Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Barney and the cop

My "Bangin" playlist on my iPod is pretty epic. There is a lot of R&B and the perfect rhythm that will let me hit the high note with ease. I could say it was perfect, but there was one song I had on there that will forever haunt me and that playlist.

It was one of those beautiful nights outside and I Felt Like Makin' Love, so I picked up my latest conquest and headed to a parking lot next to the river.

He was a football player, a few years younger than me in age, but a generation younger in life. It was like a strange Fantasy. I felt like a cougar in my twenties. Now I know why they go out hunting for cubs. It was fun sneaking around and running away from parents again.

As soon as I hit play on Mariah's "Mine Again," it didn't take long for us to be fogging up the windows, Bump'n and Grind'n. I was lost in the music; it was like there was no world outside of my beat up Volkswagen. Then....

A very bright light was shining into my car. It couldn't be mistaken. The Cops Came Knockin'.

Luckily, I've had this happen before. I knew to keep some clothing on in case of an emergency, and this was certainly a 911 moment. We both lifted up our pants and looked for my top as the officer walked up to the car.
I had no shirt, no bra, and nothing of the sort in sight. Cub was miraculously already clothed.
KNOCK KNOCK! Hey! Open this window!
He handed me his jacket, I wrapped it around me, and rolled down my window. Hair, make-up, and slobber were all over, and my music was still pretty loud, but that was the last of my worries. The cop gave us one look and demanded our ID's.
♫ I love you, you love me, we're a hap-
Oh, my dear sweet baby Jesus, NO. Of all songs on the playlist, NOT THIS ONE.
I prayed it wasn't really happening, and frantically tried to find my iPod.
♫ With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you 
This was real life. The Barney theme song was playing mid-sex session and mid-looming arrest at the same time, and there was nothing I could do about it besides laugh.
"Ma'am, this isn't very funny. I could write you two up and take you in for indecent exposure at a state park. And do you realize how old this young man is?"
Oh, I realized... I also realized he was dark chocolate that I was enjoying nibbling on, and that scares older men of authority even more. I had nothing working in my favor besides my half naked body, but even that won't help when there's a lack of voluptuous goodies.

Next thing I knew he was winking at my cub and handing back our ID's telling us to get a room. Just like that, I was off the hook, and felt more Promiscuous than ever.
"What the hell was that?! Was that Barney?"
There was no escaping this nightmare. The damage had been done. Even if I explained why that song was on my playlist, he was done exploring my Wonderland, and the only Crashing that happened was our heads with our pillows... separately.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

The storm of Sparkles

The morning of my Birthday, my friend put a warning on Facebook for everyone to stay indoors that night, and only look outside if they wanted to see an epic storm. He and the rest of the world know what's up: When there's a reason to play, I play hard, and that I did.

My drunk alter ego, Sparkles (who is obviously a spunky little porn star), came out to play extra early. 7:00 early. Three shots of tequila, a Four Horseman, and four beers later, I'd say my birthday was off to a good start. I had a potential hook-up around, friends to drive me around and buy me drinks, and the perfect F-me-now outfit on. It was everything a perfect storm needs.

We headed downtown to bar #1. I was rockin' my slutty outfit and four inch heels and lookin' for some playtime, so what do I do? Start up a game of spin the bottle. So I'm in my mid-twenties... That game will get you some action no matter what! Next thing I know I'm making out with three different girls and two dudes, alternating with whoever I wanted in that moment.

I gotta say- I'm not normally the kind to make out with girls. It's happened one other time in my life, but there was something about this night that made the girls so desirable. I couldn't get enough. The best part: I had one blonde, one brunette, and one ginger. It was like a rainbow of lesbian-for-the-night heaven.

The guy who I had gone out with once before (who we shall call BM) looked on, probably thinking he might get to join in by the end of the night. My ex (we'll call him Romeo) also looked on, also plotting for his entry pass.

Then I fell down, flat on the floor. Not once. Not twice. Definitely more than three or four times. It was time to go.

"You guys are going to have to get her out of here. Now! She's way too drunk." 
"PFFFTTTT. I am FIINNNEEEE. I just wanna be on the floor! It's my birthday! I'll do what I want!"

I said that to the bar manager as I crawled along the floor, doing my best "sex kitten" poses and noises. Surprisingly that didn't convince them I was alright. We moved on to bar #2.

