Look out Angelina.. I've got an avocado and I'm not afraid to use it...
Grandma took me to dinner Saturday night before we headed to the casino for a girls night of gambling and mischief.

Mmmmmmm.... Bar food. Normally something I handle quite well, in fact the majority of the bars in Vegas these days serve what you could consider as gourmet bar food. Even the taquitos I ordered were no ordinary rolled tacos. The meat inside wasn't just cooked animal flesh, there were spices and cheeses and to top it off.. Homemade Salsa and Guacamole!! And oh do I love that. Now I've known for years that Tomatos, and melon and cucumbers.. any type of fruit/vegatable in that realm of consistency and acidity makes my throat and mouth get all raw and itchy and makes it difficult for me to swallow. Only raw flesh of these items do it though. I can eat tomato sauce, or tomato based soups, fried zucchini.. and.. salsa.. but just the juice part.. the flavor. So I'm dipping my delicious taquitos into the sour cream first, with a small dab of homemade guac, finished with a salsa dip for kick.

About 3 taquitos into this routine I learned something new about myself. I will never need collagen injections for my lips. Avacados apparently have the ability to make my lips swell enough to rival Angelina Jolie. DSL... oh yeah baby. I dont need to spend big $$ on lip plumping gloss any longer... Just $.79 at the grocery store and I'm puckered all night!
- posted by Carrie @ 9:30 AM|

 
Hmmm... Well this is strangely familiar
Well yes.. I gave myspace for Lent. I am myspace free until Easter. But even Jesus understands that sometimes I have to write. So why not high-tail it back to the beginning.. where it ALL started. Here! So for the next 40 days I'll be blogging again.. Crazy! Who'da thunk it.

Okay.. the real reason I'm here is because I had to share this..

One of the ladies I work with has this lunch box type case on her desk. Its wood and hand painted.. and Pin Up! And my soulmate totally needs ones! So I track down the owner and ask her about it.. She tells me where it came from and how much it was.. that's not the funny part.

Me: Oh that is awesome because see I have something simliar to that at home but mine has a vintage shoe on it and my Best Friend fell in love with it. And I had to tell my best friend that No.. She can't have my box. I love my best friend with all my heart, and I know she really wanted my box but it was a birthday present. So I figured if I got her a box of her own....

Co-worker: (interrupting)... Jenn... do you realize what you just said and how it sounded?

Me: Yes.. that's why I kept going hoping my rambling would distract you enough to make you forget immediately. Didn't work did it?
- posted by Carrie @ 1:38 PM|

 
Vacation time
Disneyland 2005
- posted by Carrie @ 12:07 PM|

 
Easier thought than done...
I so meant to at least post like twice a week. You believe me right?
- posted by Carrie @ 2:08 PM|

 
In case you were wondering...
Metallica's Whiskey In the Jar..
"Whack for my Daddy-o"
Is the actual verse.
- posted by Carrie @ 12:45 PM|

 
Thank heaven for little girls....
I have cold. I've had one since last Thursday. I found a new cold medicine for day time relief. There is NOTHING on the bottle that mentions it works as an active laxative. But there it is, my cold medicine clears my head, my nose, my chest and my intestines. Perhaps that is a bit much information, but hey, this place is all about sharing right? THIS PLACE!
I took my medicine and hopped into the truck to begin the 45 minute journey to my sister-in-law's house where my daughter was going to be staying that night. I swear I'm a mile away from the turn off for her house. My daughter has to go potty and my laxative/cold medication has kicked in. Now anyone who's read my posts in the past knows I have a lead foot and no patience for other drivers. But this time, I really did need to get somewhere. A little white car flew up on my ass and I sped up to get over to A)let him pass and B)get ready to turn off the freeway. I look to my left and there was the highway patrol. No flashing lights.. just driving next to me.. pulling in front of me.. turning on his lights to pull over the little white car in front of me.. and.. oh shit.. me too. Well this just makes the birthday weekend even better. He talks to the guy in the car.. then approaches me.
Officer: Are we having a good day ma'am?
Me: We are trying to sir.
Officer: Are you with the people in that car? Or just in a hurry?
Me: In a hurry sir. I have a four year old who keeps saying she needs to go potty.
Officer:Rolls his eyes cause he's heard that before
Baby Girl:Loud adorable little voice from back seatYeah, and my mommy's medicine makes her really hafta go poop.
Me:Face bright red averting my eyes
Officer:Trying not to laugh The next turn off has restrooms. Slow down.

