Hmmmm . . . today . . . does it feel like a parenting-post kind of day?
Let me check.
Not so much.
Also? Just as a heads-up? I had to do a little research for today’s post as I sipped my morning coffee, and guess what? If you are searching through internet porn first thing in the morning? Your husband will notice.
Just saying.
So I am watching the Real Housewives of New York last night (alright, mock if you must, but do it quietly, because others are trying to read).
Seriously, pipe down with the mocking, because this show? Magic.
Plus also? Bondage! YAY!
Ok, not really, but there was a bridal shower with the best gifts ever.
Check it out . . .
Pearl Handcuffs!
And . . .
Crystal-Studded Restraints!
Sigh. I want. Especially the crystal restraints, which I could so wear in my normal everyday life, and people would just think I was all sparkly and fancy! If you are confused? They tie around your wrists with long black satiny ties.
Swoon.
Those are real Swarovski crystals, by the way.
I am not so much about the bondage, but people? These toys? Have caught my fucking eye.
Literally. Snort.
And now we segue smoothly into the story of the time when I told a small lie to achieve a greater good, and then the sex? Was not as fabulous as I imagined. Is it ever? Sigh.
Ok, so imagine me at nineteen (but with clothes on . . . stay focused, people!). Imagine me, a looooooooooong time ago, working as a counselor in a group home for troubled youth. I often worked the over-night shift, which basically meant some household chores and then long stretches of interminable boredom. Sometimes the kids woke up and needed something, but mostly not. There were many bedtime medications doled out, and the kids tended to sleep soundly.
So it was way fucking boring.
And when I am way fucking bored for long stretches of time? I tend to cause trouble.
The night-time supervisor was 30 and tall and blond and gorgeous and engaged and waaaaaaaay out of my league.
Trouble? Here I come.
I started being all helpful and extra responsible. He was all kinds of impressed. I started helping him with the administrative end of his job. He was all kinds of impressed.
And then? During one of those nights when all of the kids were all drugged-up and sleeping? While I was filling out paperwork and doing his job for him? I very smoothly managed to work all casually into the conversation that blow jobs? They were my very favorite kind of sex. And that I was gifted at them . . . an artist. I believe I may have actually used the word, “artist.”
Take a note, people. No one is out of your league if you are a blow job artist.
Take another note, people. There was no sex of any sort at the group home for troubled youth. Because . . . ewwwwww.
Just talking of the trouble-making sort.
So I filed papers and spoke all casually about my blow job artistry, and how no one understood me, and how I was a tortured soul who just wanted someone to get me. To really get me.
Hee hee!
And then there was sex. Duh.
Because seriously, people. No one is out of your league if you are a blow job artist.
OK, but here’s the thing. Even with all of my artistry? Not so successful, the sex.
Turned out that Mr. Fabulous had issues of the bondage sort. Which I agreed to help him work out, because I was not only an artist, but a counselor, for god’s sake. I was a fucking healer.
Literally. Snort.
It was interesting, but not as fun as you might imagine. This was not a lasting relationship, because people? Based on my sample of one man obsessed with bondage and domination?
I would have to say that they tend to be rather terribly under-endowed.
Alrighty, then. Where was I?
Oh yes . . . artistry.
There is this place up here called VooDoo Dooughnuts. They sell crazy-ass doughnuts, and they are all fucking popular up here in Portland. It is the only place I have ever seen a maple bar (which is my personal favorite doughnut in the entire world) topped with a strip of bacon.
A maple bar is perfection and does not need a strip of bacon fucking it from behind to reach orgasm. Maple bars? They can get there on their own.
But VooDoo Dooughnuts is all about gilding the fucking doughnut lily. They are artists that way.
And VooDoo’s slogan? The Magic is in the Hole!
Not even kidding.
Perhaps their most famous doughnut? The Cock and Balls.
Seriously. Check it out . . .
YIKES!
These things are way popular at bridal showers! Plus? You can have them personalize the doughnuts with your name! Or the groom’s name! Or an old boyfriend’s name if you are feeling troublesome.
People are CRAZY up here in Oregon. I love it here.
OK, someone asked me the other day . . . if I had to do it all over again, would I go back and change anything about my wedding day?
