Twenty Four At Heart

24 Comments - Leave a comment!

Turgid Nipples

Posted on July 24, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

I'm in Chicago today. I have my laptop with me, but I knew I might not have time to write during my first 24 hours in town. I pre-wrote today's post for you for that very reason. I'll have a Chicago update for you on Monday for sure.

I have a friend named Jane Devin. Jane and I have been communicating back and forth about our love for the phrase turgid nipples. It started as a joke and it progressed when I used the phrase in a post a few days ago. Somehow it morphed into the decision we should invent a new cocktail.

I'd like to take credit for the creation of the Turgid Nipple cocktail, but in truth Jane came up with the recipe. The only thing I contributed was my love of limes.

Here's the recipe:

1 small can limeade (lemonade if you don't like lime)

4 oz. pomegranate vodka

1 tbsp maraschino cherry syrup (or to taste)

lime (or lemon) for garnish

paper umbrella optional

** Mix first three ingredients in a blender.

** Pour into tall glasses and garnish

** Get a little chilly and tipsy

** Turgid Nipples will result

Enjoy!

© Twenty Four At Heart

54 Comments - Leave a comment!

Aaaand The Insanity Begins!

Posted on July 23, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

I'm going to be gone more than I'm home over the next five weeks. When I'm home I'll be busy unpacking and doing laundry so I can repack my suitcases again. I'm planning to take my laptop with me these next few weeks and bring you right along with me on my adventures.

I hate flying. Let's hope I don't fall from the sky and die in the next few weeks, m'kay? Also, I will not be wearing my crotchless Spanx on the plane. I think my circulation would be cut off if I did. (Not in the crotch, but throughout the rest of my body!) There's no sense in me arriving to any of my destinations with blue boobs and toes.

I don't know that I have a "typical" post here on Twenty Four At Heart, but if I do under normal circumstances, I probably won't over the next few weeks. I'll be sharing with you where I am, what I'm doing, the adventures I have and some of the sights along the way.

I'm going to try not to flash anyone my bionic nipples while I'm traveling.

Normally I post M-F and I'll attempt to keep up with my usual schedule. If you stop by one day and don't see a new post I hope you'll be patient. There may be days when flights are delayed, Internet access is scarce, or I'm just too damn exhausted from my travels to have time to write.

Today I'm on way to Chicago for the BlogHer09 conference. I know my blogging savvy friends are familiar with this conference, but many of you are probably wondering what the hell it is. It began a few years ago as a conference for women bloggers, but it's now an international conference for bloggers of both sexes. One thousand political, professional and personal Internet writers will get an opportunity to meet, learn, and yes – party together.

I decided to party-up my hair a little bit for this conference. This is NOT a good photo, but it will give you an idea what my hair looks like right now.

I don't know why I'm chewing on my glasses and taking a photo of myself with my MacBook at the same time … but there you go!

Did I mention there are so many parties each night I can't even remember them all?

This year the conference is being sponsored by Pepsi. Other major corporations such as Microsoft, Nikon, Procter & Gamble, McDonalds and even Eden Fantasies (sex toys) are all contributing sponsors. I've been told to expect a lot of "swag" (free stuff) from the various companies who will be courting us while we're there. Marketing, advertisers and PR folks all would like to have the favor of the Internet writers.

There will also be celebrities stopping by including Tim Gunn from Project Runway, Brooke White from American Idol and Paula Deen, the southern cooking maven. I may be too busy standing in the corner to meet anyone of interest. I know it's hard to believe, but I'm actually very shy in big group settings, particularly when I don't know a soul.

Living in Southern California has made me pretty immune to celebrities. I'm much more interested in meeting some of my favorite writers in person. I'll be on Twitter throughout my adventures if you'd like to keep up with what I'm experiencing. If you see pictures of me naked on anyone's blog after this conference, please believe me – they're fake photos!

I plan to be a model of propriety while in Chicago.

