Nourish yourself with the basics and take your nutrition and health to a new level of harmony. Nutrients are like puzzle pieces-when all the right pieces (water, protein, fat, carbohydrate, vitamins and minerals�and don’t forget activity, love, and rest) are present; they fall into place to help your body achieve balanced nutrition and sound wellness.

Good nutrition doesn’t have to be complex. Start with A-B-C, and 1-2-3!

A…B…C…

A is your Attitude towards food-get rid of the bad food/good food lists. Think of food in two categories: food your body needs frequently and food your body needs less often.
B for Breakfast-EAT SOMETHING! Breakfast kicks off your day�it revs up your metabolism and provides fuel for your brain and muscles. If breakfast leaves you feeling hungry an hour later, try eating a mid-morning snack such as fruit or yogurt. Another solution might be to add a bit of fat, fiber and protein to your breakfast, which will satisfy your appetite longer.

Other important B’s:

• Bran-Bran is a great source of fiber. Choose foods with 5 or more grams of fiber per serving. Bran will help you aim for 25 grams per day!
• B-vitamins-Choose enriched whole grains to help you meet your daily needs�especially folic acid. Women need 400 mcg daily in addition to what we get from food. Read more about folate.

C is for Calcium-Do your bones a favor-they’ll appreciate it later. Men and women need 1000-1200 mg per day. You can do that in 3-4 servings of dairy or calcium fortified foods per day!

Good sources of calcium:

• 1 cup of milk: 350 mg
• 1 cup fruit yogurt: 250mg
• 1 cup Vanilla soy milk: 300 mg
• 4 oz. cottage cheese: 100mg

C is for Calories too! Calories are a measurement of energy. Your body needs calories to burn in order to perform functions and move.

And, 1-2-3

1. Drink water. Water is the most basic yet important nutrient of all. Simple Tip: always keep a full water bottle by your side. And drink it!
2. Choose organic and less processed foods whenever possible. Your body and your taste buds will thank you.Simple Tip: Shop farmer’s markets, or check to see if a local organic farm delivers.
3. Eat small, frequent meals. Eating more often will help boost your metabolism. Simple Tip: Think in three’s — three small foods per meal, e.g. 1 banana, 1 yogurt and 1/2 cup granola.

Keep it simple, easy and basic.
Good nutrition should make you feel good, not complicate your life. While we are continually learning new things about nutrition; you can’t get away from the basics. Remember the A-B-C’s and 1-2-3’s.

In the summer of 2002, I got out of graduate school into a horrible economy. After considering every and any job I saw posted, I realized that just taking any job would leave me unfulfilled and miserable. It was after a long and grueling summer of unemployment that I finally landed a job in my field. It was only part-time and not enough to support myself, but I felt I had no choice but to take it. After long hours of reviewing my options, I decided to take my financial fate into my own hands and start working as a naked housecleaner.

The idea for naked housecleaning was not my own. I first read about it in BUST magazine. I think it was their ‘it’s okay to be a feminist and do domestic things’ issue. I was intrigued. Upon doing further research, I found that there are people who, for g-string and topless housecleaning, are willing to pay big bucks. I would always joke about doing this with my friends until one day when I was feeling particularly brave, I decided to post an ad and try it for myself.All I had to do was walk around his apartment, showing my legs and bottom

It is rather curious that an educated, feminist woman like myself would be prancing around naked, cleaning house for the entertainment of men. Especially since I can barely take care of my own house. My reasons for doing this started out simply. I have always had a real interest in the sex industry. My own dabbling in it included working in an Erotic Bakery called Sweet N’ Nasty and one horrible day as a phone sex operator. I find what turns people on and the different things people like to be truly fascinating. Watching men watching women has also been of a particular interest to me for reasons that I was not quite aware of at the time.

Naked housecleaning is in no way degrading to me, as it is my choice to be there, I am in control and in the end, I get paid. The fact that I can do something as simple as take off my clothes, maybe touch myself and do a little cleaning to make a good amount of money amuses me to no end. With this, I feel the power of being a woman.

With that I am ready to tell about my first appointment. It happened the same day I posted the ad on a local community website. The ad simply stated something like Naked Housecleaner available. You supply the cleaning stuff, I come naked or wearing whatever you want me to. No touching involved. Cash upfront. At this time, I didn’t really know what to write or what to expect of the situation or myself. This was a new adventure for me.

Man #1 I met at his local Starbucks, for he is nervous about his neighbors getting suspicious. We walk to his house and I am wary about revealing too much information about myself. I somehow want to create an aura of mystery about myself, something I perhaps picked up from a media portrayal of sex workers. When we get to his house, he sets me up with the cleaning supplies, saying his roommate is about to return from a trip and wants the house clean for her. I soon realize from the jewelry in his bathroom that this roommate may indeed be his girlfriend or wife. Throughout the time I am there, he seems very nervous and isn’t quite sure how this is supposed to go. Frankly neither am I. After a while of lightly cleaning his already clean house, we get to the real reason he wants me there. I am to lie on the bed, touching myself and talking dirty to him so he can get off. I am surprisingly comfortable with the whole idea, and in fact I am actually turned on by his watching me. It is at this point I realize that yes; I may in fact be an exhibitionist.

Man #2 informed me that his real housecleaner had just visited that morning, so there was no cleaning for me to do. Instead he wanted me to walk around in the short skirt, bra and panties I had brought for the occasion. All I had to do was walk around his apartment, showing my legs and bottom. He also shared with me how he had been recently been dumped. I only stayed one half hour and got paid for the full hour.

Man #3 was a friendly European who sincerely just wanted me to clean his house. This is almost more shocking to me than a man who has no cleaning to do at all. It is shocking because he doesn’t touch himself the whole time and his place is filthy. I mean, I really have to clean using all of my elbow grease. Mental note to myself, bring gloves next time. When I am finished cleaning and we are done organizing his papers together, we sit down to talk. For another 45 minutes we sit, him clothed, me naked and talk about the trials and tribulations (mostly trials) of online dating. I stay for two hours total and leaving feeling like something strange and surreal has just occurred.

Man #4 was from Northern Europe. His wife and children only live with him for part of the year so I guess he was bored and horny. I start out doing a little vacuuming, mostly while he is in the other room, talking on the phone. I finish vacuuming and he comes in and takes off his clothes. His chest is covered in large scars and I can’t help to wonder what happened to him. Not a heartbeat later he proceeds to the closet and brings out some vibrators for me to play with. My first reaction is that I hope they are clean and I don’t even want to think about whom else has used them. He then repeatedly asks me to massage him and tries to touch me and I repeatedly say no touching. He was a friendly European who sincerely just wanted me to clean his house. This is almost more shocking to me than a man who has no cleaning to do at allThen he asks me to sleep with him for a large sum of money and I again politely decline. He then disrespects my rules even further by ejaculating on me. I am trying not to show my annoyance but am hoping to get out of there quickly. In the end I feel an uncomfortable mix of empowerment and just plain gross.

Man #5 lives about 45 minutes South from me, but I feel like going for a ride, so it is okay. The really humorous thing about this was, I initially couldn’t find the house and approached the wrong house. I rang the bell and a guy in his 20s answered, so I assumed this was my appointment and started to walk in. He stopped me and asked who I was and why I was walking into his house. I fumbled through and excuse but I could tell, he knew something was up. I left blushing and quickly found the correct house across the street. I finally found Man #5 and he promptly tells me that he is young and has too much money so why not spend it on this? This guy’s girlfriend had just left him and he symbolically wanted to remove all traces of her, so I cleaned the bathroom and got rid of all of her hair. While doing this, he told me about all of the sexual things she liked. The one that sticks out in my mind the most was that she liked to be peed on. Upon finishing the bathroom, we sat in his bedroom while the usual mutual masturbation thing happened. This time however, I was feeling even more adventurous than usual and I let him go down on me. I am glad I did. From there I went to a bookstore and treated myself to something for some of my more intellectual endeavors.

Man #6 was staying at his Uncle’s house 45 minutes North of me in a city I was planning on visiting anyway that day. He apparently lives in Chicago and was taking an extended vacation here. I walk into a messy apartment with the television on and the football game blaring. The television doesn’t go off the whole time I am there. The first thing Man #6 does is hand me a check after I had stated very clearly in my ad and with our correspondences, cash only. I am thinking in the back of my mind, don’t take the check, but he seems nice enough, so I accept it. To make this situation even stranger, he tells me that we actually corresponded under different circumstances online in a dating context. I think I had decided that he was too into sports for my taste, so I never wrote back. He asked me why I never wrote back, and I said that I just didn’t like maintaining online conversations that much. He then gives me this whole sad story about how his legs are SO sore from bike riding and would I PLEASE massage them. I say that I normally don’t touch, but since I am already feeling guilty about blowing him off online earlier, I say okay. I massage his legs (all three of them) and clean the sooty windowsills for good measure. This whole experience was making me feel strange, and I was more than happy to leave. The real end of this story comes two weeks later when predictably, his check gets returned to me because no such account even exists. I just knew that was going to happen and I am angry with him for being such a dishonest man, I am angry with myself for being such a sucker and I am angry at the bank for charging me for this man’s bad check.

These cleaning appointments have been very educational experiences. I have seen a side of men I don’t normally get to see while dating them. I have learned a lot about what men like and dislike sexually, as they tend to be completely open and honest with me. I am a stranger to them and so they have nothing to loose by revealing their secrets and desires, as I don’t judge them.

As I enter my late 20s, my body has become my friend and I am on most days, happy with what I see in the mirror. For me, the validation I receive from men does make me feel more confident and sexy but I try not to rely on that alone for my confidence. It is an empowering experience to show my body and get paid for it but I need to remember that my body is not made for the pleasure of others, but for my own as my only true home. My first several experiences as a naked house cleaner proved exciting, and educational; and there was more in store for me than I thought. The more appointments I visit, the more I am empowered by the experience … But that is another story.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Ellie’s “Diaries of a naked house cleaner” …

Once upon a time, during the 1980’s, a sense of style took on a whole new meaning. Clothes looked better when they were ripped up for some reason, and hairstyles contained so much Aqua Net, they violated the local building codes.

