Tag Archives: humor

I might be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it… (a.k.a. the tiger inside)

As faithful readers will know I’ve kept this blog dormant for a while. Why? Apart from a lack of time, I got scared. I got scared of perception. You see, I have a knack for Carrie Bradshaw (OK, Samantha) style headlines (sexual metaphors) and the sense of humor to go with it. A lot of people enjoyed that with my writing, others got confused and thought my life was all about sex, when in reality I was usually working or, you know, cleaning up the house after the kids. The sex was in the headlines, metaphors and jokes. In other words: it was for entertainment purposes, not a reflection of my life, though I may at times vent my opinions surrounding the topic of sex.

Other people got offended by the headlines and the metaphors; people who view sex in an entirely different way than I do. I have had men touch me up and give me indecent proposals over the years when traveling the world, so trust me, I know that not all associations with sex are pleasant. Yet, I’ve been spared from the really bad stuff and for that I’m grateful and I’m very happy about the current #metoo campaign because awareness is important, but Confessions isn’t about sexual abuse. It’s about playfulness and having a twinkle in the eye.

With sex some people also think that because you speak about sex you have no morals. To me morals are about honesty, ethics, etc. and I have been acused more than once of being stuck up with my morals as I won’t cut corners, but I can write a joke about Jesus and threesomes without feeling the least bad about it. It’s a joke. I’m not degrading the teachings of Jesus, I’m cracking a joke. Likewise, cracking a joke about a toe is one thing, a vagina another, apparently. Yet, why is a part of our body taboo?

Here’s a not so big secret for you: I was the most inhibitied person as a child. I was so shy I didn’t speak unless spoken to. I was scared of what people thought of me no matter what I did (usually they were only thinking of themselves, of course) and I fought like a tiger to break free of my self-imposed prison (or well it wasn’t entirely self-imposed, it arose as a result of mental abuse, where my reaction was to create a prison to keep the bad out, but also keep the good in so no one could take it away from me; no one could bully me for the real me if I didn’t show it). Not being able to be yourself out of fear is hell. Truly. I want everyone to be able to break free and I want to talk about the shit people consider taboo. Because not having the confidence to be you makes for a nightmarish life. And usually one filled with resentment as you will resent people if you think they’ll judge you for who you are.

When it comes to this blog, some people also fell in love with my writing and didn’t realize that my writing is like 3% of who I am. Sure, I’m very honest in my blogs, but it’s still a very small part of my life and I didn’t necessarily like some of the attentions I got. Nor did I like when people read something and completely misunderstood it. It was very annoying to have my thoughts turned upside down. Whatever you say truly can be turned against you.

Then there were the people who said I degraded myself by having this blog. I, an intellectual, goody-good girl who works with children and charity, couldn’t possibly put my reputation on the line by writing about sex. And of course, I didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. As I want to adopt kids, this scared me maybe more than anything else.

Lastly, there was me. While I loved expressing myself and loved hearing the comments I got about how my blog helped and inspired people over the years, I also knew that some of the headlines I came up with were taking things too far. I got numb. You do after writing over 900 posts, of which more than half have some sort of sexual connotation. I mean I can make anything sound like sex, trust me. Really. Give me something to talk about and I’ll turn it into a sexual metaphor, which usually cracks me up, but there is a point when you take it too far simply because you want to sell something. You want to come up with something more sensational just to get the views. Your ego is now running the show, not your twinkle in the eye, or sense of humor.

Of course, as you can see, there was more ego in the mix, because I was thinking about what people were thinking about me. Cue my childhood.

Ego is a bitch. Seriously.

Now my point, dear readers (as you know, it always comes…eventually), is that I miss this blog. I miss it terribly. It was the place where I used to gather my thoughts and laugh till I cried over my own jokes (I know, I know…). So if Caitlyn Moran and Bridget Jones can talk sex and swear like true Londoners, then so can I.  It’s OK to be me, so long as it comes from the heart, not the ego.

And the moral lesson, or deep insight that I so love to share in my blogs? Today, well, today I was thinking that there is no greater strength than openness, vulnerability and honesty. It’s the only way of getting what we want, because we can only get what we want when we are true to ourselves. Just as I have to be sure not to use sexual metaphors and stilettoes as shields (esp. in my love life), we all have to make sure we open our hearts. Otherwise, first of all we attract the shield (ego), not our heart. Secondly, when we wear armor, we trap all the bad things inside as well. Face the hurt and let it go. Face the joy and allow it to fly, or it will only be you holding onto memories and not living in the present.

