Does Size Matter?

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

My most recent birthday gift was from my friend who sells Passion Parties products. That’s right folks…it’s a vibrator. But not just any old vibrator. This one has “personality!” It’s very lifelike complete with all the curves, lines and veins, mushrooming to a well-rounded tip. I really don’t know why they went to so much trouble to get the thing anatomically correct, because then they got the bright idea to make it purple. I could understand perhaps fluorescent green so you could find it easily in the dark. But purple? I suppose that’s the “signature” color for Passion Parties, Inc. My friend has affectionately named this particular model Barney.

Oh, and did I mention it’s big?

Let’s discuss size for a moment. I’m not really one to be judging size because I only slept with one guy (high school sweetheart) before I married my husband and they are both what I would consider average. But then how would I really know? I mean, I haven’t made it my life’s work to compare. I also don’t live in a vacuum. I’ve seen some porn and I’m guessing those guys in the magazines and videos are in that line of work because of their EXTRAordinary assets. And I’m sure there are some men who are smaller than what I’ve experienced all the way to downright miniscule. So for the sake of argument, this post is only discussing the difference between average and big.

Really big.

Anyway, back to Barney. I kinda wished my friend hadn’t given it that name because it’s hard to get turned on by a purple dinosaur who talks funny. Not that my Barney talks. No, he just kinda buzzes. One other thing of note is that this vibrator is made out of a lifelike silicone product that is somewhat pliable. Although I’ve never used a vibrator before, the ones I’ve seen were hard plastic, which I would imagine to be cold and way too slick.

So, okay, when my friend gave it to me I told her I would field test it and bring back the results. But that meant finding a time “alone” with Barney. Since last Saturday I realized that I am RARELY alone. I can barely find time to use the restroom without an audience or talk on the phone without being interrupted, much less test out a vibrator. But as chance would have it my husband had to work late one night and the kids were out of the house. So I decided to put Barney to the test and once and for all we would learn IF SIZE MATTERS.

Here are my findings. First of all, length is WAY overrated. I'm reminded of all those gazillion e-mails I've deleted promising extra inches. Longer doesn’t seem to help at all! Frankly, I think each woman has a certain carrying capacity and mine is only about two-thirds of the way on Barney. So the unused part is simply wasted silicone.

Now let’s talk about width. I think a woman’s body is purposely flexible…so flexible that it can accommodate a human head. Now Barney is not as wide as a human head, but wider than average, the definition of which we discussed earlier (determined by the size of the two men I’ve slept with.) And…okay…extra girth can be nice, but only because of the expandable-ness down there (and perhaps because it’s been stretched by 2 human heads). But width is not necessarily needed for enjoyment, again because of the accordian-like expanding and contracting qualities of a woman. (Whew! Did I get through this without using any bad words?)

Side bar: I really don’t understand the vibrating part of a vibrator. For one thing, it’s kind of noisy and I felt like I was carving a turkey with the electric knife. It doesn’t feel like "the real thing” at all unless you are used to having sex with a really large humming bird. I don’t know. Maybe it’s an acquired taste, but then I don’t like wine either.

So there you have it. Length doesn’t matter. Width…well, there are pros and cons. It’s a great asset for a vibrator. But in person, it could be a problem. Like the dentist told me last month. I have a really small mouth.

Another Tired Baby

The Jump Rope Murder, Installment Four

This is the fourth installment for Short Story Wednesday. If you missed the first three you might want to catch up by going
here.
***

Later that day the sheriff knocked at the parsonage door and the portly Reverend Burns opened the screen.

“Evenin’, Sheriff. Come right on in.”

The reverend, holding a big glass of iced tea in one hand, ushered Sam into the parlor.

“Still hot, even in September,” the reverend chatted.

“Yes, this is strange weather. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat.”

“Where’re you from?” The reverend sat on a gaudy floral sofa.

Sam sat across from him in a velvet side chair. “I’ve lived all over, but mostly Colorado Springs.”

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“Well, as you probably know, I’m investigating Father Pendleton’s murder.”

“So, it was murder, eh?”

“Strangled with a jump rope.”

The Reverend took a gulp of his drink. “Would you like some tea? Sister,” he called toward the kitchen. “Sister, get the sheriff an iced tea.”

“Who’s Sister?”

“Oh, my sister Margaret lives with me. I’ve called her that since childhood.”

Margaret, a plump, gray-haired woman with the scent of baby powder shuffled in and handed the sheriff a cold glass. Then she shuffled dutifully out.

