For Sale: Ben-wa Balls .... almost new

So, this post is going to be WAYYYYYYYYY Too Much Information for most of y'all. So might I request that any person of the male persuasion move on to something else now. Oh, I know ... this year's Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition just came out, right? Why don't all you men move right on over there and "read" that instead.

Okay, great. Thank you.

So, ladies, a few weeks ago I was cajoled into attending a girls only "passion" style party. To those of you not In The Know, a "passion" style party is similar to a Tupperware party .... only substitute sex toys for kitchen gadgets.

Anyway, not in any particular NEED of any sex toys at this point in my SingleLife (before y'all get started on what a single gal MAY need .... I've made purchases at one of these parties before. I'm set. 'Nuff said. :)), I opted to go with something a bit more tame. A set of Ben-wa Balls.

Now to those of you unfamiliar with what those are, Ben-wa balls are little metal balls touted to be little exercise equipment for your hoo-ha. The party hostess described them like little weights. Supposedly if you couple these Ben-wa Balls with your Kegel exercises, you will have a very trim and toned hoo-ha. Which is great for enhanced sexual pleasure as well as avoiding future issues of urinary incontinence. And I figured since my butt and thighs were not going to be trimmed and toned any time soon ... at least my hoo-ha could be! ;)

Now, the folks at this party were pretty open, and a number of women asked questions about the Ben-wa Balls. The most important one, of course, being .... but will they get stuck up there???

The party hostess, and Woman In The Know, replied ... of course not. Then went on a long soliloquy describing their usage and how easy they were to remove, especially with gravity working on your side, blah, blah, blah.

I thought that was interesting but wasn't fully sold until she continued with.....

First off, she said, the hoo-ha will generally be fairly out of shape if you haven't been using these before, so if you are vertical and you put the BWBs in ... they will fall right on out. So she recommended starting out with only one BWB to start (right?...like you would start with lighter weights at the gym and work your way up. Made sense to me!) and for the first week do the exercises lying on your back. She recommended 10 to 15 minutes a day. After that you could progress to vertical and then eventually progress to using both BWBs.

Also, she said, once the hoo-ha was more toned, just relax to release, giving a little squat position if necessary. But truly ... with gravity, gravity, gravity ... it wasn't a problem.

Easy as pie, right??

So my BWBs arrived recently in the mail and while I was watching Mr TeeVee the other night I decided to give them a try. So I slouched down on the couch so I wouldn't be vertical, and popped one in.

I kegelled my little heart out for .... oh, about 30 seconds ... and then continued to kegel sporadically for the remainder of 5 minutes ... because I didn't want my hoo-ha to be sore and tuckered out. Or because I was bored silly. One or the other.

But regardless, after the 5 minutes I sat up straight knowing that the little BWB would slide right on out, reached down to grab it and ..... nuthin!

Hmm.

Okay, maybe sitting wasn't vertical enough .... so up I stood and reached down to catch ..... bupkus!

(*insert mild panic here*)

How about doing a little jig to entice that puppy out??

Nope ... still nothing.

Uh-oh.

So I went upstairs to the bathroom and got naked thinking that maybe the BWB was scared to come out with the pants and panties in view.

Did another jig .... still no joy.

(*insert not quite as mild panic here!*)

Okay, so I tried to think rationally and not start freaking out!! I took a deep breath and ran through the "good news" with regard to this event.

Like, first, thankfully I knew that I didn't have to be on an airplane bright and early the next morning so I wouldn't have to try explaining to airport security why I was setting off the metal detector!

Also, just finished with The Period so no need to shove any tampons up there in the near future.

And no boyfriend to lie to about having a headache instead of explaining that we can't have sex because I decided to insert metal balls in my hoo-ha instead.

Also on the plus side, worst case scenario was that I'd have to go to my gynecologist to have her remove it. SURELY she's dealt with stuck items in the hoo-ha before, right? Right?

Anyway, but the bottom line was ... I wanted the frickin' Ben-wa Ball out of my hoo-ha.

So again I tried the squats and the lunges and the dancing jigs. Nothing! So then I thought that maybe the BWB might not even be in my hoo-ha at all (just call me Queen of Denial-Land). I mean, maybe it had fallen out right when I put it in and was hiding out in the couch cushions and/or on the living room floor? Because really, I couldn't FEEL it and I couldn't SEE it ... so where WAS the damn thing??