*Ahem*

© Twenty Four At Heart

51 Comments - Leave a comment!

Surf City and Flip Flops

Posted on July 22, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

Last Saturday I picked up my friend, Nike, at 9:30 in the morning and we headed to Starbucks. After getting some coffee to jolt us into the day, we drove up the coast a bit to Huntington Beach. Huntington Beach is also known internationally as "Surf City."

Years ago, when we were dating, Briefcase lived about a block from the beach in Huntington. We used to know every shop, restaurant and bar in the area but I don't spend a lot of time there now. The main reason I avoid Huntington Beach is simply the crowds. It's a big tourist spot, particularly in the summer.

By afternoon the HB pier gets so crowded you can barely walk on it. Here's a picture of this famous pier in the morning before the crowds got too large.

Surf City is well known for it's wide and expansive beaches.

It's also the frequent location of beach sporting events. There are beach volleyball courts all along the northern side of the pier.

On Saturday, the Hurley U.S. Open of Surfing was taking place just south of the pier. Bleachers were set up for specators and an impressive collection of surfing talent was on display.

Nike and I had not come for the beach though. We came because I wanted a pair of very "touristy" flip flops to wear back to Chicago this week. While all the other women wear high heels and business attire, I thought I'd make myself easily identifiable. While I sit in conferences all day and spend time meeting and chatting with Famous People during breaks, I'll be wearing my new OC flip flops.

I think they're awesome!

I know someone will email and ask, so let me tell you upfront that my toenail polish is by OPI and it's called Purple With a Purpose.

I don't know what Purple's purpose is, but does it matter?

We found the flip flops in one of the many tourist shops on Main Street straight up from the pier.

Main Street in Surf City is always crowded. There are a lot of surfing related and tourist shops. There are also a lot of restaurants and they're always crowded with outside diners.

If you walk around the corner you find the International Surf Museum. Inside there are various tributes to surfers.

By the time we were done walking the shops the beach was getting really crowded.

I tossed my new flip flops in my car and Nike and I left Huntington. It was a beautiful day. We enjoyed a nice ride down the coast on our way home.

© Twenty Four At Heart

63 Comments - Leave a comment!

Talking Nipples and Uncontainable Boobs

Posted on July 21, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

This is SO not my fault.

I know what you're thinking, but when you hear what happened you'll realize the situation was truly beyond my control.

I think maybe my boobs have their very own personality. What do you think? Could it be possible? No matter how I try, they always escape. My breasts keep making appearances whether or not I give them permission. My tits are like wayward teenagers with a mind of their own.

I can wear a "real" bra now. Real is a funny word though. Six weeks post-reduction surgery it has to be a "soft" bra with no underwire. Many of you gave me suggestions on bras to try and I bought a few different styles to see what's comfortable. (My boobs are still tender and a little bruised even now.) My nipples continue to beam out at everyone in their super bionic state.

I have turgid nipples. I've always wanted to write turgid nipples. Is there any other time when it's appropriate to use the word turgid except with the word nipple?

Remember when I wrote pre-surgery wondering if men would ever look at me again without my DD breasts? They do. Only now I'm convinced they look at me because my nipples are waving at them and yelling, "Look at me! I'm hyper-sensitive and magical!"

Men know nipple language. They seem to instantly understand exactly what my nipples are saying. (My nipples talk without my permission, mind you!) Men are attracted to talking nipples and especially magical ones.

I tried one of my new bras for the first time the other day. I realized it was much looser than when I bought it. I had only worn it briefly the day I purchased it. It was very loose around my rib cage but not in the cup area. I think the swelling along my ribs is subsiding and I already need a size (or two) smaller bra. I had a lot to do though, and decided to keep the rather loose bra on for the day.

That was my first mistake.

A couple hours into my day the thought crossed my mind, "This bra is ridiculously loose!"

I didn't stop to really listen to that thought.

That was my second mistake.

An hour or so further into my day I thought, "I may as well not even HAVE a bra on – this thing is worthless!"

Um … why did the light bulb not go on at that point?

In my defense, I'm totally out of control busy right now. My cup runneth over with commitments and activities. My brain is whirring at a million miles an hour and not even in the same stratosphere as my body. Honestly, I don't know how I'm going to get through the next six weeks because I'm so overbooked.

