Monday, May 29, 2006
I just came back from my obligatory stagette-hosting weekend in another province. Yes, that's right - i am a bridesmaid, complete with celery-green dress and all the glorious details that go with it- and, as the "official" maid of honor just had a kid two weeks ago, as sister-of-the-groom, i have to take on the unoffical maid of honor duties, including flying to another province to host the last big fling. Please remind me NEVER to have organized fun with a bunch of married girls EVER again. shit. Trying to make them loosen up was like trying to convince a nun to visit a sex store to help pick out a new vibrator.... IMPOSSIBLE. After plying them all with copious amounts of booze and then shaming them into it ("It's really unfortunate that you have become so fucking boring since you got married" - i don't piss around with what i want to say), i finally got them into the spirit of things...for a few hours. I even got them to dress up in tiaras and sashes and referred to them all as "Miss Teen [insert small town name here] 1989 and made them sing bad karaoke. I should have known what i was up against right from the beginning - the fact that i missed my flight out of halifax airport on friday morning and had to shell out $212 to buy a brand new ticket should have been an indication of impending disaster. oh well.
The whole thing was something of a learning experience though. I wonder what the percentage is of former wild women who became lame within one year of being married? I know it is a stereotype, blah, blah, blah, but i felt like i was in the middle of a bad sociology experiment nightmare. Kind of like The Stepford Wives - but these girls were going into it willingly. As far as i know, there is nobody killing them off and replacing them with android "new and improved" versions of their former selves.
I'm back now and what a fanfuckingtastic day to be back. It was so balmy here when i got off the plane, i was almost feeling comfortable with the fact that i spent enough money on that damned hen party to take myself on a little tropical vacation. On the plane back, i was actually dreaming about it - someplace hot and sunny, where i could drink mojitos and lay around on a topless beach...sigh. However, today held some promise. The other Petticoat and i took a stroll downtown to look at the mummy exhibit (only there 'til sunday - better do it while you can!) and there was something really sultry about the breeze on my bare skin. We were both feeling rather languid, in fact. i think a steamy summer might be in my future after all...
Today's picture has nothing to do with the text, but i was tired of presenting our readers with found-on-the-internet photos. And, my new bra is just too cute - it deserves to be shown off. happy monday. xoxox the SSPs
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
In this case, i don't mean "babe" as in "what a babe" - i mean "babe" as in "babes in arms...babes in toyland...babes in cradles" - i am talking about the age-old tradition of "cradle robbing", aka, dating someone much younger. Personally, i have always fallen for the allure of the older man, but the further i get into my late 20s (with 29 right around the corner), i am starting to think that i should try dating someone in their 20s before i am out of mine. I'm not entirely sure why i've always been involved with older men - perhaps it is the feeling of eternal youth - with the older man, you are always young - younger than them, younger than their friends...in short, you have guaranteed yourself the status of a "hot, young thang" for as long as the relationship lasts. Please don't get the wrong impression here - i'm hardly looking the part of the wise old crone - just this past weekend, i got chased down by a hire-a-cop in the liquor store who was quite certain that i was underage (s-weet! i could barely get my ID out fast enough - so eager was i to have him gasp in shock when he found out that i had been of legal age for a decade). However, how do the young pups out there feel about the older woman?
I ask this question now because i have had several conversations with people in the last few days about the feeling of being an aging hipster when at bars and various social functions. Do you remember that timeless quote made by one of the characters in the movie Dazed and Confused? "That's what i like about these high school girls - i keep getting older and they stay the same age." I'm starting to feel that way - but i'm not sure that i like it. There are several different ways one could view this:
a) those 19 year old girls sure have perky boobs. i've always been told that i had a pretty nice rack, but can the breasts of a 28 year old compete with those of a post-pubescent?
b) as illustrated by my counterpart in her most recent posting, those youngsters have no idea what to do with themselves (or how to do it) and certainly the benefit of experience (and the willingness to share it) may far outweigh the jutting hip bones of someone who is still using a fake ID
Thus my question about robbing the cradle. Who would it benefit more? There are an awful lot of lust-worthy boys out there - but do i really want to be involved with someone that doesn't remember watching the smurfs? who can't compete in 80s Trivial Pursuit? who thinks that izod shirts are "soooo retro"? i could play a pretty wicked Mrs. Robinson, but am i ready to take on that role? and more importantly, is there a worthy pupil out there?