When our life is a reflection of who we are, we know we are living from the heart. Letting go of the shield to get us there is sometimes painful, but I do believe it’s worth it.

Right, that’s it. Confessions is back. (And for those who are wondering: yes, I made a lot of old posts private because…well “up the ass” was maybe not one of my finer headlines…but I will keep my Carrie Bradshaw jokes about the subject, as seen in the humor section. The Jesus jokes too.)

e8ce21992b002879bf36b1eba205f66e.jpg

Image Source: https://za.pinterest.com/pin/287597126173631368/

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Thoughts, Uncategorized

I feel like a change…maybe I should become a lesbian???

Cover of "Sex and the City: The Movie - E...

Sex And The CITIES…

Warning: sexual, potentially funny content.

I mean, it’s like anal sex: whether you’ve done it or not you are screwed. If you have done it you are a slut, if you haven’t you are frigid. On the other hand, if you screw men, you have men trouble, but if you screw women you don’t get to screw men. Like Charlotte said in SATC – my vagina would be depressed. I mean it’s like life is this constant frustration. Unless of course you find Mr Right who gives you no problems and you get laid for the rest of your life by the greatest shag around, that keeps getting better. Naturally I don’t need men to be happy, it’s just so much easier if someone else carries the shopping for me, rubs my shoulders at night and keeps my vagina happy. And of course you could do just the sex, but that’s like saying you want one piece of chocolate, when really you want the whole bar.

And then there’s the question of what city to live in. In LA everything is totally awesome and in London nothing’s too bad, which kind of sums it up right there, apart from the fact that even though LA is awesome London has everything awesome in it. It’s like that bitch that has Mr Perfect inside her, whereas lovely gorgeous next door is shagging a somewhat alcoholic, fame obsessed nobody with too big a car and an even bigger ego.

My choice of cities feels like my choice of dream marriage: on the one hand I’d love to drive to Mexico on a bike (OK, the man driving, me on the back), get hitched in really high heels and the sexiest skimpiest dress on the planet, drink tequila all night and have my honeymoon in oblivious bliss to the world, high on chocolate, sex and chili. On the other hand I would love a fairytale wedding in France with a hundred people, or more and a honeymoon which is the deepest spiritual journey on the planet, connecting my soul with my husband’s. I always figured I could get married with the aid of tequila first and then do the proper vow once I’ve grown up enough to handle the pressure and need a bit of a lift in my every day life. I mean weddings tend to perk things up. If nothing else you can argue with your mother in law five times a day.

My choice of ideal wedding is kind of like marrying an Angelino v.s. marrying a Londoner (who’s preferably of exotic breed – you need a house in the sun and some HOT blood if you are to survive that town): with the Angelino you feel sure they will file for a divorce and make you a millionaire, whereas with a Londoner it may actually last forever. I guess it depends on what your priorities are.

Life is confusing. Like you want the bad boy and the romance and the skyscrapers and the open fields all at the same time and bohemia and luxury. Like snow and 80 degrees farenheit.

So time for a change? Well the lesbian thing is outruled by logic: I can’t take prozac for my vagina. Marriage ain’t gonna happen anytime soon, so that’s outruled too. That leaves moving cities. Well, who knows? I don’t. Maybe I should just try a new pair of shoes first? Prada, Prada… Where’s my sugar daddy when I need him??? Or at least a bad boy with a pure heart???

“The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.” – SATC

Miranda Hobbes: If he goes up your butt, will he respect you more or respect you less? That’s the issue.
Taxi Driver: [to Carrie] No smoking in the cab.
Carrie: Sir, we’re talking up the butt. A cigarette is in order.
Samantha Jones: Front, back, who cares? A hole is a hole.
Miranda Hobbes: Can I quote you?
Samantha Jones: Don’t be so judgmental. You could use a little back door.
Charlotte: I’m not a hole.
Carrie: Honey, we know.

7e7bd95b7d149c15b55241f1f5d75dd3

There’s a reason becoming a lesbian is out ruled by logic. Or men. Like this.

Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926715996033/

2 Comments

Filed under Humor, sex, Uncategorized

Hugh Hiscock and Co…

Harry Anis worked late at the lawfirm Tittsworth & Grabbe, to avoid going home to disputes with his wife, Sue-Anne. He really liked Anne Ahl, his secretary, who would bring his lunch from Mrs Cheri Pitts’ restaurant, where the menu was created by Al Fresco and Al Dente. Harry Anis was a good lawyer, but felt threatened by the upshot, Mr Cockshott, whom also liked Anne Ahl. The owner of the firm, Mrs Bossom, tried to console him – he may be older, but he had won cases against Jack Haas, Dick Tator, Sue Yu, Anna Sasin, Rob Banks, Rich Guy, Lou Pole and Jed Dye. Mr Cockshott had only won against Eddie Bull, Corey Ander, Chris P. Bacon, Pepe Roni, Kandi Apple, Sue Flay and Brock Lee. Still, when Harry Anis felt too threatened by Cockshott, he’d go to his friends Dan Saul Knight, Kerry Oki and Brandy Anne Koch to have chat. They’d tell him to stop glaring at Anne Ahl (who was really into Mr Gene Poole) and sulk about his wife and instead go and have some fun with Fanny O’Rear, or Bonnie Beaver, at least when their buff brothers Hugh Hiscock and Dick Bender were out of town… And, by the end of the day, there was always his mother, Liv Good, who made him smile and his childhood sweetheart Mrs Ben Dover, who always did what he liked. By the end of the day, as Laura Norder always said: it was all in order in a peculiar way.

Funny names….really funny names…

Cockburn, Dick Bender, Bullcock (former teacher of mine), Bossom (someone I called today), Cocks, Dick Tator, Cockfield (don’t get lost amongst the flowers guys..), Hugh Jass (huge ass), Dick Bush (…shave…), Cheri Pitts,  Dan Saul Knight, Cockshott, Al Dente, Brandy D. Cantor, Al Fresco, Anne Al (that was a friend of mine…), Anna Sasin, Constance Noring, Brock Lee, Corey Ander (…there would have been a break-up…I intend to marry Carda Mom), Annie Howe, Butterworth, Neil Down (my darling!), Mary A. Richman, Forest Wood, Ben Down, Lou Pole, Eileen Dover (maybe I did…uh…), Bonnie Beaver, Rob Banks, Price Wright, Dinah Soares, Brandy Anne Koch, Chris P. Bacon, Corey O. Graff, (be mine..) Matt Tress, Daryl Rhea, Lily Pond, Leigh King, Levon Coates (don’t, please…), Dick Hunter (great job!), Jack Haas, Harry Anis, Kandi Apple, Harry C. Beaver (peeping Tom..), Dr. Hurt, Sue Flay, Eddie Bull (may I add chocolate darling?), Emma Royds, R. Slicker, Raynor Schein, Lewis N. Clark, I. Ball, Pierce Cox, Sue Yu, Earl Lee Riser, Pepe Roni, Kent C. Strait, Easton West,  Pierce Hart, Pat Downe (working in the airport, are we???), Oliver Sutton, Laura Norder (can I have an audition please?), Fanny O’Rear, Gene Poole (take a dive…), Harry R. M. Pitts (and btw. Pitt is cock in Swedish…Brad Pitt…), Rich Guy, Holly McRell, Raney Schauer, Kerry Oki, Paige Turner, Sy Burnette, (hey dad, here’s my new boyfriend…) Jack Goff, Jed Dye (…to know is not enough, one must do…), Justin Inch, Liv Good…
Kudos to http://www.ethanwiner.com/funnames.html

Leave a comment

Filed under Humor, Uncategorized

Dating…as juicy as it gets…ahem…

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (film)

No more fuck-wits, alcoholics, workoholics, shopoholics, couchoholics, sexoholics (too much of the good stuff..)...fruitcakes or other freaks...

You went on a first date. You thought he was hot. You’re not sure what he thought, but he talked for a loooong time. So you wait for that magical text to figure out whether he liked you or not. See if you can get a second date and maybe even a kiss??? Ohhhuuuhhooohhohoho… *blush* Of course he told you he’d love to see you again, but they always do, even the ones that you don’t want to see and whom you know don’t want to see you. You have a feeling that…well, maybe, but he didn’t have that look in his eye…he just seemed curious. So now you’re curious…

First night, right after the date. “He doesn’t want to seem eager, so he won’t thank me today. Naturally. Would potentially be freaky if he did. OTT. Might lead to me running away screaming. I was never one for the lovey dovey type. Yikes.”

Second night: “He’s playing hard to get, or he’s busy, or not interested. Wouldn’t it be easier to just find out on the spot? Whoever invented this daft dating game anyway?”

