Tag Archives: Super Bowl

Back To Basics

Standard

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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