Tag Archives: David Beckham

Back To Basics


Animal fucking rocks.

So, once again, web dwellers, I’m sitting outside this freezing morning with my big, heavy blanket and my oversized Muppet mug filled with Mr. Coffee’s goodness, feeling rather contemplative and a bit free spirited because I didn’t put on a bra the second I dragged my sleep-deprived ass out of bed. Yeah, you heard me: contemplative. Great fucking word. It’s mellifluous, don’t you think?

Anyway, now that our vocab moment is over, we can get down to business. Very formal business. I even have an agenda for this post. 

Item Number 1:

Shaved head and men still want to fuck her

Today, we’re getting as back to basics as possible, which means I’m going back to my very first post ever, Shaved Pussies Are For Pussies. Well, y’all, I have a confession to make. This being Confessions of A Sexy Momand not “Bits and Pieces of A Mom’s Life But Only The Parts That Don’t Make Me Look Bad,” I have to tell you, I decided to surprise Northman and go all Mr. Magoo on my lady bits. Wait, that’s not sexy. Maybe more like, “I went all Demi Moore on my flaming lips.” Better. Anyway, whatever, I spent a half an hour in the shower shaving off every hair south of my equator, just to shake things up a bit with Northman.

Hats off to Victoria. Damn.


To say that Northman liked this would be a gargantuan understatement. He gave me this look that said something like … I’m going to claw my way through this screen right now so I can fuck you until you faint or your head spins around. Kind of like that look on David Beckham’s face in that H&M Super Bowl ad. Or the look on every straight woman’s face in America when we saw that. Damn. So, overall, yeah, worth the third-day stubble I’m debating what to do about today. Especially considering what we did via Skype after he saw that.

Anyhoooo… so yeah. I freely confess to shaving my snake charmer, but I don’t think I’ll do it all the time, and I still maintain that men shouldn’t expect that, as it’s a hell of a lot more work than you might think. Plus, it’s kinda itchy after a couple of days. And no one likes an itchy rocket pocket. Ya like that one? I found a whole list!!

Seriously. A whole list. Look:

 Moving on….

Item Number 2:

A couple of readers wrote in asking how Northman responded to my last post. This, after a couple of other readers, and some of my girlfriends (which is odd, because my girlfriends usually just live vicariously through my pseudo sex life and don’t comment much) wrote in to tell me that they’re certain I’m in love with Northman. So let’s lay it all on the table, shall we?

First, Northman liked the Dirty Dancing post. He actually read it while I waited, and as we were video Skyping at the time, I saw his reactions as he read. He laughed in all the right spots, some of which were little inside jokes for him that no one else would notice, which was fun. And I told him I’d already received reader comments from some of you who are sure I’m in love with him. We talked about it for quite a while, and he took from the post what I intended: I love him as a friend. I love him as more than a friend. I can see myself being in love with him, but I’d really have to spend some time with him, in person, getting to know him and his current life more before that could really happen.

So the upshot is, we’re talking about getting together for a visit. Obviously, it’s complicated as we both have kids and all of our daily adult obligations to consider. And then it’s expensive to do anything on short notice, so we need to plan for a little way down the road. I need to learn how to sell ads for my blog, web dwellers. Seriously.

So that’s the haps, people. Nothing all that thrilling today. Just keeping y’all in the loop, so to speak. But I will leave you with this. I may not be in love with Northman right this second. But I’m completely in lust with him, and I do love him. And I cannot wait to see him.

 Meeting adjourned.

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Douche Canoes: Some paddling necessary


In honor of the two-month anniversary of Confessions of A Sexy Mom and the phenomenally overwhelming response y’all have shown me via your THREE THOUSAND PLUS site hits in that time, I offer to you a little vocab lesson, Sexy Mom Style.

A Douche Canoe is such an ass-hat as to be eligible for President of the “Summer’s Eve Product Impersonator Club.”

Douche Canoe: Damn near always a man, this term describes someone who far exceeds the range of and capacity for arrogant obnoxiousness common to the far more typical douche bag

  • Known for frequenting overpriced bars with emo bouncers and holding up single fingers to any approaching women so as to Tweet their disinterested followers from their Crackberries®, these exceptionally notable ass-hats are ideal specimens for those researching the very upper limits of douche-baggery in humans. 
  • One who is such a gargantuan douche bag as to necessitate a vehicle no smaller and less unwieldy than a canoe to tote around the figurative amount of douche-baggery he carries in his literally tiny brain.
  • Using the term in a sentence: That douche canoe just cut me off while simultaneously texting and smoking, causing me to slam on my brakes and get stuck behind his smog-spewing ass-hat-mobile. And when the light turned green, he was so busy texting that he took too long to notice, causing me to have to sit through another light cycle. THAT is a douche canoe.
  • Alternate terms include fuckwads, ass-hats, ass-clowns, and anyone who refers to himself as an “agent.” For further definition of “ass-hat” or “ass-clown,” refer back to our friend the pre-first-date barking man.
    • Y’all know I love Jenny Lawson, AKA: The Bloggess, and I first saw this term on her blog, so props to Jenny for improving my vocabulary and giving me a word to describe men who think all women should look like Victoria’s Secret models even though only five men on the planet look like Armani underwear models.

      Even David Beckham doesn’t actually look like this. So why do these douche canoes think women should always be in matching bras and g-string panties (Note: Not always smart for a given outfit) with DDs and less than 4% body fat?

Skype Sex: This activity involves two (or more, I suppose, but that’s just not how I roll, web dwellers) consenting adults engaging in mutual self-gratification via an Internet video connection. During said event, each participant actively facilitates the achievement of orgasm(s) by his or her partner by speaking, moving, behaving, or otherwise performing in a manner the partner finds sexually desirable.

  • Point of interest: All douche canoes are dickheads, but not all dickheads are douche canoes. You know, like, all politicians are liars, but not all liars are politicians.

    Using the term in a sentence: Waving your dick around, jacking off in front of a webcam, and then getting dressed does not constitute Skype Sex, but it does mean you are a dickhead who is also a gigantic douche canoe.

  • Alternate terms include cybersex, video sexting, and Date Night With Northman (But he’s not a douche canoe. Ever.).
  • See Skype Sex 101.

Friends With Benefits: Sometimes abbreviated as FWB, this relationship is defined by the involvement of a sexual component into an otherwise platonic friendship.

  • Without the commitments or obligations inherent in a monogamous relationship, nor the expectation on either friend’s part that such a romantic involvement will result from said encounter(s), two (or, again, more, but not in my book) consenting adults engage in sexual activities up to and including coitus (why are you still not watching The Big Bang Theory?) while maintaining and often enhancing their friendship but having no further expectations or obligations from/to one another.  
  • Paramount in this arrangement is that the two people involved actually be friends before entering such an arrangement. If they are not friends, it’s just casual sex. That is, you can’t be Friends With Benefits if there are no friends involved upon whom to bestow those benefits.
  • Using the term in a sentence: I have an acquaintance who wants to be Friends With Benefits, but I simply cannot have Skype Sex with him because he is a raging douche canoe.

Can you tell I’ve kind of had it with preening, self-important douche canoes this week? Write in and tell me about the ass-hats in your life. And let me know what you want to hear about in the coming month. Thanks for reading, web dwellers.

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