My Crotch is on Fire

by Tonia

My bladder declared war against me this week. Yes, a urinary tract infection (UTI). Holy Mother of God. I had forgotten how much those fuckers hurt. If crotches could scream, you’d have heard mine, “Help! Help! FIRE! FIRE!” I like my privates to be ablaze … but with passion, not infection.

And the urgency factor - waaaayyyyyy less time between the urge and the actual pissing event. I know this because … well, just trust me on this. I definitely had to put my bladder on amber alert for a few days.  

I knew that I would need an antibiotic so I called the doctor. I was put on hold for over 20 minutes. But, hey, that’s OK, I knew that my call was very important to them. I knew because the recording kept telling me over and over and over again.

Finally, the nurse told me that I had to come in and make a pee-pee donation (otherwise known as a urine sample). I was told that midstream urine is the best sample. Really? I’m going to start, stop, THEN position the cup to collect my midstream sample? Uh, no. I’m just hoping not to piss all over my hand.

Did you know that women are more prone to UTIs than men? And, if you have sex more than three times a week, that you have an even higher risk of getting them? Well, I’m certainly not in that risk category (damn!) ....... and I can GUARANTEE there won’t be any walls a bangin’ here THIS week!

But I’m finally on heavy-duty antibiotics now so I'm looking forward to the resulting yeast infection……

So come on over to my house and throw me a Girlfriends’ Sympathy Party. I want a Comfort Basket with cranberry juice, vitamins, chocolate, trashy magazines, and a fireman calendar! Or find another girlfriend who is going through a hard time and give her a Sympathy/Comfort Party. She'll appreciate it!

Horsin' Around

by Rachel

My daughter had been begging me to take her horseback riding. I finally made arrangements to go one Saturday after my husband’s golf game so he could watch the 4 yr. old. I should’ve known things weren’t going to go well when the hubby came back with his panties all in a wad. Guess I had washed his favorite golf shorts with our daughter’s new glitter shirt. Results: ALL of the glitter went from her shirt to his shorts. He hadn’t noticed in the early morning when he grabbed them from the dryer. But, when he got to the course, he sparkled in the early morning sun, earning the nickname “Tinkerbell” from the guys.

Glad to get away from Grumpy, we jumped in the car and headed for the ranch. On the trail I insisted that my daughter ride behind the guide as I wanted her to be close to someone who could help her. I knew I would be of no help as I could barely keep my ass in the saddle. And it didn’t help that “Jaws” (the horse behind me) tried to bite me every time he got close.  

And, let me say, if you think horse back riding is like a display at a Ralph Lauren store with lovely English saddles, polo mallets, and glowingly clean straw bales, you would be mistaken. No flawlessly dressed folks smiling and chatting in a spotless stable. Nope. Just lots of dirt, sweat, bugs, horse hair and horse shit. But back to my story…

The trail led us by a beautiful scenic lake but our guide never looked up from her phone. She texted the entire ride … some kind of boyfriend drama. Things were fine, though, until ….. we came upon a campsite and something spooked my daughter’s horse. It took off galloping through the trees. Another horse bucked off its rider and also took off.

By the time we reached my daughter she was crying and her right eye was cut and swollen from the tree branches. Her horse was still a little jumpy so I told her we were going to trade horses. That’s when the guide suddenly decided to put down her phone. She told us that the rules stated we were not supposed to change horses during a ride. I looked her straight in the eye and asked her what the rules stated about texting while riding. She didn’t utter another word while my daughter and I traded horses.

When we got home I made my daughter one of her favorite snacks - baked chocolate donuts. These are wonderful and go great with coffee. Serve them the next time your girlfriends come over for coffee and to talk about the “horse crap” in their lives.

Chocolate Donuts

Donut ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour 


1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder


1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons water

1/2 cup milk

1 egg

4 teaspoons melted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Glaze ingredients

1 cup confectioners’ sugar


2 tablespoons milk


1 teaspoon vanilla

Heat oven to 325. Coat donut pan (or you can use a mini muffin pan) with nonstick cooking spray. In a bowl, whisk the flour, cocoa, salt and baking soda. In another bowl, whisk the egg, water, vanilla, milk, sugar and butter until smooth. Add the milk mixture to the flour mixture and whisk until blended (don’t blend too much as it will cause the donuts to become dense). Fill each doughnut cup (or mini muffin cup) about ¾ full. Bake at 325 degrees for about 10 minutes or until done. Allow to cool for 3-5 minutes before removing from pan. Once completely cooled, mix the confectioners’ sugar, milk and vanilla in a bowl. Drizzle the glaze over the doughnuts. Let the glaze harden and then enjoy!


