It Sure is Getting Hot

Summer is here ladies. It's hot, it's sunny... summer makes you want to put a tube top on and go man watching. Well, it does to me!

Here are some of my A-list hot men. They may not be sexy or even attractive to some, but these are a few who make me get that really funny feeling. You know what I mean.

#1 John Malkovich



Fuck! He's hot. The man has an unbelievable voice that soothes and excites all at the same time... he's intense and I'll bet he has some skills.

#2 Chris Noth



Ok, so you may know him as Mr. Big. Is he not just lickable? I'll bet he can get into some shenanigans.

#3 Paco



I know Paco because he is a beautiful Spaniard who visits Boston a few times a year, so I made it my business to know him. He is polite, charming and humble. The smile... the eyes... perfectly symmetrical physique... this man gives me a very funny feeling deep inside.

#4 Jim Cramer



Mr. Cramer founded thestreet.com, has an entertaining radio show called Real Money, and hosts a show on CNBC called Mad Money. He is the author of one of my favorite books, Confessions of a Street Addict. If you've seen him on tv, he's usually yelling or at least very animated. He cuts through the bullshit of investing and trading, and I love his straightforward approach.

I'm not sure why I find Jim so appealing, but I get excited when I see him. We met in Boston a few years ago at a financial expo, and he signed my copy of Confessions. He looked great, and I, unfortunately, had a fever. Jim is happily married to the Trading Goddess, Karen and has a daughter, so I will respectfully say that he is a very attractive, stimulating, sexy (damn! I can't help myself!) man.

#5 Dave Attell - the hottie on the left



Some of you already know my history with Dave. Back when I had cable TV, I used to watch Insomniac on Comedy Central. Dave was appealing in an odd way. He looked like he just needed some Becky lovin' in a bad way. But how would he know that he needed it if he'd never met me? I decided to meet him.

Long story short (my male friends are saying, "Thank God!"), I went, alone, to his stand up show in Hampton, NH, got a front seat and waited afterwards to meet him in person. There was a long line of fans waiting for him, and I kept moving to the back of the line so we might have more time to talk. I ended up writing him a short note with my phone number, and when it was my turn to approach, I swore my heart was beating so loud he could hear it.

I shook his hand, placed the note inside, he said, "Ooh, a note", without letting my hand go and pulled me into him for a hug. His other hand felt very hot on my back and I really just wanted to get out of the horrid venue and go sit and "talk" with him.

He didn't call. My Venus is in Aries, so I can be a little persistant when it comes to these things... so I emailed a short note to an email address I found on his website. I got a reply, I replied, and the next came back from his personal email address. He said he thought I was with a guy that night (duh, that's why I went alone!). We emailed for a few months, he updated me on his travels and sent a few pics.

Dave admits to being a "liquid adventurer" (his words) and a workaholic. Not my style. Had to let that one go. :-(

#6 James Dean



James Dean was the type of guy that would make any woman, no matter how assertive, circle her foot on the floor while looking up and back down sheepishly. He was masculine and his presence seemed comforting and troubling at the same time. Who wouldn't love a chance to kiss him once? There is a resemblance between him and my ex-fiance, Rob.

Who gets you hot? Men can participate, too!

Met Him on a Thursday Part II

Part II

Tina and I talked on the phone over the weekend about our night at the club. The typical club de-briefing. Did you see him? Girl, stay away from him, he has three baby’s mommas… she is a skank, did you see what she was wearing? And so on. Tina said she told her friend Kim about the man I met. She swore he looked just like Mase. At the time, I had no idea who Mase was, if he was attractive and if he looked anything like Richard, I needed to see him. After seeing him (and now I listen to a bit of his music), I see it’s one of those things where at certain angles there is a resemblance.

She asked if he had called. We analyzed the ins and outs of when a man calls, how soon, what he would say, how I could tell if he was a player, because sometimes they’re so smooth, you’re already caught up before you realize you’re dealing with a class A player… He hadn’t called. I was 99% sure because I kept the cordless phone at my bedside all weekend and in the bathroom while I showered. You could say I was slightly interested.

It was Tuesday when he called. I had already started to give up hope, so I wasn’t very enthusiastic. He wanted to take me out. He told me he lived in Boston. I told him he would need to come to me. At the time, he didn’t have a car, but he made it.

Richard and I spent the next few months talking about anything and everything. Long walks through city parks talking. Sitting in the car when it rained, talking. Riding in the car, my hand on his neck, his leg or holding the big soft brown hand that caressed my skin without even trying. Phone calls every night at 8:05 pm when we weren’t together. Creating silly bets on stuff I didn’t care about, like baseball. Talking and feeling the vibe.

We discovered much about each other that summer, like the day I saw the red in his skin. The deep, deep red that showed how much of his ancestry was Indian. It was a sunny day. We had just finished feeding the ducks outside the Danvers town library. We sat on a bench, and as we usually did, talked. I looked down at his forearm and saw it. The lovely medium brown with strong red just beneath it.