Third night: “This is it. 48 hours. The magic hour has arrived. Either he texts, or calls me, or he doesn’t care. Unless, his mother is dying, his office is on fire, he had to travel to Alaska, or his dog got kidnapped. All very unlikely.”

Fourth nigh: “Damn it, I actually liked him. Normally don’t. Even his damn perfume was tantalizing. Then again, he could turn out to be wacko. Wouldn’t be the first. Maybe I’m protected by higher powers? Or maybe he just didn’t like me? How sad. Then again, I’m not your average cup of tea. Exotic spice. Makes all the difference. Some people prefer plain Lipton though. Booooooooring. #justsaying I can’t even justify that he’d be a dork though, ‘cuz I have no fucking clue. He just seemed damn nice. Oh, well. I want to think, of course, that he’ll call during the weekend. But he won’t. Because sending a #thankyouitwasnicemeetingyou txt only takes a minute or two. He didn’t have problems writing before the date. Probably not after either. He might have lost a finger, but unlikely. He’s so not into me. Maybe it was the bit “I have no car (but I use the neighbor’s), no house (but I live in a gorgeous house with a goat, a talking parrot and an emu…no I’m not freaky), no stable job (but I’m applying for extra work as I’d prefer that to be an executive PA again…yes, I’m sane. I just don’t like paperwork.), no cash and uh…obviously no husband….I’m saving all of that for my thirties, in my twenties I’m meant to be playing. Oh yes, I have three start-up ventures that take up all my spare time and yeah, I’d squeeze you in between 12 am and 4 am…deal?” Never mind. Let’s paaaaaaaaarty. Where did I put that dress???”

(Afterthought: “If he calls me now I will have to delete this post before he gets wind of my blog and reads this.”)

(Second afterthought: “I better not show this to the date I have tomorrow either. God it’s complicated being single. One has to be so secretive of things. Then there are no more dates lined up though. Yes, let’s paaaaaarty. Does anyone have some caffeine? I think I’m falling asleep. I need to write that thing and research that and…yawn…what did I think about that marketing strategy???…uhm…let’s…yawn…party. Let’s just work a little bit more first…yawn. Maybe a nap?”)

(Third afterthought: “If any potential date reads this I’ll be single forever. Yawn.”)

“Hey, still not married yet, eh, Bridge? How’s your love life?”

2 Comments

Filed under Dating, Humor, Uncategorized

An old boyfriend in my closet…

I just remembered something…for a blonde that’s extraordinary, right?! Well, what I remembered was that I once wrote to Izzie Darling (fab blogger!!!) that I was going to tell a story about a candle, but then I never did tell the story about the candle. So hey…here we go.

An almost burnt-down lit candle on a candle ho...

Mmm...

 

I once walked into a shop in Long Beach and as any sane person would do I started sniffing the candles…because you know, they hopefully provide surprisingly nice scent. As I was sniffing along I suddenly came across a candle that smelled like…well, note this one down ladies…an old boyfriend. I can’t really explain it better than that. It smelled like a man. A man you once liked. Not a certain man…just like a man. Old boyfriend. The smell, for some non-understandable reason (men don’t make sense), was very…addictive. I wanted that candle. Badly.

So, a tad sheepishly, hoping no one could read my thoughts I took the candle to the cashier to pay. The cashier smiled, sniffed the candle and laughed. “You know, doesn’t this smell like an old boyfriend or something?” The other cashier agreed. I lost my ability to speak properly. I vaguely smiled and croaked “Really?!!” I mean you can’t possibly confess to something like that AND be the one buying the candle.

So now, clearly, as always, my confession stays safe and well hidden on the world wide web…fab place to keep secrets, don’t you think???…

(…ahh, I knew you want the brand name…it’s Archipelago Botanicals, and Côtes Du Rhône is the enchanting scent…)

Leave a comment

Filed under Humor, Story, Uncategorized

Me = Head Of Blowing Men…

Another classic Dizzy Blonde story. A friend of mine helped me write a sales pitch/introduction letter for the company I’m interning for. I told my boss he was writing it and I would send him his copy and then re-write it and send him mine. Which I did. Only my friend signed the copy he wrote with:

Best Regards,

Maria

Head Of Blowing Men!!!!

Which of course I didn’t realize until I hit send, because who double checks the signature anyway? Right. I hope my boss has a sense of humor.

