Tag Archives: Martini

50 Shades of dissapointed…

1 Aug

Nothing disappoints me more than wasting my time. Except of course, wasting my money. Or spilling a martini.

Thank god my Mom bought this trilogy and I got to download it for FREE. So there’s at least that. Oh, and that this little trilogy thingy gave me something to snark about. #FTW

I skimmed through finished the book in like two days. My friend Molly warned me that the sex scenes would spiral into mind-numbingly boring, so I was prepared at least for that. But the plot and writing was just so freaking absurb.

And it kinda pisses me off they refer to this as Mommy Porn. First, that’s demeaning to mom’s who like to get their freak on, and second, this was less e-rotica and more poor-rotica, so I found this hilarious picture that about sums it all up.

It’s been weeks since I finished the book and I am now just getting around to writing the review. Why you ask? Well, because I was raised on the adage “if you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything… until you have something really good and biting ready.”

The thing that disappointed me so much about this book is that it barely took off its panties to sit on the rim of sexual decadence. I expected a more uninhibited view into the world of psychological and sexual exploits.

Plus, these two characters are so annoying that I just want to flog the shit out of them both. And unfortunately, for them, they’d enjoy it, so what’s the point?

So I decided to not even bother picking stupid plot points out and mocking the crap out of them. Sorta. On the other hand, if you want a succinct review read Richard Branson’s – I’ll fly Virgin fo sho now!

Instead, I’ve decided to devote this blog to fantasizing about how the movie is going to capture the pure essence of certain scenes.

  • Tampon: Remember when Christian literally yanked the tampon out of Ana’s hoohaw so they could have sex? I almost puked at that – so I feel sorry in advance for the key grip.
  • Blow jobs: There is nothing our girl doesn’t enjoy more than playing the saxophone and even more fantastic for her is the instrument’s climactic finale.
  • Washing Toys: I can’t wait to see how they tackle this one. Open scene… Ana walking downstairs with butt plug in hand (pun intended) and runs into the maid on the way, who is clearly on her way to that playroom to clean the peen filled sheets. If there’s a God out there, she will write the scene with the humor that this affords. Please close up on the maids face when she’s taking inventory of the toy chest. Please!

My tip to you, if you haven’t read these books, is to hurry up and do so! You’ll either love it or hate it. Either way, conversations with and among women have never been more livelier, so for that, EL James, thanks. Errr, laters baby.

50 Shades of what?

24 May

So my mom and sister are all hyped up over this book. I think one of my besties told me about it too – I think she fanned herself when she told me it’s filled with hot, erotic sex. So naturally, I had to immediately download this to my Kindle and pour a martini.

Chapter 1.

What the FUCK people? This is a poorly written Harlequin Romance novel, with the most idiotic prose I have read since I was twelve. But since I am, after all, a 12-year old at heart, I keep reading, my mind drifting back to 5th grade and Molly, my reading buddy, bestie and first girl kiss. I wonder if she’s read this? (She’s reading this blog post so perhaps she’ll share?)

****SPOILER ALERT****

Don’t read this post if a) you don’t want to read me mocking this book so far, or b) if you intend to read it and wonder if the maiden gets her rose petal plucked and plundered by his manly sword.

Now if you weren’t aware, this is Twilight fanfiction – where a serious fan decided Edward and Bella should actually be into kinky fuckery. The fanfiction turned into something a bit more lucrative and the author changed the characters’ names to Anastasia and Christian. Whatevs.

Anyhoohaw, I just finished Chapter 8. So far, our mousy and clutsy heroine (who probably has a secret smell that is Christian’s personal brand of heroin) has asked him if he’s gay, drunk dialed him, vomited in front of him, been man-handled in an elevator (OK, that was hawt.) Then, he whisks her to Seattle in a helicopter, gives her some wine, and makes her sign a non-disclosure agreement about anything they do or talk about. What the FUCK people?

He says he needs to show her his playroom. Her reply was something like “you want to play with your XBox?” I expected his reply to be filled with innuendo and was sorely miffed that he didn’t even try. Harrumph.

The playroom was filled with all sorts of shit I have no idea how it’s used. I’m certain the clinical descriptions provided in chapter 7 are quite accurate, buy *yawn*, didn’t make my heart pound.

Keep in mind people, Anastasia is a virgin. Kissed maybe two or three times in her LIFE. So I find it humorous that she doesn’t run for the hills. Instead, they calmly discuss Tess of the d’Ubervilles and debasement.

Me: Dear Author, I prefer less literary reference and more innuendo with my erotica, thanks.

The first sex scenes are kinda just so-so. So far, I don’t see the hype. Am I the only one rolling my eyes at the prose?Readers, enlighten me? What am I missing, besides really good writing and story telling…

I like it a little hot and dirty in the morning

30 Apr

There is almost nothing better to get your morning off to a damn tootin great start than some hot, spicy, and dare I say dirty deliciousness.  I am of course referring to my usual weekend routine here at the cabin. And just because I’m here alone this weekend, doesn’t change my lust for this ritual.