My hand in his… it looked so very different. I got to ask him all my white girl questions, like why did black skin get ashy? He took no offense, he knew I was very curious and was not in it for the “black experience” or “jungle fever” as some white men like to call it. Richard and I connected on a level that I had never been on before. It was at a soul level. THIS was DEEP. THIS was PROFOUND. But I was still cautious.

We had been dating for a few months when I decided it was time to be intimate. We had already become mentally intimate. We had shared much. I had been holding off as long as I could, because I feared that as soon as I slept with him, he would be gone.

We visited my ex-fiance’s sister who was in the hospital, then got some dinner, then went to the hotel. I had packed everything I needed. It was our first night together. It would be fun, it would be new, and it would be a little scary. But I was ready.

I got in my pj’s and lit some candles around the room. When he came out of the bathroom, he seemed a little startled, as if he was surprised I was sort of kicking things off.

Things got hot and I was a little nervous. It was like a second de-virginization. Most of all, I wanted him to enjoy it and for one of the very few times in my life, my pleasure was secondary.

What happened that night is something that I still cannot talk about without blushing (yes, me), rushing over my words, being at a LOSS for words and really just unable to describe what was going on. To THIS DATE, I consider it to be one of my stranger (in a good way) encounters. The only people who know what I mean when I say “twist” are those who have slept with talented Haitian men. An old co-worker used to date a Haitian man and knew EXACTLY what I was talking about.

So needless to say, the sex needed no help. No awkward “Mic” moments, no “talks”. Everything was on point.

He didn’t dump me. He didn’t stop calling me. He didn’t change. I was relieved. Tina had been wrong. Tina stopped talking to me at this point. Haitians were HERS. I had crossed the line into something that belonged to her. I was supposed to stick with the baseball cap wearing weight lifters. It’s odd that a best friend since junior high would take offense at this with ME, but I guess she had her reasons.

Met Him on a Thursday - First in a Series

This is the first in a series of blog entries that tells of a prominent period of my life - which has recently resurfaced - see below post titled Obsession.

I'll be back to normal blog entries in the meantime, so if this isn't your thing, check back.

Met him on a Thursday. Cumulous clouds, 84 degrees. He was brown, deep… said he wanted to talk about my mission, listen to my past lives… word? Took me on long walks to places where butterflies rest easy. Us was nice and warm. No jacket, no umbrella, just warm. At night we would watch the stars, and he would physically give me each and every one. Love rained down on me. – Jill Scott

It was actually a Friday. It was July. I danced with random men for the fun of it and for drinks. Tina was always close by, but we didn’t smother one another. Men feel intimidated by flocks of women, so we always appeared separate, although either one was ready to swoop in at the sign of any trouble… like an unfortunate stinky dance partner.

He smelled bad. Like worked all day and didn’t want to go home to his girl, so stayed out and borrowed some clothes from a homeboy and went to the club without showering bad. The night was fairly young, as I recall, and it was always good to be seen dancing a lot so other men wouldn’t feel so intimidated to ask for a dance. So I danced a fast song with Stinky. He didn’t dance well, and Tina was giving me the eye over his shoulder like, “Beck! What are you doing? Damn he stinks! Woo!”

I told Stinky I was going to the ladies room. I turned to walk away and out jumped a man dressed all in white. When I say jumped, I mean jumped. He was in my face in a flash, blocking the path to the ladies room. He started dancing. I asked, “Are we dancing?” surprised at the ballsy move. He nodded and pierced me with some amazing light brown eyes.

I had never seen him before. I would have known if I had ever seen him. He was extremely well groomed. His hair was tight, his skin looked soft and he moved rhythmically on the dance floor in a way that I was very comfortable with. I could dance with this man for a long time.

I looked at the corner he had jumped out from and saw his group watching us. One in particular gave him a wide-eyed look, like he couldn’t believe he was dancing with me. Looking back, I think he had been planning to dance with me, and the one I was dancing with swooped in before he could.

The handsome man all in white asked my name. I told him, and he introduced himself as Richard. Richard. I asked Richard how many children he had. No one that fine and that young and sweet could be childless. I asked him how many and not IF, because it is easier to get a man to tell the truth when it’s asked like that. Sad, but true. He said he didn’t have any. I asked how his girlfriend felt about him being at the club dancing with pretty ladies. This is also an effective question. If you make it seem alright, they sometimes confess. He said he had no girlfriend.

After a few songs, he brought me to another area of the club that was always quieter. I felt very comfortable with him and somewhat protected. He called me “Blondie” at one point, and I asked him if he had forgotten my name. He nodded, embarrassed, and I told him it was okay. After a few drinks and countless dances with several men, I rarely remembered names myself.

Richard asked for my number and I didn’t give him my usual fake one. He wrote it on a dollar bill, and I told him not to spend it as I walked away to find Tina. He laughed as if it was the best joke he’d heard all day.

Tina interrogated me about the new interest. She seemed a little jealous, as she is sometimes prone. She asked his name and all the details, and tried to place if she knew him or had heard any gossip about him. I was also cautious. Rule #1 has always been: Don’t date anyone from the club.