Among other places, I went to the car wash that day. The men there? They were so friendly. I've never had such great service. They were fawning over me in an effort to take the very best care of my car. How often do you have five service men talking to you before your car even starts moving through the big giant car washing tunnel?

I waited for my car to be cleaned in the air conditioned waiting room because we've had quite a heat wave in Orange County recently. There's nothing like some cool, chilly, air on uber-sensitive nipples, don't ya think?

I glanced down at one point and realized my nipples were …. Well, my nipples were very present and in attendance. It's not unusual for that to be the case since my surgery though, so I didn't think twice about it.

That would be mistake number three.

It took one hour for my car to be washed at the Money Town car wash. One hour is pretty standard there, although I realize it's longer than most car washes. During that one hour I sat in the air conditined waiting room. When I got restless I walked around once in awhile looking at the little gifts they offer for purchase. I also spent a lot of time talking to the very friendly male customers who were also waiting for their cars. No less than four men struck up conversations while I waited.

Money Town has never been so friendly!

By the time I got back in my car to drive home I was really in a good mood. I was thinking, "People are so nice! What a friendly, social time I had at the car wash today!"

I was back at home a few minutes later. As I walked in the door I again was bothered by the bra moving all around my ribcage. I decided this particular brand of bra was headed for the trash.

Right then I looked up to see Briefcase staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You went to the car wash without a bra on?" he queried with one raised eyebrow.

I looked down at my firm and perky ~~new~~ remodeled boobs. They were very visibly displayed through my see-through white t-shirt. My brain quickly processed the looseness along my ribs, the lack of support on my tits, the friendliness of both the car wash workers and patrons.

"Oh!" I exclaimed.

I haven't worn a front clasping bra in about a million years. The clasp had come open and the "cups" of the bra were on the outer side of each breast. I had been walking around for hours, in essence, braless in a white see-through shirt.

I've since thrown out the spontaneous-unclasping bra.

On the other hand, my car hasn't been this clean since I bought it.

© Twenty Four At Heart

78 Comments - Leave a comment!

Fridays in the OC

Posted on July 20, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

For many years we've had a summer tradition of packing up a cooler on Friday afternoons and heading to the beach. We rarely arrive before 5 p.m. and we always meet my friend Nike and her husband. We've been doing this for years. We don't go every Friday but we go as many Fridays as we can.

Nike and I take turns bringing Vodka Tonics. I don't know why, but we always bring them and never any other type of drink. We both pack lots of fresh fruit, crackers and cheeses and we often bring sandwiches for later in the evening. It is, perhaps, my favorite summer tradition. The evenings are (to me) the best part of the day at the beach. Once we arrive, the world stops and there is no problem Nike and I can't resolve between the two of us.

At least for as long as our toes remain in the sand.

The waves were big and there was a strong riptide last Friday. The lifeguards were asking everyone to stay out of the water.

The water looks inviting, but when there's a strong riptide it's dangerous. The current will suck you right out (and under) in no time. For those of you who aren't around beaches much, that's what a riptide is. A strong current with an undertow.

All of a sudden Nike said, "Quick 24, turn around and take a picture."

I did.

This Orange County lifeguard is brought to you courtesy of my friend, Nike.

Soon the whole process of sunset began. The change in lighting never ceases to be magical for me. It begins in such a subtle way.

Nike and my son, PR, have an ongoing game of beach paddle ball. They play every time we are at the beach together and they've been doing this since PR was a toddler. Each time they play they try to make a new "world record" of how many times they can hit the ball back and forth without it dropping.

They play until it becomes hard to see the ball due to the dimming light of sunset.

The sunset was absolutely spectacular last Friday. I came home with over one hundred pictures. I couldn't stop taking them in my feeble effort to capture the beauty.

The colors were so vivid!

The sun turned into a fireball as it dropped below the horizon.

Evenings like this take my breath away.

