TMI Tuesday #206

For anyone who doesn't know, I'm getting the questions each Tuesday from here:

http://tmituesday.blogspot.com/

This week's questions:

1. Have you put anything edible on (or in) your partner's body and then eaten it? No

2. Have you ever had an AIDS test due to reasonable suspicion or hyperactive imagination? No

3. Have you ever fantasized about someone else other than your partner while you were engaged in sex, oral sex, or mutual masturbation? No

4. Have you ever engaged in sex, oral sex, or mutual masturbation while in a moving car? A car being driven by someone not engaged in the sex, oral sex, or mutual masturbation? No

5. Have you ever had sex so many times or for so long that one or both people involved runs dry? No

Ok, so, to review, I've never had food sex, an AIDS scare, sex in a moving vehicle, a fantasy about someone while banging someone else, or run dry. Apparently, I'm very boring. Though in some ways (#2 especially), that's a good thing!

Bonus (as in optional): Name 5 things an unplanned (or planned) visitor would find in your bedroom? Bed, belt, lotion, panties, and me (clothing optional).

TMI Tuesday #205

As a Blogger newbie, I’ve come to enjoy reading others’ Tuesday blog posts. I've decided to give up my TMI Tuesday virginity by posting the weekly quiz here for the first time:

1. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be?

Britney Spears. It would free up the media to cover something I might actually care about.

2. You seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. Holy crap, a hundred bucks! How are you gonna spend it?

At a spa, because it could be a nice change of pace to get a massage from someone who doesn’t expect sex afterwards. (Ok, admittedly, I'm usually the one who expects sex afterwards).

3. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there?

1912, where I would stand on the docks shouting “Don’t get on that ship!!”

4. What is your favorite curse word?

This is like asking a mother which is her favorite child.

5. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice?

Jude Law. He strikes me as someone who’d be sufficiently inventive.

Bonus (as in optional): You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be?

Invisibility. This way, in the unlikely event Jude turns out to be a dud, I can climb unnoticed into the bed of another, more gifted movie star.

Accidentally Naked

Some recent posts on other blogs (along with my own last entry) brought a subject to mind that I haven’t thought about in awhile: accidental exposure. Specifically, those times when you really don’t mean to be naked in front of random people, but somehow that’s the way the chips (or clothes) fall. I have already recounted my the story of my unintentional lakeside nude theater performance.

This incident doesn’t stand alone in my accidentally exposed annals. (Note: I had no idea this sentence was funny until I read it back before posting.) Of course, nearly every woman has experienced some sort of bikini/swimsuit malfunction, so it comforts me to know there is a sisterhood of accidental nudes. Still, I do wonder if my unintended exposures number a bit on the high side for one girl.

One especially embarrassing incident occurred during a summer babysitting job. The family decided upon a trip to the beach, and I had gone into a guest room to change into a modest one-piece swimsuit. Unfortunately, exactly as my panties (my last piece of clothing) dropped to the floor, the children’s father strolled into the room.

Picture it: Thirtysomething red-blooded man walks in on stark naked virginal teenaged babysitter. I know, it sounds like the beginning of bad porn, but it wasn’t sexy at all. We both momentarily froze from the shock!

Our brains must have clicked back on simultaneously, with him red-cheeked and blustering, “Sorry!”, while I futilely tried to cover my important bits with my hands, shrieking “GET OUUUUTTT!” In retrospect, probably not the ideal move on my part, considering the wife was downstairs, and it should’ve caused her to come running. The gods of pity must’ve been with me that day, because she was outside, which was the only possible way she could’ve avoided hearing my scream.

The father tried to apologize to me later, but I stopped him, probably by covering my ears with my hands to indicate that we would never, ever talk about this again. I don't think either of us told the wife, which interests me, because while neither of us tried to do something wrong, we both felt guilty of something. This feeling must’ve subsided quickly enough, because I don’t remember subsequently looking at this man for the rest of the summer and thinking, “he saw me naked.”

Another incident occurred a few years later. While I have previously extolled the benefits of hotels, I must advise that one should always inspect one’s hotel room upon arrival. On this particular trip, I was quite tired upon checking in.

