PromQueenSubdued

In case you were wondering what a prom queen wears for Halloween.................. a twister mat.  Let's face it, tiaras can get a bit stale.  And, the costume from naked weekend was not kid appropriate.  Near my house was  a big parking lot party which had a B-52's cover band playing. The princesses and I crashed the party before Daddy-o got home from work.  It was the perfect thing to do pre-trick-or-treating.  They were bouncing off the wall at 5 o'clock, and no sugar had even hit their bloodstreams yet.  So we bee-bopped over there, and hung out with the band.  (I went to high school with the lead singer. Prom Queen Aside - she is now dating a guy that both my sister and I mugged with in high school. He was there, too. Our list is not THAT long, 5 guys maybe, I'll have to think on that. And none at the same time. Sorry, boys, that whole "having" sisters fantasy will have to exist elsewhere. Not that we have not have offers. Still get offers. Answer is no. I have it as a personal rule to only have slept with one person seated at my Thanksgiving table.) We made it through "Private Idaho" but "Love Shack" was too far down the set list. 

Next was the annual candy haul, then off to a neighbor's party.  Very fun. Very spooky.  Tons of sugar for the kids and martinis with floating eyeballs as garnishes for the grown-ups.  How can ya' top that?  I had very long eyelashes on (see photos), so I could only have one martini or I would have been tripping all over myself. Hope you had a great time, too.

Why does Halloween bring out my desire to mess with food? Normally , I cook food, I try to make it reasonably attractive, and i serve food. That is it. No sillies hit the plate unless you consider parsley silly, which I do.  Last year it was the Munch eggs, this year I attempted mummy pigs-in-a-blanket.

But, let's be honest, they do not really look like mummies , do they? Above is the uncooked version, below the cooked. I knew as I was putting them into their oven of doom that they looked more like Benedict Arnold, the baby Jesus, and Jr Asparagus dressed as a Muslim when I put them in the oven (for those without young children - the third can be Johnny Carson as Carnac the Magnificent). I hoped they would spook-up a bit as the little sausages plumped. No such luck. They came out still in their non-spooky Halloween costumes.  The princesses were happy and, most importantly, got of bed this school day without a grumblefest. Next year, mark my words, no more autumnal playing with the food.  Maybe just a few pumpkin cupcakes......

 

Wow, was I glad I brought the suitcase! Turns out that naked weekend in the fall is more like barely-dressed-in-vampy-clothes weekend.  It was a little chilly in the mornings, so most people wore robes to the pool. It did become crystal clear to me why aquatic pursuits are the  key activities at a naked place – buoyancy.  At 4:30 on Saturday afternoon, when you scanned the pool, it was a sea of floating orbs just at the water line.

My big fun was that I discovered my inner-stripper. Not that I pole danced, although one was available. There is no way I have the upper body strength to do some of those upside tricks I saw women do at the strip club. But, I did dance in a cage with another woman while being serenaded. Funny thing, that did not feel very take-it-off. More Laugh-In. Maybe it was because I was wearing cowgirl boots and a short dress. I kept picturing Goldie Hawn in all her go-go glory. I did not take any clothes off while dancing, so it was not really stripping. But, I did perfect a sexy hip roll which I had been practicing in my den with my ipod on when I could not sleep at 3 in the morning for years. So for the first time ever – this move was unveiled in public, and performed very close to another person (only my spouse). He was impressed. Very impressed. And I was, too. Often in the den, this move is partnered with tripping, and there was none of that.  He wants to make sure we find opportunities to dance again soon. Or he says he does. I often suggest dancing as a date night activity, only to get trumped by a good dinner.  Now that the stripper moves are in the mix, maybe it shall become a reality. We will have to choose our venues with some care. These R-rated maneuvers should stay in the bag at G-rated weddings.

I also discovered that sex in public for me loses some of its charm if it is expected. Part of the fun of a car in a dark parking lot is that you might be caught. If you walk in the door at a room filled with beds where people are already rolling around in different combinations and permutations, getting caught is not a problem. Carving out a space where there is no accidental butt-bumping was top on the list of my priorities.

