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Friday, April 27, 2012

"Soft-Core Friday" - Crushin' It with Stefan

Another "Soft-Core Friday" is upon us. I'm still out frolicking on the beach in my white bikini but don't worry,   I left you in the very capable and surprisingly smooth hands of Stefan from Kreative Anythingz. We have had major blog crushes going on each for quite a while and I think it's getting serious...we only refer to each other with the sweetest of nicknames...right sugar buns??

Ahem. Back to the guest post. Today he lets us crawl inside the sticky inner workings of the male mind and what can happen when the planets align for one lucky dude. Enjoy!

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Howdy doodly boys and girls!


Firstly thanks are in order to my Randy sweetheart for allowing me to slide myself gently into her tight, warm and totally addictive... blog. 

I'm usually found writing fiction somewhere else, but for today I'd like to reflect on something that I did, that I'm not totally proud of, but I had a whale of a time doing it. Men the world over would give their right testicle to do it too, as long as no one ever found out. 

I'll get straight to the point, and as a man, I shouldn't be divulging trade secrets though I feel compelled to discuss why us three-legged individuals find it super hard to be monogamous. 

It's because we are constantly 'super hard' too much, and often, not at the right times... Millions of me have the ability to get a boner with a mere thought, factor in the amount of women we see on our daily travels and, we have enough visual information for our own personal porno movie starring, well, every hot chick we can conjure up.  


Admittedly, I'm a victim of my own libido! I saw the opportunity to have sex with several different women in the space of 72hrs and I grabbed it, smothered it and secretly tried to recreate the experience with very little success (let's keep that last part between us please!). 

It all started on a Monday. 

I had a date after work and it went so well we ended up back at my place for some 'coffee'. I remember my date only having a sip before we were both completely naked drenched in each other’s sweat. 

I gave her a cuddle in the morning and we went our separate ways (yeah, I'm soooo thoughtful). 
My ex called me later that Tuesday asking me to pick something up from her place. Several hours later I was lifting her left leg to get a better angle, all the while I'm thinking "hey stud, that is two in less than 48hrs, massive pat on the back for you dude!" (I often talk to myself like that during sex. I say things like - "crush that pussy", “OH YEAH, YOU THE MAN”, “you better make her come at least twice, or else”, "no, I can't come yet, I wanna bend her over first"  - - PS: I'm currently at my parents house writing this, 'classy points for yours truly). 

So... It’s Tuesday and I’ve already crushed to vaginas and I’m still peckish. I make a phone call that lasts all of three minutes. Yeah, you guessed it a booty call! I’m riding the early hours of Wednesday now and somewhere in the mêlée of positions, orgasms and little white lies I’ve managed to freshen up for round three. 

Heading now to my third victim I barely get through the door before scented oil hits my bare skin and I’m doing things you really shouldn’t in the hallway of her parents house. I’m a terrible, terrible person I am that guy! Undeterred I give it my ‘A’ game, the ‘look at yourself during in the mirror game, the flex kiss your guns because you’ve got muscles, game.


It’s Wednesday morning and I’m three deep, and jonesing for more, and it’s at that point that I realise I have a serious problem, but I’m in the haze and ignore it. I call lucky contestant number 4 who happens to be the daughter of a good friend of mine who’s been putting it on me for a while and up until that point I hadn’t sniffed out the treasure. Like a P90X workout I, BRING IT. (Insert comic book: POW! WHAM! WAH-CHUM! KA-BLAAM!).

 I secretly in my quiet moments remember the guy I used to be with fond memories. He was a frikkin’ liability and could have stuck me with a plethora of STDs and diseases but for some unforeseen reason his cock must have been carved from stuff of legend because like the fountain of youth, it remains pure and untouched, even mythical.

Now I know I sounded completely over indulgent in those last few lines, well pretty much the entire way through this post, but I’ve never had the opportunity to write this stuff down and actually share it. And to be honest with you all, I only really got to Wednesday and there’s four more days in the week that I haven’t covered.