Richard and I met up outside at the end of the night. We sat in my car for a bit. Thinking of Tina, I asked his last name. He told me to guess. I asked what the first letter was. I heard his accent, and I wasn’t sure where he was from. I suspected Haiti, so I decided I would guess with French surnames. He said “M”. I said, “Marcoux?” His eyes got very wide and he said, “close”. I was indeed close. It was probably about that time he decided I was a witch.

Well that was quick...

No more Spiros, the Greek (pronounced Speer-os). It's ok, though... I knew I was in slightly over my head when he described his, uh, tastes. I think I'm pretty open minded in that area... but Spiros is on a whole other level. At first I thought it was because he is not from the U.S. and has a more, shall we say, open sexuality. I won't get into the gory details, but his "likes" were things I had never heard of. Like, "You want me to do WHAT?" type of stuff. And would I be into "blah blah"? And my answer was, "Hmm... I'm not sure" - while thinking in my head, "WTF???!!"

Spiros was fun and interesting, but overall I wasn't attracted to him (although he was very sexy) and he ate less than I do, to maintain his defined abs. That's kind of scary.

I'm not really interested in dating right now, but I guess I will. I have too many cute summer outfits not to. Tee hee!

Need some help with a song!

Probably not work safe

Click here to hear the song.

Hoping a passerby might know... there is a hot Boston version of Deja Vu (Uptown Baby) song which I love, but I can't find it anywhere! With all my research, I still can't find this song! It's the song playing, except there are shoutouts to Dorchester and Revere. Do you know the name of it, and if Lord Tariq and Peter Gunz also did it?

Obsession

What does it mean when someone tries to contact you after 6 years of not speaking? When someone dumped you in 1999 but spent the last few years searching for you and asking people to keep an eye on you?

How does it make sense that this person calls you at a parent's house (with whom you no longer live and who went back to her maiden name after he and I broke up) when they're away on vacation and you happen to be there to feed the dog?

Where did I disappear to? He comes to Manchester sometimes and just drives around looking for me, or my old car? Has things to explain to me? Is sorry? Needs to see me?

Of course I was curious.

But I asked if he knew how badly he hurt me. That he is the reason my phone number is non-published. That he is the reason I didn't renew my vanity plates when I bought my new car. I didn't WANT to be found. I didn't want this type of phone call.

He said he knew. And that even if I didn't want to see him, at least he knew I was okay.

I see his cousin at the gym a few times a week. He pretends not to know anything. I told him yesterday that my ex called me. He told me that my ex and I will be together, because we love each other. He said he wants me in the family. And if he sees a guy looking at me, he will tell him to stay away.

I told him that my ex never loved me. Because if he did, he wouldn't have hurt me so badly. He never loved me. If he had, I would not have spent years trying to repair my broken and cold heart. And just when I am ready to love again, he is back on the scene? No. I've moved on. I'm ready for the next stage in my life. And he has no place in it.

Kevin McBride and the Greek

“When I hit Mike Tyson he’ll think all of Ireland has hit him.”

I guess he did. Tyson announced his retirement after the fight.



Anyone know if Kevin McBride is single? Supposedly he lives down the street in Brockton, MA. He has a very sexy Irish accent and I think we should go on at least one date.

Granted I had never heard his name before last night's Tyson fight, which I didn't get to see, as I was otherwise occupied with a native Greek man who also has a sexy accent. Ladies, should you get the chance to date a Mediterranean or western European man, do so, and enjoy yourself fully.

While I love my non-American brothers, there is something special about a European. They see women totally differently and treat you as a woman - not as a "girl they hang out with". You know you are not friends, you know there is nothing casual in the conversation, you know that you are distinctly feminine as the prey, and they are the bold masculine hunter. You know you cannot date them seriously, because it is almost apparent that you are a conquest, and there are likely many other prey to be conquered in the wings.

But the experience is one to be enjoyed thoroughly. They will enjoy you and your crazy American ways, and you will feel absolutely transported to another locale as you spend time with them. Reality changes. Things slow down. But oh how quickly they progress. There is little shyness, no insecurity... all bold and amusing, and it's absolutely imperative that you stay on your toes.

I will not date the Greek man seriously, but he will be an excellent diversion for the time being. He gave me a new nickname that absolutely cracks me up. You have to imagine the Greek accent saying this, "Beckissimo", a play on the Italian word bellissimo (he speaks several languages). I questioned why it wouldn't be Beckissima, as I am feminine, but he explained that the masculine and feminine in language is to be used for adjectives, and that I am no adjective. I'm a noun. Too funny. Especially after a few martinis.

I've also decided to not share this blog with any of my future dates, so I can be free to discuss what I want, in as much detail as I want. I think it's important to be candid for blog entries - it's usually more entertaining that way.

If anyone gets the goods on Kevin McBride, don't be shy. I'm sure he's been inundated with fans by now, but a man always has to go home and be himself. I just need to know if he does that alone. ;-)

Uh-Oh. Hindsight really IS 20-20

I may have a tendency to overanalyze things. I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing, since I don’t think most people analyze things nearly enough. Or at least not enough to derive any benefit from it. I recently learned a lesson from myself (wow, self taught life lessons… cool). It wasn’t anything major, just an adjustment I needed to make that I wasn’t fully aware of. It took being on the other side of a situation that I am rarely on – the receiving end of complete infatuation.