One would think that so much abuse of one’s tresses would yield what would become an unavoidable result: Baldness. Most women managed to come out of that era unscathed (those haystack perms grew out eventually), but men would ultimately pay for that teasing, dying and hair-spraying in the years to come.

The above statement is misleading at best. No amount of chemical warfare in the past would have any impact on the amount of strands left remaining in the present. This is decided entirely by the “Lucky Sperm Club.” Your heredity determines as to where and when you’ll have fallout. Unfortunately, men are the more common victims of this seemingly cruel turn of evolution.

Hanging on to what’s left of their dwindling hairlines was not an option any longer … they had said, “That’s it, I’ve had it, I’m done with this!”

It’s not to say that women don’t have our crosses to bear as well. We have childbirth (and the subsequent weight gain, stretch marks, and the tranquilizer dependency that results), We have that monthly “turmoil,” as well as the hormonal roller coaster that accompanies it. Women also have the big “change” later on in life. This can be emotionally as well as physically devastating, depending on how the individual handles it. But, for the most part, these are relatively personal and non-public changes that women endure — with the notable exception of cellulite.

Consider if you were a male who has had a full head of hair for your childhood as well as your adult life. At one point in your life, you will come to the realization that you are losing your hair. Either the drain starts looking like someone stuffed a tarantula in it, or some well-meaning “friend” decides to comment in front of God and everybody on the glare reflecting from the top of your head. For the record, yes, it would be an appropriate gesture to send this “friend” flowers and a get well card in the hospital afterwards, since you’re the one who would be putting him there in the first place.

Also, take into consideration that this change in your appearance is happening in front of everyone you know, as well as an existing or even a perspective mate. All of a sudden, you wish that the Derby or Fedora was back in style. You wish you’d been born a hundred years ago when appearances didn’t have such an impact on how successful you are — either in business or your personal life. Your self-confidence starts to take a nosedive. Of course, to everyone else, it’s not the end of the world. Half the time, they don’t even notice. But this is YOU we’re talking about. You have to walk around with this stigma you’ve created for yourself 24/7.

I happen to know a few guys that have walked down this road. For some, it’s a short trip, for others it can be decades. Hanging on to what’s left of their dwindling hairlines was not an option any longer. Rogaine notwithstanding, at some point, these men took matters in their own hands. There’s a point where they had said, “That’s it, I’ve had it, I’m done with this!”

What I’m referring to, my dear readers, involves a razor — but not to the wrists! These men shaved their heads completely — made a “hair-choice,” if you will. They took control of their looks by creating a completely new image of themselves. By shaving their hair, they had shaved the past as well.

The sentiment behind this very definitive act is an overall sense of empowerment; the ability to take back control of something that was previously hapless. In one case it had even been referred to as a rite of passage — not unlike maturing into an adult out of adolescence. In this case, you’re consciously and deliberately letting go of having something that isn’t yours to have anymore (or ceasing to be someone that you’re not anymore). The difference would be that the choice to do something is yours this time around, that’s all.

In addition, these men to whom I am referring have experienced a new-found freedom from a dichotomy that had been haunting them for some time. They are embracing a whole new life as a result — an unmasking if you will. A new sense of confidence permeates around them. I don’t know if it’s the new “do”, or that new sense of zeal (or perhaps even a combination of the two), but I’ve found that these men that I encounter tend to possess handsomely piercing, if not hypnotic eyes. I’m quite pleased with the results I’ve seen, myself.

So, ladies, I implore you to have a heart with those gentlemen that you encounter with the toupee’s and combovers. These are men that haven’t quite reached their epiphany yet — but they will. We all have our burdens to bear. Keep in mind that men have quite a hurdle to jump over in this respect. Their pain is quite public. Nothing short of your infinite kindness and understanding for your so-besieged intended, male friend, or simply that stranger on the street will go a long way.

I laughed audibly at the sex-infested headlines on every woman’s magazine in the checkout line. Cosmo claimed that this was “The Sex Issue”. Bah! The sex issue. As if this issue is different from any other. Every month, they’re either talking about sex, talking about men and how to have sex with them, or talking about how a woman needs to behave or what a woman needs to wear in order to get sex.

I learned how to dress like a cheap hooker but still afford Chanel makeup and a curious overabundance of manicures

I started reading Cosmo when I was about eighteen (I’m 30 now). Religiously, I bought it from the local grocery store, never bothering to get a subscription. I couldn’t wait to get home and devour all of that valuable information about men and sex and dieting. And how could I forget the Cosmo Quiz? “Are you too selfish?” “Does he love you?” “Are your toenails too long?” “Are you high maintenance?”

I discovered that I was not too terribly selfish, he didn’t love me, my toe nails are too long, and was I any lower maintenance people would begin to think I was a man. I also learned how to seduce a guy inside four minutes, why sex twice-per-day is still not enough, and how to dress like a cheap hooker but still afford Chanel makeup and a curious overabundance of manicures.

And where did this newfound information get me? Well, I bought a lot of clothing that was too short, too skimpy, and too whorish for a woman of my age and intelligence. I dated a lot of men who pawed at me like my cat tends to do when he thinks he’s starving to death. And, I learned all about the Slim Fast plan, male and female erogenous zones, and the importance of thin.

I finally stopped reading Cosmo a few years ago. I’d gained a few pounds okay, so maybe it was more like thirty) and got weary from seeing these large-breasted, waistless aliens every day as they sat on my end table, beckoning my eyes to keep coming back for more torture. I began to think that something was wrong with me since I’ve never gotten a breast augmentation and men weren’t sending me flowers every Monday and Thursday. I got sick of reading about my improper sex life. Particularly, my inability to have one-night-stands and make every orgasm last a minimum of seven minutes. And no diet that involves a grotesque overabundance of bagels and fruit juice can possibly be good for anyone.

I think I’m better off living my relatively bland life when compared to that of the Cosmo Seductress… I just don’t have the energy.

So one month, I looked at a cover that was smothered with words of men and sex and dieting and thought, “This is absurd! Reading this magazine won’t make me pretty, it won’t improve my sex life, and what difference does it make if my toenails are too long?” I had stopped living in the real world where women do have thighs and sex doesn’t consume 20 hours of an ordinary day. Where men are football-watching, beer-drinking, manly men, not jobless poets driving Rolls Royce’s and filling our apartments with flowers. Where it’s cool to work for a living instead of persuading desperate, wealthy gigolos to buy you dinners, and cars, and houses just because you personify their fantasies.

Maybe I’ve just gotten older, or maybe eliminating Cosmo from my literary diet has made me more comfortable in my own skin, my own sex life, and my own caloric intake. Either way, I think I’m better off living my relatively bland life when compared to that of the Cosmo Seductress. I just don’t have the energy, the legs, or the time, to scamper from obsequious men while wearing a skirt so short and tight that anyone within a mile radius knows when I had my last bikini wax.

As a Badass Chick, you are an intelligent, independent, beautiful woman, confident in your sexuality. But if you have been floating around on the dating scene, you might be asking yourself, “Where have all the good men gone?” From my many years of experience dating, mating, marrying, being friends with and divorcing men, I can tell you: It takes patience to find someone you can respect, whose heart is open to you, and you can be with without driving you up the wall.

Good mate-material is out there. But, while you are looking, don’t waste your time and money on The Dirty Seven. The Dirty Seven are dead-ends and no matter how much hope, love, and denial you throw in their direction, they won’t change. There’s have too much of a pay-off being the rotters they are.

Underlying Problem
The underlying problem with The Dirty Seven is a kind of selfishness that makes them incapable of giving your needs fair play. They lack empathy (the ability to put themselves in your shoes). They are looking for a relationship like you, but they are not capable of sustaining one.

Who are these Guys?
I categorized the Dirty Seven the way the scientist or naturalist describes species of insects or birds. They have stayed true to type for over twenty years of testing in the laboratory of society. Don’t give up your freedom and happiness for these guys. They will always put you and your needs second or last. Read for a brief description of who they are and what you can do about them.

1 ScarMan: Talks continuously about his ex and the past, to the exclusion of everything else, including you. You feel like saying, “Hello! You are out with me!”
If you want to feel first in a man’s heart, throw ScarMan back on the dating beach.

2 SideMan: Married or living with someone but looking for some excitement on the side, with no intention of creating a real relationship.
Walk away and don’t look back. He wants to use you. If it takes a lie, he will lie to get what he wants, without a thought for the pain he causes. Divorce is expensive, he loves his kids, and he wants the best of both worlds. Don’t think he will leave his wife for you.

3 CrazyMan: Has so many quirks, a hospital wing of psychotherapists couldn’t figure him out. He’ll drive you nuts if you give him a long-term try, so don’t start with him.

4 GuyMan: Likes guys better than girls but pretends to be straight. The fact that he is lying to you about it is what makes him one of The Dirty Seven.
Let him go on his journey of discovering his true identity without you.

5 YAPpie: (Young And Poor) have the benefit of youth on their side but not much else: No money and no job prospects. You pay for everything and drive him around too.
Do less for him. He is a species of parasite that survives by living off of women and will move on.

6 OLMan: (Old Loser Man) is the YAPpie, grown older but not wiser. He has not provided for his future. He is looking to you to do that for him. He was lazy, selfish, and clueless in his youth and has remained the same in his old age.
Do not get involved with him until you find out where and how he lives. Go there with him. If he is penniless, especially beware of how he lives.

7 BagMan: Difficult children from different marriages some of whom live with him, multiple alimony payments, and lots of bitterness over past woes are just some of the baggage this man brings to the relationship.
Give up on him before you are left holding the bag.

Good Guys
Let me reiterate, good guys are out there and are worth taking the time to find. The good mate thinks about the “us” before he thinks about himself. The relationship is foremost in his life and he shows you that it is. His life is not about his miserable self, self, self and he wants to do something to make things better in the world instead of being a drain on the system.

He takes care of himself because he has self-respect. Money is not what motivates him. His heart guides him. He lives his life with passion and is not a wound-licking victim or an ego-driven control freak. He understands the territory of love and shares it with you. He appreciates and respects you and you feel a warm glow of happiness when you think of him. He is the exact opposite of all of the Dirty Seven:

� The un-ScarMan: He is not stuck in the past and is here with you, now. He wants to learn about you because he is interested.