In a matter of moments, the sun was gone. We stayed for awhile longer because we like to enjoy every last drop of color the sky has to offer.

style="display: inline;">

If I ever become a proficient nighttime photographer I'll share with you how beautiful the stars and moon are as they reflect off the ocean. It's absolutely breathtaking.

© Twenty Four At Heart

60 Comments - Leave a comment!

Observations While Under the Influence

Posted on July 16, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

Hai … My name is Suzanne.

I'm the author of Twenty Four At Heart.

I had a spectacular post written for you and my computer ate it when I hit "publish." It might possibly have eaten my writing because I'm drugged up and hit the wrong button instead of "publish."

Let's try again, but this time I give up before I've even started. Did I mention I'm on drugs?

I am.

I'll just go with the flow instead. Stream of conscience writing so to speak. My friend Jason does that … writes in the stream.

I started back at PT this week after five weeks off. I've put nearly three years of work into regaining use of my arm. I knew a break would mean a lot of pain when I returned. I was right. I'll probably be drugged up a lot for a few weeks as I readjust to my renewed and spectacular levels of pain. Please be patient with me.

There was more bad news from The Torturer. It surprised even me.

In five weeks off I lost fifteen degrees of motion.

I'll just say Fuck and get it over with, okay?

Do you have any idea how hard I fought to get those fifteen degrees of motion in the first place?

The good news is The Torturer is going easy (for him) on me so far. Which is not to say it doesn't hurt to go to PT, because it does. However, I know he's capable of hurting me so much more. It hurts the most in the evening a few hours after he's worked on me. He's trying to ease me back into being tortured. He doesn't like me to look at him while he hurts me. He asks me to turn and look away from him. I think it makes him feel guilty.

Who am I kidding? Hurting me is his fun.

I'm hoping I'll be able to regain the range of motion I've lost at a faster rate than it took the first time around. Who knows. I'm mainly trying to block out the whole ugly thought of those fifteen degrees. I've put the thought of it in the (very large) part of my brain which handles denial.

Did I ever mention I'm an expert at denial?

The Torturer is using a weird laser thing on me. We both have to wear really ugly sunglasses when he does it to me so the laser doesn't hurt our eyes. Did I just write when he does it to me? Is it because I'm on drugs or does that just sound dirty?

I'll try to remember to take a picture next time so you can see how ridiculous the glasses are. They ~~don't~~ make me look very sexay!

Sexay!

What a fun word. Sexay …

There's a family in Money Town with two daughters. One is named Mercedes and the other is named Portia (pronounced Porsche). Two daughters named after luxury vehicles in one family. I threw up in my mouth just a little bit when I heard their choice of names for their kids. Is it just me, or is that absolutely obnoxious?

[By the way, I have no problem with either of those names individually. It's the thought of a Money Town family using both of them together.] <shudder>

I have a pair of really pretty red shoes! I thought you should know.

I went to a bocci ball party last weekend. I arrived late. I never played with the bocci balls. I doubt if I could have anyway with my bum arm. The hostess served Mad Housewife wine. The wine is so-so, but the bottle is hilarious. It makes for a great conversation starter at a party. The back label goes on and on about laundry rooms and cat litter boxes. The front of the bottle looks like this:

Last night on Twitter there was a huge discussion about whether or not men and women can have purely platonic friendships. We've had that same discussion here on 24 before. There were a lot of varying opinions on Twitter. A lot of women said they have men as platonic friends. One or two men agreed and said platonic relationships between the sexes are common place. Some men said of course they can have platonic female friends as long as there is no attraction to the woman.

One man (@timebandit) said only if the man is gay. He later amended his answer to say not if it's between 3 and 6 a.m.

I stand by my original opinion. Men and women can absolutely maintain a platonic friendship right up until the very moment they have sex with each other.

Just kidding.

Ha ha! I just made myself laugh.

63 Comments - Leave a comment!

Ho Hum – Another Day

Posted on July 15, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

Last night I was thinking about various topics I could share with you today. The truth is, after writing about Mooning Amtrak on Monday, and Sir Issac Newton being responsible for the hole in the crotch of my lingerie on Tuesday, I was stumped. How does a person follow up topics like those?

