(This one is all over the place. Apologies in advance.)
After a lovely meal out with pleasant people at an enjoyably appointed restaurant, it’s very nearly impossible to accommodate the notion of returning to work, which of course is why I’ve spent the last 90 minutes doing very little of a productive nature at all.
That is just how I roll. Me n’ every available time-waster on the internet are pretty much going steady at this point. Except for the naughty sites. I don’t do naughty sites at work. That would be bad. Very, very bad.
Heh. Speakinna which...last night Biff and I were wasting time on the internet in parallel, him on the home box and me on my work laptop. I was looking up sites that show pictures of bad boob jobs, because I’m thinking that when I turn 50 my gift to myself is going to be to have them suckers hauled up to where they were when I was….35 and I want to know what BAD looks like, when Biff ambled over to show me a few pictures of a cabinet job he just finished. He likes to share. I think it’s sweet.
Anyhow, up on my screen, because I did not think it necessary to minimize it, there was a photo of NOT a bad boob job at all, which naturally caught his eye. Hard to argue with a photo of a perfect pair of D cups, ya know? After tearing his eyes from the screen and wiping up the gobbets of drool from his manly chin, his question to me was like “why are you looking at pictures of boobs” and then of course I told him of my plan, which hearteningly he heartily endorses, and life was good.
Apparently though he was not expecting me to be ogling other ladies’ ta-tas on the WWW. Clearly, he learned a thing. Hey man, don't judge me - I was simply doing my research into what I DON’T want and what may be possible for me if I do decide to hoist the sweater puppets up a few inches.
On a semi-related note: Anybody ever go to an ‘adult novelty’ store? I’ve been in one, once. I felt about as smooth as a cobblestone street in that place. What a tremendous amount of items available to enhance your love life! The mission I was on was a simple one, but dang – with about 100 styles of toys to choose from, how’s a girl to decide?
Ultimately, after about an hour of trying to look suave while debating the merits of this model over that model (like, are LIGHTS really necessary on this thing?) ‘simple is best’ won out and me and the shopping partner beat feet without pausing to examine the various slings/straps/cuffs/costumes/lotions/lubes that populated the rest of the store. It was all a bit overwhleming, if you want the truth.
Does that kind of reaction mean I’m just immature about stuff like this, or do y’all have similar stories of your ‘first time’?
Curious minds (mine!) want to know.
Also – what’s for dinner at your house tonight? Recent weeks have seen a distressing lack of creativity in the Tiny House kitchen (when I’m cooking). Suggestions for tonight’s meal are most welcome.
Leave ‘em in the comments please, and have a lovely rest o’ the day.