It was a small little bar that I went to all the time. I made a scene walking in as usual, grabbed a stool, took a drink from someone, and started chillin'.... as much as any gone-with-the-wind-drunkass can. We didn't get a chance to stay there long, though. While "chillin," I somehow managed to fall forward, hitting my head on the bar, and landing on my back on the ground.

"We can't serve her any more. She's gotta go."  
"HAHAHAHA that was so funny! How's my head look?!"

Onto the next one.

I had been making out with BM all night, shoving him up against the walls outside the bars, in between my girl-time, and even in the alley. That's just too much PDA. I had to prove he wasn't as cool as he was probably feeling, so I started touching on Romeo between lady loves. BM sat and watched, still hoping for that trifecta of love within the hour, but I was over playing with his joystick.

Suddenly... I was asleep. That quick, narcolepsy put a halt on the storm.

"If she doesn't pick her head up, she's going to have to leave." 
"Fine! I'll leave... to the bathroom!"

*If you've never fallen asleep on a bathroom counter, you're missing out. It's the perfect place to catch a quick cat nap and gain the energy you'll need to play with toys for the rest of the night.

We all left to go get food, seemingly calm. Next thing I know, Romeo has me pinned up against the wall I had pushed BM onto an hour ago. We were putting on a live porno for the town, right there on Main Street, and BM was the only unhappy audience member.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me, right?!"

Nope. I wasn't kidding. In fact, I was going to giggle and run away with Romeo without giving him any response.

We got to the car, and instead of leaving to get food, we made a steam room of the place. Hands, legs, and clothes were flailing everywhere, and the car was rockin'... to the beat of our music.. some very enjoyable music, I might add.

The next morning I popped up and went to work, joked about the evening with Romeo and the rainbow gals, and realized once again that making "bad decisions" makes for a fabulously entertaining life.

....Then I got the email.

"I have a girlfriend that I care a lot about. What we did last night was a mistake. I'm ashamed and I won't be drinking anymore."

Apparently I wasn't Romeo's Juliet anymore. I was his homewrecker, and his Juliet was just another wall post saying "Happy Birthday! Get crazy tonight!" I don't think she knew who she was talking to.

I could regret what happened, but it was my muh-effin' birthday, and the world was warned that it wouldn't be safe to go out! There was a storm full of Sparkles that rolled through, and as far as I can tell, it made for beautiful stories. Sucks for Romeo to have to give up such future adventures.

Total make-outs: 6
Total bars kicked out of: 3
Total relationships wrecked: 2
Percentage of body covered with bruises: 50
Regrets: 0

Monday, June 6, 2011


I have this habit of going to places where I'm comfortable, getting sloshed, and wandering around on my own until I find a joystick to play with. This time it left me riding the public transit system alone at 2:30 in the morning.

Of course, I wasn't alone for long. I'm the kind of girl who makes friends everywhere I go. Within five minutes I was practically besties with some boy going to the same stop as me, and within seven minutes we were partaking in the most intense make-out session I've ever had in public.

What was his name? Beats me. All I know is he was a nice combination of two races, but I don't even know which ones.

We got to our stop 45 minutes later and he tells me he has no ride to his home, which is another thirty minutes away. As if it was a good idea for me to be driving, I offer my services as long as he'll buy me some food. Off we go to Denny's (apparently IHOP was "too much" for him), I look like a monster eating my entire plate in a couple of minutes, he pays, and we go back to an intense make-out... This time in the car.

As I make my way to his house, he's fondling my goodies, I'm not complaining, and miraculously I'm driving safe. We get to his apartment, activity picks up.... then it dawns on me...
"Who the fuck is this guy?! I met him on PUBLIC TRANSIT! We went to DENNY'S! He lives on the worst street in this town!"
Apparently my vodka had worn off just in time. I pushed him off of me and opened the door for him as he shouted some nonsense about "blue balls" and "tease," then "Can I get your number? Can I holler at you later?"

No. You can't. You can't even have my name, assuming we're on the same page here. 

I quickly locked my doors and drove off, topless, and slapping myself in the face. Partly because I had blue ovaries and just gave up a perfectly fine one night stand, but also because not knowing someone's first name before I round all of the bases is just unacceptable... But let's be honest, I would have looked ridiculous asking for it after all that exploring, and it's the boys who are supposed to seem bad, not me.

So now, when I look at my little black book of people I've hooked up with, Denny is all that remains from this night of solo adventure.

...And the satisfaction of free food.