5 Comments

Filed under Humor, sex

Porn movies and rattlesnakes in like California…

Disclaimer: this post contains like all the bad language, sex and total blonde generalizations that I’m known for. Just so you know. Did I mention porn? Oh, and you have to have someone read this to you in a West Coast accent, otherwise it doesn’t make sense. I’ll do it if you cast me in your movie. Just call my Manager.

It’s like so totally not like me, you know? ‘Cuz I’m like California all over. I mean we believe in solar power, organic fruits, beach bodies, sexual liberation, Entourage, positive manifestations, meditation and charitable organizations for starving Actors (usually called “bars” and donations come in the form of “tips”). So like, I’m just gonna be so not me you know for once, and be like totally like non-positive about the world, because I think there’s been too much petroleum pumped into the brains of those non-Californians out there. Know what I’m saying? Srsly. So going against The Secret (the modern-day bible of Cali) and the all loving people, I will have to say that the world is a tad mad. I’m not saying I’m not mad. Like I see myself thinking thoughts that aren’t real, but I realize they aren’t real. Just because I’m scared of snakes doesn’t mean that the rattlesnakes will be in the bushes just as I jog by. I still jog as if they were in the bushes though, just to be sure. And I try to not wear too short shorts whilst jogging, as I could have men running behind me then, scaring the snakes. But maybe I could wear the shorts and still be OK, if there aren’t any snakes that day. See what I’m saying? Like I’m reacting to something that isn’t real, but it could be real. Reality is a bit screwed up. But most things can be fixed with a big smile. Fakeness goes a long way in LA. I mean positivity. That’s what it’s called. Positivity. So anyway, here’s my list. I hope you digg it and reddit and facebook, like all your cool friends. Like the ones in the hills and that producer on The Hangover.

  • People are still throwing stones at each other because they want to play in each others’ gardens (a.k.a. countries), but aren’t allowed. But hello? Where are the mommies hiding? They should like bake cakes for each other instead. This is so some 1850’s Wild Western complex.
  • People walk around feeling happy just ‘cuz they are holding a gun and can shoot the bastard who’s father’s uncle’s brother’s daughter’s niece shot someone they would be related to if they were alive, but it was 200 years ago. I mean we all had to read Romeo And Juliet in high school. Fighting doesn’t solve ANYTHING. It just leads to more people getting killed.
  • People think they have power when they have the biggest resources of things that can kill people, which is like a stone age mentality. Didn’t anyone read The Secret? It’s all about the POWER OF THOUGHT. Jeeze people.
  • People fight over who has the best product, like Cheerios v.s. Cornflakes. This is like kindergarten stuff. You should go with the healthiest one. Let the best man win. If you are trying to conquer someone who is better than you, you are simply losing anyway. You may sell more, but you are worse. Like not cool at all. Duh.
  • People are very into getting a bigger diamond to hang around their neck, whilst people are dying from starvation. No, they’re not your problem unless you gave birth to them, but it’s still twisted somehow, because everyone tells you sharing is caring. You know, all the Stars in Hollywood share their wealth. And they only borrow their diamonds. And when they feel really guilty for being rich they go into rehab.
  • It’s really weird because like everyone knows that if you are someone in LA you drive a cool car, you have cool shades and you live in a crib in the hills, like, but all these people are in AA, go to therapists and spend their time stressing about raising more money to make their movies that don’t make any money. It’s like they take the paparazzi so seriously – when they leave they get so sad they throw canned beans at them, because they no longer get on the cover of People Magazine, so they can’t sue them to pay their bills when they win.
  • People then think these people are their heroes. So they want to be in rehab too?
  • Most people can’t remember the best night of their life. I always thought that was kinda weird.
  • Smoking kills, so people really like dying. Not so much in California of course. We are too healthy, like here people do coke to save their lungs.
  • All these porn movies that suddenly get released by some angry ex lover…I mean isn’t that soooo yesterday? It was news when Paris Hilton did it, but come on? Can’t all the ex lovers just get over it? Don’t they understand they like so humiliate themselves by showing they care? If you want someone back you just get a new partner and make sure you film that sex instead. Just so they know what they’re missing.
  • I like don’t get it. Someone thinks she can manifest the ass she had at 20. http://ht.ly/3aUDz But hello. Like the whole world mis-read The Secret. You have to take inspired action too. Like build a time machine.

We’re like so enlightened here in Cali.

4 Comments

Filed under Uncategorized