If you'd rather not hear about my adventures in squirting, please stop reading now.


... Not that I really have any adventures in squirting.

Let's back up a minute.

I really want to be able to squirt.

Not wait, further than that.

Does everyone know what squirting is? Read this.

Now that we're all on the same page, I was sure Mother Nature would want me to squirt. She gave me a high sex drive, a strong awareness of my body, and an openness to sex. It seems only fair that I could summon the sex gods to display an orgasm like no other.

So, unbeknownst to anyone, I've been on a mission to squirt. Mr. Wonderful provides me with very good, deep, star-inducing climaxes, yet I wondered if there was an even better spot that was hiding, tucked away somewhere that we were both missing.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak.

For the past few weeks, maybe 1 or twice a week, I'd load in some.... movies... and get myself in the mood. The key, I've noticed, is to only watch enough to get excited. It you watch for two long, you start to notice the repetitiveness and the bad acting. Sometimes less is better.

On the other hand, my body is still quivering from Stripper Stephanie, and her apparent twin, Irving Girl. Who needs porn?

I've tried a variety of toys, and a variety of positions. Yet, not a drop - well, perhaps a drop, but not a gush, as I've been led to believe is the norm. I've hit what I think is the right spot. I've gotten the 'gotta pee' sensation. I've also hit my cervix a few times, which is rather difficult, since it's abnormally high up. Just goes to show how committed I was. To science, of course.

So, I've come to the conclusion that I am... it pains me to admit... a non-squirter. I'm dry as the Sahara. Well, I'm not dry. I'm more like.... a tar pond.

Erh....

Anyway, if there are any squirters out there, I'd love to hear from you.

"I apologize to you if I don't seem eager to jump into a forced awkward
intimate situation people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're
sitting there thinking, do I have food on my face? Am I eating? Am I talking too
much? Are they talking enough? Am I interested? I'm not really interested,
should I play like I'm interested? but I'm not that interested but I think she's
interested? But do I want to be interested? But now she's not interested so now
I start to get interested. Or am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for
the door? Cause then it's awkward, well good night. Do an ass out hug? Where you hug each other like this where your ass sticks out? Cause you're trying not to get too close. Or you go right in and kiss them on the lips. Or don't kiss them at
all? It's very difficult to read the situation. All the while you're just waiting
to see if we get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions. Perhaps play a
little game called just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or
ouch ouch you're on my hair. "

- Jeremy Gray (Vince Vaughahn, drool) Wedding Crashers

I've never been a big dater. But even that first date with Mr. Wonderful had none of the typical nervousness to it. Sure, I was nervous, but once we got over the initial meeting, I was so at ease, and so excited. I'm so glad we never went through the bullshit some people have to go through just to get laid and/or find someone they care about.

Oh, the movie was fantastic.

Two people got here this week by searching how to make homemade dildos. I'm just saying is all.

Really, though, I don't think I've ever posted anything on the subject. Maybe I should give people what they want?

Okay, fine.

Jenn's List of Homemade Dildos:

1. Lots of foods work well: Cucumbers are an old standby, and I suppose carrots could be could for anal play, since they are tapered. In both instances, though, make sure to use a condom. Who know what pesticides have been used on them, and who wants to go to an emergency room with half a carrot stuck up their rectum?
2. Ooh, here's an idea: Made a dildo ice sculpture. Create a mold (you're on your own for that part, pal) and fill it with water and freeze it. I'm sure it would be a neat sensation, though I guess you'd have to be quick with your business before it melted.
3. Bottles. These are also good because they are tapered. Again, I'd recommend a condom, as, well.. ouch. Be careful with that, m'kay?
4. A rolling pin.
5. The remote control. Who says they have to be round? Again, condoms might be a good idea, if you intend to use it again. Though, if you're particularly agile, you may want to try to change channels while you use it. If you can do this, let me know because I want to meet you.
6. Kids toys usually come in interesting shapes and sizes. Experiment. Don't return them, though, ew.
7. If you want to great really creative, I remember seeing somewhere someone attached a phallus to a cordless drill. That might be fun.
8. Candles. The long tapered ones.
9. I recently bought a 'sonic' toothbrush. It has a nice smooth end, and has good vibrations. Not that I've tried it yet. Seriously.
10. The toilet paper holder. Get the spring loaded kind for extra sensation.

Alright. Are you happy now? If any of these fail (and they probably will), spend the $15 and buy yourself a damn dildo, ya cheap bastard.

After an otherwise wholesome weekend (going to the zoo, blowing bubbles in the backyard, hangin' at the mall), Mr. Wonderful and I went to a strip club.

We went to the seediest club in town. I'm afraid of strip club owners, so I won't name it here, and only say that it rhymes with "Tits Me Raven". Hm.

