i just don't understand why we can't have more work meetings on the coast

[Sigh]

Why can't my work trips be held in more interesting places? I'll be spending the next three days and nights being held hostage in rural northern MD. I've checked weather.com, and the high for Tuesday should be around 99. I'm not doing so well with the heat right now, either.

My attitude is poor today due to tiredness and biological reasons. The diet was not complied with, but wasn't completely blown either. I drank a lot of wine with the Brits on Friday and I don't feel at all guilty about it. The Bombshell's bf now has a nickname: Lucky Perv. The LP said lots of funny things Friday night, which I managed to write upon a napkin. I've since gone back over my notes and find that I can't quite recreate what made his quotes so funny. Maybe you can do better than I can:

"...coming out as an unsuccessful heterosexual..." [there was a long discussion about dating and how the British don't really date and British men certainly don't talk about it]
"...Dickensian subhumans..." [it was late when I scribbled this - can't recall the circumstances]
Then he was kind enough to define what was a "slapper top" - I have several!
"T-shirt as a consolation prize..." [well, this may only be funny to us, come to think about it]

But seriously, he is really funny. The Brits are an adorable couple and I can't believe they're going home so soon! We're going out again next Thursday in a sort of mini bon voyage before they go on a road trip of the south. Its a good thing I don't have to work next Friday.

i give good email, damnit

There are some people who you can never satisfy, who live to merely make your life difficult. And there are some who forget that a dry sense of humor does not convey well across email.

I present for your consideration a snippet of today's email transactions with the Dog Chauffeur:

me - "You know how you feel about not drinking? Grouchy, angry, depressed, profane... Well, thats how I feel about dieting. More than anything I'm pissed at my parents for not having provided me with a better metabolism via genetics.

But, its going. I went to the store and picked up some healthy groceries and some of those South Beach Diet frozen meals. One of the recipes calls for some fresh basil and oregano. Can you hook me up? Will cook for fresh ingredients... " [Then I said some really smart stuff about Shakespeare's works. No. Really.]

him - "grouchy, angry, depressed, profane. Roger all...

WRT the above, can I mail you the herbs... [I found this pretty funny, actually. Despite the grouchitude.]

Kidding aside: Not a problem, I have tons, well, pounds, of both. You can get some more 'maters too if you like... When/how would you like the herbs?"

me (part the first) - "How do I want the fresh garden produce? Wear the basil behind your left ear, and the oregano behind the right. Exercise your own judgment on the tomatoes. I trust you. Also, some mint and a couple cucumbers would be lovely. For dramatic effect, you could put the mint between your lips - like a flamenco dancer would with a flower - and put the cukes in your front pockets. I'd say to bring the beer too, but I'm supposed to avoid alcohol till the 3rd. Since I'm having dinner with the Brits tomorrow, you know that diet mandate will be NOT HAPPENING. When do I want it? Well, Saturday would be best since I have to drive up to Emmitsburg on Sunday evening for three days of meetings. I'll see your Percocet and raise you three days worth of Valium/frontal lobotomies..."

me (part the second) - "Other options for herb delivery:1. Artistic/Biblical - Strategically placed herbs a la Adam in the Garden of Eden - maybe you have the tomato in your mouth as if taking a bite out of it... and 2. Roman Bacchanalia - A garland of herbs around your head while wearing a toga."

him - "I'll see what I can do..."

In retrospect, not actually my best work but not bad for a busy workday. All the same - I had expected a slightly more enthusiastic response. Or, at least some acknowlegdment of my naked and earnest attempt to be good humored and amusing in spite of our shared grumpiness. I complained as much to the Slama.

me - "I like for my hard work to be immediately acknowledged in flowery language."
Slama - "I like sex. But that doesn't mean I'm getting any." [Her bf works too damn hard and leaves my girl hanging too often.]
me - [I proceed to laugh way too loudly for a cubicle farm dweller.]

The things we do for home grown produce...

i must be peaking

You know how I said a few posts ago that I was not all about the sex? Well, I may have been wrong. [Eh. Whatever. Not feeling guilty about it.]

The Slama and I are both in our mid-30's. We both seem to be at an apex of sort re our sex lives (well, at least we've been ascending that mountain of bounty - or mountain of booty - for the past few years). This would explain the rather in-depth conversation we had tonight regarding marital aids.