We were pretty tentative opening the door to this love shack. When my eyes adjusted to the dim “mood” lighting, I saw 3 couches and 4 beds, with people writhing about on most surfaces. It was very quiet. Like, eerily quiet. I appreciate that my only observations of sex are my own and a few porn flicks, but when 7 couples are having sex, I expect some noise. Not bring-down-the-house-rafter noise, but moans or something.  And occasional loud outbursts would not have surprised me. I guess this was an etiquette thing in the sex room, so that you did not disturb others. Or, everybody in the room totally sucked at getting their partners off. Can’t you just see the Saturday Night Live skit – a couple stumbles into a swingers group where everyone is dreadful at the mechanics. Rocky Horror Picture show with the un-adept.

Our sex was fun, but odd. Imagine a movie theater where you are afraid to even whisper, “Pass the popcorn, please,” for fear of disturbing others. Now, imagine that you are dreaming of position #127b in the playbook, while your true love is focused on #17. No speech allowed, apparently. And not much room to maneuver without bumping into others. We had no idea we needed to devise some kind of touch code “4 taps means my turn on top.” “No, that was not taps, my hand was asleep.” It was a bit of a challenge to get in the zone with that many silent distractions all around.

Over-all report: dancing – fabulous, over the moon fun; sex – better at a hotel. A really nice hotel. With fabulous sheets and blackout curtains.  I think I see our next get-away weekend taking shape.

There is great mischief a-brewing in my household, and I do not just mean the fake witch's cauldron on my front lawn.  I add fake because of a button I saw this week, "Bring back family values - burn witches."  Living in a very red state, somebody might think that is the most brilliant idea they have heard all week. 

No witch-mischief here. Just the good old-fashioned grown-up kind. My husband and I are headed to a nekkid place this weekend. I would be happy to be naked all weekend just the two of us with no kids. (Naked with the kids home  could have been okay when they were pre-schoolers, but not so much now) It is an adults-only naked place about 2 hours from here. (naked + no kids = lower super-granola to sexy person ratio) Think trailer hedonism on the cheap.  

Why do I mention this, you may ask? I can hear you saying that this might be one embarrassment I should keep to myself.  Nahhhh .......... what would be the fun of that? Why impose a pesky thing like boundaries now when we are having such a fine time?  Plus, there are already a few delicious ironies about our weekend that may slip her royal majesty's mind after it is swimming with images of swimming naked folks.  You should know that we went to this place once before when my kids were at camp this summer. Another reason to celebrate my children getting back to nature.  It was less than 3 months after my husband's surgery. Frankly, I was blown away that he would strip so boldly given the freshness of his very visible scars. There was no room to whine about my self-consciousness of the 15 pounds of fat I wish I'd lost before we came. We were there late on Sunday afternoon to Monday morning. It was fun and frisky, and very low-key. No naked flirting or sex in front of others. Apparently my spouse was hoping to have a lot more of both of those activities, because those have been central in his comments when we have spoken about going back.

So, we have a cabin reserved for Oktoberfest this weekend. GGRREEAATT - consume paunch-inducing beer and calorie-laden German food before padding around in the buff. To you,  I can whine about the fact that I have done nothing about those 15 pounds in the intervening 2 months. I'll let it go - really. Just venting. Their website is advertising party games involving  Jagermeister shots Saturday afternoon in the pool. That should excise those inhibitions pretty quickly. I fear we are going from a sleepy evening to aging Spring Break in Cancun.  Since I never did that (worked my way through college), and never flashed my breasts at Mardi Gras (veteran of 15 New Orleans parades), I guess I am due.  Might have been good to do these things when my breasts did not hit the floor without support, but too late for that now. It is all National Geographic, all the time.

Promised ironies - delivering ironies. Today I went and had my nails and toes painted to get ready for our time away. REALLY!?! Naked - buck, stark naked - and I am hoping people notice my toes. Methinks Prom Queen talks big and uninhibited, but she is painting her toes to settle her nerves before heading out to a Roman orgy.  Not that we are participating. Watching and being watched, but not jumping in. We still have issues with the "forsaking all others" clause in the contract.