“Anyway, as I’ve asked questions around town, the subject keeps coming up about your argument in the square on Sunday.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it an argument, exactly--just a friendly rivalry.”

“I heard you told Father Pendleton God would take care of him, or something like that.”

The reverend’s normally ruddy face went pale. After a heavy sigh, he spoke. “I guess I’ll eventually have to let you in on our little secret anyway. When I first came to this church the paltry congregation was the most apathetic group of so-called Christians I’d ever seen. St. Michael’s was the same way. Father Pendleton and I got to talking one day during a town council meeting and decided we needed to spice up this community."

He shifted his rotund body on the sofa and continued. "So we devised a plan to pit the Catholic Church against mine in a sort of competition."

His face became more animated as he talked. "We formed baseball teams, conflicting membership drives, simultaneous socials, etcetera. It worked like a charm! Soon everyone in town and the neighboring counties was going to either one church or the other. When membership would start to lag, the Father and I would cook up another little competition.”

Exasperated, Sam asked, “You mean the fiasco Sunday afternoon was a set up?”

The reverend sheepishly nodded. “But, you don’t have to tell anybody, do you? If they find out it’ll mean my job!”

“For God's sake, man, the Catholics think you killed him!”

“Well, I didn’t!” The reverend stood up and set his glass on the mantel.

“Where were you at 11 p.m. on Sunday?”

“In bed asleep like I am every night. Sister can vouch for that.”

Sam shot him another question. “Do you know anyone who would want Father Pendleton dead?”

The reverend thought for a moment. “If I were you, I’d look for the owner of that rope.”

Go HERE for the NEXT INSTALLMENT OF
The Jump Rope Murder.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Just when I thought the birthmonth celebration was truly over I got another gift this weekend. You're NOT going to believe what it is. Remember the friend who thought my suggestion to be in sales for Passion Parties was a good idea? Well, she gave me a...uh...

Well, I guess I can't really tell you now. That's something that will DEFINITELY have to wait until Friday.

But I'll give you a hint. It's big...and purple...and battery operated. She had to give it to me in private so we didn't offend anyone.

I guess you can consider this post a little teaser for the topic on Friday:

Does Size Matter?

Dun Dun Dun Dun... (theme from Jaws)

Okay, first let me clarify that I'm not joking about this. A 14 year old girl has just died from a shark attack in Destin, Florida so there's nothing funny about it. My heart goes out to her family.

Did anyone happen to see "Open Water" last year? It was one of the most disturbing movies I've ever seen. Since then I haven't had the opportunity to swim in the ocean, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to enjoy the warm salty waves with the same innocence. The world can be a brutal place and part of its brutality is its wildlife.

You can't really hold it against the 8 ft. long bull-shark, though. He's just eating. In this case, according to the surfer who tried to save the girl, it was lunch. So that makes the shark no less of a "criminal" than anyone who eats a steak, or fried chicken, or escargot. Right?

According to the article I read it was the first shark attack of any kind recorded in that county. What exactly does that mean? Do sharks adhere to certain county lines in the ocean? Isn't it all just one big watery place to them?

Everyone in the gulf during the attack was ordered out of the water. During the attack? Well, uh, no duh! You certainly wouldn't have to tell me twice.

Authorities closed about 20 miles of beaches to swimming shortly after the attack. It's the height of the summer tourism season along the coast and the beaches were packed with people.

George Burgess, curator of the International Shark Attack File said, "It's not a renegade shark looking for humans." How does he know what the shark is looking for? "Probably it was a one shot deal and it's not likely to attack again." Most certainly it will get hungry again...I'm thinking around dinner time.

Haven't we already seen this movie?

A Lawyer With A Conscience?

I want to thank everyone for their support through this ordeal with my son. To catch you up he was arrested last weekend for driving under the influence (of alcohol) and open container. I thought it was minor in possession but I was mis-informed.

Anyway, one of the pieces of advice I received was that I MUST get a lawyer. Having never had the need for a lawyer I wasn't sure how to go about this. So, being the Internet savvy person that I am, I googled one. Now you might think this to be a risky way to search, but since my friends and family didn't seem to have ever needed a lawyer either (what a law-abiding bunch we all are) I had no other choice.

Within mere moments I had a list of attorneys in our area who specialized in DUI/DWI. I made my decision on location...his office is halfway between here and the suburb where my son was arrested. And he had a nice face. I must admit I was very nervous about retaining an attorney, mainly because I've heard they charge like a thousand dollars a minute for their counsel. I'm wondering if the meter is running while I'm on the phone with his receptionist making the appointment.

