Slices of Stacy

Fireworks, indeed

DJ and I are in this place where everything we see or hear relates to sex.  Almost anything we hear on television is enough to send us into giggle fits.  Therefore, it comes as no surprise that the receipt from the Fireworks Supercenter in Tennessee had an entirely different meaning:

Stacy:  I think my iVibe Rabbit is my best friend.

DJ:  You know, 'Thunder Road 6 Shot was my nickname in high school.

In other news, you should TOTALLY invite us to your house for July 4.

And he was actually very romantic and had the most beautiful sea-green eyes...

Last night I dreamt I was having an affair with John Kerry.  How wrong is that?

Pity my husband. Seriously.

Sure, he waxed rhapsodic about me here.  But trust me:  being married to me is no picnic.

Yesterday, on the way home:

Him:  Do you think you'll take a shower with Sweet Pea again tonight?

Me:  I don't know.  It was kind of fun, you know?  I let her use the purple fancy soap and... it's just sweet and intimate.

Him:  Well, I'M certainly not going to do it.

Me:  Why not?

Him:  I'm already getting questions

Me:  ::::lost::::

Him:  She asked me what I had on my bova. (Disclaimer: we use the correct body part names, which then got twisted during her toddlerhood -- so vulva become 'bova')

Me:  What did you tell her?

Him:  Nothing!  I changed the subject.

Me:  Why didn't you just tell her the truth?

Him:  I don't want to talk about it.

Me:  Honey, it's just a penis.  Say it with me: peeee  nissss.  Penis. 

Him:  No!

Me:  Peeeeeeniiiiiiiiisssss.  Penis penis penis penis.  Come on, say it.  You can do it. 

Him:  No!  We each have our little thing and that's your thing, not my thing.

Me:  What the hell are you talking about?  You are so repressed!

Him:  WE EACH HAVE OUR LITTLE THING AND TALKING ABOUT THIS IS NOT MY THING.

Me:  But that's exactly what we ARE talking about... your little thing.

Him:  Thanks, honey.

Me:  I didn't mean it that way and you know it!  I'm sorry... should I have said your GIGANTIC thing?

Him:  Seriously, you're not making this any better.  Just stop.

Me:  PENISPENISPENISPENISPENISPENISPENIS.

See?  Not only do I insult his manhood, but I tell the entire Internet about it!

The one where I prove I'm twelve

I have a problem.

This is not news to many of you.

I am turning every phrase I hear into something dirty.  It seemed to start with my multiple vibrator posts at Rude Cactus.  Then I made a lewd haiku (and I'm a fucking poet, too) and just so Beth doesn't freak out and think I'm only doing this to her husband, check this out. 

Last night in Critical Thinking, we were discussing the criteria for lexical definitions.  The following problem is actually in the book:  "A dustbuster is a handheld, battery-powered device made of plastic that produces a buzzing sound when the switch is actuated."

Challenge me a little, okay? My GOD.  I didn't even have to work for that one.

And my professor?  Is this very proper, very courtly older black man.  It is quite apparent from some of the examples he uses in class that he is very religious (although he's also quick to add that it's a personal choice).  He's maybe my favorite teacher ever.  But I couldn't stop myself.  I snorted.  I swear to God, I had to lay my head on the desk.  Donna was stage whispering, "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" but it was no use.  I was gone.

It's like a disease, without any cure, I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh, oh...

The Internet IS, in fact, for porn

"The Internet is for porn, the Internet is for porn"

If you haven't heard the soundtrack for 'Avenue Q', you absolutely should.  It won a Tony award for "Best Musical" last year, but don't let that influence you: the songs are fabulous, even for non-musicaltheaterwhores.  How can you argue with song titles like "It Sucks To Be Me", "I'm Not Wearing Underwear Today" and "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist"?  You can't.

Anyway.

I have a confession to make, faithful reader.  Since I got a laptop and a wireless connection, I have made an important discovery.

Internet porn.

Specifically, porn blogs.  I'm not going to link them here, so don't bother looking.  I found a few hard-core sites and haven't actually spent any money joining them or anything, but I admit that I'm intrigued.

Some of the porn sites are fake, I'm convinced.  I mean, I just don't think that those people really do all of those things.  It's the old 'Penthouse Letters to the Forum' joke... "Dear Penthouse: I never thought this would happen to me, but..."

Even the suspect ones, however, have a certain allure.  Soft-core, hard-core, whatever your "thing" is, there's a porn site for it.  They'll have just enough pictures to make you slam your laptop shut if your child gets out of bed unexpectedly. 

I'm embarrassed but not ashamed by my newfound 'net porn viewing.  I'm embarrassed because, hello, it's porn.  It's cheesy, it's so... common. 

However, I'm not ashamed because even at the ripe old age of (oh, shit) 36, I have certain needs.  And between work, school, family, house, it's hard to turn on the romance, you know?  So if reading a porn blog for 30 minutes helps rev my engine, who's going to complain?

Purity class? Kill me.

So I'm listening to my co-worker's conversation because basically I can't help it.

She's telling someone about her church experience yesterday.  Apparently her 12-year-old niece took an eight-week "purity class" and had a "purity ceremony" yesterday.   I gather it was an entire class of kids.  They took an eight-week class on remaining pure and then vowed to stay pure in front of their entire congregation.

Is this necessary?  Can't we take sex ed out of our churches and put it back on the street, where it belongs?

Seriously... I realize that America has the sexual maturity of a 13-year-old boy, but come on.  Is something this private really supposed to be paraded in front of your church family?  I absolutely believe that sex should be treated with more respect than it currently is.  I believe that sex acts (from kissing on down to home base) should be loving, consensual acts between two adults (note, I didn't say anything about man-woman, because people, that's your own business) who are in a committed relationship.  It should be spiritual.  It should be sacred.

It also should be private.

I'd like to follow these kids for the next ten years and see how well this works.  Because I don't know about you, but when I was a teenager in the throes of hormonal imbalance and found myself in a situation where everything was engorged and tingling, the last thing that would have stopped me is the fact that I got all dressed up in white one day and told a few hundred people I wouldn't do what I was about to do.

Can I get an 'Amen'?