I met someone nice, fairly attractive, divorced, originally from Texas (lived in Botswana, Africa for a while, which interests me), formerly a gymnastics coach (so he gets my neuroses with the exercise and dieting) and lives in my city. Let’s call him “Tex” for the sake of this blog entry. Others may know him as “Flan Man” or another unmentionable nickname, but we’ll stick with Tex for now. ;)

We went out a few times, had an okay time, nothing great. It was pleasant enough. I was feeling kind of “eh” about the whole thing. I can sense chemistry almost immediately, and I knew there was, and would be, none. Yet I continued to accept dates with this man.

Nothing was WRONG with Tex, initially. We even had very similar taste in music, which is unusual. Tex was nice, polite, interested in whatever I wanted to do, showered me with compliments about traits I’ve never been complimented on, gazed at me in “that way”, NEEDED to see me more often and generally was totally into me. Or in his words, “quite taken” with me. It’s a little less ambiguous than “profound and serious”, so I’ll take it. Awesome. Everything you want to hear. Unless you don’t feel the same way.

Yet I continued to accept dates. I probably needed an ego boost, maybe it was just nice to hear a compliment or maybe I was foolishly waiting for some chemistry to kick in. Tex said he was experiencing an awakening of sorts (yeah, I can pick ‘em). His senses were coming alive and he wanted to be “awake” and living, as he feels I am. So that was interesting to watch. Some self discovery went on for Tex, and I’m happy to be the catalyst of that, as he said, but I really wasn’t getting anything more than the slight ego boost.

Since I wasn’t into Tex, I had a good amount of distance from the situation. I could take him or leave him, and I was getting bored. He gave insightful observations about me, my life, my body (blush), so I stuck around.

Having this distance with no attachment enabled me to look at the situation objectively. Here was this nice guy, into me, who said he would do anything for me, wanting a long term relationship… and I wasn’t feeling him and was even avoiding eye contact with him to avoid “the gaze”. By the fourth date, I felt uncomfortable.

Not uncomfortable with possible emotional intimacy and a relationship, but VERY uncomfortable with the realization that someone else in a recent past relationship might have felt this very same way I was feeling, but continued to see me and just sort of waited for things to “click”. What a horrible feeling.

I felt more and more uncomfortable with Tex as this set in. I thought, “Wow. I was Tex”. In the previous relationship, I went overboard and declared all kinds of feelings and thoughts that were never reciprocated, except for the above “profound…” bullshit. Part of me says I made an ass out of myself, and the other part of me says, “Damn girl, you were into him, and you let him know. Now what man wouldn’t want to hear those words from you? You dropped the game and went with your heart. How is that wrong?”

Eventually I had to tell Tex I could no longer see him. There was a side issue that sped things up, but I knew I couldn’t go on seeing him knowing that someone else had felt the same indifference and take it or leave it feeling about ME. The more I felt it with Tex, the more it reminded me that someone I deeply cared for felt it for me. Yuck.

Tex tried to convince me once we stopped dating and started a relationship, things would get a lot better. HUH? He sent me a few emails afterwards asking for another chance, but he hadn’t done anything wrong. I just wasn’t that into him.

Lesson learned: Don’t lead someone on for an ego boost (although I didn’t, someone with lesser intentions could have easily) and if you know there’s no chemistry, don’t wait around for it. I hate having my time wasted, and if anything, I might have wasted some of Tex’s. I faltered at my usual “do unto others” on this one. Bad Becky.


In other news, Mic messaged me the night before he left for the Caymans. He had broken up with Ms. DoesntlLikeSexAndGetsALotOfUTIs and wanted to know if I wanted to get together with him when he returned. Before I told him NO, I asked what had happened with my plane ticket. I mean, I should have been packing for the trip when he messaged me. Mic said there would have been too many connections and the flight was more than $1,000. I still don’t get what the point was.

Realizing there would be no last minute dash for the airport with Mic, I told him I didn’t see us together again because I need someone who ENJOYS giving oral. I didn’t even mention the tiny penis issue… I do have a few shreds of compassion. He responded with, “Well I would enjoy it when someone isn’t pushing my head down”.

Ah Mic, we’re just not compatible in the bedroom, are we?

Offline

I will be offline for the next few weeks. I am sure I will have plenty-a-story to tell when I return. Happy June!

Change Desired

On the lighter side, I've been thinking about changing my hair for a while now. A good friend, whom I've known since 1998, feels I would look best with a chestnut brown shade. He is partial to brunettes and in a country surrounded by them, so I'm not sure if I can trust his opinion. ;)

I have been blonde since I was 17. I feel like blonde fits my personality more than any other color, but it may be time for a change. Or maybe just a new style.

What do you think?

Pics Are In!

Finishing a cup of liquid courage



Getting ready for my turn!



I asked for help up - he said No!



Ride that bull!



How could that have been only 8 seconds?!



Where it all went down -



A few weeks later... A Sting concert. It didn't seem like we were THAT far away!



An encounter with "JOCKO" (this is actually him - the band playing that night took pics and posted them on their website)



After the Mother of All 5Ks!