I was so excited to go. I appreciate strip clubs on an intellectual level, as well as the more lusty, tits and ass level. I enjoy people watching in strip clubs, and not just the people on stage.

We entered the dark bar, and I was disappointed to see I was the only non-stripper female in the place. We took a seat at the foot of the stage, near a greasy looking man I will refer to as "Elliot". He looked at me lecherously and it made me uncomfortable to be sitting near him. Was he expecting me to jump on stage?

The chairs were uncomfortable, so we moved to a table - still close to the stage, but far enough way that I didn't feel like a lesbian (does that make sense? Is that offensive?). Elliot would still look behind at us and I did my best to avoid contact, though I kept looking at him, trying to figure him out.

For the most part, the dancers were awful. Most of them avoided any sort of eye contact, and seemed extremely bored to be there.

And then there was Stephanie.

There was a presence about her. I noticed her right away. She was wearing cow-hide chaps and halter top, and wore a cowboy hat. She danced while mingling with the other patrons. I could tell right away she liked to dance, and was there to enjoy herself. She was tall and lean, not skinny, but toned and well built. I was smitten.

(As a side note, the other stripper I had a crush on, Tyler, also wore chaps and cowgirl gear. Is this a fetish?)

I knew how clubs worked, but the strippers in this club really did not try to have any illusion of romance or flirtation. The strippers sought out men to buy them drinks and pay for lapdances. Mr. Wonderful laughed at the fact that I acted as Stripper Repellent (tm). None of the girls approached us all night (until the end, but I'm getting to that). I left for the bathroom a few times, partly because I had to pee, but I also wondered if a stripper would be in my seat when I returned. It never happened though.

I drank all night. I needed something to focus on besides the thinly covered vulvas gyrating in front of me. I realize that that's what I'm there for, but a few times a dance would look at me, and I'd feel myself blush and sheepishly look down, not wanting her to know I was looking at her boobies.

So, by the time I was on my 4th or 5th drink, I was ready for Stephanie. We had watched her working the room all night, so I had high expectations of her performance. She did not disappoint. Both songs she danced to were high-energy rave type tunes. Her costumes were great. They always had some kind of 'theme', and weren't just your typical mini skirts and bikinies. Under her hat was long, dark, thick hair. She worked the pole like a true athlete, and made fun of the stoic men watching her. She was spunky. But the most sexy part was that I could tell she was having fun. The biggest turn off for me when I watch strippers (which, granted, isn't very often) is that I always wonder about their backstory. Do they have a drug problem? Were they forced into it somehow? Why do they look so unhappy? With her, though, she seemed to be there for the pure enjoyment of it.

Throughout the night, I told Mr. Wonderful that I'd treat him to a lap dance (not a lap dance by me, but I would pay for one). Stephanie had since left the stage, and a new girl was up. We looked around for her, but she soon left with another patron to the back. Damn. We waited for her to return, but she never came.

Then, another girl came over to us and asked us to sit down. She introduced herself, and I knew what was coming. I went to the cash machine to take out $40 to pay for the drink I just ordered (which was a very bad idea, as by this point, I was beyond the point of rational thought), and to have some extra cash for the rest of the weekend. As I came back to the table, Mr. Wonderful told me I was invited to the lap dance if I wanted to come. Well, duh.

The girl (whose name completely escapes me) was the opposite of everything I like about the female body. She was short, thin, with short, stringy, blond hair and a rat like face. Okay, I'm being a bit tough on her, but her personality felt ugly to me, and I can't help but remember her that way. She told us it was $20. EACH. Jesus. I don't mind telling you that I've had lap dances before, and that's pretty steep, especially considering the merchandise. Nonetheless, there's a point of no return in these social circumstances, and we were well beyond it. So, off we went.

We walked into a back room, beside the DJ booth. Now, I am the most sex-positive person I know, but this place was horrible. I felt like I walked into the darkest recesses of the male brain. The room was over-saturated with black light, giving and eyes and smiles a sick, radioactive glow. The worst part, though, were the stalls. They were made of simple plywood, and look like large bathroom stalls (about the size of handicap washrooms). The doors, however, were about 3 feet off the ground, so as I looked around (there were about 6 stalls), I could see men's legs sticking out, with stripper shoes and legs over them in one position or another. It was disorienting.

We were led into our stall, and we sat on a couch with a cover overtop. Mr. Wonderful took the typical male stance, his legs slightly open, perfect for grinding, but what do I do? I clumsily tucked a leg underneath me, then sat sort of indian-like, constantly changing positions during her dance. I felt awkward. She started her 'dance' and announced that she was 'so drunk'. Nice. She put her tits in my face, and rubbed herself in front me. Uhm, okay. She grinded with Mr. Wonderful, and that was it. He asked about her back tattoo, and she said it was her real name, Tara. Hm, funny how I remember her real name but not her stage one.