As I entered the room and turned on the lights, I immediately dropped my bags to the floor. I began peeling off my clothes in eager anticipation of a welcome hot shower. Since my room was at least ten floors up, it never occurred to me to close the curtains before undressing.

After discarding the last of my clothing, I couldn’t help but notice the room was a bit chilly. I made my way over to the air conditioning unit by the window, adjusting the settings to my liking. Suddenly, a movement outside the window caught my eye.

I belatedly realized I was looking down into an indoor courtyard, which conveniently contained a bar full of people! Who were in turn eyeing me without a scrap of clothing on. Again, I had that “freezing” moment, before grabbing the curtains and dragging them to cover the window!

I stood there momentarily, with the images of these unsuspecting people’s shocked, amused, and even appreciative faces imprinted on my brain. Then, I couldn’t help it. I fell onto the bed in peals of laughter.

Being older by now and more confident of my body, I was at least able to enjoy the humor in having unwittingly given them such a memorable free show. My sense of humor, however, does only get me so far. This next inadvertently exposed moment was the kind of thing I’d find funnier if it happened to someone else!

I was relaxing in the comfort of my own home, which ought to be the safest naked place possible. I live in a rural setting, and even the nearest neighbors cannot see into my house from theirs. My den does feature a huge bay window, though, so you know where this is going.

Normally, I change in a bedroom. On this day, the clothes I wanted were in the closest room off the den. Since the den is more spacious, I carried my outfit only as far as there to begin changing.

As I peeled off the last bit of my clothing (I do really need to start looking around before chucking the panties), I felt this strange sensation of someone else’s presence. I was alone in the house, so initially discounted it. Unable to shake the feeling for several seconds, I finally looked to the window to reassure myself.

What I saw was anything but reassuring. The neighbors’ developmentally disabled teenaged son was standing on my porch, face pressed to the glass. As I unleashed my blood-curdling scream, the boy whipped his head away from the window, disappearing from view.

He hadn’t, however, departed. After a few seconds went by, I heard a knock on the front door. Followed by the very much quavering voice of the teen, saying his parents wanted to know if I needed help mowing my lawn.

I immediately snapped out, “Nooo…. thanks anyway….” in the hopes he would just go away. It amused me later that although he had watched me undress, I thanked him, but my primary aim at that time was to just get rid of him! Besides, I knew he hadn’t come over with the intention of peeping, but since the opportunity presented itself…. even the slowest of teenage boys understands such chances are few and far between.

This particular occurrence of unintended exposure bothered me a lot more than the others. I think the combination of his age and his handicap just made it all very uncomfortable. He must’ve told his dad, and strangely, I ended up being glad for this.

Probably because his dad was able to reassure me I didn’t scar the lad for life. Later, after noticing the boy always had a huge smile for me following the incident, I realized that I likely gave the kid the thrill of his life to that point, and resolved not to be so uptight about it. Still, after that, I did always check my surroundings before changing in the den!

Caught in the Act: The Car Incident

I once dated a guy who was masterful at car sex. By dated, I mean that I intended to hook up with him once, but the sex was too damn good. Anyway, he was rather acrobatic, and I am flexible, so we were able to use the small confines of a vehicle to achieve positions that would’ve been unattainable in bed.

One of our favorite parking spots was lakeside in a nearby small town. On one occasion, the cool night air combined with our automobile aerobics to steam up the windows. Think “Titanic”. Hand prints (and footprints) sliding down the glass; you get the picture.

After 20 minutes or so of bouncing the car like a pogo stick, we pulled on our clothes on, and exited the vehicle to cool off a bit. We were surprised to encounter two fisherman sitting by the lake, who hadn’t been there when we’d parked the car. They smiled knowingly, then applauded our performance.

They applauded! Surely I should have been appalled. I was a bit embarrassed, certainly.

Had I known anyone had arrived on the scene, I absolutely would have stopped the proceedings, and sought a more private setting. Still, I did not experience the shame I would’ve expected at not only being caught in the act, but being watched for at least some portion of it.

