Lisa Brower on the lesbian thing: “Having had at least a decade of dick behind me (sometimes literally), I wanted to know if the pasture was any greener than the straight side of the field. It wasn’t.”
Raise your hand if you’ve ever survived a difficult relationship with a man and decided life surely must be better on the opposite side of the fence. I don’t know if gay men go through that thought process, but everyone of my girlfriends has said it at least once jokingly after a horrendous breakup.
Being a literal sort of girl, I decided to go see if that pasture was any greener than the straight side of the field.
I decide to pole vault into girl-on-girl world in the summer of 1988. Having had at least a decade of dick behind me (sometimes literally), I noticed my lesbian friends seemed to be having a hell of a lot more fun than I was. I had already slept with women in college, so that so called taboo was out of the way.
Luckily I had my own personal guide to lesbian Atlanta to help ease the transition. She would show up at work on Mondays with blackened eyes and enormous hickeys from her weekend romps, sharing her adventures with our co-workers during smoke breaks. Her pickups showered her with attention; sending flowers, taking her to lunch, giving her rent money. There was an endless line up of older gay women in expensive cars spoiling her rotten and that looked like exactly what I needed too. At that point in my life I had financially and emotionally supported an ever changing line up of would be rock stars, so a sugar mama sounded like a dream come true.
I started hitting up the gay bars with her on weekends. I chopped off my hair into a cute, shaggy little cut and found freedom in a cosmetic free face. I added some polo shirts and flat shoes to my wardrobe. I danced my Doc Martin shod feet off to “I Just Want To Be Your Lover Girl” at the Sports Page and Talluleh’s.
Today was number five in the series of six Fraxel treatments in my mission to lead a wrinkle-free life.
Unfortunately I forgot to apply my lidocaine ointment an hour before because I was in a huge tearing hurry to go purchase “True Blood-Season One”, so that I could spend some quality recuperation time with Alexander Skarsgard this afternoon.
So I had to go this treatment sans numbing ointment which hurts like burning hell. Just tap your face with a live wire about sixty times or so. Make sure you get into the hairline too, so that you have that burning flesh and hair smell.
We didn’t use as high a setting today as treatment number 4, so do note the lack of open, blood oozing wounds showing today. I mentioned to her that I was down for over a week with the last treatment, even after three weeks I still had the pixilated stamp effect known as the Mark of the Fraxel. It looks like someone had taken a hot poker or a car lighter and stamped all over me, plus it hurt like hell for days. However, I really noticed the difference after treatment four also. I had planned on getting some more Radiesse shot into my marionette lines since I looked so saggy in the last Fraxel series picture, but I saw a tremendous amount of tightening in my lower face area once the redness had gone away. Let me show you a side by side analysis, and tell me what you think: Read the rest of this entry »
I don’t know what normal people do on Mondays, but I spent mine looking at hot naked men all day. Well, not all day. I went for a doctor visit first, which is exactly that. We quickly dispense with the boring medical business; then talk shoes, boys, plastic surgery, and cosmetics. Then we plan to go to lunch or something. We spent most of the visit discussing whether or not she should get implants, and I told her I would do a post on my personal decision process later this week.
So afterward I came home and started doing my research for June and July’s “Wide-On” feature. Last week fellow blogger, Mike Alvear, suggested a website that I might find inspiration from called “Kenneth in the 212.” Telling me about a good blog is like handing a crackhead a lit pipe, I can spend all day blog trolling. I’ve always had voyeuristic tendencies and love peeping into peoples lives, so blogs must have been created for me. What could be more interesting than someone’s thoughts, even the less inspired ones? So then I started reading Kenneth’s blog roll and it just sort of snow balled from there.
Wide-On noun. A slang term describing female sexual interest.
Ex: I get a total wide-on every time I see Ryan Kwanten on screen.
This week’s wide-on was brought to my attention by Mrs. Coconut of The Coconut Diaries.
She suggested last week that Ryan’s character, Jason Stackhouse, on HBO’s “True Blood”, could kick Alexander Skarsgard’s ass in the masculine beauty category any day of the week. I must say in all fairness, Ryan has the most perfect ass I have seen in quite a while.
In trying to be a kinder, less tacky Cult Diva, I will not call attention to his Australian heritage by using any combination of the words “thunder” or “down under”. Having dated my way through several Australian and New Zealand rugby players in my wild youth, I must say that men from the Southern Hemisphere are amazingly endowed with many gifts that they enjoy sharing very much and very often.
God love them.
I did find a few pictures for you all to salivate over. However for the real deal, you’ll have to tune into “True Blood” to see Ryan’s character truly in his best light. As the town stud, he gets some in almost every episode, which makes me wonder if there is a Jason Stackhouse equivalent in my dull little town…hmmmm.
Guest blogger Lisa Brower introduces a new weekly segment, named after a slang term for female sexual arousal.
As in, “That hunk gave me a serious wide-on.”
This week’s “Wide-On” was inspired by the lustful imagination of fellow blogger, the elegant Mrs. Legally Blonde. I want to thank her for the suggestion because if you all leave it to me, all you’ll have to pant over are tall blondes, as I rarely deviate from type.
The studly Argentinian polo player and face of Ralph Lauren’s Black Label line would be a nice addition to any fantasy stable. I personally would take a tail shot from his mallet any day.
As always, please send your suggestions in unless you want to be stuck with my rotating line up of Viggo Mortensen, Daniel Craig, Daria Torres, Alexander Skarsgard, or Jackie Warner.
If women can have a fake disease named after an HBO show, does that mean guys suffer from “Entourage Syndrome?”
This morning while listening to the “Today” show, they mentioned “Sex and the City Syndrome”, which is where groups of women go out, get drunk, talk shit, and hopefully engage in sex with inappropriate strangers.
My entire late teens through twenties can be summed up by a fake disease named after an HBO show? Yes, and some of my thirties too dammit. I was a late bloomer into adulthood.
Didn’t everyone do this? So what do guys have, “Entourage Syndrome”?
What if your husband is useless in the garden? Tips for trimming the perfect bush from guest blogger Lisa Brower.
Every spring I become enamored by the idea of having a perfect yard and garden. This year I had decided I didn’t give a damn anymore and had set my mind to hiring an attractive, young, well-built Hispanic guy to do the yard work instead. I had dreams of lounging around on my back porch sipping a daiquiri and looking sultry in the intense heat. I could watch the sweat glisten on his shirtless and flawlessly tanned chest. At some point he would turn around to return my lusty stare and then stroll purposely toward me with his tight jeans riding low enough on his hips to show just a tantalizing peep of pale silky skin.
Standing over my lounger, he would reach for the daiquiri I poured for him and his full, pouty lips would form their first and highly anticipated words to me:
“Girl, it is HOT out here. This bitch needs to go home before she just falls out. I’ve got me a man coming over tonight and the only thing I want to be hot for is him! That’s gonna be one-fifty for today. Can I use your shower before I go to the gym?”
I just fantasized up a hot, gay Hispanic yard man. Just my luck. I guess this means Yard Dyke is coming back this year.