Tag Archives: I’m Sexy and I Know It

You’ve Got to Bat Your Eyes…Like This

Growing up, I was a total tomboy. I couldn’t tell you exactly when I became girly, but I suspect it was around prom…because the dresses were pretty.

For a girl, I’m pretty low maintenance. I usually wear eye makeup, but I only use foundation on special occasions. Makeup takes time, and I have no patience. Plus, I never really figured out how to use blush correctly.

When I first heard about eyelash extensions, I thought:

Perfect! Now I won’t have to use mascara. Woo-hoo for 3.14 extra minutes of sleep! Sweet!

Extensions normally cost between $150-200. So I cheaped out, and let my nail salon do them for $60. They fell off the next day.

When I saw that a real salon had an eyelash extension special for $50, I tried one more time.

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein....

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein in my eye….

The picture was taken 2 weeks after my appointment…which means some fell out. You can imagine how awesome they looked when I first got them.

Apparently, I have more eyelashes than the average person, so it took almost 3 hours to put on a full set of lashes (because they put them on one-by-one).

As the technician handed me a mirror, she said, “They’ll be even more dramatic if you put mascara on!”

I could see spiders my lashes in the mirror across the room. No mascara needed.

Now I’m used to them, and I love them. But when I first saw them, I was shocked into girly overload…hence this text conversation:

Me: OMG…These eyelashes make me look like a hooker!

Friend: And you’re worth every penny.

 Kudos to the person who guesses what movie the post title is from.


Hot As Balls—Yeah, I Said It

Last week I had to get up earlier than usual was late to work because I had to scrape frost off my windshield. This week…I’m wondering if I’d get fired for taking off my pants.

Seriously.

I’m hot. And not sexy hot. I’m sweaty hot. And not glistening sweaty. I’m I-think-I-just-wet-my-underoos-no-that’s-just-sweat sweaty.

That’s how hot it is. I don’t even care how embarrassing it is to share with you that my thighs have soaked my undies. To dry them, I’m sitting spread-eagle at my desk…in a dress. Classy.

My legs scream "Open for Business,' but I don't care.

My legs scream “Open for Business,” but I don’t care.

While we’re I’m sharing, although I have a cold water bottle behind my neck, I really want to shove it down the front of my dress.

Apparently, switching on the AC requires a gazillion different approvals plus a dead body, so yesterday and again today we’re all sitting inside a 90-degree building….crying because no one would sacrifice themselves to the AC gods.

Ok, so maybe I was the only one actually crying. But only half of the time. The other half of the time I was begging for a Channing Tatum-look-a-like cabana boy to fan me.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I used to have an apartment where there was a small access panel (to the bath plumbing) in my bedroom. The first guy I showed it to swore that was where the trolls live. I never opened it, just to be sure.”—BluzDude


This Is as Graceful as I Get

On Sunday, I tried something I’ve never tried before. I took an aerial fabric class.

It was awesome! We learned several different climbs, positions, etc.

No, I didn’t make it to the top of the fabric. (I made it about one third of the way up through some twisting and flipping. Sorry I don’t have pics.) Learning how to maneuver your feet and legs takes practice. Only one crazy monkey girl in our class rocked it to the top of the fabric by just climbing.

But you don’t have to make it to the top to do some fun stuff.

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Thoughtsy: How far up am I now? Should I look down?

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Thoughtsy: I think I’m tangled. At least I’m 6 inches off the ground.

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Oooo…so this is how it’s done.

Now, if you’ll excuse me…I need to spend the rest of the week icing my arms and abs.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Time to Die! I’m going to start using that as my response whenever anyone asks me what time it is.”—JM Randolph


It’s Raining Men!

Because Channing Tatum and Joe Manganiello were in the movie Kiefer had a guys’ poker night, Blarney, Princess, and I went to see Magic Mike.

Having never been to a strip club, I decided to live vicariously through the movie.

Star-spangled tophats are not standard issue.

  • Stripping isn’t just taking your clothes off. There’s choreography, too.
  • What is that in the corner of the screen? Why, yes, it is a penis pump. With a penis in it.
  • Strippers might need a thong with an elephant trunk.
  • Sometimes guys pretend their penis is a machine gun.
  • Drugs are expensive.
  • To make women scream, throw a prop between your legs.

The most important lesson I learned is never go to a strip club in real life because Channing Tatum won’t be there…and that will be sad.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Adorable—she looks like a bed troll!”—Cestlavie22