Oh hey, now, re-reading this intro sounds…. oh c’mon… you’ve been reading my blog, my facebook posts, and my tweets haven’t you? You should know by now what a sassy pants I am, but in fact, I am referring to my love affair with vodka in this post.

Well hello Mary, you are super hot today...

Specifically, my DIRTY MARY. You know, the nectar the hubby and I continually drink the the Maynards every weekend. And I mean E.V.E.R.Y. I have a picture of these bad girls framed on my wall at the cabin (no lie) and I am soooooper proud to say, that as of yesterday, TheMartiniDiva decided to post my luscious dirty mary drink on her website. In a printable 3×5 recipe card. This will now be my second recipe the Diva has allowed to grace her website.

We converted the traditional “on the rocks” mary to a martini and since it’s such a hot muthufuckin drink we are calling it… what else… Hot Mama Martini.

So if you are anything like me, or want to be, or simply want some spice in the morning to fire up your loins, make yourself a batch of these tasty ladies. Caution: drinking these may make you do things like suddenly shout “aye caramba” and quite possibly giggle over likely unfunny comments. To me, that’s a win-win.

Oh me? Yeah, I’m fixin to make a batch at approximately 11:00a PDT. I’ll be imbibing while sitting in my hot tub listening to The Blend on XM. I’m predictable that way. 😉

Mwah babies. Have a splendiferous (this is like my new favorite faux word) day filled with antics, mayhem, and laughter.

E.D. It’s not just for breakfast anymore…

31 Mar

The other night, I got together with two of my crazy bitch co-workers. Damn, I love these women. WorkItGirl and HotBabyMama.

WorkItGirl asked me last week to help her “shop” for a new man in her life. What the hell did I get myself into?

So we meet up, and I ask “what are we shopping for anyway” and WorkItGirl tells me they are going to Yosemite. Immediately, I conjure imagines of hiking and whatnot. I decide the best advice I can give her is to wear some cute hiking knee socks, some cheeky panties and a hot ass bra. Yeah baby! Cuz that’s how I’d rock the hiking look. Oh yeah, and pigtails. Cuz I’m naughty (shocking yes?)

They don't REALLY have to be hiking socks. So not the point.

I ask WorkItGirl how she met him in the first place and she tells me it was through eHarmony. I’m like “wha?” and she’s like “I kno” and then she tells me and HotBabyMama the story of this guy she met once for coffee.  Who was a complete WTF and a funny story. (And not the guy she’s going to Yosemite with.)

So anyhoohaw, she meets this guy for coffee and he proceeds to tell her about his erectile dysfunction. Over coffee. Did I mention it was 10am? Do we not have propriety here? WTF?

She is goaded by her BFF for life to give him another chance. First off, there is nothing wrong with admitting you have ED. I’m lying. And mocking. If you have ED, shut the fuck up. Lie bitch. Especially on the first date. At breakfast no less.

But she decides, okay, maybe I freaked out and should give him another chance. Maybe it was misunderstood?

She meets Mr. ED for dinner.

All is well until dessert. Where he decides to spill the T.R.U.T.H. – over creme brulee no less. Apparently Mr. ED is undergoing a surgerical penile implant to help him with this little problem. He’s really selling himself to WorkItGirl with this expenditure.

Me and HotBabyMama devolve into mindless giggles. Just in time for the waitress to arrive. Whereby I spill the sad truth that we’re talking about penile implants and yes, please, may I have another martini? Three olives, shake it up I like it dirty…

I’m so glad I’m not single. And so glad I have friends who have such colorful lives and stories that allow me to feel their pain, mirth, and currently – joy.

P.S. WorkItGirl found some rockin knee high hiking socks. Schwing!

Vodka gets me in trouble…

19 Mar

Here’s the deal. I like my martini dirty (light on the dirty – maybe we call it a naughty martini). Either way, the root cause of all evil is wheat. I can prove it.

It all started when the Maynards invited us to join them for the Northern California Special Olympics celebrity ski event at Incline Village the other weekend. As soon as we arrive at the ski resort, we perch our asses pointing at the north shore and begin our ritual – you know, starting off the ski day by getting warm – ala some dirty mary’s.

Nice ass.

Properly revved up on napalm mary’s we ski’d for a bit then on to other fun activities – we head to the banquet. One word: Mayhem.

You see, Brad Kinney was manning the turntable and of course I had to go say hi. After all, we went to HS and are facebook friends and all. Such a small, small world. I clickity clacked my way over and said “Hi Brad!” and we chit chatted and maybe there was some flirt on my part. I mean, he’s BRAD!

Meanwhile, over at our table, dubbed Team Vodka (coincidence? I think not) we had one of K‘s colleagues, a very nice Russian man named Dmitriy. He’s been at these celebrity events before and knew everyone. I mean e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e.