Closer I Am to Fine!

If anyone is up for some crunchy sisterhood celebrating, the Indigo Girls are playing Friday, June 10th at the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom. I would love to have you join me!

I was a fan long ago, but once my Indigo cassette tapes fell apart/were chewed in the car tape deck/melted in the sun, I never replaced them. I just downloaded some of my old favorites and instantly remembered why I was such a fan. These girls know life in a way I know it (and not in the lesbian way).

The Keys to Your Heart

Wow! I just took this silly online quiz, and I am very surprised at how accurate my "results" are. This is me to a tee ! The questions are about animals, but apparently that can tell a lot about someone? Unless, of course, everyone gets the same results. Click the link below to do yours.

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to good manners and elegance.

In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved.

You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring.

You would be forced to break up with someone who was emotional, moody, and difficult to please.

Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with.

Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment.

You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage.

In this moment, you think of love as something you don't need. You just feel like flirting around and playing right now.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

May is Mojito Month!

Awww yeah... Just got the email from Bacardi, it's Mojito Month!

Please find a good bar that will make you a fresh Mojito... there is nothing like it. For my NH/MA local friends, there is a list on the Bacardi Mojito site of nearby bars that will be celebrating Mojito Month. And check out the music on there... I had it playing all afternoon! Haha!

So some of you may be wondering what a Mojito is. It's a damn good drink, that's what it is. Typically found in Latin American countries, a Mojito is mint sprigs, lime and sugar all mushed up with this little wooden stick, a little soda water and rum.


I had never heard of a Mojito until about two years ago, when I dated Lorenzo Q., the 1/2 Cuban 1/2 Puerto Rican graphic designer from Watertown. Sounds pretty hot, right? It wasn't.

Anyway, he got a Mojito at this restaurant he took me to for my birthday. I got a chocolate mint martini (ok, maybe 3... my tolerance was higher then). L saw Mojitos on the cocktail list and grilled the server... how were they made, do they use fresh mint, it had better be good, I'm Cuban, I know... etc. When our drinks arrived, I thought, hmm there sure is a lot of greenery in that drink... it looked odd. Then he had me sip. And then I was in love. With the Mojito. Not L.

If anyone is up for a road trip for fresh Mojitos before May ends - you know who to call.

Cayman Islands vs. 2.5" Penis (erect!)

Another eventful weekend, I am happy to say. And no anxiety this time. Woo hoo!

Friday started out with a bang at Bow/Concord's happening hot spot, the Chen Yang Li lounge. A live band - one member looked sort of like the dude from Whitesnake... you never know... me in a ponytail and sneakers hearing about someone's handcuffs and another person's "private parties", which I, along with my cohorts, were invited to (yeah, no thanks). Jocko seemed harmless enough... a wannabe Chippendales dancer, you know, the type you can't quite decide is gay or not... but when he told me about his workouts and diet and how he can do a SPLIT... yes, a split... I knew the night was off to an entertaining start.

I watched my co-workers dance like I never knew they could, a couple of drunk girls get into a fight, and generally observed Concord nightlife for what it is - not a bad place to be if you're not dressed up and want more comedy than Comedy Night at the Chateau in Manchester.

And no, I did not stay in touch with dirty dancing Jocko... I refused his advances by informing him he was too sexy for me. This is my new rejection line. They are rejected, sure, but it has an ego boost built in, so hopefully they don't feel too bad. Jocko suggested maybe I couldn't handle the challenge of "Jocko", and I agreed. Just way too sexy for me. I would still like to see him do a split, though.



Saturday, I wined and dined on antipasto at Fratello's with a new friend and attended the Sting concert at the Verizon Center. It's always interesting getting to know someone, as I prefer to cut through the bullshit almost immediately and find out what's really going on. The wine was good, the eggplant was delicious, and our seats at the concert were great. The conversation was guarded and careful. I don't like that. I told dude that everything was going to come out eventually and we would probably end up in the same place eventually, so be out with it and let's both save some time. I'm sure it sounded nicer than that, but he got my point (thankfully). It wasn't the first date and I knew he was into me (because I AM just THAT great), so I took a chance and got a little feisty. He liked.



Today, Mother's Day, my mother and I completed the Mother of All 5Ks in Concord, NH. What a great race. I was number 315 - pic to follow once I get the roll of film with bullriding, pharmacy and Sting developed. Very positive vibe, everyone ready to give it their best and have a good time.

The run benefited the expansion of the New Hampshire Technical Institute’s Nursing Education Center. It was nice in that my mother's mother passed away on Mother's Day a few years ago and was a nurse most of her life. When she retired, she was next in line to the administrator of Goddard Hospital, which has since closed. They talked of naming a new wing at the South Shore Hospital after her, or at the very least, a plaque commemorating her years of dedicated service. If you (God forbid) ever have a need to be at South Shore, look for some commemoration of Mary E. Hill, one of the original feisty women in my family.

After the race, we ate some quality authentic Mexican with sangria and margaritas with my sister and her family.



Later this evening, I got a very strange call. Some of you may be familiar with a story I've told about a past romantic disappointment. I think if I just say "micropenis", most of you who know the story will know exactly what I am referring to.