I get emails and tweets and comments from people who think I have an exciting life. I really don't. In fact yesterday was pretty typical in being about as boring as possible. I thought I'd give you a glimpse into my real life today. Try not to yawn too many times as I give you a recap of yesterday.

6:00 a.m. Physically I'm up drinking coffee and stumbling around the house, but my brain is still on snooze. My brain doesn't wake up for a good two hours after my body is awake. I've got a killer headache and I'm blaming The Torturer and my return to PT the previous day. And where the hell are PR's football clothes?

6:30 a.m. I check my email inbox and Twitter replies while sipping on my coffee. A TV show has contacted me and is interested in my "story." I wonder if they mean Mooning Amtrak, my crotchless Spanx, or something else entirely? Or is it some type of prank email?

6:45 a.m. Wake up PR.

7:15 a.m. Send PR off to football camp

7:30 – 8:00 a.m. Reply to emails and tweets.

8:00 – 9:00 a.m. Shower, shave legs, shampoo, blow dry, use vibrating mascara. Admire my new boobs in the mirror. Wonder when, and if, my nipples will ever stop being bionic? Stare at Spanx warily but don't put it on. Get dressed.

9:00 a.m. Take other son to oral surgeon for wisdom teeth removal.

10:00 a.m. Sit across from my son in the recovery room. He's stoned out of his mind on the drugs they gave him. He keeps staring at me with a goofy grin on his face and saying, "This feels niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice!" over and over again. Immediate concern about him leaving for college sets in as I see how much he enjoys the drugs.

11:00 a.m. Arrive home with drugged son. He made me laugh so hard on the drive home I nearly wet my pants. Good thing I wasn't wearing any "shapewear"! Change bloody gauze in son's mouth for the first time. Gag. Realize I'm not nurse material. Gag again.

11:15 a.m. Leave for pharmacy to get son anti-nausea prescription to counteract anesthesia. Think about returning home to bloody gauze and pop one of his pills myself while still in the car. I think it might be illegal to take your kid's drugs but who cares.

11:40 a.m. Give son medicine, prop him up on pillows, give him ice packs. Don't gag thanks to taking son's medicine. Pride myself on being a good mom.

12:00 noon At local smoothie store. Order smoothies for both of my sons. After paying I remember they want protein powder in their drinks. The owner throws it in for free and I feel like I got a bargain.

12:30 p.m. Hand drugged son his smoothie and a spoon. Go upstairs to give other son his smoothie. Come downstairs to see stoned son is missing his numb mouth and blueberry smoothie is running down his shirt. When I point this out to him he begins giggling as only a drugged person can. It makes me laugh too.

1:00 p.m. I'm at the grocery store buying soft foods for RC to eat the next few days. Pudding, jello, yogurt, eggs. As I'm leaving a day laborer wanders in, grabs something and runs out to a waiting car without paying. Right in front of me! This is not something you see in Money Town ~~ever~~ very often. After the initial shock wears off I actually feel sorry for him. Not that I'm condoning stealing, but how desperate for food does a person have to be to do that?

2:00 p.m. Arrive home. Unload groceries. Check on boys. Take care of RC's immediate medical needs. Pay bills. Did I mention paying bills is the chore I hate most? It's boring, it's tedious. I get up fifty times during the process to procrastinate.

3:30 p.m. Leave for a long overdue manicure. My nails look like angry, ragged, claws.

4:00 p.m. At the salon. Marvel at how many bad face lifts exist in Money Town. With all the money these people have, why don't they get a decent doctor? Two ladies have foreheads that go clear to the other side of the room. Their hairlines are all wrong. Another woman looks as if her lips might go airborne any second. They're so big they look like giant flapping wings ready for flight. Cock my head sideways and imagine moving their faces around to make them look normal again. Sigh and give up.

5:00 p.m. Home. Briefcase calls from his business trip and as soon as I say hello he announces he can't talk "right now" but that he'll call me right back. Puzzled I hang up. Why did he call to tell me he can't talk? A minute later he calls again, pauses for a minute, and then again tells me he can't talk and will call back later. I debate saying, "Don't bother" but instead I shrug and hang up.