It turns out that the initial visit is free. I really like the sound of free. So I scheduled the appointment (on Friday, my son's only good "day" day since he works nights) took a couple of hours of PTO from work and off we went.

And you're not going to believe what the attorney advised us!

After explaining that these two charges, while they sounded quite horrible, were really just minor offenses, very similar to other traffic violations, and that my son was very lucky...he then explained to him that if this happens again, when he's over 21, he wouldn't be so lucky.

Then he said the most amazing thing. He recommended that we didn't need him. That he could not in good conscience charge us $500 for what we could do ourselves.

All we have to do is ask for deferred-adjudication (I'm writing this down as he's saying it like we should know what it is), which would mean my son paying fines, attending classes and doing community service. When I told my husband this, he wanted to make sure I was going to the hearing because he couldn't remember deferred watchamacalit, much less say it. This made me laugh.

Anyway, I thought this was a MONUMENTAL finding...a "good" lawyer story! His name is Jonathan Bailey and he's in the Lewsiville TX area. If you're ever in need, just google him!

FREAKY FRIDAY NOT HOT ENOUGH?

I've had a complaint from John over at
Romantic Ramblings that Freaky Friday this week was too tame. While I do promise my Freaky Friday posts to be about sex (I think sexual abuse counts) I never claimed that it would have any certain sizzle-level. Perhaps I will image google flames and give each post from one up to 5 flames like they use stars for movies.

So moved was The Duke by my weak attempt at what he claims is the only reason for getting out of bed on Friday, that he wrote a poem (Iambic Heptameter) about it. Check it out!

Runaway Brides

I was watching the news interview of Jennifer Wilbanks and her fiance, John Mason, the other night. This was the Georgia woman who faked her own kidnapping three days before her wedding.

Something that the couple said at the very beginning of the interview struck me as odd. As born again Christains they had both decided when they first met to wait until their wedding night for sex. Not that I think waiting till your wedding night for sex is strange (although since they are both in their early thirties Guiness Book might want to check it out). But the fact did set off some red flags.

What exactly would make this sweet, emotional, seemingly caring woman run from the wedding and man of her dreams, piss off her 17 bridesmaids and worry her mom and dad to death? I don't think she was running from the wedding...or the lifelong committment it symbolizes.

I think...(and as my dad says, my opinion and 25 cents wouldn't buy you a cup of coffee)...that she wasn't running from the wedding.

This remind me of that game called Clue...you know...Miss Scarlet did it in the dining room with the lead pipe. Anyway...

She wasn't running from the wedding. She was running from the wedding NIGHT, perhaps due to some kind of sexual abuse as a child that she has yet to deal with.

Anyway, a lot of people are still extremely mad at her, and I guess what I'm trying to say is who are we to judge? Even if we did know all of the facts, which we may never know, the girl is obviously troubled. I think everyone needs to give her a break.



TOM AND KATIE GETTING MARRIED

I thought he was gay??? If you saw the Oprah interview where Tom Cruise is jumping on the furniture over how ECSTATIC he is to be marrying Katie Holmes, you'll agree he was just a TAD bit too happy.

Tom, methinks you doth profess your love too much!

And when he dragged Katie Holmes on stage by her arm she had a strained smile on her face that read: "Someone help me, please!"

Another tired baby pic...

This looks like a nice...place...to...zzzzzzzz

The Jump Rope Murder, Installment Three

This is the third installment for Short Story Wednesday. If you missed the first two you might want to catch up by going
here.
***

Sam jogged into his office just in time to answer the phone. The coroner’s preliminary report stated the cause of death as strangulation by jump rope around 11 p.m. Sunday. No other marks were found.

Shortly after that Mrs. Whitington entered the station, her purse held tightly against her body, as though Sam might snatch it away from her.

“I’ll just take a few notes.” Sam settled into his leather desk chair and motioned Mrs. Whitington to the guest chair.

“Well, the Catholic Church—that’s my church—and the Baptists were holding their fall bazaars during the same weekend. Mrs. Feeney at City Hall forgot to write down our reservation for the square. So you can imagine everyone’s surprise when we both started to set up our booths yesterday afternoon. Father Pendleton was already at the podium to begin the opening prayer when Reverend Burns of First Baptist went up the steps to talk to the Father.

She tugged on her skirt, which was already well below her knees, and continued.

“At first you couldn’t hear what they were saying. But you could tell by the way their arms were flying, they were very angry—especially Brother Burns. Then they started shouting. Brother Burns said he was tired of the Catholics always trying to out-do the Baptists and that God knew where the Father’s heart really was. He said God would see he got what was coming to him!”