The Slama attended what she likes to call a "tupperware" party on Friday. Riiiiiggghht. Let's call a spade a spade, shall we? It was a (NSFW - especially if you work for Big Brother) Pure Romance party. She bought several items, to include something called Cinnamon Stick Great Head (god I hope this link works or this posting will be for naught). There is something on this website called Like a Virgin that a fellow Alabamian friend of Slama's bought. I would be lying if I said this product didn't sound at all interesting - I'm not the whore of babylon, ferchrissakes, but I'm about 17 years shy of my virginity. Slama and I are eagerly awaiting her report of the product's efficacy.

Slama: I had no idea how many different kinds of vibrators there are!
Me: (in a No-Duh voice) Um, lots?
Slama: (other Bama friend) only has one!!!!
Me: (this would be a sad commentary but she does have a live-in bf and I guess he takes care of business)

We proceeded to inventory our current stocks. I'm winning in the device range, but Slama has way more ointments and stuff. I am looking forward to her scientific and thorough review of each.

Interestingly, the products on this site are far more moderately priced than Babeland or Xandria Collection. I suppose that this kit might be a low-cost easy way to determine my appetite for light bondage, but I think I prefer the Kiki de Montparnasse restraint tape and a good old-fashioned scarf to the cutesy pink crap.

this is so not true

As all of you know, my (newly pirated) catchphrase is "lick my mork." Also, I only do filthy things in clean places. (To the best of my recollection...)

Libra (Sept. 22-Oct. 22) You'll be particularly vocal this week, much to the chagrin of your neighbors. While screaming, "Tickle that nut!" at the top of your lungs in bed may make your partner come, it only aggravates those who can hear you through your cheap plaster walls. Turn lemons into lemonade. Find a rent-by-the-hour flop house to get away and exorcise your lust in a whole new environment. Your resourcefulness will make this mountain a molehill.

bread and butter pickles

The weekend has had its peaks and valleys. It started out nicely with a quick date with the Dog Chauffeur before he took off for some time at his shore place, dipped horribly on Saturday with an acute sinus headache, and then recovered with some beauty and shopping therapy on Sunday (note to the Slama - I finally found a dress for The Spitfire's wedding).

For the next 10 days I will be dry. No drinking. Nada. I'm going to try this Sonoma Diet thing, which seems to be another form of the South Beach Diet. And the Mediterranean Diet. They let you drink on these diets but not for the first 10 -14 days (on average). I have many reservations about diets, but mostly dislike them because they rarely include chocolate, cookies, or booze. I need a chocolate-cookies-booze diet. Wouldn't that be fantastic?

I haven't checked, but I think this [damned] diet plan includes pickles. If not, I'm in trouble since the Chauffeur of Dogs gave me a jar of home canned bread and butter pickles on Friday and they are too lovely to give up.

boise ain't the place to wear your manolo's

Please forgive the radio silence, but I've been in Boise for work.

Now, I know what you're going to say because I said those exact same things. Prepare to be shocked: Boise isn't bad. And, no, we apparently did not sell it to Canada a few years back.

It was hot, but not humid and very comfortable. Unlike DC, where you can step out of your apartment freshly showered and made up only to be turned into a flat-haired, smeary-make-uped, wet-dog smelling mess in less than 5 minutes... Nope - you can go all day and just need to freshen your makeup a tad before going out for dinner. The people are really friendly and helpful, and very outdoorsy. Also, it seems they are helping to keep the chewing tobacco industry afloat.

Boise has a lovely riverwalk too, and we went walking along it for a while last night. The sky stays light till 10ish, and everybody sits out to enjoy it.

Boise is pretty. I can't say a whole lot for their cultural diversity (lots of blondes, lots of hispanics, and a decent tribal presence is pretty much it - the entire state is heavily conservative Republican and the Church of the Latter Day Saints is pretty big there too), but there is a decent Basque population there (they arrived in the late 1800's and became the region's shepherds), and we had dinner at this awesome hole in the wall called Bar Gernika last night. When was the last time three people could get drinks, two excellent appetizers and three entrees for $46.50 in this area? We ordered mushrooms sauteed in butter and sherry as well as a chorizo and idiazabal cheese tortilla - they were both outstanding. Also, we checked out a Mexican joint called Andrade's that was also very nice (I had the shredded pork enchiladas with mole sauce).

Sadly, I did not meet any real cowboys. I have a feeling they don't hang out in downtown Boise.