So this is where my logical trouble-shooting brain really kicked in.

Step 1 - verify that the BWB is in fact IN the hoo-ha.

So I tried using a mirror. But obviously could not see anything. Well, nothing involving the BWB anyway. I certainly got an eyeful of a whole lotta stuff that thankfully men enjoy looking at but which I could do without seeing. Gah.

So next came the (*seriously, men .... stop reading*) the digital penetration. I reached down with a finger and entered said hoo-ha very slowly making sure that if the BWB was just inside that I wouldn't be shoving it up any further. But unfortunately, my kegels must have moved it up further anyway because I could JUST touch it with the very tip of my finger when fully inserted. And it felt like it was up around a little curve so there was no way it was just coming out of its own accord. This was not good, people!

Okay, but at least the verification was accomplished. Evil BWB (as I'd begun to call it) was in fact up in the hoo-ha. On to the next step.

Step 2 - get the frickin' BWB OUT!

I decided that maybe making the pee-pee would relax different muscles and the BWB would pop out. Sounds plausible, right?? Granted, the BWB would end up in the toilet, but I think at this point I had already come to the conclusion that once out, BWBs were NOT going back in. Buh-bye little Ben-wa Ball. Always happy to waste my money like that.

So I tried that. But unfortunately, the BWB had a different idea about emerging into the toilet and decided to stay hidden.

Bad, BAD Ben-wa Ball.

So I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, then tried the jig again. To no avail.

At this point I was trying to wrap my head around the thought of living with a Ben-wa Ball stuck up my hoo-ha for all of eternity. Would it be SO bad?? Maybe not. Because really, maybe I could convince the airport security people that in fact what they were detecting was a shard of metal from a bullet or something?? I could go on and on about how I stepped in front of a bullet to save a busload of kids. But the doctors couldn't remove it and that's why the metal detector was going off.

Yeah, I didn't think that would work either. Those airport security people have gotten pretty crafty. And I don't mean "crafty" in the good "yarn, Elmer's glue, and glitter" kinda way either.

So what to do? What to do??

Okay, well we all know during sex that the hoo-ha walls tend to loosen and relax. So maybe I could stretch the walls out using my finger, enough so that the BWB could fall out? Cuz right now those hoo-ha walls were clinging to the BWB like Michael Jackson clings to little boys! Anyway, I figured it was worth a shot. Because it was either that or picking up a phone to call someone to help. And I'm not quite sure how well that phone conversation would go. "Yeah, hi ... it's me .... you busy? So here's a weird question for ya ... I know a lot of kids dreamed of being astronauts or veterinarians .... you ever dream of being a gynecologist????"

Yeah, no.

I've actually had to enlist the aid of a friend before with regard to a wayward tampon. We vowed never to speak of it again. Of course, that was before blogs. (heh). (hey, in my defense ... the anonymity remains ... what with no Time, Place or Who divulged. (and it won't be divulged .... right?? right??? (this comment directed to Other Involved Party in case they ever read this post and plan to name names in the comment section!!)) :) ) Oh, and tidbit for those folks reading this and going "really?... a tampon??". Yes, a tampon. Word to the wise ... you get what you pay for. Stay away from the budget tampons ... that's all I'm sayin'.

So, back to digital penetration. So I re-inserted the finger and started pressing on all the walls in the desperate attempt to loosen their grip on their new-found friend. Which, sounds like it could be fun, right? Ya know, in that "oooh, yeah ... now a little to the left" kinda way. But no. The only thought in my head was ..... "For the love of Jebus .... I have a FRICKIN' BEN-WA BALL STUCK UP MY HOO-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want it OUT, OUT, OUT, OUT, OUT!!!!" (or something to that effect)

But the good news is, with a little wall pressing just so .... the BWB finally started to make its way down and out.

WHEW!

Which left me a bit befuddled. WHY did the Ben-wa Ball get stuck?! Surely occasional (at best) kegelling couldn't have my hoo-ha so toned that BWBs stick. Perhaps my hoo-ha walls have superhuman powers I wasn't aware of? Hmmm, that's kinda a nice thought, isn't it?! "Look! ... it's a bird! It's a plane!!! No ... it's SuperHooHa!!!!!!!!!!"