� The un-SideMan: He is devoted to you and not lots of chicks on the side. He puts his whole heart into your relationship.

� The un-CrazyMan: He has enough reference in reality to be able to share your world with enthusiasm. He is balanced and rational.

� The un-GuyMan: He is honest about his sexuality and loves you because you are a woman with a woman’s body.

� The un-YAPpie: He can support himself and does not expect you to be a Sugar Mama. He has plans and goals for what he wants from life and how he wants to contribute to others.

� The un-OLMan: He has had a life vision and continues to work on it, even when he is up in years. He can support himself and stays young-at-heart, though he has the wisdom that comes with age and experience.

� The un-BagMan: He might have some baggage, as everyone who has lived has, but he does not inflict it on you so that it takes over your life. He has handled it cleanly and fairly so that it does not keep coming back to haunt him and you.

Be Badass
So don’t be a wimp when one of the Dirty Seven comes your way. Only women with low self-esteem fall for these guys, or continue on with them when they find out what they really are. The Dirty Seven don’t get better. They don’t even want to get better. The payoff for being selfish is great for them. Only the chick loses in this situation. Even the sex sours when you lose complete respect for a man. Assert your Badass Chickness and move on to someone who has the ability to really love you!

Like good scotch, you’d think most of us would prefer our breasts straight up. It would seem self-evident, at least to the vast majority of men, that breasts in and of themselves are good things. And as good things go, you would be justified in asking yourself, how on earth could you improve on an already good thing like the breast?

Some might even argue that after several million years of evolution and the refinement of natural selection, that the female breast has come very near a state of perfection. And in terms of size and shape it would seem that there is an abundance of choice to suit nearly every taste. Generous or petite, perky or pendulous, soft or firm, you would think that there would be a breast to satisfy every penchant, sate every appetite. But you would be wrong.

women have been altering the appearance of their breasts in order to enhance their attractiveness since the dawn of time

Being human it seems antithetical to our nature to leave well enough alone. Part of the human condition it would seem, is a proclivity to tinker. Even with perfection. We just can’t seem to stop ourselves from wanting to gild the lily. Oh to be sure, with the advent of modern science and technology and silicon, industrial giants like Dow-Corning and Dupont have tried to entice us since the sixties that ‘Better Living Through Chemistry” can be extended to the human breast. But breast augmentation is a relative newcomer to an age old human predilection to improve upon that pinnacle of perfection, the female breast. And bigger is not always better.

Their is ample anthropological and archaeological evidence to show that women have been altering the appearance of their breasts in order to enhance their attractiveness since the dawn of time. I am speaking primarily of tattooing, but also of body-painting and piercing. This phenomenon is more widespread than isolated and cuts across many different cultures around the world. Mummies of ancient Egyptian courtesans show that their breasts and bellies were tattooed. Berber women in North Africa still tattoo their breasts with beauty marks to this day. Tattooing of the breasts has been practised by the women of the hill tribes of the Philippines, the Maoris of New Zealand, many of the Polynesians of the South Pacific, and many of the native peoples of North America. It is an extraordinarily common practice.

In modern Western society since the mid-18th century there has even been a significant percentage of the women of the population who have been tattooed and contrary to popular myth, not all of them have been prostitutes or women of easy virtue. When Captain Cook and his crew returned from their voyages to Polynesian, the salons of London and Paris and the other capitals of Europe were abuzz with tales of tattooed savages. Many of Cook’s men, and even his Officer’s, had got tattooed. This craze even extended to member of the upper classes and it was not uncommon for members of the social elite in England to gather after dinner in the great country houses and partially disrobe in order to show off their tattoos. Winston Churchill’s mother, Lady Randolph, or Jenny as she was called by close friends, is known not only to have been tattooed but to have had her nipples pierced.

Even today, particularly in the West where a woman’s breast is seen as a sexual flag, and hence is kept mostly covered, the idea of a tattooed breast is seen by many men as being particularly alluring

If, as many of us would believe, breasts approach perfection, why would so many cultures advocate and encourage their alteration, some might even say mutilation? Like most things in life there is probably no one answer but a number of theories have been put forward. Tattooing in many cultures is a ritual closely tied to the rite of passage from adolescence to adulthood. In both men and women tattooing demonstrated to the rest of the community that the individual tattooed was now an adult, ready to take on an adult role and assume adult responsibilities. The tattooing was a rite that was painful and bloody, a clear demarcation line between childhood and adulthood. For men it meant they were now warriors, expected to protect the community with their lives if necessary. For women it meant they were now sexually mature and ready to bear children.

So why was it necessary to tattoo the breast? Clearly we associate the breast with fertility. The breast is the giver of sustenance, the source of nourishment without which none of us can survive. The breast is life. The breasts are also a powerful sexual signal, a form of mimicry, fleshy lobes evolved from when we first reared ourselves up on two hind legs in the ancient veldt, cleavage destined to remind us in our subconscious of the buttocks we no longer gazed upon in mating as instead we looked deep into each others eyes. Breasts may be life, but breasts are also sex. The breast is such a potent totem in our lives that it is only natural that we would mark them in powerful declarations that define who we are within our own cultures.

So a woman who tattoos her breast is saying not only that she is sexually mature, but also that she is a sexual creature. The tattooed breast, the decorated breast, is a lure. It says look at me. In a world where breasts were once uncovered and commonplace, the breast with the tattoo served to remind the male of the species to look twice. As if we needed prompting. Even today, particularly in the West where a woman’s breast is seen as a sexual flag, and hence is kept mostly covered, the idea of a tattooed breast is seen by many men as being particularly alluring.

Women who have tattoos will tell you many stories of their effect on the opposite sex. Trish, a strikingly attractive business professional in her mid 20’s, says men are nearly uniform in their reactions upon learning she has a tattoo. “They all look at me to see if it’s visible,” she says laughing,” and then they almost always ask me, ‘Where is it?’. As if! Or they’ll look at you coyly and ask, ‘Can I see it?’. And I usually tell them, ‘Only if you’re lucky!’ Trish says she got her tattoos because they had an important symbolic value to her but she doesn’t discount the fact that they make her feel sexy as well. The tattoo on her breast is strategically placed so that she can keep it hidden if she so desires but should she want she can also have it peek out at the world. “There’s no question that if a man sees part of the tattoo,” says Trish with a wink, “that he wants to see the rest. It’s a very powerful feeling.” And no doubt one of the reasons she got her tattoo in the place where she did.

So while the breast itself is a powerful symbol and an extraordinary sexual signal, the tattooed or pierced breast may be even more so. Depending upon your view then, a decorated breast may be a case of gilding the lily, or icing the cake.

Fifteen. I understood so much and so little at that time. At fifteen I made what could have been one of the worst mistakes in my life.

I had just gotten off of work, doing the required penance in fast food that seems to be required of all teenagers. I had changed clothes and had decided to do a quick run to the store across the street before I called my mother to pick me up.

Something that tells us that we may possibly be in danger. But sometimes, we ignore them

I was on my way there when an older man that I had seen several times, stopped his car in front of me. I knew he worked in the area and I had spoken to him once or twice before. He seemed nice enough, but I had always felt slightly uncomfortable around him.

This fellow offered to give me a ride in his car to the store across the street. My head was telling me no. Inside I felt it may be a bad idea, but I didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So I got in the car. It was a few moments ride to the store, but when we got there he didn’t park near the entrance. Again, I started to feel like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. That perhaps I shouldn’t have cared whether it was rude, and I should have rejected his offer.

We made small talk for a few moments, but in those moments he would reach over to touch me. Nothing sexual, but it sent off alarm bells in my head. I didn’t know what his intentions were, but I did know that I wanted out of that car.

I told him I needed to leave him and go to the store. The man offered to drive me home afterwards. I told him no, but he came up with several reasons why I should let him. It was pointless to make my mother drive all the way up to get me. He was planning on taking his new car out for a drive anyway. We could get to know each other better.

Inside my head was screaming, “No, no, no!” I felt bad, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Something was wrong. I didn’t know what it was, but my brain was telling me I had no business being in that car.

I got out of the car and had my mother pick me up at the store.

What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten out of the car? Who is to know? All I knew was that my instincts were telling me that what was happening was wrong. That I had possibly put myself in a dangerous situation and the longer I stayed in it, the more they were going to object.

So often we get these nagging feelings. Feelings that someone or something isn’t quite right. Something that tells us that we may possibly be in danger. But sometimes, we ignore them. We tell ourselves that we are over reacting. We tell ourselves there is nothing to worry about and everything is ok. Ok, with perhaps, the exception of an active imagination.

But why do we get those feelings? Our body isn’t lying to us. Sometimes it knows better then we do.

We’ve heard stories of people who will tell us that a certain person didn’t seem quite right. Things seemed fine on the outside, but for some reason they always made them feel uncomfortable. We hear stories of those same people telling us how that person raped, hurt or abused them.

We hear stories of the stranger that followed to closely out to the empty parking lot. We’ve also heard of the person walking to a more populated place instead of to their car. Why did they do that?

Something told them that things weren’t quite right. They sensed they were in danger, and did what they could to take themselves out of it.

Oftentimes, people will discount their instincts, or anyone else’s. Internal feelings are sometimes cast to the side of things that only psychic’s engage in. No one can possibly know what someone’s intentions are. And they are right. No one can really know. But there is a chance that you could have some idea.

We don’t get these feelings just because we are paranoid. If every fiber in your body is telling you to get out, it is doing it for a reason. It knows there is something wrong, even if we don’t. Sometimes removing yourself from the situation could save your life.

Would anything bad happened to me if I had decided to stay in that car and let that man drive me home? I honestly do not know. Maybe he was just a nice older guy that just wanted to save my mom the trip. Maybe I was being completely irrational about the whole ordeal.

Maybe. But would it really have been worth the risk?.

I’ve had a series of realizations about independence and adulthood that began last year when I woke up clutching a half-eaten turkey leg.

I had been out with several friends last Thanksgiving night seeing a local band and we decided to go back to my apartment for some turkey sandwiches and wine. In a scene worthy of Animal Planet, we discarded the whole sandwich idea and ripped into the bird like vultures on a carcass. The song “Illegal Alien” by Genesis began playing on the radio and we started dancing in a circle around the coffee table. “The sun is shining so I head for the park with a bottle of Tequila and a new pack of cigarettes.” Soon, turkey parts became instruments — legs were maracas, breasts became guitars, a thigh was a triangle.