"Micropenis" - we'll call him "Mic" for short - called me to see how I was, yadda yadda, yadda (is yadda a Yiddish term? I believe it is), asks if I'm seeing anyone, then proceeds to tell me he is dating someone who doesn't like sex. All I can think is,

"Great! You found your match!"

But Mic is dissatisfied in his new relationship. Apparently she gets a lot of UTI's. My thinking is that I would probably come up with a chronic infection as an excuse not to have sex with him if I were her, but I digress.

Mic says that he remembers I am nice, and very sexy. He says he is not looking to remarry and this girl seems pretty serious about him. But she just isn't that sexual. Considering Mic may not be physically capable of having sex, and gets weirded out by oral, I am surprised this bothers him. I think maybe he just likes the idea of having sex, and being with a sexy lady, because dude sure can't come through.

We discussed that he really needs to be upfront with this lady if he has no intention of taking the relationship to another level. They have dated for six months, and really, if she wants to be Mrs. Mic and he wants to pretend he's having sex, why are they still together? He asked to change the subject.

Mic tells me he has been invited to the Cayman Islands for Memorial Day weekend to be a guest lecturer at a conference. His new business is on its feet (I proofread and edited his brochure) and he is in higher demand than ever before. Great. Good to hear. Still doesn't elongate a penis.

Mic asks if I am able to travel that weekend. Uh DUH... YA. But I begin to think of logistics. We would share a room. That's fine, it's really more like bunking with a girlfriend... he even bought me tampons once. So we're okay on that level. I could attend the conference and watch his powerpoint presentation or whatever, and mingle with the professionals in attendance. Cool. Then I could snorkel, swim, get some sun and have a chance to relax in style. Loving that.

However, even if I pretend to feel the micropenis, pretend to orgasm (which is a cardinal SIN), and tell him he's all that... he has a girlfriend. Who wants to marry him. I tell him he needs to end that before we even think of traveling. He's okay with that (or so he tells me). He turns the conversation to [shiver] sex. And kinda explicit, too. And I'm thinking,

"Dude. You have a 2.5" penis. Erect. Full mast. I've seen it. I know what's there. Do you think I am delusional or exceptionally forgetful? Because I'm not. And this weird sex talk is kinda creeping me out. So stop."

He saves me by saying he has to get back to work (at 9 pm on a Sunday) but he will call tomorrow. Great. More call screening.

The Caymans look beautiful. It's a paid trip. It's only a weekend. I'm not seeing anyone exclusively. Mic is a funny guy, always has me cracking up. But what about dealing with the "issue" once back at the room?

I once refused a trip to Vegas to see a Tyson fight at Mandalay Bay because the guy was a JERK. I hadn't been to Vegas at that time, and would have loved to see pro boxing at an upscale casino. But the thought of spending time with this controlling jerk overrode my desire to whoop it up in Vegas.

I guess it would be easier to refuse the Caymans if Mic was a dick.

He's not a dick, he just doesn't have one.

What to do.


70 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A MAN WITH A SMALL PENIS

1. I've smoked fatter joints than that.
2. Ahh, it's cute.
3. I'm sorry.
4. Never mind, why bother.
5. Who circumcised you?
6. Why don't we just cuddle?
7. You know they have surgery to fix that.
8. It's more fun to look at.
9. Make it dance.
10. You know, there's a tower in Italy like that.
11. Can I paint a smiley face on that?
12. It looks like a nightcrawler.
13. Wow, and your feet are so big.
14. My last boyfriend was 4" bigger.
15. It's OK, we'll work around it.
16. Is this a mild or a spicy Slim Jim?
17. Eww, there's an inch worm on your thigh.
18. Will it squeak if I squeeze it?
19. Oh no, a flash headache.
20. (giggle and point)
21. Can I be honest with you?
22. My 8-year-old brother has one like that.
23. Let me go get my tweezers.
24. How sweet, you brought incense.
25. This explains your car.
26. You must be a growing boy.
27. Maybe if we water it, it'll grow.
28. Thanks, I needed a toothpick.
29. Are you one of those pygmies?
30. Have you ever thought of working in a sideshow?
31. Ever hear of Clearasil?
32. All right, a treasure hunt!
33. I didn't know they came that small.
34. Why is God punishing you?
35. At least this won't take long.
36. Let's just stick with your hand.
37. Do you need a splint to prop that up.
38. How interesting.
39. I never saw one like that before.
40. What do you call this?
41. But it still works right?
42. Damn I hate baby-sitting.
43. It looks so unused.
44. Do you take steroids?
45. I hear excessive masturbation shrinks your dick.
46. Maybe it looks better in natural light.
47. I think there's a dildo around here somewhere.
48. Why don't we skip right to the cigarettes?
49. Let me know when you're done.
50. Oh, I didn't know you were in an accident.
51. Did you date Lorena Bobbitt?
52. Aww, it's hiding.
53. Are you cold?
54. If you get me real drunk first.
55. Is that an optical illusion?
56. What is that?
57. Does this run in your family?
58. I'll go get the ketchup for your French fry.
59. Were you neutered?
60. It's a good thing you have so many other talents.
61. Does it come with an air pump?
62. So this is why you're supposed to judge people on personality.
63. Where are the puppet strings?
64. Look, it all fits in my mouth at once.
65. Deep throat???
66. Your big gun is more like a BB gun.
67. Can you get this pencil out of me now?
68. Do I hang my hat on it?
69. Look, it fits my Barbie clothes!
70. Don't hold back.