Well, hey, I’ve rattled on long enough and I’m sure you’re tired of me now, so I’ll stop there and say thanks for listening. I am Stefan and I’m a sexaholic...

And because no SCF post is complete without a song, Stefan loaded it up with "7 Days" by Craig David because like he showed above, sometimes there aren't enough days in the week to get your swerve on! 




Thursday, April 26, 2012

It's about boobs so I know you will read it

Ok, this is ridiculous... you guys are going to get so spoiled with all these great guest posts that you aren't going to want me to come back. At the risk of that horrible outcome, I'm going to let you have another party while I'm gone with one of the coolest girls I've had the pleasure of splitting a bucket of beer in a casino lounge in Vegas with so you know she rocks!

If you don't follow the lovely and wickedly talented Lazidaisical already, get off your asses and go check her out when you are done reading her post here. She is totally stalkable! (trust me, I've seen her naked. Ok, not really but you can imagine if I had...)

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It is pretty much summer here in Vegas already - this weekend it's gonna reach 99 degrees - and I was reminded today of something I wrote around this time last year that deals with summertime nostalgia. And titties. You know, since we're all thinking about 'em because of RG's Masque tank top pic, right? Right. So I hope this does her blog justice cuz I adore her, and I hope it will entertain her dear readers cuz y'all seem pretty cool. And here we go. 



When you’re a teenager, summer vacation is a time for seeking out experiences that will make you wiser, that will make you feel as old as the grade you’re about to enter. It's a time to experience something you can brag about next year.

When you’re a teenager, summer vacations become a time for transformation.

And when you’re me, your lazy ass sits around with your best friend on her front porch all summer long waiting for that transformation to hit you in the chest. You hope that these three months provide enough time for you to transform into THAT girl – the one who used to be scrawny and awkward, but shows up on the first day of school with suddenly round hips, an ass so juicy that every guy does a double take and makes an inappropriate comment, and tits so over-developed that they can make a baggy gym shirt look painfully sexy.

It’s not that I was eager to be an adult. I wasn’t. I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up, nor where I wanted to be; I didn’t understand the concept of BEING at all and didn’t like being forced to participate in shit I didn’t understand. But I totally understood that girls with big boobs had more opportunities available to them than girls with little boobs; and if I had big boobs maybe everything else would fall into place?

During these languid summers in central Texas, my best friend and I used to wake up, create outrageous hair-dos, apply copious amounts of make-up, put on short shorts with revealing tank tops, and perch ourselves on her porch by nine a.m. every morning. We’d get excited when older guys drove by and honked – she’d get excited because she was a whore; I’d get excited because it meant they found me attractive despite my lack of boobs. We’d wait patiently for her parents to leave for work so we could go into the garage and take some of the weed her dad “secretly” sold on the side. On the porch, we’d smoke out and munch out and I’d close my eyes and concentrate on trying to hold the food at my chest when I swallowed it down, that way all the saturated fat could accumulate in my breasts. Back then, we didn’t have cell phones or internet, so when we were bored nearly to tears and ready to throw each other down the porch steps, we had no choice but to entertain ourselves by engaging in meaningless conversations that, on my end, included questions, like, “was there any kind of sign that your boobs were about to grow? Like, was your period heavier than usual that month?” 

During the summer vacation between seventh and eighth grade, my best friend’s tits had blossomed from nothing but little nipple buds into mature C-cups. At least once a week, we’d take a chair, some towels, and three or four vials of hair dye with us outside and attempt to paint purple, gold, and orange streaks in each other’s frizzy hair out on the humid porch. And the dye would end up everywhere, including the section of my chest where my cleavage should’ve been, making me wonder if there was any kind of chemical junk I could smother over my breasts, or ingest, that would make my A-cups sprout into something more substantial. (Yo, Masque, hit my ass up if you goes some shit like that!)