“It’s no wonder I was seated at the kid’s table today,” my friend said, drumming the air with a turkey leg.

Little clusters of “no shits” erupted around the room and people began sharing their we moved out, rented those tiny city apartments that always seem to reek of potatoes, paid our bills, and still managed to go out four-to-five nights a week experiences as the renegade diners at the holiday table. As I was having a flashback of a four-year-old passing me the cranberry sauce that afternoon, one of my friends launched into a horrific story of how she was accosted during dessert after talking about the trip she’d just taken to Spain.

“I guess that’s what you can do when you wait so long to have children,” a smarmy cousin slurred.

Similar insolence had befallen the others.

When another friend began talking about her plans to see a local band that night, she was assaulted with sighs. “When are you going to get it out of your system?”

A family member asked my 33-year-old male friend if he were planning on getting engaged to his long-time girlfriend. When he informed his fellow diners they’d recently broken up, he was met with eye rolls and groans. “When are you going to grow up and settle down?”

Realization #1: I realized my friends — men and women in their 20s and 30s, all of different personalities and energies — shared a common trait. While they all owned their own homes, had fantastic careers and social lives, they were somehow not perceived as fully-evolved adults.

In an age when we’re supposedly oh-so-enlightened, it’s appalling that certain stigmas are still attached to people – both single and married — who don’t conform to a certain lifestyle. We’re all on the “birth, school, work, death” path the Godfathers so eloquently sang about, but there are unlimited ways to fill the spaces in between. The only theory we could derive from some of our relatives’ comments was that in order to be viewed as true adults, we needed to develop an aversion to live music, move to a pre-fab neighborhood in the suburbs and abandon all sense of fashion.

Are people who finish college and move in to Greg Brady-esque hideaways in their parents’ homes “more adult” than those who have lived on their own? You know the type – they are the secret squirrels that hide their co-dependence behind separate phone lines but actually live in pimped-up versions of their childhood bedrooms until they get married.

Realization #2: Marriage isn’t necessarily Miracle Gro for maturity. Just because someone walks down the aisle earlier in life, he/she doesn’t suddenly develop clearer judgment, accept criticism more gracefully, or become more accountable for his/her mistakes.

An old co-worker of mine got married at 23 and had three children by 30. For years, I envied him for knowing exactly what he wanted at such a young age. When I spotted him recently at a bar downtown, sitting on a stool and relieving himself into a pint glass, the awe seeped away and things became clearer. Still, I am sure this genius scores a place at the adult table every year.

Realization #3: The price of independence is indeed high. Tackling the responsibilities and challenges of living on your own are indeed a measure of maturity that should be lauded, not disparaged.

To me, adulthood is all about self-reliance. Most of my friends and I have lived on our own since we were 21. During the recession of the early 90s, we supported My friend came bursting into a party last week declaring she’d “hit the mother load” and began tossing out Bonne Bell watermelon lip gloss. It was a great night ourselves and our bad habits with temp jobs – some of which were truly ghastly. One particularly heinous assignment involved dressing up like the CopyCop in a royal blue leotard, a red cape and a giant British policeman’s hat, and handing out coupons in downtown Boston.

Despite some of the horrors, we moved out, rented those tiny city apartments that always seem to reek of potatoes, paid our bills, and still managed to go out four-to-five nights a week, make it to work (almost) every day, and rent a house on Nantucket each summer. Of course, everyone was looking for love but nobody was sitting around making gimp bracelets waiting for their spouses to arrive before their lives could begin.

Realization #4: It is possible to grow up and retain your spirit. There’s something to be said for spreading out milestones and letting the phases of life flow into one another. I’m not saying you should blare the Ghetto Boys or spark one up in the baby’s room, but you get the picture.

Let’s face it, there are some people — a blur of Jagermeister and most pits behind them — who today spend their Friday nights at Pampered Chef parties. Some would call this “growing up.” But, of course, we all know that is complete bullshit. It’s a matter of taste, not maturity. The people who would rather die than miss Radiohead are not any less mature than their Pampered Chef counterparts. One person may have a penchant for bathroom tile and topiaries and another may prefer to decorate her home with Star Wars PEZ dispensers — Neither should be considered any less of an adult for the way she chooses to live her life.

My friend Kelley came bursting into a party last week declaring she’d “hit the mother load” and began tossing out Bonne Bell watermelon lip gloss (ages six and up) to all of her friends. It was a great night.

When I got married, some spooky Stepfords that used to work in my building were shocked that I didn’t begin hurtling toward housecoats and stop staying out past 9 p.m. My husband and I enjoy ourselves immensely but people instantly labeled us DINKS (double-income-no-kids) because they figured we must have been dancing around with lampshades on our heads five nights a week since we didn’t have children. WTF.

Realization #5: There will always be judgmental sourpusses who live to dish out their disapproval. Most of us would just as soon leap into the bathtub with a curling iron than change places with these miserable folks.

I recently mastered houseplants and have moved on to wildflowers and a pug. I revel in the fact that I have a lot to look forward to. In the meantime, I plan to expend my energy seeing bands twice a week, going for tapas and cocktails after work, and occasionally stumbling in at 3 a.m. And if I happen to wake up with a piece of poultry in my hand again, I’ll deal with it – like an adult — and keep it to myself.

It’s already summertime and that New Years’ resolution you vowed so dilligently to keep has long been violated. Since the morning of January 1st, with coffee and a bagel, the cigarettes have never stopped. After all, how can you be expected not to smoke the morning after 9 beers, 4 martinis and a glass of champagne? Now some six months after, facing that dirty ashtray of crumpled butts, you’re beginning to rethink your options. “How am I going to quit?” you ask yourself. Cold turkey? The Patch? Nicotine gum? These expensive options have helped many stop smoking, but there are other all-natural options. Here’s are 6 easy tips that worked for me and my friends. They may sound weird or unremarkable, but will definitely give you the fighing edge against the Nicotine blues.

One of the reasons that many people revert back to smoking after they quit is in order to stop the inevitable weight gain

1) Make a plan to smoke less cigarettes per day. “Well, obviously,” you’re thinking, “And how do I do that without going crazy?” One way to approach this is to buy about 1-3 packs of cigarettes (depending on how much you smoke per day) and make yourself daily allowance packs. In each pack write yourself a motivational note about why you need to stop smoking, the more personal the better. Make yourself enough packs to last for about a week or so, with each day decrease the number of cigarettes in your pack until eventually, on the last day, there is only one. For example, if you smoke about a pack a day, your first day’s allowance will be 20 cigarettes. The next day 18, then 16, and so on, until 8 days later you will have 2 in your daily allowance pack. Then add one day with only 1 cigarette in your pack. The motivational note for this day should be as harsh as possible. Had a relative that passed away from lung cancer? Include their picture in this day’s message.

2) Keep a calendar. Keeping a calendar of how long you’ve been “smoke-free” is a big motivation. As with dieting and weight training, one of the most important things you can do is keep a daily log of your progress. An excellent tool for this is the Silk Quit meter available at SilkQuit.com. This Windows 95/98/NT/2000 tool runs in your system tray and provides real-time stats of how long it’s been since you quit, the number of cigarettes you didn’t smoke, the money you saved, and the amount of time you added to your life by quitting. You’ll also find lots of tips and motivational information at the Silk Quit Web site as well.

3) Use herbal supplements. There are many all-natural herbal remedies out here claiming to be as powerful as the Patch or Nicorette gum. Before shelling out $49.95 as a last ditch effort, try visiting your local nutrition or health food store first. The two main herbs that provide comfort during your nicotine withdrawal are Lobelia and St. John’s Wort. Lobelia is a respiratory tonic, which stimulates the respiratory system and provides the body with an effect similar to that caused by Nicotine. It is available in liquid, bulk and capsule form. Lobelia is best taken after you quit. As a liquid tincture you can place a couple of drops under your tongue or in a hot tea whenever you feel the “urge.”

St. John’s Wort, on the other hand, provides calming properties to help fight the edgy effects and stress caused by the quitting. Not too long ago prescribed by doctors as the all-natural alternative to Prozac, St. John’s Wort is also a helpful tool against the incessant edginess. Like its pharmaceutical counterpart, St. John’s Wort needs time to build up the chemicals in the brain� generally 2-3 weeks. You should start taking St. John’s Wort (according to the directions on the bottle) about 2 weeks before you plan to quit. It is also available in liquid, bulk, and capsule form.

The liquid tinctures are probably the fastest acting and most potent form of these herbs. You can also buy them in bulk at many natural food stores for making hot tea. They taste like crap though, so be sure to cook them combined with some tasty herbal or peppermint tea. Believe it or not, these herbs do actually help.

I found the best trick is to brew your tinctures or bulk herbs along with a few teabags of Bigelow� Peppermint Tea. It’s very minty and covers the displeasing tastes of the other ingredients quite nicely. Starbuck’s TAZO Passion Tea works very well also for a few bucks more.

4) Get support. There are many message boards and support groups available on the Internet. The best thing you can do is share your thoughts with others who have quit and are trying to quit smoking. If you have a significant other, ask their support as well, perhaps have them write some of your motivational notes included in your daily allowance packs.

5) Don’t stress about weight gain. One of the natural side-effects of denying your body any drug, is weight-gain. The average cigarette smoker gains an average of 10lbs after quitting without any changes in eating habits. One of the reasons that many people revert back to smoking after they quit is in order to stop this inevitable weight gain. It is important to conentrate on your methods for quitting smoking and accept that a small amount of weight gain is completely normal. Remember, only one battle at a time. After you quit, there will be plenty of opportunity to shed those unwanted pounds. Continue to eat normally and don’t replace one binge with another.

6) Change your daily routines. Another thing to take into consideration is the bar scene and other times you associate with having a cigarette. For the first several weeks, you might want to avoid situations in which cigarettes are especially *tasty*. Find substitutions for these times and situations until your cravings are not as strong. As far as the bar scene, it is highly recommended to avoid it, at least in the beginning. Once you are drinking, your resolve will plummet and you will most likely light up. If you really enjoyed cigarettes with your daily coffee, then drink less coffee. After sex? How about just breathing deep as you lay next to your partner (or plastic friend) and being thankful you are not as winded as you normally would be.