Instead, I felt bizarrely proud that our show met with our audience’s approval. This confused me, as I’ve never considered myself an exhibitionist, nor had any wish to act out some secret porn star fantasy. While I admit that the possibility of getting caught felt exciting, I never seriously envisioned the reality could be so.

Of course, there’s no doubt the embarrassment level would have been heightened had the fishermen decided to involve the local authorities, instead of merely taking in the show. Having a police record of any kind does not appeal to me. I can only imagine the ways in which such an offense appearing in my file would complicate my life, and definitely not for the better.

So having dodged that bullet, I am left to wonder: why does the prospect of being caught in the act still excite?

Review: I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell follows the dubious sexual adventures of a trio of college buddies. The events of the movie are based upon some of the real-life experiences published in Tucker Max’s memoir of the same name. The situations that unfold during IHTSBIH’s 99 minutes are exploitive, offensive, and often cringe-worthy. Still game? See it; you’ll enjoy one of the most uproarious, pee-your-pants funny films you will ever see.

The movie’s plot surrounds a scheme by Tucker (Matt Czuchry) to engineer a strip club road trip before his friend’s wedding. Dan (Geoff Stults), the groom, and Drew (Jesse Bradford), the recently dumped misogynist, are reluctant, but eventually fall in with Tucker’s plans. Predictably, their odyssey descends into the type of reckless frat-boy hijinx which only make for hilarious stories if everyone survives.

Tucker is played winningly by Czuchry, who injects an infectious charm into what should be a thoroughly unlikeable character. Stellar support is lent by Stults, Keri Lynn Pratt (as Dan’s put-upon fiancée, Kristy), and especially Bradford. His portrayal of the scathingly belligerent Drew is unforgettable.

This film will likely draw comparisons to the recent hit The Hangover. While IHTSBIH will no doubt appeal to aficionados of The Hangover, the situations in that movie, while funny, seem contrived. Under the able direction of Bob Gosse, the well-paced screenplay by Max and Nils Parker provides a genuine feel to IHTSBIH that adds believeability to the humor. Laugh-for-laugh, this film can take its rightful place alongside the best buddy comedies in memory.

I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell is currently holding premieres across the country. It opens nationwide on September 25th. If you’re shelling out ten bucks for a movie anyway, why not see an instant classic?

http://www.ihopetheyservebeerinhell.com/

Where Do You Take the One-Night Stand?

My previous post addressed some of the pitfalls of shitting where you snore (bringing home a one-night stand). There are many alternate locations for such recreation. Numerous factors play a part in determining what works for you, including your friends, your wallet, your comfort level for sex in public places, and yes, even your gender.

1. You’ll get by with a little help from your friends.

Friends are invaluable resources, both for their endless reserves of useful information, and for the fact that getting you laid is one of their most significant and solemn duties. If you’re lucky, you’ve got friends that will lend you the use of their place. At the very least, they should know prime hookup spots that will not lead to your untimely arrest.

2. How much will this cost me?

Strangely enough, when you splurge for hotel sex, it can make things feel cheaper. There’s an air of prostitution in such a transaction, even though Your Hookup isn’t a prostitute (we hope), nor are you (we assume). Yet, for some, that “dirty” feeling can fuel the turn-on.

Still, it’s best not to take Your Hookup to the local crack motel. You want excitement, not terror. Unless you’re both into that sorta thing.

Guys, whatever you do, don’t shell out for the hotel, only to forget the proper protection. Yes, I’m serious; it happens. I’ll share my horror story on that count in an upcoming post.

3. What is it about car sex?

During your teens, it was often your only option. Car sex can be cramped, uncomfortable, and require acrobatic skill that your body possesses less of as you age. So why, then, do so many of us still find it a huge turn-on?

Some thrill in the knowledge that they could be caught in the act. I wonder what percentage of those people would also thrill in actually being caught. I imagine it depends on the aftermath, and whether the fallout involves horrified stares, strangers’ laughter, or a public indecency conviction.

