Tag Archives: sex

My personal shopper…

19 Sep

I workout every morning from 6am til 7:30a then do my Wonder Woman thing (as The Rockstar calls it) so I’m all perty girlie and work ready. I work full-time and there is always something ‘to-do’ after wards. Groceries, martini’s, dinner. Whatnot.

So I shop a LOT on line. Overstock and Amazon are my go-to sites for quick and easy purchases. And if you’re buying something well, rather personal, the delivery guy just leaves it discreetly on your porch.

That is, until you move into a condo.

You see, packages left in a doorway at a condo or apartment are subject to theft more often than those left at private residences. Good to know – NOW!

I’ve met my neighbors: Upstairs, it’s Tubby Ted and his wife (wtf is her name?!?). Next door is Jean, her hubby and their yorkie CoCo. Above them is some terribly unfriendly woman with a weinerdog.

I have no suspicions any of my neighbors would steal my packages. They all seem like fine upstanding folk.

Wipe that smile off your face, Brown...

What I do wonder however is whether any of my neighbors know what’s in packages THAT THEY SIGN FOR WHEN I’M NOT HOME. Hewl, I don’t necessarily have a problem with the UPS man knowing what I’m buying, it sorta explains the smile and urgent knock on my door. I just don’t want my neighbors to have any clue about what I’m doing. Except when I’m outside smoking a flavored cigar. Or walking around my bedroom nekkid. But that’s a story for another post.

Anyhoohaw, turns out UPS delivered something a little special today, maybe just a wee bit naughty and holy shitballs batman, fuckety fuck if Jean didn’t sign for my package.

First thought other than “fucking A, finally it shows up” is “dear lord baby hayzeus, please tell me the return label doesn’t indicate it came from Candy Land or some shit”.

I guess tonight I’ll find out if I’ve been found out.

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The Big O…

29 Jul

Gee, what on earth could this post be about? Shopping at Overstock.com? Or maybe something a bit more risque and bawdy? For those of you that know me even a little I’m a dirty shoe whore with emphasis on the dirty part. So I cannot blame you for any mistaken conclusions on this post’s title.

But alas, this post is about finding an apartment. My place for the last 6 weeks has been temporary – and I’ve made arrangements to share a place with Tamara, a friend from high school who has been held captive in Chicago for IDK a couple decades?!

Tamara is a wild child. She’s gonna rip my inner freak apart fo sho. I can’t wait for her to get here and for us to slap some mayhem all over the Bay Area. And oddly, I’m kinda scared of the damage we’re gonna do.

And while Tam and I grew up in the burbs, and I’ve lived in posh-town for a long time, it’s time for me to abandon the safe and sleepy burbs for a more urban dwelling. But where? Hmmmm. Thinking. Thinking.

*Forehead smack* Of course!! Oakland. (Did your jaw just drop?)

It’s urban, I don’t have to cross any bridges to get to work, and it’s close to family. It’s the biggity fucking O is what it is, yo.

When I told my mother, she started doing research into statistics. Murder and rape statistics that is. SMH. She also said “isn’t that conveniently close to The Rockstar?” Okay, there is maybe just a hair of truth in that…

Yes, this is OAKLAND!So really why Oakland? I guess working in the biggity O for 14 years is one reason. Another is my need to push myself into giving something radically new a try. Going from a sprawling suburban custom home to living in the biggity O is well, pushing myself pretty far.

This weekend, I’ll be pounding the streets looking at not just places to live, but this time, really looking around. Eyes up and focused on what’s in front of me. For me, it’s gonna be an interesting test of what I think I can live with. Or without.