Irony #2 - Friday and Saturday nights,  they have a dance club area at the naked place. Chatting with others and looking at the web pictures, it appears you wear clothes to the dances at the naked place. It does not look like they are wearing my style of dance clothes (warm weather mom uniform - denim knee-length skirt, random fitted t-shirt and ballet flats. Dancing, car-pooling, shelving books at the library, in class - this is what I wear). Clothes is using the term loosely. Even lingerie appears to be using the term loosely. Once again, Emily Post did not include a section which gives hints about  what to wear to naked place dances. Not only that, but because it is Oktoberfest, Saturday's dance is a costume party with a theme - Hansel and Gretel in the woods. All I can think of with that theme is Flowers In the Attic. So now, I am at the local sex toy shop buying a sexy beer wench costume, and a short tutu to make it puff out, stockings, push-up bra with only half my breasts covered, and trying to find something appropriate for Friday nights soiree!  I know I could opt out, but I am a costume girl. If I am going, I am playing. The full irony is that I spent $150 on clothes for a naked place. And, I'll have to take a suitcase. Isn't that hilarious! I guess if we went to the hippy granola nudist place with children running around, no costume needed. I'll pay the toll. Wish me luck!

There are situations in life, I believe we all have them, where I dream of possessing a do-over spell.  My moments flare up most often about 30 minutes after an argument.  The voice in my head reminds me sadistically how much smarter she is than the part of my brain attached to my mouth. " You know, when the bitch said........ You could have said.......... instead of your lame ......... Repeat."  Occasionally the do-over spell would be used for good, kind-of like Lassie, "If I just would have been there, I could have saved Mrs. Smith's kitten."  Other times, purely selfish, "Crap. If I had known the market would drop 33% in one year, I would have divested last October."  This is one of those times.

i am truly happy for David Duchovny and his release from the treatment center for sex addiction. And I am am happy for his family  that he apparently did not have an affair which jeopardized his marriage. According to his publicist, David was concerned because he was whiling away hours talking about sex in chat rooms and emails with various women. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!   FRAC!  SON OF A MOTHER!  How did I not get in on this?  I have been in chat rooms talking about sex. Had great conversations. But David Duchovny. Now... as his steamy, brooding Hank Moody self, not the younger, brooding X-File self.  I would have had happy come-hither hormones coursing through my veins for weeks, maybe months.  Hell, I'm pretty darn pumped just dreaming of the could-have-beens. If I could invoke a Wayne's World - finger waterfall - Dreamweaver moment right now, I would completely go back 18 months, find that chat room, and chat.  And chat.  And chat. Then maybe enter the treatment center with him for some one-on-one therapy.......

What is it that makes a man drop-dead sexy? Clearly for me, his character on Californication is just my kind of porn.  (Aside for my wonderful guy readers - he is not relationship or even date material. He is fuck once, go home happy and feeling a little cheap. Do not quit the day job and sand blast a Porsche to have the ladies drooling.  Stay main stream and channel his cockiness when on the make.)  The way he plays that character exudes sex. Flippant. Cocky. Knowing the right thing to do and not doing it. Yum. Ultimately for me, male sexiness comes from two things - the way a guy moves and the way he talks.  Kevin Costner in Bull Durham. The character of Chris on Northern Exposure.  The movement is not a swagger, but it is a confidence with a bit of rascal thrown in.  A sexy man moves like he would dance well, and fuck even better. Then, he looks at you with eyes filled with lust and begins to speak. Hold me back! Long diatribes littered with double entendres turn me into a puddle of desire. Hearing a man speak passionately and at length about anything important to him really flips my switches (hey, light going on here - this explains a lot about my love of politics and my long-standing crush on the late Tim Russert - who, if I had a do-over spell would certainly get one to have my daughter's soccer coach near him when he collapsed at NBC.).

So, what is it for you, male or female, that gets the ball rolling? Are you like Richard Burton, who when asked what it was about Elizabeth Taylor that he loved, practically salivated on the camera as he dreamily answered, "Her breasts."  Or, are you about the whole enchilada, where the whole package has to be just right. Not true love here, just lust. What does it for you? Step right up to the plate and throw in your $ .02 .