A Rare Intimate Rambling

Lately I have been feeling some anxiety. Especially on the weekends. I feel I am back to square one and I don't know where it was I thought I was heading in the first place. I can attribute this feeling to a few things:

1. Turning 30
2. Being on the Pill (first time in like 10 years and it really did a number on me emotionally)
3. An important relationship turning out not how I thought would turn out

The combination all hit right around the same time. I'm not depressed, although I do feel sad sometimes. I feel the loss of something I thought I had and shared, but the reality turned out that none of it was true. That feeling of being duped, being used and unappreciated for who I am.... it hurts a lot but mostly it just confuses me. And creates anxiety.

I've never been a pill popper. Even through all I've been through, I've never taken an anti-depressant or mood stabilizer. That's not to say I've never needed one, but I never went down that road, thinking I could work through my shit with tears and a good therapist and supportive family. For the most part, I think I emerged well. Or at least, there is nothing hanging over my head.

But now, I find myself not slipping down the dirt hole of depression - which is how it's always felt to me, a deep dirt hole with footholds on the inside. I have been pretty far down in it, I have stood on a foothold and peered out, and I have stood outside but near the hole, wanting more than anything not to have to get back in but knowing what will put me there. Depression is a dirt hole to me.

No, right now, I feel like I'm on the other side of the field, a part I haven't seen in about a year. I'm on the other side, towards the woods. Just on the border, actually. I have almost no experience in this area. I run because I am scared. I don't know if I'm scared of something in the woods or in the field. So I run along the border. I'm not running from anything... I just know that it's best to run. If I stop and look around, will I get sucked back into the dirt hole? I don't think so, but it IS always on the other side of this field.

When it starts to get dark, the woods look scary, and I know I can't venture in. I also know if I just breathe deeply, I could probably wander in, step on a few branches and hear them snap, hear an owl, and slowly become at peace with the nighttime woods. But for now, I sit on the border, my arms clapsed around my knees, and I try my damndest to make some plans so that I don't have to sit there all night and wonder what's scary in the woods. The hardest part is when there are no plans, or plans fall through, and I discover I've fallen asleep on the border of the field and the woods, and I wake up, still undecided about what to do and still there will be another night like this one and how am I going to go on like this? So I get up and I run again, and I distract myself with phone calls and shopping and work and making plans and renting movies and cooking turkeys and having "new experiences".

I've never been like this. Normally I would be eating ice cream and ruminating over and over and over what happened and just wallowing in my sadness. But not this time.

I have visited this side of the field only once before, and that was a year ago when I was involved in a major highway accident. About four months later, I was diagnosed with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). What sucks about that is that I didn't really know that something was wrong. I knew it was odd for me to avoid thinking about something so upsetting (see above ice cream ruminating), but I really preferred to just push this one aside for a while. At least with depression, I knew I was sad, knew I could barely function, knew that what happened was reason enough for anyone to be sad, and I just needed some time.

With this anxiety bullshit, I have a hard time drawing that line, making a connection from, "ok, this happened, I feel this way, and it's normal for me to have this reaction to that event". I can't do it! With anxiety, it feels like an unrelated chain of events coming together (colliding?) into a brain message that tells me not to sit still, not to think about it, not to be alone, not to relax and enjoy my own company again. That is not me!

I was never a pill popper. I never wanted to get involved with meds, their side effects or any possible dependency. However. I spent a night at my mom's a few weeks ago because I could not stand to be alone and the anxiety was overwhelming. I drink very rarely, but I knew I needed a glass of wine just to stop my heart from racing and to sit calmly and be normal. When a glass of quickly sipped red wine made me feel not woozy or warm, but completely normal, I knew I needed something. And that something would not be more alcohol - due to my family history of alcoholism.

I work in pharmacy, so I knew I had a few choices. I knew I had to make a move fast, because the anxiety was really taking a toll on me. How long can one not eat, not sleep and not be jumpy at the slightest noise, and cry at the drop of a hat? For ME, that's not long at all.

A family member has had anxiety and panic attacks in the past, so I knew she had some pills. I only needed 4 or 5 to get me through the next few days. We cut them in half so the delivered med is 1/8 of what normal people take throughout the day. I didn't want to take them. Even in my worst depression, I never wanted to take a pill. But this became a necessity. During the week, I am mostly fine. Being busy helps immensely. I had always judged those other extremely busy people as people running from something or avoiding something. And why couldn't they just slow down and deal with their shit? Well now I see why. I feel like if I slow down too much, I'll either end up tearing my hair out, crying on my kitchen floor for two weeks or packing up for a month long road trip using only my next paycheck for funds.