He and I quickly hit it off, drinking shots of Russian Standard and talking in a thick Russian accent. My accent is a hot mess but Dmitiriy’s is real – which totally worked!! So after a few of these fire shots, me and my big girl shoes are dancing and whooping it up. I don’t need much of an excuse you know.

However, I have NO idea who I’m dancing with at this point. And it totally doesn’t matter. I think at one point I was bootie popping with Juliet Goodrich from CBS News. She saw one of my tattoos and became my new dance BFF.

Then, Dmitriy gets me in a gang-dance. I don’t know what else to call it. There were three of them and one of me. And outta nowhere, I find myself hoisted up on top of a dinner table to dance with Ryan Merriman (Pretty Little Liars) and Thyme Davis (Days of our Lives). No shit. Earlier that day, after skiing, we met up with them in the bar. Ryan showed me a picture on his iPhone. It was him – shredding at the terrain park.

But up on the table – dancing with Ryan and Thyme – this was well, both surreal and to be expected I guess. I mean, for those that know me. THIS. IS. NOT. UNCOMMON. FOR. ME.

Thanks Brad! The hat is smashing!

As the party goes on, out come the cute pink cowboy hats with tiaras (thanks Brad for giving me one first!). We continue drinking vodka, and I realize I’m a gonna pay dearly for this later.

And I do. Can barely walk the next day and I have to check my texts and tweets for too much sass. And then apologize. A lot.

Like a half-off shoe sale at Nordstrom’s, I love my vodka but it gets me in all sorts of trouble.

Ménage à trois?

12 Mar

Abso-freaking-lutely.

I always say, “two’s company and three’s a party”. But that’s me. I’m crazy that way.

So when I was chatting with my very good gal pal, the ever so divine @theMartiniDiva, we were bantering about booze and my mood. I was feeling dry and bitter. Like eggplant. So I wanted her to suggest a Martini to suit my mood. But not with eggplant.

She came back with a gimlet of course. A vodka gimlet. I’m a sucker for vodka. Ketel One specifically. And last weekend, true Russian Standard shots with Dmitriy got me table top dancing with some actors at an event for Special Olympics. True story. For another post of course ;).

Anyhoohaw – she suggests a gimlet – I tell her I have a madcap recipe for a Ruby Red and Mandarin Orange gimlet that is outta this world. I call it of course…

Ménage à trois.

Did you think I'd add a kinky picture? Ha!

So we decide to post my recipe on her fabulous website – where there are drink recipes for pretty much anything your little hearts desire.

And because she likes me, I mean really likes me, she made it into a printable card. With my LEGS on it. Yep, my legs. In stilettos.

Cuz I’m crazy that way.

And yes, these are my legs. No lie. I’m such a shameless chit.

You can view (and print) my legs and recipe here.

Either way, enjoy yourself and your new friends. Cuz if you order this drink at a bar, you will find yourself surrounded by new people. And by new, I mean new “friends”.

OKAY, thanks bye.

Nice chew toy…

12 Feb

I had martini’s the other night with my friend Inga.

She told me a story about what happened the other night to a friend of hers.  It’s a cautionary tale in many ways.

Like most single gals, Betty is kinda like Wonder Woman: she works, pays her mortgage, cooks, cleans, kicks ass and loves jewelry. She has good friends and her parents are even nearby.

So in Wonder Woman’s very busy world, she sometimes has to squeeze in some special “personal” time. If you catch my drift… And that time was around 7:30p the other night.

It was also about that time when Wonder Woman’s parents decided to make an unannounced visit. The quick knock knock on the front door followed by the parents letting themselves in yelling out “Betty, where are you?” had Betty flying off the bed faster than Wonder Woman fighting off bullets with those awesome bracelets.

With a zip, tuck and tug, she flew downstairs. Patted her hair. Chatted with the folks who said they just popped over on their way to dinner, would she like to join? She didn’t have a chance to answer this…

Oh, did I mention Wonder Woman has a dog? A big black lab. Calls her Sunshine. She’s an inquisitive and loving doggie. Loves to play. Ummm hmmm.

While Wonder Woman was distracted by her parents, little miss Sunshine decided it was time for a game of fetch. And she knew just the perfect stick to retrieve.

Running into Wonder Woman’s bedroom, Sunshine spots her target, gleefully grabs it, and makes a mad dash downstairs to get the humans to toss it for her. “Look at me! Look at me!” she cries to them. So they did.

“What the ach?”

Sunshine is sporting a 6″ black sex toy gripped between her doggie lips, drool kinda dangling off one side. Wonder Woman, since she really doesn’t telepath with her dog, instead yelled “Sunshine!”

And Sunshine promptly sat down, dropped her new big black dong chew toy between them all, and wagged her tail furiously. And barked.

At first stunned by the fact that there was big black dong chew toy resting at their feet, nobody moved. Then Mom starts to bend down to retrieve it when Wonder Woman quickly grabbed it and tossed it out the back door. Prayed to the Amazon Gods that her folks didn’t actually see what it was.

I say look at the bright side. It could have been worse. At least it wasn’t vibrating.

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