Somedays.. children fix it all.
- posted by Carrie @ 1:12 PM|

 
Strip away at those insecurities...
Happy Birthday to me! Yeah, so it didn't go quite how I was hoping it would. A large portion of my friends were out of town, had to work, or previously busted up her car and wasn't in any condition for a night of gyrating in a packed club. However, paying someone to grind on us while we just sit there and look pretty, now THAT was an option we could get behind. Quarters and I head down to the local male strip club to cavort with the birthday girls, bachlerettes and other various hedonistic ladies of the night.
I love the differences in male and female strip joints. The men will sit back, almost as in deep thought, and quietly observe the woman peeling down in front of him. He will wave a buck or two and wait for her to show him where to put it. And during a dance, he will do what he is told he is allowed to do, or feel he has paid to do in any case. The Women... ah... the women. Any person who still views women as being seen and not heard.. go to the male strip club on a Friday night. Any person who believes women to be demure, sensitive and considerate creatures.. go to the male strip club on a Friday night. And any person who believes women don't succumb to the animalistic side of human nature.. go to the male strip club on a Friday night. These "Ladies" were loud and out of control. Grab a Pec, rub an ab, slap an ass, and not just lightly acceptably graze accidentally over a thong clad cock.. No! I watched the women wrap hands around them. Not that the "gentlemen" seemed to mind much. For some reason the women in these clubs lose all inhibitions they may display in a grocery store or church.
I was a good girl. Well, let's rephrase that a bit. I'm used to female strip clubs. One of my best friends, Raven, works in a club and I'm probably the most reserved female while in one. Part is respect for the women working, most really are just trying to make a living. And the last thing they ACTUALLY want is someone they don't know putting their hands in places they shouldn't be. The second part is actually insecurity on my part. I'm a sexy bitch, I'll stand up and say it. But I'm in a strip club, there are naked beautiful women all over. What gives me the right to think that they want me touching them. So, I sit back as a man would, and let the woman do what she will, generally which includes my hands in all the places I wasn't going to put them. So.. since this is how I am used to behaving in a female strip joint, I act the same in the male joints. I make no eye contact when I first walk in, I do not want a dance from the first guy who attacks me at the door. Quarters and I find a quiet place in the back, sit and window shop. At least that's what I called it when the men started plying their wares.
"Hey sexy.. I'm thinking you are needing a dance.. and I think I need to give it to you"
"um.. thanks. But I'm currently window shopping"
"Well, when you realize you want me I'll be back by again"
Okay, first.. I didn't know they employed psychics who can hear my thoughts calling them back to my side of the bar. Second.. I'm here to be entertained and pay to have my ego boosted.. Not pay to boost his ego. But that's what happens.
I finally pick out a guy that I would like to dance for me. He's pretty much the most popular guy there that night cause his stage performance was amazing. He did these one arm push-up balance in the air tricks that.. well.. just Damn! Now the DJ just happens to be my old Karaoke host.. So I got the hook up. And he did. My DJ pulled the guy away from a screaming groping group of girls and gave him to me for one dance. And it was good. I still think men look ridiculous in thongs. But this guy at least could actually dance. There was a little bit of him rubbing on me, standard lap dance material, but he could really dance too and that was nice. He tells me to stick around, he's really busy but he'd be back. Uh huh.. sure. No problem.
Let me quickly interject that Quarters had long since found herself a cowboy stripper who has basically been sitting with us only since we sat down. He danced for her, and they'd been in deep conversation ever since.
My wanted guy left to go dance for others, and directly in his wake was one of the guys who had been begging to dance for me. "It will be the best dance you'll ever have" "You will be wanting me to come back" blah blah blah...
Well, he starts to dance. Just walks up and starts to grind on me. "You like this right?" Well.. It’s a bit unexpected and unsolicited but.. okay.. you've already started.. so finish. And I think he did. I swear the entire dance was him dry humping my knee. And if that wasn't funny enough.. He then needs ME to reassure him that his was the best dance ever. Uh huh.. yeah buddy.. good stuff.
I get him out of my booth when the blonde boy who's been giving me the "yeah, I see you want me" look all night strolls over. He's one of those guys who does the head nod, finger point, direct all my attention on your for .2 seconds. Except now, he's pulling the same tact as the previous guy. Start the dance and then let me decide if I want him to finish it or not. And the funniest part is that these men are under the impression that they are gonna get me worked up, and I will just need them to finish the song out. Like the end of the song will initiate some form of climax for me. I really don't understand that point, I am capable of being turned on by the male form, especially when touching one that I am attracted to, but I'm not gonna have an orgasm in time with the music just cause you let me smack your bare cheek and smother me between the booth and your sweaty back. But once again, dance concluded.. "I'll be around baby, cause I know you'll need more of me. That was the best dance you've had all night right? You don't need any other guys now right? I'll be back for you". Head nod.. wink and he's on his way outta my booth.
Now explain something to me. You are a good looking naked man with a nice body a little bit of rhythm and women are giving you cash to dance for them.. Why.. WHY do I need to boost your ego? I'm not dating you, I'm not taking you home to meet my parents, and you aren't even hanging out for an evening with my friends, so what does it really matter if I think you are the best. First we women have to lie to men in bed, and now it's required in a booth?
Listen up buddy, you should worry if you cut off my air supply. You should worry if your boney ass bruised my thigh. You should be worried if your lotion and over perfumed and now glitter skin smear my new top. I'm not gonna get off by you. I'm not gonna go home and dream about you that night. And I'm not gonna spend the next couple of days wondering if I was your favorite girl to dance for that evening. So, work your ego some where else. I'm not paying for your Therapy issues.
- posted by Carrie @ 10:01 AM|