Now, getting there is the hard part as there aren't any direct flights, and you're doomed if you are trying to fly across the country during the middle of summer - thunderstorms shut down the Chicago airport for the better part of the day today and we were left scrambling. After many calls to the travel agency, we were able to detour through Denver and only experienced a minor delay in getting into DC. Damn, I'm beat. What the hell am I still doing up? 

# 300 - casting aspersions on my libido

I might be quite wrong, but I believe that I have been accused of being insatiable. Obsessed with sex. Constantly frisky. And not in a good way.

Again, I might have misinterpreted the comment. But I'm also of the opinion that there's a wee bit of truth behind most teasing.

Granted - I do a fair bit of whining here about dating and sex. The blog somewhat fairly represents the non-myriad issues that have plagued/interested me for the past couple years, but if I am coming off so one-dimensional then things need to change.

On the other hand, I absolutely bridle at the idea that normal and healthy women should not have libidos or express their desires; that it is just fine for older men to run after young women a la Benny Hill, but it is undignified for older women to pursue younger men. The NY Times has an article regarding a movie on this subject - read it before it expires. I'm including a particularly salient part:

Ms. Rampling, who at 60 is still a woman of erotic allure, said by phone: "There's an awful lot of pressure around the idea of a woman growing older and therefore losing that potential of being desirable, and that puts women into a situation where they feel almost embarrassed about the fact they don't have the kind of bodies that young women have, or they don't have the kind of sexual attraction that seems to go with a younger stage of their life.

"What does that mean, the fact that you're older? It means that you're not going to have the same kind of relationships you had when you were younger. I think we have to reinvent from a woman's point of view another way of being." [Emphasis mine.]

At 35, I don't exactly fall into the film's demographic, but agree that we do need to consider female sexuality more fairly. I'm no Peg Bundy, but I'm no June Cleaver either.

Jeez. Way to kill my frisky.

i should have come of age 60 years ago

As the Dog Chauffeur and I sat down to breakfast this morning, our adorable waiter exclaimed how pretty I was. I promptly declared my love for the waiter - apparently I can be had for cheap flattery. What am I saying?? I'm all over cheap flattery. "I'm so coming back next weekend," I said to DC, who replied in mock shock, "but I won't be here!"

So, you see, the day started out extraordinarily well.

Then, I did some napping and finally finished The True History of the Kelly Gang (excellent) and Cocktails for Three (trite). After puttering around aimlessly (which is not easy in a studio - you end up retracing your steps rather often), I nuked a lean cuisine and started watching The Philadelphia Story. It may have been the depressing lean cuisine, but while watching this charming movie I came to the sad realization that I should have been born in the era of Cary Grant's and Jimmy Stewart's heydays.

Why?
1. ) The witty witty banter...
Librarian: What is thy wish?
Macaulay Connor: I'm looking for some local b - what'd you say?
Librarian: What is thy wish?
Macaulay Connor: Um, local biography or history.
Librarian: If thee will consult with my colleague in there.
Macaulay Connor: Mm-hm. Dost thou have a washroom? [the librarian points]
Macaulay Connor: Thank thee.

or

C. K. Dexter Haven: The moon is also a goddess, chaste and virginal.
Tracy Lord: Stop using those foul words.

Also - Katherine Hepburn gets to deliver lines such as "I'm such an unholy mess of a girl!" And I completely understand what she means.

2.) The glamorization/romanticization of drinking excessive amounts of alcohol.
Macaulay Connor: I would sell my grandmother for a drink - and you know how I love my grandmother. - or -
Macaulay Connor: Champagne's funny stuff. I'm used to whiskey. Whiskey is a slap on the back, and champagne's heavy mist before my eyes. - or -
C. K. Dexter Haven: I thought all writers drank to excess and beat their wives. You know one time I secretly wanted to be a writer. - or -
Uncle Willie: [hung over] Awww... this is one of those days that the pages of history teach us are best spent lying in bed. - or -
C. K. Dexter Haven: [looking for the "hair of the dog"] Do you s'pose, sir, speaking of eye-openers...?
Uncle Willie: Oh, that's the first sane remark I've heard today. C'malong, Dexter, I know a formula that's said to pop the pennies off the eyelids of dead Irishmen.

3.) I crave the sorts of conversations that occur between men and women in movies like Indiscreet and Some Like it Hot.