6:00 p.m. Order pizza for PR. Throw football clothes in the laundry. Give RC a bowl of pudding and more drugs. The pizza arrives as I'm completing a few chores. I snag a piece and eat it while I check email again. It's then I receive news that a friend is finally out of a full day cancer surgery. My stomach has been in knots all day thinking of her.

7:00 p.m. I sit down with my laptop. My Google Reader is exploding with reading material I haven't gotten to. I have a lot of people I owe email responses to. Mr. Producer has emailed again to tell me it's the car accident "story" his TV show is interested in. For some reason this makes me pensive. There's a lot of bad memories there and I decide I'm not ready to respond to him.

7:30 p.m. I check Facebook for the first time in eons. Immediately a chat box opens. A friend is wanting to chat about some pretty deep issues. We Facebook Chat for awhile. The conversation is making my brain swirl with thoughts and issues. At t
he same time I'm worried about my friend with cancer and the email from the producer. Do you ever feel like there's just too much happening all at the same time?

8:00 p.m. I tell my friend we'll have to talk more later. I need to write a blog post. At the same time my Twitter account is practically yelling at me to respond to people. My Google Reader is reminding me of all my writing friends' blogs I've neglected lately and my email inbox is screaming accusations at me. I try to push it all out of my brain. I stare at my laptop. I ponder what to write. I think about my boring day … and I begin typing.

117 Comments - Leave a comment!

Spanx My Bottom

Posted on July 14, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

If you promise not to laugh I'll share with you what happened to me last weekend. Oh, I'm not repeating the part about Mooning Amtrak and having my ass filmed for network news. For some reason I find the mooning experience only slightly embarrassing. I'm actually pretty proud of having participated. I suppose that says a lot about me, doesn't it?

I had a very busy weekend.

There are 1,000 writers converging on Chicago in less than a week and a half and many of them have been busy writing about the upcoming conference. They're discussing what they'll wear, which of the bazillion parties they plan on attending and blah, blah, blah. I've been in denial about the whole thing because a) I'm not at all girly and b) I don't have the vaguest idea as to what I'm supposed to do, or wear, at this conference. I'll be the clueless one wandering the halls inappropriately dressed at all times.

Last Friday, a writer friend emailed to tell me that a few famous celebrities will be attending the conference including Tim Gunn from Project Runway. I never watch TV, but I was quickly informed he is a fashion expert and critic and that he *might* (rumor!) be picking out the worst dressed person at the conference for a public ~~humiliation~~ makeover. Because I'm already insecure about being in the midst of famous, bestselling writers, my stomach immediately knotted up at the thought of being THE ONE Tim Gunn picks.

Make no mistake, if Tim Gunn is going to pick someone to humiliate for having no fashion sense it is bound to be me.

[For the record, my friend might be playing a joke on me about Mr. Gunn doing a makeover. I honestly have no idea, but I do know Tim Gunn is scheduled to be at the conference.]

I decided to make a quick trip to the mall and buy a dress. I hate dresses. I only wear sundresses hastily thrown over my bathing suit. I'm not the type of woman who wears real dresses. I tried on four hundred dresses at least, and didn't like any of them. Nonetheless, I bought a black dress. Black is versatile. I can always wear it out again and/or to a funeral someday. It's not a sexy, clingy, black dress. It's just a basic black dress.

Except there was a problem. I looked in the threeway mirror in the dressing room. I'm in my forties and my ass is dragging on the ground behind me by a few yards. Damn gravity! Who discovered gravity? I think it was Sir Isaac Newton? I know it was a man for sure. Women would have left it undiscovered. In any case, I thought my black dress would look better if my ass was above my knees instead of below my ankles.

After I paid for the dress I went directly to the lingerie department and frantically explained to the salesperson my need for my ass to be lifted immediately. She laughed. I don't think she's been through proper sales training because a salesperson shouldn't laugh at a customer with a serious problem such as Ass-Fall-Downism. She then informed me I just needed some "Spanx."