Yeah, I like it. Let's go with that! :)

I'm ready for my closeup, General Mills.

So there is something about Honey Nut Cheerios that CJ can NOT get enough of.

Back when she was a youngster, she'd come staggering out every morning, still groggily wiping morning sleep from her eyes, as soon as she heard me pour my bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. And we would sit and share and life was good. (this was obviously pre-kitty-liver-disease-diagnosis)

But I've not had HNC for years and years. Just happened to get the hankering the other day.

But, apparently, CJ has not forgotten them. Because one whiff and she was on me like flies on poop!

Just look at this pupil-dilated, hypnotic stare into the bowl*. You can just feel her willing that last cheerio to leap into her mouth.

"Come to me, you little honeyed tidbit of goodness"

And normally CJ abides by the rules. Ya know, the "no taking food not offered" rule. She can stare at me. She can stare at the food. She can even reach her paw out to cutely remind me that she'd like something. But there is NO taking the food off of my plate. Or outta my bowl.

Uh yeah.

Apparently, that rule goes right out the window when HNCs are involved. Because I turn my head for one minute and.........

Bad kitty.

And then, and THEN ... she had the audacity to give me the "what? I didn't do nuthin'" look.

Which may have been more effective without the incriminating evidence on her face.

Yeah, bad, bad kitty.

"Hello, my name is CJ and I'm a HoneyNutCheeri-aholic"

General Mills ... I'm thinkin' commercial**. Give me a call!

*I love this picture!
** yeah, I'm pimpin' out my cat! What of it?? :)

Who let the crazies out? ... woof, woof, woof, woof!

Why?? Why do The Crazies always find me?! It's no good, I tell ya. Sigh.

So at lunch yesterday, I pull up to the drivethrough ATM at The Bank to get me some cashola. Only, as I'm about even with the ATM machine and just lowering my driverside window, I hear a manic yell from Some Crazy Bitch (SCB) who is on-foot to my right. She comes around the rear of my car and then comes up between me and the ATM machine I'm about to use.

I instantly think "Homeless? Going to ask for some money?" because I'd just dealt with that Sunday at Trader Joes. So I wait a minute to see what she's going to say but she simply squeezes up between my car and the ATM machine and starts using it ... never saying one word to me!!!!

Hello?!!!! WHO DOES THAT?!

No, no ... seriously! WHO?!

Cuz y'all ... I am AT the driveup ATM machine. AT IT! And close enough to it that SCB must turn sideways to navigate in between my car and the ATM machine. Which really puts her ass to my car window (I have a sports car). Uh yeah.

Combine that with the angry mutterings she had going on while using the machine and yeah......that, my friends, is The Crazy.

So I do what any normal red-blooded woman would do when faced with The Crazy (or The Crazy's Ass ... whatever) .... I quickly (yet casually ..... because one must not make any sudden moves when dealing with The Crazies) press the button to reraise my car window while simultaneously verifying that my doors are locked. My mama did not raise no fool.

Now I figured I had two choices: 1) drive off to use the walkup ATM or 2) wait for SCB to finish with this ATM. (no, raising a ruckus with SCB did not enter my mind. You cannot win when confronting The Crazies. They are not afraid to make a scene (obviously), they will not back down, and they will, in all likelihood, be okay with killing you. I grew up in LA ... I speak from experience.)

Now, being that the walkup ATM was under construction ... and I really wanted some money ... I decided to wait out SCB to see what she would do. I felt relatively safe in the car with the motor running and my foot on the clutch ready to zip off should said Crazy Person decide to engage me. Plus, I was thinking with as cramped a quarters as she was in .... unless she pulls a weapon ... the damage to the car wouldn't be TOO bad. Not like she could total my car with little stilted punches.

Plus, I put on a little crazy myself ... ya know, a little Pre-emptive Crazy, shall we say..... to make her think twice should she consider taking me on.