I long for the 4.) unidy-yet-happy endings, for 5.) the stylish costumes, for 6.) the star-crossedness, and for 7.) the underlining honorableness of it all.

this explains a lot

DCist says something called a Full Buck Moon is the reason why folks are feeling a little grouchy/anxious, or, in my case, damn frisky. [I can't be the only one out there who wants to call it a "Bull Fuck Moon" either. Sigh.] After last night's dual sex-related postings I felt a bit guilty. I mean, there's more to me than my libido or my very lovely rack.

For example, I have developed a serious fondness for this Red Dwarf show; a British sci-fi sitcom. How dorky is that? The blessed theme song is always in my head.

Also, I'm nearly done with reading the True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey. This is no piece of crappy chick lit - it won the Booker Prize. See? I am multi-dimensional.

my libido is taking over

New York Magazine has a guide to luxe sex toy shopping. Slama, baby, we are so going to Kiki de Montparnasse (and, hell, probably Myla while we're at it) the next time I come up. Damn K de M for not having a website!

Update!!! KdeM DOES have a website. Thank you Google!

please make it so

Nerve has been serving up some hot horoscopes recently (for which I'm both grateful and hopeful):

Libra (Sept. 22-Oct. 22) You'll be the Franklin Roosevelt of oral sex this week, an orator to inspire the masses. Though your line of questioning will be standard ("Is that what you like, bitch? You like that Swedish smorgasbord?"), your presence and intonation will take it to a whole new level. By midweek, you'll be channeling your inner Clinton, overflowing with compassion and feeling their pain.

sign of a good haircut

When you go to bed with wet hair, engage in perfectly healthy adult activities, sleep fitfully, then engage in more perfectly healthy adult activities, and then wake up with your hair looking fantastically tousled and fluffy, you know you've gotten a very good haircut.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Kelly is a god with the scissors. Urban Style Lab, Dupont Circle. (But perhaps a little recognition should go to today's "stylist" - the man who chauffeurs his dog. He is multi-talented.)

do you know what 'stout gout' is?

Well, until today, I didn't either. It turns out that, in addition to its various health benefits, Guinness can make you a little gassy. Also, based on internet (not personal) research, one version might have a laxative effect. The Slama, who just got back from Ireland, informs me that the Irish joke about this phenomena.

So, there I was at Elephant and Castle yesterday with the British Bombshell and her British Boyfriend. (The Brits LOVED meeting at a faux English pub.) Watching Germany and Italy fight it out in the World Cup, surrounded by foreigners, and drinking Guinness. Very patriotic stuff. I've never had more than two in one sitting, so I had no idea the world of hurt that was to be delivered after having a salad at lunch, 3 or 4 Guinnesses (Guinnessi?) over the span of the afternoon, and enchiladas for dinner (and I left the refritos alone)...

Also, I don't recall the last time I had a hangover only 5 hours after I started drinking - I only had only drank 3-4 (perhaps 5, but the last one was really just half a Tecate), but it was a four-aspirin night. Yet, I was fine this morning. Most strange, this Guinness.

setting a new standard for sloth

I have to work tomorrow and I'm pretty bunjed about it. After an entire day of sleeping, eating, reading, more sleeping and watching something called Red Dwarf on dvd (thank god for the BBC), I'm just not emotionally or physically prepared to go to work. Also, I fear that sleeping all day will make it hard to sleep tonight. I hate how that works.

There seems to be no end to the Supreme's cuteness. Hopefully, I'll be able to spend the first week of August with them.

La Sister has also confirmed that my brother-in-law has not stopped reading the blog and is warning all other family members against reading it. Little does he know that this is the vanilla blog... 

my brother-in-law is a snitch

So, a while back I had asked my brother-in-law to kindly stop reading my blog. You see, dearest readers, he is not good at keeping his own counsel. Otherwise he is a lovely and charming person.

After sending him a message asking him to stop (and I was nice enough to send links to blogs I thought he might enjoy reading), he didn't visit my page for a few days. However, it appears he has returned to reading about La Whisky's various sad exploits. I have confirmation from my mother:

Me: It appears that B has resumed reading the blog.
Mom: Yes, he asked me if I had been reading, and I told him that I did not unless you sent me a specific link.
Me: Did he have anything to say?
Mom: He said it was probably a good thing that I wasn't reading it regularly.
Me: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa! He is such a tattle-tale!
Mom: Well, he didn't actually go into any detail... But I told him that the blog is really for you and your friends, and since you're 35 I really shouldn't have much say in the matter.

So, B, PLEASE stop reading. And stop making my mother worry about me. Or I will post unflattering photos of you and describe your personal hygiene habits in great detail.