It’s a tough battle to fight, and no one ever said that quitting smoking was easy. If you stick to your guns, however, the battle can be won. Use the tips and tools above to help give yourself the winning edge you’ll need to quit and you’ll end up victorious. Remember that lots of others have successfully quit smoking too, so why not you?

Picture if you will: You’re in an airport with lots of people milling around, rushing to their destinations, dragging their luggage along with them wherever they go. Some people have 3 suitcases and actually have to rent a cart, where others merely have a briefcase. But these items go with them wherever they go.

Why do we allow the past to dictate the way we deal with things in the future?

I’ve created this image in your mind to illustrate a point. This is how we go about our lives every day. Only the luggage represents the emotional baggage that we carry with us everywhere we go. Look around…….some of us are sporting a mere briefcase, while others are out there renting carts.

I’m here to address those cart renters — both men and women. I would like to pose a question to all of you out there: Why do we do it? Why do we allow the past to dictate the way we deal with things in the future?

It is really upsetting when I’m interested in a person who, on the surface, seems to have it all together. Then, after some time has passed and I’ve gotten to know them better, I discover that there are “intimacy issues” and that this person can only get so deep — the term “emotionally unavailable” comes to mind. Usually this is as a result of some girl that they fell hard for in the past turning on them like a wet cat. This has manifested itself in their psyche so deeply that they harbor preconceived notions about me and how our relationship will unfold — the relationship is doomed from the get-go.

During the past month, in speaking with friends and acquaintances, both men and women alike, I have come to the conclusion that the post-relationship dynamic has a remarkable effect on whether we develop a “barricade” towards the next relationship. In other words, if you are cordial with your ex after the breakup, even enjoying a friendship stemming out of respect and genuine affection, then you’re more likely to be able to receive a new relationship without any emotional strings attached. (A notable exception would be an ex who abused you or abused drugs, or blatantly cheated on you with hundreds of others.)

It might not be wise to get on the phone and start calling all of your ex’s in the hopes that you’ll be able to purge this baggage. Some would consider that stalking. But, you may want to resolve yourself to being cordial or even friendly the next time you see him or her — and really mean it. Wouldn’t it be nice to not be caught in an uncomfortable situation for a change? That resolution alone would be enough to absolve you.

So, when you find yourself in that “Airport” of life, and you’re just getting off of that “Relationship Airplane,” try something different for a change…….skip that baggage carousel and tear up that baggage claim ticket! It won’t be easy, but later on, you’ll be glad you did.

Let’s face it, ladies, it’s no picnic out there. We’ve all dated our share of buffoons….and the prospect of dating more is enough to make you hole up in your living room with a stack of videos, a pizza and a bottle of Tequila.

In the past, I had been dating men up to 10 years older than myself with catastrophic results. A lot of older men seem to have emotional problems stemming from a previous relationship that ended badly — in other words, they’ve been “wrecked” already. As a woman, you don’t see this right away because they hide it with a false sense of confidence. But, I assure you that sooner or later it will rear its ugly head — either by virtue of a drunken confession or erectile dysfunction. Hopefully you will not be emotionally invested by this time and want to “help” this person……RUN, don’t walk, to the nearest exit. Consider yourself lucky that you have dodged this bullet.

it’s nice to have someone around that reminds you of that reckless abandon that you once had in your twenties

When a friend suggested to me that I meet a friend of hers, I balked. He was 10 years my junior and I couldn’t see what we could possibly have in common. She said that he had NO BAGGAGE. Well, needless to say, that piqued my curiosity. Baggage was a big issue with me. I had dealt with mine and was not in the mood to deal with anyone else’s.

Over the course of the last few months, my attitude has changed drastically. The amount of things that we had in common surprisingly indicated how young at heart I really was. Instead of feeling old by comparison, I felt young by compatibility. And the SEX!!! Oh my god!! I’ve never gone through an entire economy pack of Trojans inside of a week in my life! I felt no guilt skipping the treadmill on more than one occasion.

Younger men seem more eager to please……they put you on a pedestal and you are revered. As you approach what is alleged as your female sexual peak in your mid to late thirties, you need someone that can keep up with you……both mentally and physically. But also, it’s nice to have someone around that reminds you of that reckless abandon that you once had in your twenties, a “joie de vivre” as they say.

So, my fellow Bad Ass Chicks, the next time you’re at that nightclub or sports event and you catch that seemingly adolescent-looking man staring at you from across the room — don’t write him off just yet. It takes an emotionally secure and confident male to appreciate, let alone approach, mature and lovely women such as ourselves. Give him a few minutes of your time. You might be pleasantly surprised at what you find.

Many old souls come in young packages

Many attempts have been made to refute the advancements of technology. These days modern purists tell us that it is the downfall of civilization, and the certain ultimate cause of our demise. This may be true, however, I have a story to tell about one of it’s advantages.

The Internet is the most vast form of mass communication available today. Millions of users laugh, surf, play, cry, and masturbate each day. You read articles of how people meet and fall in love over the Internet, find long lost siblings, birth parents, and soul mates. Did I ever think that I would emotionally prosper from such a vessel? Find a deep, sincere and everlasting love? Of course not.

Then one day …she found me.

So one day while surfing I found this link on Sinnocence.com to a place called Badasschick. I thought the name sounded cool, so I went and checked it out. I thought “Wow, about time there was a place that wasn’t angry women but self-assured, confident and gorgeous women.” Or the other spectrum, guys ranking on It was almost saddening becoming so close … especially since she lived 2000 miles away women. So I wandered around, reading articles, looking at the pictures and thought “I am going to mention this site on MY Web site.” So I looked around for an image to use and found a cool postcard of some of the girls’ butts in a row. Being the conscientious person that I am, I sent an email to badasschick.com to let them know I was using the image on my server and if they wanted me to remove it, to please let me know.

I got this email from someone named Kim asking permission to use an image from Badasschick.com as a linkback on her page. I saw no harm in it, so I obliged. The address to her Web site appeared in the footer of her mail, so I decided to pay it a visit. I poked around reading some of her thoughts, viewing her images, etc. In the next several days, I received some more emails, about articles she posted on other sites saying how she enjoyed Badsasschick.com. Remembering that I saw her ICQ number on her site, I decided to add her to my list to thank her for her comments.

Then I get an ICQ from some guy named AngryGuy, saying he is with Badasschick. I thought “Hmm kinda wierd, a guy saying he is with BadassCHICK.?” He seemed harmless enough, and so we started talking. Mostly about Badasschick and internet / Web site shit. He seemed pretty knowledgable and seeing as I am always looking to learn new stuff, I picked his brain and asked his opinion about a few things. That, I guess, is how we started our friendship:) We seemed to have quite a bit in common…and sure enough, before long, we were talking about more personal things like tastes in music, movies, and websites.

After talking to her for a while, things between us started to change. We had lots of things in common, but it was more than than just movies and music. Deeper things. Things about human behavior, theories, future goals. It was then that I started seeing her a little differently. Never had I met someone whose words were spoken so much like my own. We talked on the phone, exchanged pictures, and much more. It was almost saddening becoming so close … especially since she lived 2000 miles away. Then one day we messaged each other while I was getting ready to leave to go on a cruise. It was then she sent me an MP3 that REALLY touched my heart. The whole time I was in the Bahamas, I missed seeing her on ICQ, or hearing her voice. It was torturous.

When he went on that cruise to the Bahamas with his neice, I realized I had really missed him. When he got back, he sent me an email – but it was the picture attached to it that touched me. He wrote in the white Bahamian sand “Wish you were here” and took a picture of it to send me. It was the small things he did like that which made me smile. The MP3 I sent him was from a CD I had not listened to in quite some time. I popped it in on the way to work just before he left for the cruise. There was a song on that CD which I hadn’t heard before. (See what happens when you buy a CD for one song!) Before it even heard 30 seconds of it, I cried and thought “My God, this is about HIM.” That’s when it all just fell into place for me. In that one moment in my truck, on my way to work. I can’t explain it any other way. It all felt right.

I was working on my computer with a client looking over my shoulder when I received a message from Kim. Of course we playfully tossed around the idea of her leaving the We only met two months prior, and via email. Will he make me feel in real life like he did in the messages and emails and phone calls? snow-ridden mountains to be with me here in the tropics, but it was the contents of her message that grabbed my heart and squeezed it. The message said: “Say the word, and I won’t go into work tomorrow. I’ll pack my stuff, get in my truck, and just drive.” I calmly excused myself from my client, grabbed my cordless phone, and rushed to the bathroom where I frantically called one of my best friends (and BAC editor) Crystal for advice. She said, “Take a chance. Do what you feel is right.” I knew that what I felt WAS right. Everything with Kim was so “right” that it was scary. I sent her a message back … It said: “Yes baby, yes. Come to me.”

I was going crazy…I told him to “Say the word” and he wasn’t answering. I thought, “Oh, Lord, I blew it.” So I sat there patiently, at my desk, at a job I don’t care a lot about, just holding my breath and praying. When his message finally came through … I thought I would just about burst into tears. It all felt right. I quit my job on the spot, went home and started packing my stuff. I touched many things that day that meant a lot to me. I knew I couldn’t fit everything into my truck, so I said my goodbyes to most of my stuff. I left behind a lot of my past and a lot of things that had meaning and were a part of me. I knew that what really meant the most to me was waiting for me 2000 miles away. I packed all night and in the very early hours of Thanksgiving Day 2000, Bear and I began our journey…

Not that I was a dirty pig or anything, but I spent the next four days cleaning my house, getting rid of all my old crap, and clearing closet space. I packed my long-empty bachelor pad refrigerator with more food that it had ever seen. I bought flowers, got a haircut, and fixed all of the dead light bulbs. I was preparing for a new life. The whole time I felt such anxiety. “What if she didn’t like me more than a friend?” “What if she wasn’t the same person in the pictures?” “What if there was no attraction or chemistry?” I was a wreck .. especially the last 30 minutes before I was expecting her. I decided to do some work on my PC to pass the time, and then a “knock.” I ran to the door and swung it open. She was more beautiful than I could have ever hoped.