Sam stopped his note-taking and looked up. Mrs. Whitington appeared indignant.

“So you’re saying God killed the Father?”

“Well, of course not! I’m saying Brother Burns killed him.”

“Oh, come on now…”

“You don’t understand, Sheriff, this is a vicious rivalry that goes way back. Yesterday afternoon was just the…the last straw!”

Sam closed his notebook. “Well, I appreciate you coming in.”

“Aren’t you going to haul him in? I don’t think you should go easy on him just because he’s a man of the cloth. After all, we’re talking about murder…”

Mrs. Whitington got up to leave, but Sam stopped her. “Where were you at 11 p.m.?”

“I was at the church.” Her voice was unsteady. “I wanted to talk to Father Pendleton.”

“And did you find him?”

“No, he wasn’t in his room.”

“Why so late?”

“I wanted to talk to him before Sister Mary Ellen did.” Her voice cracked. “She was going to tell him I forgot to reserve the Gazebo and that’s simply not true!”

“Did you see anything,” Sam hesitated, “out of the ordinary?”

“No. I did think it was strange the Father wasn’t there.”

“Okay, you can go now,” said Sam. “Oh wait. Can I have the lipstick you’re wearing?”

“Why?” Her question rang with fear. She rummaged for the tube in her purse and handed it to him. “You don’t think I killed the Father, do you?

“At this point everyone’s a suspect.”

As Sam ushered her out, Mrs. Whitington and Sister Mary Ellen passed each other coldly on the station steps.

“Sister, please take a seat.”

“Oh, Sheriff, can you believe this horrible tragedy?" Sister Mary Ellen dabbed a tissue at her dainty nose. "I’m sorry to bother you, Sheriff. I know you must be terribly busy, but I’m told you have the school’s mascot.”

At first Sam was confused. “Oh, you mean the parrot?”

“I’d like to take him home, if that’s okay.”

“I’m afraid we have to keep the bird--evidence, you understand.”

“Oh.” The sister sounded disappointed.

“But, I'm glad you came,” Sam added. " I need to ask some routine questions.”

"Well, alright." The sister sat primly in the guest chair adjusting her frock.

"Did you hear the discussion between the Father and Reverend Burns on Sunday?’

“No, but I’ve never seen Father Pendleton so upset!”

“Did he say anything to you after the bazaar?”

“Yes. He told me to pray for the Baptists.”

“Where were you around 11 p.m. on Sunday?”

“I’m in bed by 10:00 every night.”

“Is there any reason why the Father would put the parrot in the car?”

“On warm nights he kept him there, otherwise St. Petey’s squawking would keep him awake.”

“And one final question. Do you know anyone who would want to kill Father Pendleton?”

“Other than Brother Burns and the Baptists, he was beloved by everyone.”

The parrot began to screech from the supply room, “Sister! Sister!”

Go HERE for the NEXT INSTALLMENT OF
The Jump Rope Murder.

Double Cousins? Sounds illegal...

With all the wonderful and heart-felt blogs about their fathers, I was "influenced" in the decision to drive my Dad and Mom to their reunion in west Texas (5 hour drive, monotonous scenery) fourth of July weekend this year. It used to be a fun reunion, but now everyone is old (including me) and the young people seem to have better things to do (I don't blame them.) Anyway, here's a "song" I wrote about our family history and the annual gathering.

SAN ANGELO REUNION
(Sung to the tune of the "Beverly Hillbillies")

Listen to my story 'bout the Wagners and McCleerys
When you hear the tale, it's really kinda eerie
It happened in a town they call San Angelo
Where the wind was blowin' dry
And mesquites were growin' low
Kind of a bush
Not quite a tree

Well, the two men settled on the flat prairie
William was from Ireland and Frederick--Germany
They both took a bride and raised a family
And they were all as busy as a bumblin' bee
Grit in your eyes
Tumbleweeds

Well the first thing you know, Will's son met Fred's girl
They both fell in love and married in a whirl
But then, you know, one thing led to another
Rob's sister fell in love with Vickie's younger brother
It's legal, ya know
I hear it's quite common

So they started raisin' families...kids by the dozens
They all looked alike 'cause they were double cousins
And with that mixture it was quite a recipe
If you look around I'm sure you will agree
Big ears
Bald heads

The Wagners loaded up the truck and moved to Big D
McCleerys stayed in Angelo to carry on the tree
And you know the rest is considered history
We get together every Fourth for the family..
Reunion, that is
Barbecue
Swimmin' pool.