And so we went back to our table. Within a minute, she was seeking out more dances by other men, some men who were drunk beyond reason. I finished my drink, and off we went. Mr. Wonderful told me afterwards that back in his hometown, you can get a lap dance for $10, and you're allowed to touch. I think it's time for a road trip.

I'm very disburbed by this. Someone got here by Asking Jeeves "if a baby has a chest x-ray and a spot is found, what could this be?" The J Spot was the first result. I feel bad because it was probably a distraught mother looking for information on her baby, and then she ended up reading about my vulva or my latest escapade with a washing machine. Poor thing.

In other news, daylight savings time might be extended. The U.S. is considering passing a bill, which means that Canada would more than likely have to follow suit. I guess I find this so wild because it's something so fundamental to daily life. It's like if the U.S. all of a sudden wanted to change Saturday to Bushday (which, I would totally support, of course).

Finally, please read this. It's not true, but at this point, it doesn't matter, does it? This guy's face is all over the Internet, and people will be calling him (insert Lois' nasally voice here) "Pee-tah" for years. Actually, if I were him, I'd legally change my name to Peter Griffin and milk the unfortunate facial features for all it's worth.

First, I introduce you to A Glamour Girl Gone Bad, a saucy ego-maniacal bitch. I love her.

Second, Free university for virgins. It's a creative idea, but it's completely impractical, and I am sure it will lead to an epidemic of oral herpes.

Thirdly, I had a dirty little secret. I know, I KNOW. It's like heroine, though, and I just can't help myself. This season, though, has probably the most doornob-dumb cast ever. My favourite quote from my last night?

"That guy is so dumb. He can't even pronounciate his words." Oh, fuck.

Again, I KNOW.

Damn, it is hot out.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to wear all black today. I'm a tit.

I awoke this morning from awful dreams. Because of this, I've felt panicked and anxious all day. I'm uncomfortable, inside and out. I feel unsteady, insecure, skeptical, sad, lonely, and impatient. I feel like I'm on the cusp of something, but I'm not sure what.

The last time I felt this way was when I first moved to SH. Maybe my most current move is catching up to me? I usually have a "relax, everything will be okay" mechanism that has served me well up this point. However, in the last few days, that mechanism seems to be dysfunctional. Or, maybe I just need a hug.

Or an air conditioner.

Internet, you have failed me.

How hard do you think it would be to find the mailing address of a school in Quebec?

Very hard, as it turns out.

We tried to send something to a school, only to have it bounced back to us. When trying the number, it's been disconnected. I've looked all over the place, to find the Saint Paul River School, in both French and English, and nothing. Nadda. How annoying. And mystifying. Their P.O. Box seems to match their postal code, and the postal code matches the town name, but the school itself.. I can find no record of.

Sigh.

Holy Crap! Did anyone else watch Family Guy last night? I nearly soiled myself from all the great references:

1) Chris goes to get milk for Lois, and then get's hauled into the Take On Me video from Aha.

2) Peter flies on Falkor, the Luck Dragon from the Neverending Story.

3) Peter falls down the stairs, trying to blow himself. No pic for that, but still hilarious.

Boredome is expensive.

Case in point: A few days ago, I somehow found myself on Ebay. I wasn't looking for anything, I was just trying to look busy to anyone who passed by my office. For some reason, I began looking at the jewelry.

I remembered my aunt telling me years ago that when she was young, she would either buy herself jewelry, or go on a trip. She had no kids, and was just enjoying life. I always admired that.

I realize that only a few posts ago, I was bemoaning my financial situation, but nevertheless, with my aunts voice ringing in my ears, I place a bit on this fine piece of bling. Of course, who knows if it's genuine, but I intend to get it appraised when it arrives. If it's not, well, I've learned my lesson, but at least still have something that I can re-sell on Ebay.

I really was intending to write about my breasts, but I decided against it. I discovered a few days ago that if you have a title like that, the reader will pretty much read anything, at least until they discover there aren't any pictures of sweater meat forthcomming.

Well, Mr. Wonderful is considering travelling from his hometown (in the northwest of the province) back to where he's living now (which is in the southeast). By bicycle. It's a very admirable goal, and I'm excited for him. I'm also a little worried, but he can most definitely take care of himself.

I must say, I do find myself a little frustrated, though. Having quite different physiques mean we can rarely match up in most sports - at least, sports that we both enjoy. He is also not the most patient of teachers, so we often stop before we even get started. Our forays into activity, besides walking, results in me looking ridiculous, and him shaking his head. It's funny, but not fun.

If only we could find an activity where height, hand-eye co-ordination, and gracefulness is not an issue!

I mean, besides sex.

Okay, and since you've read this far, here is a picture of me fondling my breasts.

http://www.canada.com/news/national/story.html?id=7569cc70-eee6-4815-b0cf-c4cc64494bca

I have no words.

