They don't even MAKE music for how sexy I am.

Normally I listen to standup comedy while I get ready for work, but I noticed the entire notion of "morning," especially "rainy morning," offers much less "fuck this shit" when I have music on. So today I put my iPod on shuffle and heard:

1. An Amy Winehouse song called "Amy Amy Amy" about dolling oneself up for a workplace flirtation...while I examined a pair of jeans I pulled from the hamper to make sure they weren't the ones I dropped guacamole on the other day.

2. "The Thong Song," while wearing llama-print hipster briefs. 

3. "Hell on Heels," flip flops.

I am basically sex on a stick, you guys. I don't even know how y'all deal with me.

P.S. There was also "Shut Up and Drive" by Rihanna, which proclaims, "I got class like a '57 Cadillac," which...clearly with the guacamole and the llamas and the $2 Old Navy flip flops. But also, "got all the drive and a whole lotta boom in the back," which -- pfft -- is TOTALLY true. 

I've been digitally Naked Manned

First message from a man on OkCupid whose only profile photo is a bathroom mirror selfie... of his butt-naked body with his penis obscured by a Photoshopped flesh-colored oval: "You have really nice photos! Very pretty and cute, and sexy! I just wanted to tell you that and yes I meant what I said. I hope you dont get mad but your photos turn me on so much."

I'm confused. Why would I think you didn't mean it? Of course you meant it -- you're trying to put parts of you into parts of me. It would hurt your cause to be like, "You're hideous and make my dick soft."

Besides, I KNOW my photos are cute -- that's why they're my photos.

Your naked body isn't bad to look at, sir. Thanks for that. Let us retreat to our respective spank banks and call it a day.

I need. To see. Your FACE.

Honestly, I MIGHT have sex with you! But you need to have a face! I can't know if I'll want to kiss your dick if I can't tell if I'd kiss your face.

Get a face.

P.S. I'm a little embarrassed at how long it took me to realize his message could easily be copy/pasted and sent to a million other women. I'll give him credit for that. And for his body, because JAY-sus -- dude has a better curve on his ass than I do on mine.

"Let me work it, put my thang down, flip it, and reverse it..."

Email to a male coworker: “I almost feel bad every time they bring a new male employee in, because my eyes automatically check his left hand for a wedding ring. But I DON’T feel bad, because at least I check.”

Then again, when I tell my other friend a man is married, he always asks, “Well, sure, but…happily?” But investigating that involves too many potential emotional landmines for me.

Another male coworker is married and just had a kid, and a female coworker (also married) told me earlier she thinks he’s “so sexy.” And I agree, I want to nibble his lower tummy — don’t judge me, that’s what comes to mind. And this woman said, “I’m married, not dead.” Damn straight, lady. Respect. Dude is STUPID good-looking — like, I don’t even understand how he’s walking among us mere mortals.

And there’s another guy who’s SO cute, and he has NO idea. Like, I met him and expected him to be a total pretty-boy douche, but he’s super nice. (And also probably below my age bracket, but… I mean, there are always exceptions… “And when I clock black hair, blue eyes, I drift off, I fantasize…”)

"Drugs, man, capital D, Drugs."

The doctor put me on a new drug*, and told me repeatedly that if I notice a rash to contact her immediately.

Seriously, you guys, am so goddamn sexy I don't even know how y'all deal with me.

This is especially fun because there's always SOME reaction somewhere on my skin. I already had eczema (or SEXzema -- amirite, fellas?), and my skin reacts to perfumes, soaps, scented feminine products (THAT? Was a great day.), dryer sheets, certain fabrics, shaving, and men's facial hair when they kiss the BEST places**, so... really, what's one more?

*Some days I miss being on Abilify -- it was SUPER fun feeling like I was ALWAYS over-caffeinated, getting shit done LIKE A BOSS, and not giving a baker's fuck about anything, including if I slept ever again. Alas, not a sustainable lifestyle. Or so they told me.

**I almost always find this reaction worth it. Fine, whatever, I'll get psoriasis -- just keep your mouth on my neck. It will end well for us all.

It's alive! Alive!!!

Continuing a theme...

While a friend was visiting today, she showed me how the new vibrator works -- turns out I was using the wrong power button, so the moral of the story is that I can't even turn on a battery-operated dick. 

(I'm done with the theme now, I think. I'm cute as hell, I just thought all this was funny.)

Embracing my sexuality via total embarrassment.

Today I took an Intro to Burlesque class at Kink Shoppe, which means I turned BEET red as I flaunted my flat ass in front of a room full of people, took my shirt off (tank top underneath), and had it reaffirmed that it's hot when I play with my hair.

  

It's alive! Alive!!!

Continuing a theme...

While a friend was visiting today, she showed me how the new vibrator works -- turns out I was using the wrong power button, so the moral of the story is that I can't even turn on a battery-operated dick. 

(I'm done with the theme now, I think. I'm cute as hell, I just thought all this was funny.)

Sexy, sexy llamas.

The oddest things make me feel sexy. 

I'm wearing a shirt with llamas on it, but the back of it is scoop-cut lower than shirts I'm used to, and my hair is clipped up, so I have my neck and, like, five inches of back/shoulder exposed, with an occasional peek of bra strap, but I totally feel like I could make men do my bidding.

My llama bidding.

Shut up, don't judge.