This reminds me of a “getting caught” story I’ll share at a later date.

4. Going home with The Hookup

If Your Hookup is willing, this can be convenient for all parties. Bring your own transportation, though. You want the option to bail at any time, if needed.

Girls: I do not recommend you go home with Your Hookup. For your own safety and reputation, you should have as much control over the hookup environment as he does.
I admit; I have broken this rule myself.

It’s one of those things I now realize I was lucky to have escaped unscathed. I’ve seen many more episodes of Maury since then. I now understand the full extent of disasters I averted, including unwitting internet porn stardom, and lifelong imprisonment as a sex slave in some nutjob’s basement dungeon.

So many pitfalls in life could be avoided simply by watching Maury.

Don't Shit Where You Eat?

The phrase “don’t shit where you eat” is popular in advising against office romances. I recommend applying a variation of this principle to one-night stands: Don’t shit where you snore.

Too often, I’ve seen friends fail to embrace this useful guideline for the random hookup. It’s completely understandable. In the rush to tear someone’s clothes off and do the deed, apart from condoms and the hasty “I’m clean, you?” exchange, little consideration is paid to consequences. (And yes, I do realize the difficulties of finding an alternate location for this particular activity; that subject will be addressed in a future post).

So, what are the consequences of bringing a one-night stand home?

I’m sure it’s obvious: The Hookup now knows where you live. It’s not really helpful to supply this information to someone you never intend to see again.

Even if The Hookup also never intends to see you again, at some point in the ensuing weeks, horniness will often prevail. The Hookup, thinking he/she knows where to find a willing participant, will either call asking to come over, or simply show up. The latter is more likely, since you probably haven’t supplied your number.

Worse still is The Hookup who was all about the hookup, and only the hookup, until it dawns on the person that you, too, were only about the hookup. This realization must be handled carefully, because things can progress a couple of different ways, few of them good. Two common (bad) ones:

1. The Hookup’s ego/self-worth is dented/decimated because you don’t want to have sex with him/her again.

2. The Hookup decides that because you didn’t cuddle/extend an invitation to stay the night, you are suddenly irresistible. That’s right. Your lack of clinginess/interest has caused The Hookup to decide that you are The One. You were clearly meant to be together, and The Hookup only needs to help you see this, so the two of you can be happy together forever.

Suggestions for effective exit strategies are welcome. I have little useful advice for navigating either scenario smoothly. I normally extract myself from awkward situations, well, awkwardly.

Girls, whatever you do, don't suddenly pretend to be a lesbian. I’m sure there are 5 guys out there that information would deter, but odds are low that Your Hookup is one of them. If anything, this will only increase the guy’s determination to win you back for his team. Or result in persistent invitations for threesomes.

For guys trying to extricate yourselves from Scenario #1, saying you think you're gay might work. But, there are too many pitfalls in this plan. Few straight guys I know would be willing to pretend to be gay. Plus, if The Hookup is at all connected to your social circle, you could accidentally start a rumor that would derail your prospects with the opposite sex for the foreseeable future. So, you should only consider this gambit in the direst of circumstances (i.e. she will not leave, and you'd rather not involve the authorities).

For anyone seeking to remove The Hookup who’s insulted you don’t want seconds, but who’s still standing in your bedroom, a more contentious (but most effective) escape hatch is politics. Find out The Hookup’s political leanings. Then spout the opposing side’s most extremist positions.

This may piss off The Hookup so much their feet suddenly beat a path to the front door. Or, you incite a mêlée which ends with one or both of you facing domestic violence charges, but nobody told you to bring The Hookup home. You really should’ve skipped those last few drinks.

In Scenario #2, The Hookup who decides you’re soul mates: regardless of your gender, you're pretty much fucked. You can feign interest in The Hookup, in the hopes that your loss of aloofness will be a turn-off, but you’re essentially closing the barn door after the horse bolted. You’re probably best off making friends with your local PD (or alternatively, neighborhood street gang), so that when you start receiving love packages filled with dead roses (or dead animals), you’ve at least got some backup.

For one-night stands, don’t shit where you snore.