Teenage summer vacations are times for transformations, but I never transformed. I often say I’m exactly the same today as I was at any other point in my life; and the same goes for my boobs. They didn’t even get a tiny bit bigger while I was a teenager. All those summer vacations full of hope just passed on by, leaving me nothing to show from them.

But something strange happened in the summer of 2009, six years after I’d ceased being a teenager: my tits began to look very full and delicious, seemingly overnight. Even my hips gave off a little extra kick when I stepped. I thought, finally, my body was starting to look like a woman’s and not a young teenager’s. I still wasn’t eager to be an adult; and though I had become comfortable with my small breasts over the years, big ones were not unwelcome. Feeling like a teenager again, I put my newly developed tits to work right away: wore slutty dresses (slutty, but tasteful, mind you) to bars with my husband’s colleagues, hoping one of my big breasts would accidentally pop out and give their mundane wives even more reasons to shoot envious looks at me; when getting lap dances, I held my chest up high - debating whether or not I should take MY shirt off, too – and gave the strippers bored looks to indicate that my boobs were better than theirs; the bikini I bought that summer was ridiculously skimpy because I wanted to always be in danger of having a nip slip; I even convinced a friend that we should celebrate her birthday at one of the topless beaches here in Vegas.

Her party was slated for September 17th (this is still very much summer time in Nevada) and, though my husband was outraged by my excitement over showing strangers my voluptuous breasts, I was ready to go – I really only wanted to show them to my friends anyway; we’d be in a private cabana and I promised him I'd only be topless in there. I felt like that knowledge should have been soothing to him, but he didn’t trust me to remember to put my top back on when leaving the cabana for more drinks or a restroom break.

On September 11th, six days before the topless party, I found out the recent enormity of my boobs was a result of being pregnant.

I didn’t go to the topless party and felt stupid for ever wanting to. I also felt ashamed of the debauchery I’d unknowingly made my child tag along for during the prior months. I stayed in at night, stopped drinking, stopped smoking pot, started dressing more sensibly… Bigger boobs made me a better person, which wasn’t what I’d anticipated during all those summer vacations on my best friend’s porch. And, I guess, they did indeed signify that I’d become an adult.

In the summer of 2010, my breasts grew bigger than ever. But instead of dreaming up senseless ways to employ their magnificence, I had to figure out how to use them to feed my newborn daughter; this was somehow even more exciting than, say, looking through crowds and picking out who’d be using my tits for impractical purposes if I wasn’t married.

It’s now the summer of 2012 and my breasts have long since deflated back down to an A-cup, but I’m okay with that. If my boobs had been bigger from the get-go, they’d have had much farther to fall. But since gravity didn’t have a lot of mass to pull down, they still look rather perky. I’ve realized that whoever decided I wasn’t meant have big tits knew what they were doing. As my brief brush with voluptuousness back in the summer of 2009 proved, I would’ve lead a terribly reckless existence as a big-tittied girl. My life would’ve probably panned out much differently if I’d been a D-cup.

But if I’d known as a teenager that A-cups are sexy, too, I would’ve spent those summer vacations sitting on my best friend’s porch topless. 

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Laying down the law on Jorts

While I'm off running on the sandy shores of somewhere, the gorgeous and hilarious Deb from Just Keepin' It Real Folks is here to tell you kids a story. She is my daily dose of happy and a kindred spirit of finding joy in the utterly ridiculous! You must have been very, very good to deserve such a treat.



Jorts- An American Original


Summer is fast approaching folks. Time to put away those heavy winter clothes, and break out the duds for some fun in the sun. Ya know like a flowery sundress, a rockin' hot bikini, a versatile tank top, and an awesome pair of jorts. SERIOUSLY, what is summer without a pair of jorts???? The urban dictionary lists quite a few definitions for these flashy fashion staples. Some of my favorites are: a combination of the words "jeans" and "shorts" used to describe the hideous attire usually sported by NASCAR aficionados and men over 40; worn mostly by children and douchebags; jorts are perhaps the easiest way to recognize people you will not like; and if you wear jorts you probably don't talk to girls. Well damn, I had no idea there was so much outrage about jorts. Hell, there's even entire websites devoted to people just "saying NO" to jorts!!!