Floss is the Boss

by Tonia

"If suffering brought wisdom, the dentist's office would be full of luminous ideas" - Mason Cooley

Occasionally I get complimented on my smile. Thank God for good orthodontic work. And dental work. Not that I love going. I mean, who loves someone’s fingers crammed down her mouth? Well, unless you're involved in some kind of kinky sexual activity I guess….

I DO enjoy reading the magazines in the waiting room, though. It lets me put my mind on Duhhh. I mean, where else would I get to read about skiing Santas or find out if I’m psychic? During this week’s dentist visit I read, My Husband Likes to Wear My Panties, Is This Normal? Good stuff!

My dentist and his perky, little, pearly-white-toothed hygienist are big on flossing. They ask, "How often do you floss?" My answer, "Not as often as I should." Translation: “Only when food is stuck.” 

Actually, only 28% of Americans claim to floss daily. Liars. Most of us would rather do almost anything than floss. Personally, I’d rather clean my garage or organize my porn collection than floss. All that string just gets twisted all over my hands and face and somehow ends up in my hair. I end up only flossing my favorite teeth.

I want my lovers to floss, though. The Journal of Periodontology reports that gum disease is seven times more common in men with erectile dysfunction than in men who can “rise to the occasion.” That’s because bacteria in gum tissue travels throughout the body, causing blood vessel damage that pumps up that ol' dart of love. (Aren’t you glad you read this blog?)

And did you know there’s a Nat'l Flossing Council? Yep. There’s a group for everything, isn’t there? It’s got floss-related haiku, floss art, famous flossers, and Frank Zappa’s song about growing a crop of dental floss and dreaming about becoming a dental floss tycoon. Click HERE if you’re bored out of your mind and need floss entertainment.

So, for your next girlfriend’s get-together, share flossing information and see how many things you can come up with do with dental floss (HINT: emergency replacement shoe strings, thread for sewing, a clothes line, etc.). Give bacon dental floss as a prize to the girlfriend who comes up with the most ideas!

Footnotes

by Tonia

"When you step on the brakes, your life is in your foot's hands." - George Carlin

Recently I attended my 40 year high school reunion - yes, <groan> I’m old. After all the dieting, Botox and shopping for just the right outfit, I thought I was all ready to go …. until …. the night before .... when I noticed my feet. Holy Shit! I had added an inch to my height from all the dead skin build up.

I couldn’t go to my reunion with scare-small-children-ugly feet! What if I got lucky and managed to get laid by some old boyfriend? My feet would scrape the skin right off his legs.

I know. I know. Its all a part of aging - like chin hair and vaginal atrophy. But, by golly, I was going to fight it! Drastic situations called for drastic measures. I had just read about the scalpel facial (actually called derma planing) so I decided I could shave the dead skin off my feet with a razor.

To my credit, I DID use a clean disposable razor .... but that was the last sane decision in this escapade. I shaved with obsessive enthusiasm. OOPS! Some intense redness …. OOPS! A bleeding cut ….

The following conversation ensued between my feet and me –

FEET – “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re never supposed to shave foot skin.”

ME – <trying to think on my feet> “Oh, don’t be such babies.”

FEET – “Babies? BABIES? Who drags your ass around all day? And in HIGH HEELS?”

ME – “I guess this means I’ll be dragging my feet at the reunion?”

FEET – “You’re a heel.”

I walked like a 90 year old woman the entire reunion week-end. AND no one hot-footed it into my bed to feel my smooth but battered feet. Damn. Oh well.

For your next girlfriend’s get-together have a foot spa party with foot baths for each guest (but keep the razors away). Use customized baths that plug in and heat up (purchased at department stores) or create baths by using small plastic basins. Add oils such as lavender and mint to the water. 

And, for fun, make some of these cute chocolate and peanut butter foot candies. Simply buy the mold, melt the candy (I like the microwaveable kind), and pour into the mold. Stick it in the freezer for a couple of minutes and then pop them out! Voila!