Friday, May 19, 2006
well, here i am: the Slightly shy-er Petticoat. the Spring has finally brought me out of my silent hibernation, if only for a brief sighting.
when i was just a wee little petticoat, my father's hip younger sister would have me overnight for slumber parties quite often. we would don our matching chucky high-tops, jump into her red Triumph convertible, and cruise around taking the scenic route to Frenchey's. one night after one of these excursions, we were brushing our teeth in the washroom before bed and my aunt asked me: "Do you have everything you need? Socks & briefs and stuff?" i looked blankly and mumbled something about having my socks."You don't have clean briefs with you?" by the look on my face, i'm sure she could tell i had no idea what she was talking about. my hip cool aunt broke out into her perfect high-pitch cartoon laughter: "Tee hee hee hee Tee hee hee!!!" after she explained it to me between fits of laughter, i thought it necessary (and dreadfully embarrassing) to inform her that i wore panties, not briefs. Between the roaring guffaws that exploded from her after the last comment, my brain started racing, trying to understand panties vs briefs....panties must be for children...briefs for grown women...oh- i can't wait until i get to wear briefs!...wait-no! if that was the case my aunt wouldn't be laughing so hard!...it must be that my very unhip mother chooses panties...panties must be for old women and children...briefs are for sexy people...that's right, its all my mothers fault. of course....
to think that i am anti-panty-anti-brief now makes me laugh, although i'm sure it would concern both my mother & my aunt if they knew the bare truth.
on the subject of family, i recently ripened into a 27 year old. the first piece of mail i received at the Slipshod homestead was a birthday card from my grandmother. i was planning on buying something & sketching my present out on a card and sending it back to my grandmother....but, what i'd like to buy is some sort of lingerie for my meager collection. obviously i couldn't sketch this out for sweet Oma, but the question does arise: is it morally wrong to buy something sexy for myself with sweet granny's birthday check, nagging me from my empty wallet? this is my mother's mother, by the way. any advice on the subject would be greatly appreciated.
in other news, the restaurant where i work has recently acquired some fresh, young new blood for the summer season. one chubby 19-yr-old red-head who has the most 15-yr-old narcissism i've ever seen; another is the sweetest blonde CURLYcurlyCuRly haired angel (who disturbingly reminds me of grown-up Jon Bonnet Ramsey). somehow the conversation between myself and these two innocents during a frustratingly slow evening turned into one about sex, and ultimately masturbation. "I've never been into that" the angel proclaimed, to which the red-head nodded in over-exaggerated enthusiasm: "me neither". i looked at one and then the other and said "sure" and then "i don't believe you". the angel felt she had to defend herself "well I did it once, but only because my boyfriend wanted me to, but i hated it. i can't get myself off!" and then the red-head who always needs to be heard says "well, once in a blue moon, if i really need to get myself off, i will" .i'm sorry folks,this was too funny. i decided to call another girl over, the no-bullshit girl i've worked with for a bit. "these two claim they never masturbate. what do you think about that?" "bullshit. that's bullshit. either you're lying through your teeth or you're so outta touch with your body......" and on she went, raking them over the coals. i later bumped into another girl after work who is also 20-ish. she claims the same. am i missing something here? are these chicks for real? am i the exception?
two things i found out, true or not, by surfing for clues:
90% of women masturbate regularly
May is National Masturbation Month
these rainy days don't have to be that bad...
think i'll go hibernate for a while...
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Just how much is too much? I like the question - but there are just so very many answers. They say (whoever they are - i had a great conversation with a taxi driver about they a few nights ago. i wish the ride had been longer so that we could have continued the conversation...actually, i wish i had been slightly more sober so that i could remember the conversation...it ended with us discussing the disintigration of religious belief in contemporary society - i think...)..where was i ? Oh yes, they say "too much of anything is bad" and "all things in moderation" - although someone famous and important (and i'm so sorry i cannot for the life of me remember who the fuck it was) said "All things in moderation - including moderation". There is of course, the other side of it all (the hedonists amongst the they-sayers) who say "you can never have too much of a good thing". i think i like them better. Although, they are lying, just a little bit. Think of things that are "good" - in any sense and then think about what would happen if you induldged in it with total abandon. Let's start with coffee. I fucking love that shit. A nice dark roast, freshly ground and made just right in my little french press, poured into my favorite mug, and then generously doused with honey and cream...sooooooooo good - this is the only reason that i am a morning person - sometimes, i even dream about it at night (of course, i have many others dreams as well, some far more perverse and prosaic than this, but we'll save that for another time). As much as i love coffee, i can have no more than two cups a day, or else i become an anxiety-ridden disaster. i start to worry about all kinds of obscure things and literally ring my hands and pace the floor. Thus, i cannot have too much. Another example that is far too obvious is booze. Anyone who knows me has experienced my alcohol-allergy and quantity is not even an issue. I can have 6 beer and be perfectly fine the next morning, or i can consume 2 and be throwing up and side-lined in bed for an entire day. Thus, too much (and sometimes, even just a little bit) is too much. C'mon, there must be something out there that one can have limitless amounts of and not suffer the consequences! Don't even THINK about saying something ridiculous like "love" or i will vomit up my recently consumed dark roast all over the keyboard. One can actually have too much love. Haven't you ever had that smothered feeling? That oh-god-i-need-to-get-away-from-this-individual-before-their-abundance-of-love-for-me-gives-me-a-migraine? I'm sure i'm not alone in that one - i hope not, anyway. i'd hate to think that i am a love miser. I am however, currently all out. Of love, that is. Lust, on the other hand, is an entirely different story.