Excuse me? Who needs to spank me? And is he hot?

Apparently I'm the only woman on earth not wearing a product called Spanx. (This post is in no way sponsored by Spanx.) The salesperson showed me row after row of Spanx "shapewear." Shapewear can be worn under shorts, jeans, dresses – it comes in a lot of different styles. I've never owned a single piece of shapewear. Maybe you can tell by looking at me? The salesperson asked a few questions about my new dress and handed me a pair to try on.

Soon I was in the dressing room with nothing but a bra on. I turned the Spanx this way and that before attempting to put it on. (I don't know what this particular Spanx product is called.) It looked like a pair of shorts.

I pulled. I tugged. I sucked in my thighs only to discover my thighs don't get any smaller when I hold my breath. I slowly, painstakingly, inched the Spanx, up and onto my body. Those Spanx products? They're extremely tight, to put it mildly.

Suddenly I gasped!

I cried out in shock and dismay.

I had ripped the crotch right out of the brand new (and expensive!) pair of Spanx. I clearly am too fat for even the Fat Fighter product. I started stumbling around the dressing room trying to examine the hole in my crotch. Yes, picture me mostly naked, bending over and trying to get my own face eye level with my crotch. Suddenly I caught a glimpse in the mirror of myself twisted like a pretzel.

I stood up. I removed the Spanx. I examined the hole in the crotch. (It was much easier to see that way.) I realized the hole is supposed to be there. Clearly the Spanx people know their product is too difficult to remove for a quick romp and so they've made an easy access entry. Lift your dress, grab your partner, and have at it ladies! Those Spanx people are obviously intending for all of us to have a good time in our party dresses.

Two surprising things happened later that day. First, a reader on Twitter informed me the hole in the crotch is intended for peeing not sex. She said the Spanx products take so long to get on and off they are afraid you might wet yourself so the hole is *supposedly* to allow a woman to pee with her spanx on. (Not going to happen to my Spanx. I will not pee through a hole because what if I have crooked pee that day and they get wet?)

What?

Crooked pee happens and you know it!

I'm sticking with my theory that the hole is for sex.

Second, I was out on an errand and a young (20's), thin, very attractive woman was walking by me in the parking lot. She had a sundress on and a gust of wind suddenly blew her dress up. She was wearing Spanx underneath it. I was shocked. Apparently, I really am the only woman on earth not wearing this stuff.

By the way, I bought the Spanx shorts with the hole in the crotch but I forgot to ever look in the three way mirror to see if they even improve my case of Ass-Fall-Downism. After all I've been through, all I can say is my ass better look damn fine in my new black party dress.

66 Comments - Leave a comment!

Mooning the Train, The Sequel

Posted on July 13, 2009 at 12:05 am.

Written by Suzanne

Last year I wrote about a tradition here in Orange County. Every year, on the second Saturday of July, people gather in Laguna Niguel to moon the trains. I won't go into the entire history of this annual event, because you can click on the above link and read my first post on the subject for that information. It's really a funny story.

Saturday marked the 30 year anniversary of Mooning Amtrak, as the event is called. I was up at the crack (get it?) of dawn to participate. There were some aspects of the event which were very different this year. For one thing, the city of Laguna Niguel decided they would like to rid the city of this 30 year tradition. City officials were quoted as saying they spent nearly $20,000 on advanced PR to discourage people from attending the event. The PR consisted basically of scare tactics.

The PR campaign was a "success" in that only about 300 mooners showed up on Saturday vs. the 8,000 that were estimated to attend last year.

Nonetheless, I showed up. With only a few hours of sleep I rose, donned a hat and my darkest sunglasses, and headed out the door. You might say I was wearing a disguise. (In reality, I had no makeup on and may not have brushed my hair.)

Yes, I know that's a crappy picture of me, thank you for reminding me. What do you look like at 6 a.m?

Briefcase needed to work Saturday morning so he dropped me off at Mooning Amtrak on his way to a meeting in Dana Point. The first person I met became my friend for the day. His name is Rick and Rick has been mooning the trains for many years now.