What kind of Pre-emptive Crazy, do you ask? Well let me tell ya. I turned up my Taylor Hicks "Do I Make You Proud" song which was playing off his cd single I had purchased (what?) and proceeded to rock out. Because really, nothing says Crazy like an almost 40 year old* woman enthusiastically head-bopping to some blaring American Idol music. If that didn't stop SBC and make her think twice, nuthin' would .... is all I'm sayin'! :)

So she finished her transaction and turned to try to say something to me. I cracked my window, turned down the Taylor (no really ... it was that loud) and said "excuse me?". She toothlessly mumbled, "I'm sorry to be so bitchy". And left.

Now one might think she apologized because her anger dissipated once she got her cash.

Or perhaps because her meds finally kicked in.

But no. I'm telling you it's because I really scared her by unleashing my Pre-emptive Crazy. Those of you who have seen my Car Dancing and heard my Singing know what I'm talking about. Because.it.just.doesn't.get.any.scarier.than.that!!! ;)

Woof, woof! (*makes 'raise the roof' hand gestures*)


*gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

I'm sorry, Crazy Aunt Purl!

It's official! I've gone from Normal Everyday Cute Stalker to Bonafide Scary Stalker ..... and I didn't even mean to! No, no ... really!!! I SWEAR!

Here's what happened:

So I go down to Los Angeles this past weekend for a very last minute trip to visit my mom. I mean, I didn't even know for certain that I'd be heading down until Friday afternoon. And I flew standby at o'dark hundred hours on Saturday morning. It doesn't really get any more last minute than that, right?! Right! (work with me, people! :))

I'm hanging with mom Saturday afternoon and decide to call my friends to see if they will have any time to meet up with me during the couple of days while I'm down there. As luck would have it, my friend L is available for a late dinner that night!

She calls our friend V to see if she is available as well and AGAIN, the planets were lined up just perfectly, V had time to play. Without the kids!!! (I'm tellin' ya ... it was fate!). They ask what I want to do and I say I'd love to go down to Hollywood area for dinner like we used to!

I head over to V's house to meet up with them around 6:30 pm to find them gathered around the computer trying to figure out where to go. I hear that V ruled out Chin Chins (sigh ... I love that place!) but they were talking about some place called The Abbey! I think SWEET! But L calls the restaurant and there is no hope of getting a reservation. Late Saturday night and the Abbey is all booked up!

So they ask where I want to go. I have no idea. But The Stinking Rose (which Crazy Aunt Purl (CAP) had mentioned on her blog) pops into my head and I laughingly say "have y'all ever heard of The Stinking Rose?". They immediately glom onto this idea and are all excited with the prospect because they've been meaning to go there but have never made it. I quickly say "no, no ... but we can't go there ... I was just joking. See, there is this blogger, Crazy Aunt Purl, and she's going to be there. So if I go I'll be a bonafide stalker ... and I don't wanna be a bonafide stalker!".

They stared at me with utter confusion and said "A blogger? You'd be a blog stalker?? We don't get it."

I tried to explain but they just poo-poo'd me and said "it's a big place ... what are the chances you'd see her anyway?"

Uh yeah.

So we go! And the place is a HOOT! And I see right off the bat while they're seating us that there is no CAP in sight. I breathe of sigh of relief!

Until much, much, much later in the meal. When one of them asks "have you seen if she's here yet". Without thinking, I quickly scan around and see CAP sitting at my 4 o'clock. It was only a quick glance yet .....at the exact same moment .... CAP seems to see me looking (argh!). So now I FEEL like a real stalker and can't think of how I could casually approach her without The Guilt Of Bonafide Stalker etched on my face. Even though I was still clinging to the theory that I DIDN'T MEAN TO STALK!

I mean, really, what were the chances that I'd be in LA that weekend, that my friends would just happen to be available that night, that they wanted to go to The Stinking Rose, that we would be there at the same time as CAP, and that CAP would get seated near us??!! I mean, COME ONNNNNNN!

So then the "OMG .... Crazy Aunt Purl ..... RIGHT THERE!!!!!!!!!!" ... started to seep in. And I snuck another glance behind me .... only to find, once again ... CAP seeming to see me looking.

So now, it's official. I've got Stalker written all over me!

BUT wait, it gets worse.

