Shit, this kid looked to be about 12 or 13 years old. What was he doing
in the women’s locker room? Are they so nonchalant about nudity in Europe
that they allow teenage boys in women’s locker rooms to oooogle
freaked out Americans?

My next thought? Damn, I just inadvertently flashed a teenage boy.

The thought after that? If I was a 13 year old girl...I’d have a choice to make
between bar mitzvah boy & the peeping German.

For two days in a row, someone called my name...
& then there was nudity...strange, huh?

Yesterday, I ran down to the gym at work in the afternoon.
I don’t usually have that much time...so I really did run down there.
I plowed my way directly into the locker room. I had my shoes off in a flash
& was just lifting my top over my head when I heard a man’s voice say,

“Wait, we’re in here fixing the shower.”

& all of a sudden, I see Joe from Engineering Services, sticking his face around
the corner...eyeballing me. Then, I see Wendy (the skinny gym bitch)
running at me screaming,

“Chick! I forgot to put the closed sign on the locker room door...
don’t get undressed!”

Gee, Bitch, couldn’t you have been a little bit quicker & saved me
the embarrassment of standing in front of Joe, the 300 pound
maintenance worker...in my bra?

Sunday morning, 11:00 AM.

I turn on the shower, let the hot water run for a bit...then climb in.
I’m just starting to wash my hair, when I faintly hear my name being called.

"Hey Chick?"

"I’m in the shower."

"Oh, OK."

I hear footsteps coming up the steps & all of a sudden, my sister in law
is in the bathroom with me, closing the toilet seat, sitting down & making
herself comfy.

I really don’t mind visitors. But...I have to tell you...I was a little less than
comfortable with sis in law watching me shower. I have glass doors on my
shower...so...there was no hiding to be done. I’m not uptight about
nakedness...really..I’m not. But I’m usually surprised when it’s dealt with in
such a casual way. She just kept chatting with me...like I wasn’t incredibly
exposed & vulnerable (& nekid!). She went on, & on about...hell...I don’t even
know what the fuck she was saying...all I kept thinking was
...she’s seeing my boobies, did I shave my other leg?...she’s still NOT leaving!

My sis in law is the kind of person, who chats constantly. We run together from
time to time...rather, I run & she yammers. I have a hard enough time keeping
up with her pace while just trying to breathe...while she increases her speed
& talks circles around me. I don’t know how she does it.

There she sat, happily chatting to me about nothing...she even handed me
my towel...never breaking babble stride at all.

A couple of days ago...I spoke of loving people with...
Secret Evil Plans.
Well, I love Dick this morning because...he’s got one (see below).
Ain’t he the best?

Girls, have fun...but beware...that’s all I’m saying.

Accent - Pompous, overeducated, Eastern Seaboard sounding accent...except when I use my Peewee Herman voice.

Bra size - I’m not sure. I have to get Tiffany at Victoria’s Secret (you know, the one in the mall, by the Cinnabon) to measure me again.

Chore I hate - hovering

Dad's name - James the Great.

Essential make-up - Lipstick

Favorite perfume - Clean

Gold or Silver - Neither, I don’t look good in metallics.

Hometown - A small big ten college town, where the school’s mascot
is nicknamed Brutus.

Interesting fact - Duck’s quacks don’t echo...no one knows why.

Job title - Queen of all that I see...

Kids - Do husbands...or friends named Dick count...at all?

Living arrangements - Estate house with an electric gate & a butler named Quincy.

Mom's Birthplace - A very Italian section of Brooklyn...
I still have some very large cousins there...so don’t mess with me.

Number of apples eaten in the last week - 7...an apple a day, literally.

Overnight hospital stays - a couple for falls, once, when Dick pushed me...
he still thinks it’s funny.

Phobia - Spiders, falling elevators, Dicks with ugly shoes.

Question you ask yourself a lot - Are we there yet?

Religious affiliation - Raised Catholic...but I now search
for all the best the other religions have to offer.

Siblings - 3

Time I wake up - 8ish...or when the cock crows 3 times.

Unnatural hair color - Magenta

Vegetable I refuse to eat - I’ll eat ANYTHING green.

Worst habit - Being late.

X-rays - A bunch...the last one was an ass x-ray...to see if
I fell hard enough on my butt to break my tailbone again (I didn’t).

Yummy food I make - The best chocolate cake EVER!

Zodiac sign - Cancer (I’m fiercely protective of the one’s I love...just know that).

Stolen from Here. So...I'm not to blame for any...lameness...today...anyway...

I had the hardest time getting dressed this morning.
This hardly ever happens to me. Usually, by the time
I'm out of the shower, divine inspiration has spoken to me &
presto chango...I got myself an outfit.

Today, I put on my new black stripey skirt that looked oh-so-good in
the store's dressing room. On me this morning, it wasn't looking too
good. It just wasn't hanging right...(it could have been me, I've felt
crooked all day). Off came the skirt...on went my favorite black dressy
pants (better). Now the search was on for the perfect top. I was in a
black & white (no nonsense, cut the shit) kind of mood...so on went a
straightforward white sleeveless top. This worked out well, except for the
fact that my black bra was now showing through the pristine white of the
top (it looked like my attempt at 80's Madonna-wear...gone business
casual).

The search was on for the perfect bra...because...you know...sometimes
a white bra is too white & shows blatantly through the shirt & sometimes
cream is almost as bad as black...depends on the exact white of the
shirt...holy shit...are all women this insane when it comes to things like
this? Yeah, at this point, maybe going back to bed was my best option.

...But I followed through & came up with a Body By Victoria
seamless flesh colored bra. It still had the tags on it. I must have shoved it to
the back of my underwear drawer, where it remained forgotten till
today. This did the trick becoming undetectable under my top.

Next came the black cropped jacket (because it still ain't spring-like
here & it's cold). My black mules & black thigh highs were screaming at
me from the closet, they came to me & were in place in a flash.

I was satisfied with myself until I had to walk way too far to my
office in shoes that simply were not meant to be walked in at all.

My question to anyone out there who advocates dressing for anything
other than comfort (you know who you are, you thong wearers, you) is, how do
you walk in these?



I can walk in heels...but mules?! I find myself
dragging my feet & that just looks silly.

Getting to know someone...piece by piece never fails to amaze me.

When I find out someone has a dog, my opinion of them immediately goes up.

When I see someone dance...really dance...you know...not a care
in the world what anyone thinks...their stock goes up with me.

When I find out someone has a love of reading...or better yet...words...
I love them more.

When I find someone has passionate opinions & an open mind...
I love them more.

When someone's kind...when they think no one's looking...I love them more.

When I find out someone’s got a secret a secret evil plan...
I think I love them even more.

I'm working from home today & I am:
 
Obsessed with: Reading (Moneyball & American Photo),
rotisserie baseball, licking the cowboy cleft in my hubby's chin
(he's not home...so that will have to wait), chocolate cake
(want a great recipe?...just ask me), bitchy women & these shoes.
 
Elated over: My friend Randie's new baby (beautiful baby...too bad
she's saddled with a stripper's name), potential vacation plans in California
& my new eyelash curler.
 
Less than delighted by: Dick (the butt fucker), who wanted to make me cry
(see yesterday's comments...his philosophy...if he's got nothing to write
...a crying Chick is always funny...do I see a pattern emerging here?)
& that damn annoying twitch in my left eye.