Actually, yes I do. You're getting old, Sue. Why would you keep the American show, and discard the Canadian one? Is it money? I personally don't buy your excuses, and am actually quite offended that you would so easily leave the country that made you what you are. I'm glad that you are still doing the university circuit, but who is going to know who you are if they can't watch you on TV anymore?

I'm not mad. Just... disappointed.

...and they got married. The ceremony was nice; I must say I teared up a few times. Mr. Wonderful and I decided to skip out on the dance part of the evening, mostly because it was way out of the boonies, and we wanted the option of going drinking downtown if we felt like it. Word was we missed a pretty sweet party, but we had fun nevertheless. We walked downtown, looking for a place to happen, but found none. So, we bought some liquor, and brought the party back to our hotel room. The party peaked at about 9pm. Mr. Wonderful passed out at about 12, and I watched Sex in the City over the sounds of his snoring.

All in all, it was an excelllent weekend - though for some reason, I don't think it's properly conveyed from the last paragraph. I'm spending the next few days house and cat sitting for Jallapeno, which is a treat. She has digital cable, two cats, and an apartment that is not 5 feet underground. I woke up this morning with the sun in my face! THE SUN!

I am, as a matter of fact, all caught up on my work this afternoon, so I'm listening to late 80's pop. Hightlights have been I Wanna Sex You Up, and Unskinny Bop, which is currently playing.

For now, I'm going to slide on over to ye old sex blog to write about how the weekend really went.

Everyone just left the office. I'm here all alone, and it's rather nice. I've decided against looking at porn, and decided to blog instead, you lucky devils, you.

Mr. Wonderful and I will be going to a wedding this weekend. It's the wedding of the son of my parents' friends, so I'm pretty ambivalent. Really, it's just a good excuse to buy a dress, and see Mr. Wonderful in a suit. Oops, no wait, I mean this. My outfit will look something like this.

It's also an excuse to stay in a hotel and, possibly, do it. In exchange, all we have to do is seat through innumerable questioning of our lives from people we barely know. As you all know, I'm willing to endure almost anything if it means a get a bit of nookie.

It's 5:25pm now, which means my ass has been in this chair 10 minutes more than need be. I will go home, eat some cantaloupe and.... something else, I haven't quite decided yet. But, I went grocery shopping yesterday, so the options are wide open.

After being swallowed whole by credit card (interest rate of 24%?? Are fricking KIDDING ME?), I decided to take my financial matters into my own hands and get all proactive and stuff.

I made an appointment at my bank on Monday morning. I had 3 major problems:

1. My credit card bill was/is ridiculous. I have a balance of about $4000, at an interest rate of 24%. I was making payments, but I was really only paying the interest, hence getting nowhere. I never used to carry any balance on my card, but after a year of living above my means, followed by months of unemployment, the bill snowballed.
2. I was/is in a vicious cycle known as Overdraft Protection. I would constantly be a few hundred dollars into my overdraft. When I would get paid, most of it would go to the overdraft, leaving me little. I got in my head that the overdraft was just extra money, so I always had -$200 showing up on my account.
3. Banking fees. On my last statement, I must have paid $50 in banking fees. Bastards. Even though it was my fault.

I thought about how to get out of these situations - besides faking my own death and running away with Mr. Wonderful to the Yucatan. I really don't know much about financial stuff, but a good option seemed to be getting a personal loan (at a substantially lower interest rate), with pre-approved payments. I went to the bank with this plan.

Unlike most of my other plans, this one actually worked! I discussed everything with Lisa, who was very nice and normal. One feels very vulnerable going to a bank. I'm used to lying about my finances all the time, to nearly everyone, so it's hard to break the habit at the bank. It's all right there on her screen. I felt naked. And not in a good way, my friends.

Nevertheless, we worked out the conditions of the loan. I'll be getting $4500, which will cover the credit card, and the overdraft. I'm getting rid of one of my accounts that was charging me $1.25 per transaction. It is a floating rate of about %14, which will be deduced bi-weekly (about $70). I'll have it all payed off in 3 years.

Can I hear a boo-yah?

After everything was signed and initialed, she told me that my credit rating is actually really good, and that I got pretty much the best interest rate they can give out. She said that the credit card was just starting to negatively impact things, and that I came at the right time. I guess I should give partial credit (no pun intended) to my mother, who put visions of destitution and aluminum-can collection into my head after hearing part of my financial situation (she will NEVER get the full story, for fear her head my implode).

Also, I do realize that instead of paying off my debt, I've potentially doubled it. I can very well continue to use my credit card as I have, as well as continue to pay off the personal loan. It may happen, but I think just going through what I have, I will appreciate, be wary of it.

This cautionary tale brought to you by.....