And I said that I wouldn’t change a thing. My wedding day was a raucous back-yard affair at which families didn’t get along, grievances were aired, and my dress was way scratchy. Some people drank far too much, there was arguing about the music, and a car was driven over the curb and into a neighbor’s yard. People fell and stumbled and laughed and then ranted. There was a lot of ranting.
But at the end of the day? I was married to my best friend. And he is still here, all suspicious of why this morning’s post required internet porn searches. I love him.
So I wouldn’t change a thing.
But my bridal shower? I would do that fucking thing over in a heartbeat.
Doughnuts and toys. That’s what I was missing the first time. Doughnuts and toys.
The Magic is in the Hole!
Snort!
P.S. I am not going to provide a hyperlink, because then I am going to get into all kinds of porn-trouble. But if you want the toys I mentioned here? Check out www.lailalee.com. You’ll need to cut and paste.
But it’s worth it.
Maybe Husband and I should move to the Pacific Northwest.
Also, MAYBE I can confirm that “NO ONE IS OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE IF YOU’RE A BLOWJOB ARTIST,” but I would never write about it on my blog because Husband reads it and we like to pretend I made it to him with my hymen intact. TMIing in your comments section will have to do. :-)
People? With or without Margaret’s help? I can confirm that no one is out of your league if you are a blow job artist.
And Margaret? I fucking LOVE TMI!
Ahh yes Voodoo Doughnuts…we saw them on the Food Network and made a spontaneous midnight trip from Seattle just to try them. Sadly, many of the good doughnuts are gone if you get there after the bars let out. Not that we still didn’t buy a dozen to go, because lets face it, at 3 am, even bad doughnuts are pretty damn good.
We have tried to stop by for a doughnut on a Saturday morning after visiting the farmer’s market, and the lines at VooDoo Doughnuts are out the fucking door and down the block and around the corner.
You drove from Seattle to Portland for doughnuts? In the middle of the night?
You are a serious doughnut junkie!
Remember my ninja post? I’m a ninja this, I’m a ninja that? I am such a badass blowjob ninja that my husband’s initials are BJ.
And this right here:
“A maple bar is perfection and does not need a strip of bacon fucking it from behind to reach orgasm. Maple bars? They can get there on their own.”
That is some serious word smithing. If Chaucer was still alive, you two would be collaborating to write the funniest, dirtiest book in the history of the English language.
I think we’ll stop for some donuts on the way to see Grammy later. Yes. Giant, orgasmic maple bars, no bacon.
You so should have mentioned your ninja warrior blow-job skills in that post! You and I have so many things in common, I am beginning to get a little freaked out.
By the way? Chaucer and I would be tearing up the blogging sheets!
And maple bars? They are perfection. Enjoy.
So… do you have to go digging around in The Magic Hole to find the “cock and balls” or is it just hanging out on display for all to see?
I could always ask Barb to check to see if we’re still in the same league…
I had to laugh at the bacon “porking” the maple bar from behind. I guess it would be over the top if it were also cream-filled. Maybe that’s a custom request. I dunno.
The cock and balls are just right out on display. As it a VERY large doughnut, the girls are always intrigued.
Not even.
And guess what? The Bacon-Maple bar? No filling.
BUT? The Cock and Balls?
Filled with Bavarian Cream.
Prior to this post, I thought my bachelorette party/bridal shower weekend was perfect. Belly dance lessons, running into my junior prom date at a trashy bar in Boston, opening up a box of lingerie from my mother-in-law…. but it was missing something. Something I have to now put on my American
Bucket List.
The Cock and Balls from Voodoo Doughnuts. Right between the Giant Ball of Twine, the Jack Daniels distillery, and Dollywood.
Oh, and Adrienne’s onto something with the Kris+Chaucer thing. Ol’ Geoff was a raunchy, clever bastard for his day!
I am raunchy and clever? That is like the best compliment ever!
I will borrow also from Adrienne, and be a Raunchy and Clever Chaucerian Word-Smith.
I need business cards.
Checked out the link. Those restraints are fabulous, and one would feel divinely wicked wearing them to PTA meetings, etc.
I like the pearl playsuit that also doubles as subtly subversive jewelry for day/evening wear. Versatility is important when considering a purchase at that price point, you know?
FOXY.
There is a play-suit of pearls?????
I will be back!
Hee Hee! There IS a play-suit of pearls!
How fun would that be?
But $350 is a lot.