Anxiety is a real bitch. I always felt lucky not to have it. In some ways it's better than depression, I am definitely fully-functioning. But I feel less mentally healthy, because I can't draw the line from cause to effect. How does turning 30, going on the pill (which I now believe was the main cause of me not seeing reality) and ending a relationship cause such emotional chaos? Fuck. I've dealt with a lot worse. And I'm certainly not weaker for it. So what the hell?

I have made some long term goals that should be completed within the next 2 years. I will be able to take a solid step towards those in the fall, when I begin traveling. That helps. Knowing that I won't be in this situation forever is nice, and knowing that I will be the one pulling myself out of it is empowering.

Just have to get through the summer.

Football Season Entertainment Determined

Alex Smith. The San Francisco 49ers have chosen Mr. Smith as their #1 draft pick. Dude is only 21 years old. And they say he needs to bulk up a bit, which I agree with. And if someone can get a handle on his eyebrow waxing issue, well girls, I may have determined my official entertainment for this football season.

It's about time I freshened up the football knowledge anyway. Without Rob The Football God around, I'm not able to spout stats and who's going where and so on. I have always leaned more towards the coaches' erratic (and often amusing) behavior, funny looking players and their names for my entertainment. Rhyming players' names to make silly nicknames during intense play isn't normally appreciated by real fans - just a tidbit of knowledge I picked up along the way.

Last year I participated in a football pool at work. Miami was playing that week, so I asked bald Capricorn dude in accounting if the injury report was out yet, because I needed to know if Marino would be playing. I got laughed out of finance and teased for the rest of the season.

I was surprised to see Joe Theismann commentating instead of playing for the Redskins. Yes folks, I prefer to live in the dark ages of football when things were good. Or at least that's what I tell people who wonder why I am so hopelessly out of touch with current football.

So this year, if I am subjected to many a game once again, I have at least gotten started on my own entertainment. Throw in some dreads and a little hissy fit throwing by my favorite coach, and it should be a good season.

How to Temper Enthusiasm

I didn't realize I was such an enthusiastic being until recently, when I've really just had to take things down a notch and chill. It's hard. I'd rather do cartwheels in the parking lot of my complex any day than sit demurely with my legs crossed, nodding with very deliberate un-enthusiasm. But this is what I must do. I must quell the giddiness, stomp out the hopefulness and just wait things the fuck out. It's really for my own good, but I feel my heart becoming shrouded with a black sheer scarf when I take this approach. It's not living NOW and it's not conducive to my soul happiness. Yet is for my own good.

It's still important for me to express myself whenever it is "safe" to do so. I hate feeling stifled and careful. So when TSM asked if I would like to take my very first motorcycle ride yesterday, I almost jumped out of my shoes with enthusiasm!

I lowered my ponytail and slid a helmet on for the first time. As soon as it was on, I got nervous. I wondered if I looked like one of the bad ass chicks on Playstation Road Rash (probably not). I mounted the bike like the mechanical bull and gripped TSM's leather jacket pockets. I felt exposed, open, vulnerable and scared. But I trust TSM, and knew I was safe as long as I didn't do anything irrational as a nervous passenger.

We started out slow, and when we drove over a very small bump, I screamed and gripped his pockets. I think he was kind of laughing at me, but he asked if I was okay, and we drove up Pembroke Road. We got up to 45 mph (believe me, I kept a close eye) and after my muscles relaxed, I really started to enjoy the ride. TSM counseled me a bit on my "turn" behavior, and prepared me for upcoming turns. He has been riding since the age of 10 and is a confident, stable driver. I am glad he was my "first", because I never felt in danger or out of control.

At the end of the ride, I thought I really should have done this years ago! And what had I been afraid of? It was nothing but fun, and I would love to ride out somewhere for the day and just relax on the back of a bike.

When we got back, we discussed how my new thoughts on motorcycles opened up a whole new segment of the population I could date! It's nice to share enthusiasm with friends and I impulsively gave him a big hug to thank him for the experience.

I felt great the rest of the night (even with helmet hair) and I look forward to long rides in the future with someone special who not only likes, but encourages my enthusiasm!

Reliability in the Face of Uncertainty - My Sneakers

I wake up and I know my running shoes will be there. They wait for me and they're never far. Lately they are the only true certainty in my life.

They wait for me to eat some cottage cheese and maybe take a shower. They wait until I decide what t-shirt to wear and sometimes they even wait for me to answer an email or two. If I take too long, they get impatient and a little antsy, and they call out to my feet, making them tingle and making me want to grab some Thorlos and get the hell out and go to the gym, or to the track.

But they are always there. They support me in whatever I need to do on any given day. On rare occasions, sometimes they just come with me to the store and that is all. But they whisper to me that if I would like to run, I may, and they will be there.

We have plans, these shoes and I. Not to schlep comfortably through a shopping mall, not to explore that long ass Vegas strip and certainly not to meander through interesting wine tastings with whomever the current object of desire may be. No, no, no.

We are about getting shit done. About stretching the hamstrings, bicycling, walking and jogging the track, squatting a decent amount of weight, getting to the level of fitness I desire and want almost more than anything. My sneaks are my partner in crime, my support, my wake up call, my daily affirmation that I am real, I am here and I must make use of my time. My only true certainty.