“Goddamn, it’s humid.” Those were the first words that came out of my mouth. I had just sat in my truck, at a 7-11 less than ten minutes away, thinking over and over – what AM i going to say when he opens the door? “Goddamn, it’s HUMID” is what all that careful thought afforded me. Four days and nights, I drove and ate and sat in hotel hot tubs. I could not help but wonder if I was doing the right thing. We only met two months prior, and via email. Will he make me feel in real life like he did in the messages and emails and phone calls? Will I like him? Will he really like me like I felt he did? And it was the same answer to every question. YES, this is it, this is what some only dream about, and I am DOING it! He answered the door, our eyes met, I said that silly thing about the humidity and we both laughed and hugged each other and it was…perfect.

I was a firm disbeliever in the power of the Internet to unite people. How could a person possibly fall in love with someone through email and phone calls? I heard all the stories and still thought it was bullshit created by scripted afternoon talk shows. I was online romance’s greatest nemesis, and then it happened to me. So next time you write off that person with the weird handle that adds you to their ICQ contact list, remember this story … The Internet is a strange and wonderful thing.

Driving along the highway today, there was an accident on the side of the road. There were three people in business suits standing by their wrecked cars talking on their cell phones. Behind them was a huge Jaguar/Mercedes dealership. I drove by, glanced over, and it just seemed weird. I mean the whole cell phone thing. Yeah, it’s convenient, but sometimes I have to wonder if it’s really worth it. Had this been twenty years ago, perhaps those men would have had to enter that dealership for help … to use a telephone. Forced to interact with others during their plight, who knows what fate could have had in store for them? Maybe they would have even made a lifelong friend from the experience … or two. There are endless possibilities that might have occurred from that accident. Instead they stand there speaking on their cell phones … segregated from humanity. I’m left wondering if maybe technology keeps us from experiencing what we deserve.

it’s difficult not to get caught up in the whirlwind, to feel centered and really know what’s impor-tant in life

I was in the mall and walked past two girls who were shopping together and each on their cell phones talking to someone else. Not to mention all the people on the road who are fighting with lovers, talking about business or just bullshitting on the phone while driving 20 miles an hour. I disconnected my cell phone over a year ago and guess what, I lived. Yes, sometimes it’s a pain in the ass but not as much as the responsibility of having one.

This whole thing got me thinking even more. Are we ever alone? Without TV, without music, without each other, phones, computers, etc. Sometimes I get so caught up in it all myself. Instant gratification. I get pissed if the gas machine tells me to see the cashier and I have to actually walk inside instead of using my credit card. Then I feel like an asshole because I can remember when that wasn’t a luxury that we had. I get pissed at the old lady who’s driving slowly in front of me and meanwhile, she’s probably in her car terrified of traffic and I’ll be there too someday.

I haven’t had TV for almost a year now. Wow, that can suck when you need a distraction. Especially if your going through a break up or other emotionally draining experience. I find that when I have TV, I turn it on all the time. It becomes a habit and I spend many nights of my life watching someone else live in a fake world. But it’s not just technology that gives us instant gratification. I mean look at relationships these days. If they don’t give you what you need you get divorced. Easy as pie. Shit, you buy the papers at an office supply store. Isn’t that fucked up? Women feel they need to go and get breast enlargements to have self-esteem, men get hair implants and it goes on and on. Everyone is just hoping that they will be more to someone than just an instant gratification. I’ve lived in a city all my life except for one year I moved into the mountains. What a difference. I’m back in the city now, and it’s difficult not to get caught up in the whirlwind – to feel centered and really know what’s important in life. I know these are just thoughts and people may think I’m a fucking weirdo but I’m grateful for these thoughts. I’d hate to be the person that can’t get in the car without calling someone, who has to have plastic surgery to know they’re beautiful, who watches TV shows all night almost every night, who goes from relationship to relationship because they’re too insecure with themselves, and who has to be on the computer until 4:00 in the morning because they can’t sleep naturally.

At the same time, I’m on a computer right now writing from my soul and telling my thoughts to people I don’t know and will never meet, but am also connected to in some way. I have seen people fall in love over the internet, cell phones save lives, breast enlargements help mastectomy patients. I’ve seen a TV show lighten someone’s spirit who was crying so hard inside, they might have lost all hope. I’ve seen a failed relationship open the door to a new wonderful one. I guess it’s all just perspective � And of course, moderation. I will tell you this: thoughts like these keep you real … but only if you listen to them.

It’s 3:00AM Christmas night. The festivities were good and my boyfriend and I laid in bed trying to get to sleep. Suddenly a crashing sound … like a derailing freight train filled my ears. I got up and walked towards the kitchen only to see a hammer smash through the window … then an axe handle rolled around the edges of the window frame. “What?” I asked myself … “We are being robbed!”

“Eddie wake up!” I yelled. My boyfriend jumped to his feet switching on the lights. A lone figure, wearing a ski mask and carrying a hammer and axe handle, leaped in through our kitchen window. Immediately he threw the hammer at me. I ducked as the hammer crashed in to the wall … then he began to swing the axe handle. He caught me in the arm and Eddie in the shoulder. I tried to grab the handle from him, but he was too fast. I noticed two more figures standing just outside the window. I didn’t know what the plans were for us, but suddenly I felt fear flush over me like a cold washcloth.

I must have struck him with that hammer twenty times, using all of my might.

Eddie ran to the living room and grabbed the phone to call 911 … I yelled to him to grab the hammer laying on the ground but he did not hear me. I don’t know what happened to me. The rush of adrenaline, the sweat on my forehead, the absolute fear that we may be killed gripped me like a claw. Did the guys outside the window have guns? Were they coming in next? Everything slowed … my senses, my vision – the room started looking like a black and white dime cinema. I don’t know what came over me … I grabbed the hammer, turned to the intruder and charged him. He went to swing at me with the axe handle but I was too fast. I swung the hammer at his face with all my force, but he ducked and crouched into a ball. Eddie saw my attack and followed grabbing a steel barstool we had just received for Christmas. I pounded him in the back of the neck with the hammer, and every time I reached up collecting my strength, Eddie struck him on the head with the barstool. After Eddies first blow the ski mask pulled down over his eyes. Now our assailant could not see. Like a beggar on his knees he tried swinging the axe handle from his position on the ground, but without any leverage or strength, I easily disarmed him. I must have struck him with that hammer twenty times, using all of my might. Eddie’s blows met him also and soon the ski mask lay on the floor. The intruder tried to crawl up under the dining room table, but Eddie grabbed his leg and pulled him out. I was so frantic I began to yell “Tonight you’re gonna die mother fucker!” his eyes widened. The new barstool was now bent into a piece of nouveau art, and my hands were bruised and sore from the shock of the hammer. Every time the intruder tried to get up I lunged him against the wall where Eddie’s barstool met with his head. The entire process seemed like an eternity but I know lasted only a few moments.

The intruder used what must have been his last reserve of strength to run to the window from which he came, diving through it like Pete Rose for Home base. Beaten, he couldn’t make it out on his own. His two companions tried to pull him out, but Eddie and I each had one of his legs. “Oh no …. motherfucker … you broke into the wrong Goddamned house tonight!” I yelled like a mad woman. The rage I felt was enormous, and I spat with each word. One of the other intruders lunged a metal poker through the window at me , but I grabbed it and yanked on it hard, disarming him. With that move, our burglar managed to escape – his friends pulling him through the broken window frame over the broken shards of glass. They fled down the street like insolent children being called home for dinner. Breathing heavily and shaking with anger, I surveyed the room.

There was broken glass, a smashed barstool, a ski mask, a hammer, an axe handle and a metal poker scattered about our living room and kitchen. The intruder who attempted to steal, rape, kill whatever, had been disarmed, beaten, and defeated. His companions shocked. Eddie said that I looked like a crazed psychopath during the entire event. I picked up his ski mask and clutched it in my hand as the sound of sirens and flashes of blue light filtered in through the broken window. I couldn’t believe what we had done. Looking back now it must have seemed like some kind of Cohen Brothers’ comedy, but that night was scary as hell. And I sure wasn’t going to meet my demise without a fight. However after all is said and done, and we are both safe and uninjured, I can truly say that it feels good to kick ass!

Ladies if you haven’t dated one of these little pricks then consider yourself either really smart or really lucky. Unfortunately, I have had two too many of these assholes in my life. The first time I was only 18 and I didn’t know shit. The second time I was on the rebound and decided to overlook my first impression. Which by the way was “HUGE EGO”. If I can shed some light on this subject and help you dump the arrogant fuck you’re with or help you avoid getting involved with one, then justice has been done.

It isn’t hard to pick one of these guys out in a crowd because he’ll be the one who … next time you see a man that is arrogant and “cocky”, he’s probably making up for the slack between his legs, walks in a room like he’s a big stud thinking, “Ok ladies, I’m here, start creaming”. If you feel good about yourself and you’re not on the rebound then most likely he won’t pick you anyway. He likes to pick wounded birds so he can feel like a man and when things go wrong he can say how he always gets women with baggage. And even if he does pick you and you decide to date him for some unknown reason he won’t be able to keep you around anyway because you’ll make him feel way too insecure.

If you spot a guy like this I want you to imagine him carrying a huge bag of shit on his back. Trust me. It’s there. You may not see it, but looks can be deceiving. Then imagine him dumping it all over you because he will. Everything will be all your fault because he doesn’t have any. Wow, a perfect human being! Aren’t you lucky to have been blessed by his presence. I don’t fucking think so.

Now, let’s say you are involved with “EGO MAN”. Hmmmm, what kind of traits does he have? First of all, he’s very shallow. He doesn’t even know it. He really thinks he’s a great guy on the surface. But inside he knows he doesn’t really have much to offer except his looks. Most of them aren’t even good in bed because it’s all about them. If you don’t orgasm enough he’ll make it out to be something wrong with you. I actually had a guy like this tell me while having sex with me that the other girls he slept with had 3 orgasms. I just thought to myself, “why, not only is your dick small but you’re not even good at using it”. They must have been really hard up, faking it, or he was really full of shit. These guys also can’t handle you getting any attention from other men. If you look too hot when you go out he’ll blame you for flirting or dressing up to impress other guys. Again, it’s all you. Basically, if you’re not kissing his ass 24 7 then you will be doing something wrong. Last, he will usually get really angry whenever his ego gets bruised and most likely he’ll be mean during this time to bring you down with him so he can again, feel like a big strong man. Control is the key with these guys. They have to be in control at all times.