When I was growing up in the dark ages, every man looked like this dude. He was your Dad, he was your teacher, he was your coach, he was your neighbor, and he wore jorts and no one gave it a second thought. Now granted I'm a transplanted Yankee livin' in a southern town, so maybe things are a bit different here. But if you wear jorts in these here parts, you are regarded as white trash. Lemme tell ya, there is a difference between white trash and redneck, according to my born and bred southern friends. Rednecks are just good ol' boys. White trash is scum, and folks don't take kindly to trash wearin' wife beaters and a pair of jorts.



But come on, when you can wear a one piece thong with a pair of jorts, the jorts become a necessary accessory!!!! Just look how fabulous the light blue denim color of the jorts brings out the pretty pattern in the one piece. Plus, the jorts fit nice and low on her hips to show perfect symmetry of her lower back for the full effect of the thong, while still leaving a bit for the imagination for her guy. A little teaser before her man wants to slide those jorts off and get busy.



 Now with gams like that, and an ass that you can bounce a quarter off of, jorts are the perfect choice to show off your assets. WORK IT GIRL!!!! She kinda makes me wanna sing the theme song from that old Nair commercial, "Who wears short jorts, we wear short jorts". And how about those fancy cutouts on her butt? That takes some special kinda talent if that was a DIY project.


But just when I thought me and my hubby didn't have any secrets from each other, I go through his drawers and what do I find? YEPPERS, a pair of Cherokee brand jorts, circa 1993.  Just goes to show ya folks, you can take the boy out of West Virginia, but you can't take the West Virginia out of the boy. I think I might go buy him a wife beater so he will have the perfect ensemble for date night.

Thank you so much RG for allowing me to house sit for a day while you were enjoying some R & R.  
I sure hope I didn't make too much of a mess.


Images via Google Images

Monday, April 23, 2012

A Crazy Tragic Almost Magic Orgasm-tastic Guest Post!

Hi! You've reached Random Girl. I'm off jet-setting at the moment but please feel free to stick around and make yourself at home with my sister from another mister, Michael. She runs the show over at Crazy Tragic Almost Magic so get over there and start stalking her like I do check her out. She is awesome and totally Random Girl approved. Plus she is sharing a story about winning a contest for the best fake orgasm so you know she's just my style. Enjoy!


I was catching up with my never ending blog roll and noticed that one of my favorite bloggers, Randy, was looking for guest posts while she’s out committing sunny shenanigans. Jealous? Yea, me too. I happily volunteered the tale of my 26th birthday…..
Last November, for my 26th birthday, I round up my 4 very best friends and went out for the night. It was a planned evening of dinner and a show followed by drinking and dancing at one of my fave bars in the city. Tame sounding right? Possibly. Except dinner and a show was at Lips which is a drag bar. Dinner was good. The show? Even better. One of my best friends is gay and married and I have spent many a night in gay bars with him. They were some of my best times.

So since we were there celebrating my birthday, as were others, I was granted a hand-crafted, sparkling crown. All birthday participants were also invited on stage for free dessert and a picture (Score!) The show was amazing. If you've never been to a drag bar I highly suggest you go. It is nothing short of a great time.

Midway through the waxed arms, skimpy outfits and makeup that would make the MAC girls jealous they called all birthday participants back to the stage for a contest. I didn't really want to march my 4" heels back up on stage but my inner diva forced me to go. Hosting Queen announced that we were not required to participate if we didn't want to. As I'm fully enveloped in an inner monologue I hear the Queen state that we are having an orgasm faking contest. WHAT?! Of course everyone in the crowd cheers. If you were up here you wouldn't be cheering. In the nanoseconds it took for this to register my inner Jiminy was screaming at me to get of the stage. However, shame trumps all and I remember thinking, "I walked all the way up here in these heels, I'm staying!"One girl couldn't get off the stage fast enough and out of the maybe 9 of us that had been up there, 4 remained.