So there is truly this line between Casual Stalker ... and Scary Stalker. And I crossed it ... oh yes I did! Because you know me and my camera .... must take pictures! MUST. And so I errr ...... tried to figure out how to sneak a picture of CAP. (I KNOW! I told you ..... I've crossed the line)

Unfortunately, my back was to CAP so I couldn't do it on the sly. So I wrangled my friend V to try to sneak the picture since she was sitting facing CAP. But V kept saying "it's too dark ... it's too dark, switch places with me " ... and so I switched seats so I was facing CAP. I had L and V pretend like I'd be taking a picture of them but really .... they kept blocking my shot! So I had to tell them to get out of the way and I snuck a picture* of Crazy Aunt Purl. Well, I say "snuck" ... but really, when a bright flash of light goes off in a darkened restaurant ... and you've got three women giggling like schoolgirls .... how "sneaky" is that?!! Yeah, not really, I know!

So yeah, it's official ....... stay tuned for invitations to my house-warming party for my new home in Scary Stalkerville!

And you know, it wouldn't have been AS bad had I simply approached her after dinner and told her what a fan I was. But did I??? NO!

I like to blame my wussiness on the fact that she wasn't with her group of blogging girlfriends who would have understood the "OMG! You're Crazy Aunt Purl!!!" blabberings from a total stranger! Instead she was on a date (with a mighty cute man, might I add!)! And so I didn't want to intrude! Because, what if she didn't tell him about the blog?? And and ......... what would I have said anyway?? Nothing coherent I guarantee you! (And whatever it was would have been mighty garlicky too. Just sayin'.)

So instead I slunk out .... which really kinda cements the title of "Scary Stalker", doesn't it?!

Yeah, I'll be expecting the restraining order in the mail any day now...... :)

*I'd post the picture for all y'all but apparently V was right when she said "it's too dark"! ...lol. And the grainy mess that came out simply does not capture the gorgeousness that is CAP! Sigh. I was SO hoping that picture would work out. But now I've crossed the line to Scary Stalker without being able to post any proof! (but WAIT! ... maybe no proof means I can still lay claim to "Normal Everyday Cute Stalker"??? Yeahhhhh, that's the ticket..... :))

Perhaps Shoe Whoring runs in the family?

Or perhaps it's simply contagious? I don't know.

All I know is that my baby CJ loves her The Shoes! Just like her mama! (what?)

I mean, just look at that happy face!

Of course, her kinda "shoe love" is a wee bit different than mine! Because when I say she "loves the shoes" ... I mean that she "LUVVVVVVVVVVVVVVSSSSSS (*wink, wink*) the shoes"! ... (if'n you know what I mean).

Oddly enough, she only likes the stinky ones too. So I'm thinking this old pair of sandals of mine are finally getting a bit ..... errr ... ripe, shall we say? Because normally she doesn't like my shoes and must wait til some unsuspecting stinky-footed guest comes into my home and makes the mistake of taking off their shoes. And oh boy, are they ever in for a surprise when they do.

But finally, a pair of my very own to provide my kitty with the ultimate happiness!

Here she is demonstrating her Stinky Shoe Courting Ritual...

"You will be mine, you Luscious Leather Vixen!"

And after the courtship dance, she gets right down to some outright molestation...

"Ah yeah, that's some good stuff!"

Until finally, she is done ... and enjoys a cuddle with the one she loves!

"Would you happen to have a cigarette?"

I know, I know .. some of y'all are going to think she's crazy. But not me. Nosireebob. And that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I had the urge to do the same to a pair of shoes that Buck was wearing on Sunday. Nope. Completely unrelated! She's just not crazy! Simple appreciates the shoes, that's all. So move along ... nothing to see here! ;)

F'in camera batteries!!!!!

First, let's get this party started right. Ladies and Gentleman .... I give you .... Aerosmith!!!

Why yes, thank you ... that IS a great pic. Don't worry ... we'll revisit that picture later on in the post, so scroll along with me, would ya?!

Okay, before we can get to the concert details, some light housekeeping to be taken care of:

First off, as you can see by this concert ticket, cameras were not allowed.

So please know that all the photos in this post were taken by a camera I purchased there. Or. Maybe they are simply images from my mind that I've magically transferred (via gnomes?) to this here blog. All I know is ... that they are definitely NOT taken by a camera I snuck in there. Nosireebob. No rule breaking going on here!! Just sayin'. ;)

Secondly, y'all need to know that I was at a Joe Perry concert last night. Sure, sure ... there happened to be other famous musicians on stage in their crazy attempts to distract me from the Joey-goodness .... but they failed. This is all about The Joe. Any other folks pictured here are simply to appease the masses. I'm okay with the women that don't understand that Joe Perry is one of the sexiest men alive. Less competition, I say.