Otherwise, their issues may come up. If you’re in a relationship and you feel like everything you do is wrong then either you’re right or someone is dumping that stinky ass bag all over you. The best thing to do is ask your friends. My friends have always been right. Every time. It’s very hard to see things clearly sometimes when you’re involved with someone. But most of all, listen to yourself. If you feel like yourself esteem is dropping by the second then you need to take some responsibility and get out. Yeah, he may be really nice and loving at times but so are wife beaters. That’s how they keep you hooked. A relationship should enhance your self esteem even more. Your spirit should soar. If it doesn’t it’s ok. We all make mistakes. We all get involved at times with someone we shouldn’t whether it’s friends, coworkers, or a mate. But it’s up to you to take care of yourself. You see, everything is very simple to these guys. Or I should say again, SHALLOW. You won’t be able to have any problems like the rest of the world because he doesn’t think he has any. He’ll say how confident and secure he is but he’s the one who can’t be alone. He will always be dating someone, stringing someone along or have an ex on the back burner. Being alone gives him too much time to be with himself. And he sucks! His friends won’t have a clue. Most of them will think he’s a stud. But we know better now don’t we ladies? Remember next time you see a man that is arrogant and “cocky”, he’s probably making up for the slack between his legs. In closing I hope this article helps a woman get the fuck out of a very destructive relationship. And for the rest of you, I hope you get a good laugh!

I have come to the conclusion that I am one horny bitch. I can’t believe that I really have 5 years to go until my sexual peak. That can’t possibly be true. My entire life I’ve been hearing and reading about this magical sexual awakening that is supposed to happen in my early thirties. I wondered how much of this cliche was fact and how much of it was fiction. So I set out to find the answers by harassing every woman I know that is over the age of thirty. Here are some of the answers I received to the question: “Do you really hit your sexual peak when you turn thirty?”

“I don’t think I’ve hit mine yet. I seem to get hornier every year.” -Kim (Web designer)

“The older I got, the more comfortable I became with my sexuality. I definitely think I hit my the peak in my thirties.” -Jasmine (school teacher)

“That’s an awfully personal question. I don’t really think that’s any of your business.” -Doris (the 65 year old accountant at work)

“I just had my thirtieth birthday, and let me tell you�I can’t get laid enough.” -Sue (massage therapist)

“When I was younger I always enjoyed sex, but I felt a little inhibited. Now I just let go and do whatever I want. The sex is so much better now. ” -Christy (Saleswoman)

“Yeah, I guess so.” -a stranger at a bar (gives me a funny look. I get the impression she thinks that I want to pick her up) “Every year my appetite for sex grows. I don’t think my peak was thirty, I think thirty-three was a much better year. Hell, so far thirty-five isn’t bad either” -Sheri (administrative assistant)

“I guess that depends on your definition of peak. I was my horniest in my twenties, but I’ve been enjoying the sex a lot more since I turned thirty. Maybe it has something to do with finally knowing what I want and not wasting my time with holding back.” -Sarah (personal trainer)

Every woman that I spoke with said that their sexual desires or their physical pleasure increased with age. I don’t know how much of this phenomenon is biological and how much of it is mental. I don’t really care. All I can say is that I can’t wait to turn thirty.

Very few men can use a cheesy line without making themselves look like a complete tool. If you are not a handsome supermodel, famous actor or gluten for punishment I suggest you avoid overused lines and stick with a simple introduction. At least you won’t get laughed at. Well, you might, but your chances are better if you don’t throw out a lame come on she’s heard a million times. The dating Coming on too strong too soon is a definite no no scene is tough for everyone, but you poor guys seem to have it even tougher than we do. So here are some helpful hints about what to say to an attractive stranger.

First of all, be realistic, if she’s on the cover of this month’s playboy and you just graduated from high school with the title “most likely to make some one puke,” leave her alone. You’re only going to get rejected and make her uncomfortable. Don’t look for ways to humiliate yourself. Find some one in your own league or you’re doomed to fail. That doesn’t necessarily mean lower your standards, it just means don’t go for someone who you know would never talk to you. It’s a waste of her time and yours. Look for a friendly face, some one who is smiling and appears open to conversation, but isn’t in one currently. I can’t stress this enough guys…don’t interrupt her if she’s in the middle of a conversation with her friends. It’s annoying and rude. You’ll lose points right off the bat, and she won’t be able to get rid of you fast enough. Find a place next to her at the bar or by her table and wait patiently for her to finish. That doesn’t mean hover like a desperate vulture. Nothing turns a woman off more than the desperate vibe. Play it cool, like that’s just where you happen to be hanging out and she has nothing to do with it. When she’s finished talking to her friends try to make eye contact and smile. If she gives you a funny look and turns away, don’t bother. If she smile and looks receptive say “hi”. Depending on your environment you can either ask her to dance or introduce yourself.

Be confident but not cocky, friendly but not weird and try not to be the walking hard-on. If by some miracle you get her to dance with you DON’T GRIND HER!!! There is nothing I hate more than some stranger trying to rub his little hard-on all over my leg. That goes for you retards who try to come up behind unsuspecting groups of girls on the dance floor! No one wants to feel your erection, put it away.

Remember, a woman’s first instinct is to try to get rid of you. We get all dressed up to get your attention, and we want you to look at us, but we want you to leave us alone at the same time. Don’t ask me�I don’t understand it either. We’re a strange bunch. The only way to make us want to talk to you is to either be very funny (women love a man who can make them laugh), or attractive and intelligent. We’re like you in a lot of ways. We want someone with a good personality and a nice physical appearance, just like you do. We can get past the superficial stuff when we get to know you, but we’re not going to want to get to know you if you’re feeding us overused lines. Be spontaneous, say something funny, but real. Smile in a warm, non-threatening way. Don’t be overly aggressive or overtly sexual. Coming on too strong too soon is a definite no no. Most of all, be original. Below is a list of pickup lines that have been beaten to death. They’re not only bad because we’ve heard them before, they’re just plain bad. Avoid them like the plague. Good luck, I hope you get laid.

1. That outfit looks great on you, but it would look better on my bedroom floor.
2. Can I borrow thirty-five cents? I told my mom I’d call her when I met the girl of my dreams.
3. Was your father a thief? Because someone stole the stars from the skies and placed them in your eyes.
4. Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
5. I lost my number. Can I borrow yours?
6. Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only 10 I see.
7. Would you like to have breakfast tomorrow? Should I call you or nudge you?
8. If I told you that you have a great body would you hold it against me?
9. Do you have any Italian (insert the ethnic background of your choice) in you? Do you want some?
10. Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.
11. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?
12. They should rewrite the alphabet, because u and I should be together.
13. You have great legs. What time do they open?
14. There are 206 bones in the human body. Would you like another one?
15. Call me Fred Flintstone, because I’ll make your bed rock

This article is primarily for all those badass chicks out there who want to or already do ride motorcycles, but you men need to pay attention to this too. About three years ago I became friends with some guys who rode … I saw them out on their bikes one night and was taken for a ride. I instantly dug the feeling of the wind in my face. After going out with them a few more times I hated being at their mercy, so I bought a bike of my own. Here is where everyone needs to pay attention.

I fell victim to the “stereotype” that a “girl” should ride a smaller, lighter bike. I was looking at a Harley’ Sportster, but really liked the Fatboy model. Fortunately, the “isn’t that a big (fast) bike, can you handle it?” YES, I can. salesman said: “go for it, size only matters if you drop it”. So, I did. I had never actually ridden my own, but was about to learn. So, at 30yrs old and a badass mom of two young girls, I became a harley chick. From then on all I heard was … “you ride that?’, “isn’t It to big?” “What happens if you drop it?”, oh and “you have two young girls, isn’t it too dangerous? ” Well; yes, no, I pick it up, and no more dangerous than if I was their dad riding. I’m not saying that all men feel women shouldn’t ride or if she does it should be a smaller bike, cause my husband (my husband now, my 1st would have never dreamed of something as cool as riding) and I ride together all the time. After we first met, he actually bought a streetbike (cbr900rr) knowing I had a hog so we could ride together (he really wanted the poon-and got it too). I had to sell the hog, but i now have two Kawasaki streetbikes, a ‘99 ZX9R and a ‘00 ZX12R. And still I hear … “is that a 600?” (600 being a smaller bike and fewer cc) or; “a 12r, isn’t that a big (fast) bike, can you handle it?”

YES, I can. Can you guys handle it? Really, I would like an answer. Send me a letter so that I can understand the comments, so I won’t just think men are intimidated, insecure assholes. And if you are, maybe I can help change your view by pointing out a few things: (1) give her the control and freedom and see what she’ll give you. (2) It’s a great way to ride together without listening to her in your ear. (3) “Leather”. (4) If you have kids, they’ll think their parents are cool. Ok chicks, if you are interested in learning and you don’t want your man to teach you (or he’s not quite sold on the idea and wont teach you) give your local safety council or DMV a call for class info. The classes may be somewhat costly, but you use their bikes and are then given a card in which you can show the DMV and get your license endorsed w/out a road course test. Plus you’ll learn a lot and save a lot of time wasted on possible disagreements with your man. Bottom line, men drop the comments … they only make you seem insecure and please, please badass chicks everywhere … “go for it!!” ride what YOU like and what YOU want. Ride hard and ride safe!

Meathead-(meet’hed) jockus dumbus- n. A man (or woman) who believes that being very muscular is the most important thing in life. Someone who values their physical appearance above any other personal quality.