Can one ever have too much lust? Probably. One might really have some kind of internal combustion from excessive lust. There are things that can be done about it, y'know - you shouldn't let it get to that point. What about sex? Can one have too much sex? I hate to be the one to point this out, but the answer is yes. Sex, you see, involves an awful lot of friction. And even though one might be driven by lust to engage in a continuous marathon of sexual activity, it really isn't wise. If however, you do find yourself in this situation, a helpful hint from the SSPs is to stop wearing underwear and of course, ensure that you are wearing comfortable jeans or a skirt. Or a dress - a short-ish one. There is nothing quite like the little frisson of excitement i get when i venture out into the world wearing a dress and nothing under it. hmmmm.....i think i need to go get changed - i'm off to the grocery store - maybe i'll see you there ;)
Monday, May 08, 2006
So, it appears that Spring is finally upon us. All that ranting and raving i did a few months back about the need for warmer weather and mud and sex el fresco - it seems that it is coming our way. Well, my way, at least....i don't know what the rest of you are doing with these last 2 beautiful spring Nova Scotia days, but i was parked happily in the Commons, reading a book under a large brimmed hat (serves several purposes: keeps the sun off my delicate irish complexion, keeps the shadows on the printed page to a minimum and lastly, but by no means least, it allows me to observe the passers-by, without being too obvious), and digging my little toes into the fresh spring grass..and dirt..but i like dirt when it has the fresh, post-rain smell. It seems that all i was wishing for back in the days of "sexy sounds for a slippery day" is finally coming my way - more or less. I know, i know, you must be reading this and thinking "what a fucking complainer she is - all that shit that she was whining about awhile back is sorting itself out, and she is still dissatisfied!" Oh please, gentle reader, that is the absolute last thing i'd want you to think about me! I'm not displeased with life as it has presented itself as of late - i just have a certain yearning for something that i can't quite identify. Something that cannot be fulfilled in the usual, mundane ways - buying a new book or CD, eating sushi, drinking a pint of raspberry wheat ale...no, no, no - soemthing is missing. I just can't put my finger on it though - maybe somebody else needs to put their finger on it (tee hee).
Perhaps i should just take my own advice from several postings back - the hula hoop and fellatio one - and just take my hula hoop, get out there on the sidewalk and just really work my hips 'til i am tired and sore and spent and have no wiggle left in me. But i really do like a captive and captivated audience - not just passing traffic. I like the attention - i guess maybe, just maybe, perhaps, i am a teensy bit of an exhibitionist. But then again, I think many people are, and just don't realize it yet. I think that the little frisson of pleasure that is derived from knowing you are being watched is highly under-rated. And i bet you think so too - but just don't want to admit it. We are such a funny bunch, the human race. We don't like to own up to much, do we? I'm going to own up to my exhibitionism RIGHT NOW! Confession time:
Since moving to a different province (this province) 5 or 6 years ago, i have only ever owned sheer curtains...and....i don't close them. ever. not even when i have just come back into my room from getting a bath, and i drop the towel to get dressed.
Well, i feel slightly better now. a little bit dirtier - but in the right way. But something is still missing. Inspiration is alluding me. i need a muse. i need to be inspired. i'm just not quite my naughty self. i'm feeling unusually PURE. Perhaps it is my new surroundings. The SSPs have just taken up residence in a new place and my bedroom is looking disturbingly Jane Austenesque. White, bright, girly.. I'm not sure what to do about it. Maybe i need a disco ball and a red light and some bordeaux coloured boudoir curtains surrounding my bed..... something needs to be done before i regress back into my former pristine, virginal self. I'm open to suggestions...