Fortunately for me I was to perform second. I figured that was enough time to get "in the mood". The 1st girl went and she was all "Oooooh! Fuck me daddy!" People cheered and I admit, I was impressed. Here it is. My turn. The pressure is on. The lights are shining. The Queen has the mic in my face. It's O time! I gave it my best but kept it relatively simple. You know, moaning, panting, all that jazz. I finished (ahh I love perfectly fitting, unplanned puns) and people were cheering for me as well. The last 2 girls went and in all honesty their fake O was bad. Really bad. I'm going to assume that they may not have had the pleasure, and I do mean pleasure of having a real one to base their fake on. Harsh, I know. But we're talking about the O zone people! Either score or... well...just score.

Clearly the last 2 contestants were out so it was just me and Ms. Daddy. The Queen made everyone be quiet by threatening them with penis violation and then told them to cheer for Ms. Daddy. The subjects obeyed and she promptly threatened them into silence again. Then she tells them to cheer for me. It was louder! Me?! I'm the better faker?! This cannot be happening! But alas, in this room of 200+ strangers I had just become very intimate with, I was the champ.

Oh but it gets better....

After leaving the bar and walking a block in the wrong direction we turn around and are carrying on like a bunch of assholes when this random girl says, "Hey? Aren't you the one who won the orgasm contest? They're looking for you to give you your prize."

There it is. My 15 minutes of (sexual) fame. You know you've made it when random people recognize you on the streets of New York City.

Like they say.... Fake it 'till you make it!

Saturday, April 21, 2012

I'm sorry, I'm not here to take your call right now...

Yep, that's it for me for a week or so. I'm outta here! Off to sunny locations for some good old fashioned family fun... or something like that.

But don't fret, I'm not leaving you blue-balling for some good words. I have you covered!

This week will be filled with awesome guest posts. You will learn how to fake it til you make it (orgasms of course!), the curse of jorts, how having or not having big boobs can change the trajectory of your life, and a story of how one man made the most of 72 hours. It's all good stuff, trust me when I tell you that!

Ok, schedule the keg delivery, pay off the neighbors, and party down like mom & dad are out of town!

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

The line forms here

Two posts in two days? Yeah, I know...you're sick of me. No worries though because like yesterday's post asking for guest posts, today's isn't a real post either. The vacation slacking has officially begun!

Thanks to all of you that expressed interest in getting on top of Random Girl. I'm flattered...really! I was only going to schedule a post or two but I  might have all sorts of fun stuff for you guys if I can get all the guest posts coordinated before I leave.

I'm excited to have so many fun kids house sitting for me while I'm gone. Just stay out of the liquor cabinet, clean up after yourselves, and make sure the sheets are washed before I come home OK?

In other fun news, I opened my mail while stuck on the interstate for 30+ minutes yesterday and had a big box of  sexy goodness from my friends at Masque waiting for me. They really are too sweet to me!

I got a super cute little black cami, a T-shirt, all sorts of writing material (do they know me or what?!?) and a pile of new samples including Chocolate and Strawberry flavors which I have yet to try. I think they are trying to get in my pants... oh wait...maybe they want me in theirs...

Either way, I like free swag so we can at least be friends.




Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Want to get on top of Random Girl?

Calm down, I'm talking about guest posting for me, not actually getting on top of me...that job is already taken. Sorry!

I'll be taking a little time off to head toward sunnier lands for some fun. I'd like to turn my little piece of the interwebz over to a friend or two to keep all you kids entertained while I'm off enjoying myself in a land far away.

Think you can entertain the lovely RG crowd? Want to share a naughty story or point-of-view you can't put on your own blog because your mom reads it? Don't have a blog but think you would like to see your name in lights for minute? Now is your chance!

Let me know if you want come and play with Random Girl!