Rick gave me some purple mardi gras style bead necklaces to wear and even offered to buy me a Mooning Amtrak souvenir thong before the day was over. (I was wearing a pink polka dot thong for the day and never did collect on his offer.) Rick also shared his water with me and offered me food he'd brought with him. He wins The Nicest Person Mooning award for the day.

By the way? Rick had his ass waxed just for this event. Talk about Mooning Dedication!

A few minutes later this woman showed up and shared with us how she was embracing the 30 year anniversary of the event.

Then I turned around and saw another woman had asked a total stranger to help her decorate her ass too. The total stranger DID!

In just a few minutes her butt was also celebrating the 30 year anniversary.

By the way? The woman in the above photo is an elementary school teacher. I mention that fact just so you realize that a lot of nice "normal" people participate in mooning the train.

Multi-million dollar homes overlook the event from a hill across the road.

At last the first train came by.

The funny thing is, the trains are packed with passengers on mooning day. I was told they have to sell the tickets based on a lottery system because so many people want to ride up and down the tracks all day, drinking cocktails and cheering on the mooners. It was a very hot day on Saturday and the air conditioning on the train must have felt great.

The trains actually slow down as they approach the mooners so the passengers can get a good look. The conductors also get on their loudspeakers and "talk" to the mooners. As an example, I had my ass exposed one time when the conductor said over his loud speaker, "We love you Mooners!" I was so startled, I nearly jumped (the rest of the way) out of my thong.

There were a bazillion film crews present and I also *might* have appeared on the news as a Mooner. Or should I say, parts of me might have been on TV?

*Ahem*

The city of Laguna Niguel went way overboard with a police presence at this event.

I wanted to ride around with these guys, but they didn't let me. They did talk to me a lot and let me take their picture. The sheriff's PR spokesman spent a lot of time talking to me too. He knew I'm a writer. He was very nice, but clearly wanted me to understand the police perspective on the event. Public safety and blah, blah, blah.

I'm all for public safety.

The police didn't object to the mooning, they just wouldn't allow public alcohol consumption or frontal nudity.

The number of police was laughable except for the fact that the taxpayers have to foot the bill for the excessiveness. There were cops on foot patrol, bike patrol, motorcycles, segway-ish vehicles, patrol cars, undercover cars, on horseback, on helicopter …. and probably present in other ways I've forgotten to mention. They might have thought Michael Jackson's body was on one of the trains. It's the only explanation I can think of for such a showing.

The crowd was calm, cooperative and needed very little, if any, supervision. A lot of the police officers had a hard time wiping the smiles off their faces as they watched the mooners. One policeman confided in me "it sure would be a lot more fun" to moon drunk rather than sober. I think so too.

I did have one less than happy encounter while I was there. A PR person for the city of Laguna Niguel recognized me (despite my "disguise") from my Twitter avatar. For those of you who aren't on Twitter, my avatar picture currently looks like this:

This particular person recognized who I am even with my hat and sunglasses on just from my teeny tiny Twitter avatar picture. I didn't get the impression this particular person cares much for me or the fact that I was on Twitter discussing Mooning Amtrak in the days preceding the event. (She had read my tweets.) There was a distinct feeling of disapproval in the air as we talked.

I'm sure she'll be happy to know the LA Times contacted me for an interview later in the day. During that interview I freely expressed my opinion about the city's waste of taxpayer's dollars through their excessive use of police resources at this event.

(I imagine people from the city of Laguna Niguel will also read this post. Do you think they will love me even more now?)

However, as far as I know, the constitution still protects my power of free speech. I had a blast at the Mooning Amtrak event. I hope to be there again next year. I hope my Orange County readers will join me.

City of Laguna Niguel? I know you don't want me encouraging people to come. I know you'd like the event to disappear despite it's thirty years of tradition. I know you'd like me to stop writing and tweeting about it and letting people know it's a lot of harmless fun. I'm sorry, but I can't do that.

Anyone who wants me to? Well, they can kiss my …

Latest Posts