I have recently started a work out regiment, which has helped me come to two conclusions. One: working out and eating right is a pain in the ass. I would rather eat pizza and watch TV. However, being over weight or unhappy with your physical appearance can effect almost every aspect of your life, the least of which is your self-esteem. At one point I was 50lbs heavier than my current weight and let me tell you, it sucked! People do truly treat you different based on how you look. I’m not sure how much of people’s attitude towards me was based on my own opinion of myself, the insecure vibe I gave off probably didn’t help, but even if I was the most confident person in the world I would still have been ignored to a certain extent. Being in good physical shape can dramatically increase the quality of your life, for several reasons, but it is not the most important part of who you are. Which leads me to my second conclusion: meatheads suck!

meatheads don’t own computers, they take up too much valuable mirror space

What the fuck are you guys thinking? Do you really believe that building your body up to a freakish level of muscularity is of any value at all? I’m not talking about guys who go to the gym, I’m talking about the aggressive retards that pump their bodies full of chemicals and deadly toxins and claim that they work out to be healthy. I’m talking about the guys who believe having biceps so large that they can’t clap their hands is more important than a functioning liver. Please, for God’s sake do me, and the rest of the world, a few favors. Here are my demands, if you ignore my requests I swear to God I will blow up every fucking GNC on the face of the planet. For starters, no more of that neon orange self-tanner. You are already enough of an eye soar without the bright body paint. Also, don’t buy or drive a Miata!!! On second thought, go right ahead, I could use a good laugh. Nothing looks funnier than a big Roid head emerging from a mini car. Next, biker shorts bikini bathing suits or spandex of any kind is not allowed. No matter how large you make yourself it will never compensate for your poor little shrunken package. Keep it hidden with baggy pants or pad it with a sock. And last but not least, practice flexing your smile muscles. Do you always have to be such an unfriendly asshole? Say hello, be kind and courteous at the gym and in the world that does exist outside of it. You do not own the free weight section, let someone else work out!

I’m sure my gripes will not be heard by the people I have directed them towards. Alas, meatheads don’t own computers, they take up too much valuable mirror space.

The old saying that size doesn’t matter was obviously invented by a very unfortunate man or a lying woman. Ask any experienced, truthful woman and she will tell you: size does matter. She may tell you that you’re “big” enough for her so your ego doesn’t go to the shredder, or you may already know that you’re well-endowed if you see enough porn. And just because a man may have a huge penis doesn’t mean that any normal woman will find that pleasurable, either – maybe just fun to gawk at. But for those guys out there who aren’t so sure if they meet the average qualifications, read on.

The average hard penis ranges from five to seven inches in length and about one to one and a half inches in girth. Usually, the girth is what gives women the most pleasure, particularly that littlethe size of a flaccid penis has nothing to do with the size of it when erect mushroom at the head when it rubs on our little g-spot, which is located about an inch or so up our interior. Sorry, guys, but just because you know how to work the material doesn’t always mean it will be satisfying. It’s hard to say which is worse – a large, painful, horse penis, or a little, unfelt Vienna sausage – because neither are going to bring a woman pleasure.

One huge myth is that the size of a man’s hands, feet, fingers, or toes has something to do with the size of his main digit. Not true! Looking at an incredibly built, gorgeous hunk with large hands and feet, one would think that his pleasure tool would be proportionate to the rest of his body. The only thing that is proportionate is: the smaller the penis, the bigger the disappointment. Sometimes short or skinny guys are believed to have short penises, but some of us have found that they can be the most well-endowed. Personally, I have found that no matter the size of the man’s body, if he’s Italian, he will have a nice, pleasurable, fuckable, penis (and just the thought of that makes me want to scream!).

Women don’t want a short, short man, and neither do we want an extremely large one. However, there are many horror stories about both. Some men, even extremely

Just because he is big and muscular doesn’t necessarily mean he’s hung like Kong.

worked up and hard, are smaller than some of our tampons, our thumbs, and even our pinky fingers. So females think, “what’s the point?!!!”, and will sometimes abruptly end a relationship over one. Call it shallow if you may, but how many of you men would stick with a woman with a huge hole? As for the large-dicked men, not only is it painful, but because they cannot possibly enter all the way, they’re not getting the same pleasure they deserve, either.

Additionally, the size of a flacid penis has nothing to do with the size of it when the guy is hard. It just has to do with the amount of blood he’s got flowing. So, if you happen to be one of those unfortunates, than maybe you can at least use the excuse that you have less blood than the average man.

There’s not a whole lot ladies can do about oversized and undersized dicks, but for the former, prosthetic devices, penis enlargements, and vibrating toys can make up for his lack of blood. As for the latter, the only thing I can say is for women to ask him to only use a portion of his boner. One thing is for sure, though – the majority of women will agree that an average dick is the best!

It’s 11:00p.m. and the phone rings. It’s your ex and he wants you to come over. Can you say “Booty Call”? I don’t think he’s having you over to spend time together even though he may say that. The “Booty Call” can be a wonderful thing or it can suck the big one ladies. It really depends on who you do it with and why. Here are some examples of a few different ways to get that “booty” when you want it and the consequences you may have to face.

First, we have the “special friend”. He’s the guy you hang out with, are really great friends with, but don’t have the desire to really “be” with him in a relationship for Sometimes the fantasy is oh so ever more satisfying than the act whatever reason. This can be quite satisfying when you’re in need. I suggest talking about it openly with him to make sure it’s clear that nothing is going to come out of it except a couple of really good orgasms. If he is cool with this and so are you and your responsible enough to take Aids precautions, then great! Go for it! Just remember that at some point one of you may actually meet someone you want to be with and this may make the other person a bit upset. If your willing to take the chance of rocky waters when this happens then hopefully your friendship will be able to move through the storm. If not, oh well, get a new friend.

Next, we have the stranger who just moved into the complex. He’s really yummy. One night he comes over and asks if you want to “hang out” at his place and watch movies. Yeah, right. You go over and he’s on you like butter on bread baby. Now, this could also get complicated. Remember, he’s your neighbor. You’ll have to see him every day. Unless you really think he’s the man of your dreams, I suggest declining from his offer no matter how hard it is. Pardon the pun. Sometimes the fantasy is oh so ever more satisfying than the act. You can always use him in your head to please yourself.

Finally, we have the ex. This one is the most difficult. There are emotions involved whether you think he’s an asshole or a really nice guy. It’s easy to be with someone that you’ve already been intimate with. Hopefully you got to know each other’s body well and what the other liked in bed. Although some guys never really get it, most do. He calls you or you call him and you both know why the other is calling. You end up in each other’s arms and the next thing you know Wham, Bam, Thank You Mam! Was it worth it? Probably not. Especially if you had to fake your orgasm. But hopefully you got something out of the experience. If your going to do this, I suggest talking openly about what the other’s expectations are from the experience. If your trying to weasle your way back in his life, don’t have a “booty call” with him. You shouldn’t have to weasle into anyone’s life. If you both have no desire to get back together then it may be ok but just remember that again, one of you will eventually meet someone and be cut off. If you think he’s a real prick but like having sex with him then this is probably the best out of any. At least you won’t give a shit when he doesn’t call. If he’s one of those guys who is dating a bunch of women and having sex with you, chances are pretty good he was doing the same thing when he dated you. Be glad you got rid of him. He’s gross and you don’t want the karma of that on your hands.

Sometimes you’ll have a lonely night where your hormones are racing and you decide to say “fuck it” and make a “booty call”. It could be just what you need. Fine, call, tell him what he wants to hear. Charm him. Bullshit about how great of a guy he is and how you love him blah, blah, blah, and get what you wanted. But there are consequences ladies. “Booty Calls” can be either just what the doctor ordered or a doorway to hell. Be smart and know who your dealing with. Remember that when you have sex with someone you don’t know well yet, you don’t really know who your getting involved with. You could become attached to a real asshole. Before you know it your in a really destructive relationship. Not to mention that yes, Aids does exist in our world and you also need to be responsible for your body.

All in all, I would say that “booty calls” can be satisfying at the moment but that’s pretty much it. Most women I have talked to about this subject agree. They can be so ever powerful at the time yet so very painful afterwards. Ask yourself if it’s really worth it. Sometimes it’s really nice to hold all that sensuality in your own body and not let anyone have it. Feel your own power as a woman. Know it, live it. Men will flock to you like the lions they are. You can be the hyena chasing up scraps or you can be the lioness and make him work for it! Your worth it girlfriend!

Ladies, if you find yourself feeling used, pushed aside or taken for granted it’s time to go to the produce department. Sometimes a good hard cucumber can be more satisfying than that emotionally unavailable man. They are both cheap and easy to find but you don’t have to worry whether the cuke is going to call you in the morning, or show up on time for your next date. With all the benefits of a vegetable vibrator you may be asking yourself why you waste your time with that jerk boyfriend of yours. It’s because commitment phobic guys are always charming at first – they have to be to hook you in.

Unfortunately, once they get you they spend most of their time trying to get rid of you. The best thing to do with these assholes is dump them before you cucumbers come in all shapes and sizes with no back talk find yourself having the “where is this leading” conversation. This may be hard because “you love them” but get over it! Cucumbers don’t give excuses and cucumbers come in all shapes and sizes with no back talk! However, it is easy to get involved with a man like this because women tend to see the potential instead of the reality. But sooner or later you will forget the potential when you find yourself dumped.

In order to be a BAD ASS CHICK you have to learn to spot these guys before they hook you. For instance, your on your first date and he says he doesn’t want anything serious. Obviously, he’s looking to fuck you for as long as you will let him without wanting anything more. If he’s hot, fuck him once. If he’s good, fuck him twice. Then move on. Now, let’s say he’s hooked you. You’ve been fucking for awhile and he says he never wants to have kids or live together. I think that’s pretty clear. Then we have the guy who is just too damn “busy” for love. He’s working, going to school, picking up other women, blah, blah, blah. Somehow he always seems to find the time to fuck. Can you say supermarket? And we can’t forget the guy who never wants to “talk” about anything. God forbid he says anything but “oh baby yeah”.

If you stick it out for a while, he’ll just break up with you every few weeks to make sure the relationship doesn’t evolve. Basically you’ve been on a one night stand that lasted months. Finally, he’ll end it. You’ll wonder what the hell just happened but don’t worry, he’ll still fuck you while he starts dating and fucking other women all the while telling you you’re the one with the “baggage.” If any of these guys sounds like your man, what the fuck are you doing? Get your ass in your car and go to the supermarket. Remember, only organic.