Friday, April 13, 2012

"Soft-Core Friday" - Random Girl's Masque Review

Happy "Soft-Core Friday" kids! I hope you have had the loveliest of weeks and have something spectacular planned to make your weekend rock. If you are looking for ideas, keep reading!

A while back (OK, it was January) I excitedly told you how I had stumbled onto an advertisement for an oral sex enhancer product called Masque and that after I sent an inquiry to the lovely people in PR there, they hooked me up with a promo pack to try out and let my readers know what I thought of it.


The concept is basically that the flavor strip, once dissolved on your tongue, will cover the taste of your guy's "business" for up to 15 minutes. I personally don't find my guy's "business" offensive but if it can make a good thing even better, you know I'm all for it!

I finally got around to giving Masque a try. I know the suspense has been killing you right?

So in the midst of an afternoon Rec League session with Twin, I got the idea to get out one of the Masque flavor strips and start my "research". He was mildly intrigued by the idea and was game to play along... all in the name of science of course.

I decided to make Mango the flavor of the day as the Masque website claims that Mango is the most popular flavor currently offered.  The packet housing the flavor strip is fairly discreet and was easy to open even in my distracted state.



The little flavor strip peeled off the foil wrapping quickly and easily. It had kind of a papery feel and the "fruity" smell was pretty strong upon opening. The instructions say to put the flavor strip on your tongue and allow it to dissolve completely. At that point, it's time to show your man some oral attention.


The texture of the flavor strip goes from papery to gel-like to just an aftertaste fairly quickly. The mango flavor was mixed with a touch of mint which was kind of an odd combo at first but blended into a pleasant overall taste fairly quickly. And the mint added just a bit of tingle that both he and I noticed in a good way.

As I said earlier, I don't normally find the taste of him off-putting so I didn't think that a product like Masque was entirely necessary, but it did give us a nice change of pace and added a little "flavor" into our afternoon mix. The mango flavor lasted throughout the oral activity and was still lingering a bit well after that fun had come to an end. I was impressed at the staying power of the flavor.

Overall, I would say that if you are looking for a way to add a little extra "something" to your oral pleasuring, Masque is a good choice. This would be especially true if it was a little hard for you to enjoy the tastes associated with a job well done. It did a good job of neutralizing things in that respect.

If you are interested in trying Masque for yourself, you can purchase the flavor strips in Chocolate, Watermelon, Mango, & Strawberry varieties here. At $9.95 for a 3-pack, it's an affordable way to bring a little fun and variety into the bedroom. Although I'm a big fan of giving oral love myself, so it might get a little costly for me to incorporate into my regularly scheduled programming. Perhaps I'm an exception to the norm though.

I'm looking forward to giving Watermelon a go next time, and he is excited to help me out!

*I was not compensated for this review and opinions offered in it are strictly those of this Random Girl.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

"Doesn't his wife care that he brought his girlfriend?"

That is an actual quote from a well-meaning aunt, that was shared with me by a cousin, at  Easter dinner. She was referencing the fact that I was at Easter. And so was my ex-husband. And so was his girlfriend. So I kind of see her point. Maybe I should clarify.

A) I am his ex-wife, not wife in the current form
B) It is technically his family, but they like me more than him so my attendance is still expected/required at family events
C) We don't have now, nor have we ever had, the "typical" post-divorce situation. We still holiday/vacation/hang out for fun and for the sake of neither one of us wanting to miss anything with the Princess. We decided before we separated that the Princess and our time with her would always be put before any other factor when making plans. And because neither of us want to give up our time or be without her for holidays and such, we get along and make it work.

Don't get me wrong, he annoys the piss out of me from time to time and I'm sure it's quite mutual but we can grin and bear it for the greater good. And really at this point, we have nothing left to fight about or be upset about so we actually usually end up having a good time. I'm close with his family aside from him so it was not really an issue to continue that relationship despite the divorce and likewise with him and my family. It's unconventional, but it works for us and our family's are good about being flexible. We are lucky.