And finally on the housekeeping tasklist, I'll share with you some pictures of Lenny Kravitz. He opened for Joe (that's right ... he opened for JOE) last night and he did a really, really great job. The only problem I had with his show was that Joe wasn't on stage.

Nonetheless, I took some pictures. Please view them, love them, and fully appreciate them. You'll see why I request that of you later on in the post.

Some better shots, in my humble opinion. It could be because the lighting is better ... or perhaps because Lenny stripped down to a snug fitting tank top. I'll let you decide........

Lenny's guitar player. I don't know his name. But because I DO know his name isn't "Joe Perry" .....we're moving on......

Buh-bye, Lenny. Buh-bye, Lenny's band. Thanks for a great performance!

Okay, now on to the point of this post. Joe!

Here's Joe Perry and SGWINJ1. ("SGWINJ1", you ask? Yes, "Some Guy Who Is Not Joe #1". I think he's more commonly referred to as "Steven Tyler". But not in this here blog post! ;))

So my friends (T2 and E) and I had GREAT seats for this show. Aerosmith's stage setup was such that sometimes we were a bit off to the side as you can tell by the pics seen immediately above.

But the band also had walkways out into the crowd. Which put the band members out in front of us at times as well. Like so:

And like so...

What's that I hear? You're asking why I included THAT shot. You don't think it's a good one, eh? Hmmm. Oh, you poor little things. Let me enlighten you, my little grasshoppers. It's all about your focus.....

See? There IS method to my madness! ;)

Okay, but the BEST part about their stage setup was that the stage had "wings" which extended right to where we were sitting! And so .... at times, we were very up close and personal. See?

H-O-T D-A-M-N!...... is all I'm sayin'!

Speaking of "hot damn" ... check out these photos! (*insert lascivous wolf whistle here* (in fact, insert several, he deserves it!))

And ... back to our original photo...

Which I'm thinkin' looks a little better when cropped like this:

(Dear lord ...is that man a sexpot or what?!)

But WAIT ... I still think we can do better.

Hmmm.

AH .... I know.......

Lordy, lordy, lordy, lordy. How do I get me some of that!?!

Seriously. Anybody? Because .. In. A. Heart.Beat. Just sayin'.

(For Joe, I'm willing to go from "celebrity whore" to "celebrity ho". (That's right ... I have no shame when it comes to this man. What of it?!))

:)

And so, dear friends, I leave you with this final picture. Taken during the last song of the encore. (Ladies, feel free to stare and drool as I recount the final minute of the concert for you.)

So the final minute of the concert goes kinda like this:

T+60 seconds: Battery warning is flashing on camera. I lean over to T2 to show her (her camera battery had died early on in the concert (we took a LOT of pictures)). We both get a bit nervous ... but it's the final song and all. We'll be fine.

Right?

T+50 seconds: I take a picture. THE picture above.

T+45 seconds: Camera dies.

T+44 seconds: I stare in horror at my darkened camera.

T+42 seconds: I desperately try to restart the camera. (fyi: shaking it does not work!)

T+40 seconds: I lean over and show T2 dead camera. We both make HUGE boo-boo lips but think all will be okay. After all, this is the very, very end of the concert, right?!. What could POSSIBLY occur that we haven't a picture of already?!

T+31 seconds: I turn to look back at Joe, who is now playing on the walkway in front of me, as I slip the now-dead camera into my jacket pocket.

T+30 seconds: JOE RIPS OFF HIS SHIRT. And plays the final 30 seconds of concert without said shirt. That's right .... Right in front of me! Ya know .... in (what would have been) the perfect photo op place!

T+29 seconds: T2 and I wail in unison at the injustice of it all!

T: Concert ends. With Joe ... still shirtless. And me ... with no working camera.

So please do me the favor of enjoying the Lenny Kravitz pictures. Most specifically the ones of his guitar player. Because they cost me Shirtless Pictures of Joe Perry. Which makes them very, very, very valuable indeed! ;)