Hmmmm . . . I am thinking something fabulous could be crafted from the leftover plastic Mardi Gras beads I have around here somewhere.
And no, I didn’t go to Mardi Gras. Just the Dollar Store.
Maybe I should change up my currently unstocked, cobwebby Etsy store? I’m not a half bad jewelry maker….
Yes, please!
I’m sitting here just wallowing in my own self-pity and may or may not have the stomach flu, but now I am actually considering performing a little blow-job artistry of my own and maybe eating a doughnut that is how much your words have moved me. Unfucking believable.
That is all I want in this world.
To move people with my words.
Happy sighs.
Plus also? A maple bar would be nice.
Donuts that awesome make me miss The Fractured Prune something awful.
Also your theory doesn’t hold up well for those that that just bondage but holds up extremely well for the those that like a little S&M added. the BDSM people very much all the same.
I think I understand . . . a little bondage, a little S&M? Normal size penises.
Exclusive interest in these activities? Shrinkage factor.
Is that correct?
And what is The Fractured Prune? Let me google.
Oooooooooh . . . those are some seriously delicious looking things.
Fractured prune leads me to think of fractured penis. Which, I *know* is possible, I’m still just at a loss of how that happens and exactly how a guy deals with letting that heal!
I do not have a penis . . . but Ow.
Serious ow.
OMIGosh! That doughnut is hysterical!!!
I know! It soooo is.
Tasty, too!
I so want those crystal restraints. They’d look fabulous while I’m scrubbing toilets and cleaning cobwebs out of corners. Oh how the mighty has fallen.
I’m thinking meetings with the girls’ teachers, grocery shopping, walking the dog.
Who couldn’t use a little extra sparkle?
You know I watched it last night– but my first thought when I saw those things was– won’t the break if you like, sneeze?
Cock and Balls doughnut- further proof that the PNW is awesome and everyone who’s any fun at all will understand this!!!
I believe they must be reinforced and plenty strong. There is no fun in a restraint if it is not going to do its job.
And the Pacific North-West? It is awesome. Cold and wet and mossy and awesome.
What’s better than a DONUT shaped like a huge penis?
…if huge penises actually *tasted* like donuts!!!
Like a dream that would be, what with the lovely Bavarian Cream filling.
Like a dream.
Sigh.
We’re about to have our first disagreement: maple bar…with a strip of bacon?! That’s divine and I want one right now! Everything’s better with bacon!
So, do family and friends call you the blow job artist or is that like a past-life-secret-identity?
I’m not going to tell you where I’m going off to next, but I’m sure you’ll figure it out ;)
Everything is not better with bacon! But not everyone agrees with me.
Because you know what else they sell here? Chocolate covered bacon. That is all kinds of gross if you ask me, but people get all swoony for the chocolate piggy-ness.
Also? I know where you’re going! I know where you’re going!
Oh, and Blow Job Artist is my secret superhero name.
Shhhhhh . . . I do not want word to get out. Being a superhero is exhausting work.
Everyone always wants a favor.
i will never look at donuts (or genitals) the same. or pearls, for the matter. and i no longer feel safe clicking on any of the links on your blog while i’m in public. and no one believes you were researching anything this morning.
I WAS RESEARCHING!!!!
There was a short married break in the middle, but the rest of the time? I WAS RESEARCHING!
And pearls were already all sex-associated for me because of the phrase “pearl necklace.” And the handcuffs? They can be worn as a lovely pearl necklace until the time is right for handcuffs.
How great is that?
Oh man, I wish I could have had something like the cock and balls at my bridal shower. It was super stuffy and boring, totally not me. Blah.
And I think I know what to ask my husband for my birthday…those pearl handcuffs look amazing.
The pearl handcuffs do look amazing.
Another reader asked if these restraints would really hold . . . and I can see getting a teeny pinch if you are the sort to thrash all over the place wearing these handcuffs. But if your goal is to look super cute while pretending that you are completely unable to resist?
Then these are perfection.
First off, you are totally hilarious. I found your blog from mommy of a monster. Those yummy maple donuts you speak of, they have them here in Annapolis. Except they are sprinkled with bacon. Totally yummy!
Another sugar+bacon lover?
That just seems so wrong.
But if you love Pretty All True? Then I will look the other way while you inappropriately mix foods.