He has been with his girlfriend for about 2 years... but just formally decided there were future intentions in the last few months or so. Our agreement was that when there is someone with future looking prospects that would be spending a lot of time with Princess, the other of us would be introduced out of respect. Now was that time for this girlfriend.

I already had good will towards this GF because 1) she wasn't a crackhead stripper like the girls he dated when we first separated (She is a mother of two older girls and actually has a job where she gets to keep her clothes on which is a plus) and 2) the princess approves of her and her girls and enjoys getting to spend time with them. I figure if she is OK with her, then I should be OK with her until/unless proven differently.

When the Ex suggested an intro dinner prior to the family Easter extravaganza, I was in without hesitation. And for the record, I offered to not attend Easter at his family's if it would make the GF feel uncomfortable or if she would prefer to have the family to herself for the first major holiday. We left it contingent on the general feeling after our pre-dinner meeting.

It went well. She is actually quite lovely. Yes, I just said my ex-husband's girlfriend is lovely. And I'm not being snarky about it at all.

I ended up having them over early on Sunday morning for breakfast and Easter Bunny madness with the princess. Yep, I even cooked for the ex-husband's girlfriend. They stayed all morning and conversation was easy. I see why he likes her, she is a good compliment for him. I know... weird to say that as the ex-wife but I'm happy that he is with someone who appears to not be crazy at this point and that they are happy.

They arrived at grandma's a few minutes before the princess and I so there was some warning to the family that would care that we would all be attending as one big happy "family". And it was fine. I didn't pick up on any weirdness and everyone seemed to go with the flow and just enjoy the company of all three lovely ladies that he brought to the occasion. Well, everyone except the one aunt that was concerned but I don't really count her because she has a reputation for being crazy and more than a little odd on a good day.

And I took Grandma asking me why I didn't bring my boyfriend with me (to my ex-husband's family Easter?) as a sign that she was cool with the situation and that was really who I was most concerned about.

The day ended uneventfully, with hugs all around and we went our separate ways with plans to get together again sooner rather than later. I know that this "one big happy family" vibe may not last forever but for the time being I'm glad that we can all agree to get along and maybe even like each other in the process. I figure it will be easier to get along with the woman that will be spending time with my daughter, probably lots of time at some point and with the title of step-mom, than to be adversaries or have bad feelings about her. I hope she feels the same and we can just do what needs done with as little drama as possible.

Besides, I sure as heck don't want him anymore, so she can have it!

Friday, April 6, 2012

"Soft-Core Friday" - Back On Top

.....because that's where he likes me!

Happy SCF kids!

It's amazing what freeing yourself up from a big pile of craziness can do for a girl! Despite dropping a few grand on car repairs/maintenance this week, which totally blows by the way, it was a pretty good week. Especially when compared to the same time last week and all of the bullshit I was wading my way through at that time.

I truly am so grateful to you guys for the support and encouragement that you sent my way, I felt much stronger knowing I had so many amazing people on my side. Big Randy kisses for all of you *MWAH*!!!

This week I have refocused my efforts on much more fun endeavors...like rocking out Rec League with Twin. We've been able to get in almost daily "games" and are definitely on our way to a winning record for the season. We get along so much better when we aren't "a couple" but just having fun being together.

We've even become useful to each other again outside of the bedroom. I helped him move this weekend, and he was my personal shuttle driver for all of my car drop offs/pick ups. Somehow, it's working. I'm not questioning it, I'm just along for the ride at this point.

I do have a bad habit of "recycling" my boys, I even have the T-shirt to prove it thanks to my long suffering BFF. She has witnessed more than one boy coming back into rotation so I guess she can give me crap about it.

Regardless, I feel like I'm back on top...in and out of the bedroom... and that's a good way to start a weekend as far as I'm concerned. Make it a great one, kids!

The SCF song this week is just good, clean fun. It's Naked ft Enrique Iglesias. It's got almost naked people, gratuitous Vegas shots, and Enrique. Enough said!