The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘stupid’

Two Shades of Vague, Part IV

Two Shades of Vague

IV

We end up doing it a bunch, and every time it feels super duper. He does this weird controlling thing during sex where we’ll be doing something, and then he’ll say “red light,” and we stop, and then he’ll say “green light” and it kicks off again. I guess you could say he’s two shades of Vague. In fact, I might be tempted to make reference to that many, many times. On to a more pressing topic though, some weird descriptions of just how fantasmo the sexxins can be with him.

It’s like someone stuck a pleasure-grenade in my treasure chest, and exploded it using rainbows made out of love.

Imagine an earthquake, wrapped in a tornado, wrapped in a pancake, wrapped in an orgasm. And that’s what happened. You know. In my va-jay-jay.

Take three cups sugar, one teaspoon cinnamon, some boy body parts, and one hefty helping of oh baby oh baby, and mix. THAT’S WHAT’S UP.

While the sex is good, some things concern me. I am inexperienced with relationships, but certain behaviors of his I find off-putting. When a boy buys you a flower, it’s cute, I know that. So when the boy buys you a car that’s just like him buying you one million flowers. My inner goddess does the math and gives me a thumbs up. Although part of me thinks maybe that’s a bit much, my libido says “FEEEED ME.”

I ignore the warnings, and instead take a stroll to bone-town, and it’s awesometacular.

I want to call my best friend Susanna to talk about Shimper, but I’m afraid he’ll be angry at me – and he doesn’t want me talking about us to anyone. This worries me, but whoops, I just had an orgasm, and I’m suddenly less worried about this shockingly frightening red flag. I decide a relationship with cornerstones of fear and sex is ok, as long as I work on lessening the fear. In its place we can just have more sex. My inner goddess looks disapprovingly over her glasses, and I give in and decide to examine the pros and cons of Shimper and I:

Pro:
He’s rich (I don’t care about that … but yeah I do)
He’s grade A meat
He’s good at taking me to my happy place

Con:
He’s quick to anger
Being in control, big time control, is how he gets his jollies
I still have no idea what exactly he does and how he’s so rich
We haven’t had an actual conversation yet
He likes to keep people out
He seems emotionally stunted
He likes the idea of punishing me, by causing me physical pain, and he’s going to get off on that

I am interrupted while making this list with, you guessed it, some bouncy bouncy.

Exhausted by the massive amounts of sex, I go to sleep. I sleep for four days. (How could I not after all that? I mean sheesh.) When I wake up Shimper is finishing a surgery where he’s putting a tracking device under my skin.

“Shimper …” I say, hesitant to criticize him. Ya know, because of the potential for beatings.
“Miss Gasm, you’re awake … and I’m awake …,” he gestures romantically to his family jewels.
“I … I don’t know if this can work.”

I say this and immediately begin moving. If I stay in motion I won’t be able to talk, and if I keep from taking I’ll keep from breaking my resolve. My mind is made up! I can’t have a traditional romance with this man, he’s incapable of it!

“Miss Gasm …” Shimper sounds so hurt. So broken. I am tempted to go to him, hold him, comfort him. No. I can’t do that. My mind is made up.

Yep. My mind is made up. Until about a week later. Then we get back together, honestly, what else would happen? And I bet you’ll never guess what happens when we get back together …

YEP! He takes me to the BONE-ZONE!!

Fin

Two Shades of Vague, Part III

Two Shades of Vague

III

Susanna is shocked, as are others, when I inform them that I’ll be having dinner that night with Shimper. Honestly, who wouldn’t be? First of all, why me? No, seriously. And secondly, I’ve never really dated. But now that I am having dinner with him – I am insulted by anyone implying that it is out of the ordinary for me to have dinner with the world’s richest/youngest/best-lookingest bachelor.

My inner goddess hears people asking questions doubting this dinner, and wonders in her best Samuel L. Jackson voice, ‘do I have to slap a bitch?’

I arrive at the hotel where Shimper is staying in my beat up old car. Sure, it’s a junky car, but it gets the job done. I guess you could say this car is representative of me somewhat, it’s not flashy, but it’s reliable and nice. Homey. Americana. You know, that kind of thing. I bet Shimper drives the flashiest, nicest car out there, to illustrate that he is rich, and therefore attractive. Where was I? Oh, right, just arriving for dinner.

I hand the valet guy my keys and I immediately assume he’ll steal my car. Just kidding! It’s a POS, but I love it. Have I mentioned that?

I go inside and Shimper is at the bar. He’s wearing a plain white, linen shirt, which is an inconsequential detail that I love about him. My inner drill instructor says, “ooh, girl!” at my casual use of the word love being used on something to do with Shimper. I’m shocked, too. Love? Could it be? My train of thought is interrupted when I notice Shimper approaching. I decide to put it aside to think more about later. In fact, I put it aside five times, so that I can over think it.

“Miss Gasm,” Shimper coos.
“Mr. Vague,” I say shyly.
“You look beautiful.”

I blush.

“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” Shimper says.

Fourteen minutes later I finish telling him what I was just thinking. Get it? Cause I have a lot of thoughts going on at once. I’m deep like a river. No, wait, an ocean.

Shimper leads me to a private room where we’ll have dinner. I am ecstatic over the idea of spending time with him, and I realize I’m too excited to even eat one bite. Maybe I can muster up the appetite for some mildly witty banter, I’m always hungry for that.

“It looks delicious,” I say, glancing back and forth between Shimper and the food laid out for us.
“I agree,” Shimper says, staring only at me.
“You didn’t look at the food …,” I whisper. “Oh, I get it.” I blush. Shimper’s eyes widen.
“Sit. Eat.” Shimper commands.
“You are quite bossy, sir,” I say in a confusing mix of complaining about something while acquiescing to it.
“I like it when you call me sir …” Shimper says. His jaw tense. His voice husky. His eyes widen. Yeah, that’s right, the trifecta.
“Oysters, hmm? What’s the big idea …?”
“Well, I want to bone. I didn’t bring you here just for dinner, ya know. Here are some papers about boning. What do you think?”

Operation Give a Dude a Bone

Article I

I’m creepy, don’t worry about it. Look how rich I am.

Article II

I will command aspects of your personal life. And we’ll bone a bunch. All of this you will find incredibly attractive. Oh and if I want to cause you pain, you’ll be into that too.

Article III

Did I mention … boning?

Article IV

Shhhh. Nobody needs to know about this.

_____________________
The boner: Shimper Vague
Signature:

_____________________
The bonee: Olivia Gasm
Signature:

I read through and am shocked! When I glance up I find that Shimper has been staring at me the whole time. Even though this should be unnerving, I blush and feel it in my koala refuge. You know, down under …

“Mr. Vague …” I say vaguely.
“Miss Gasm …” Shimper says orgasmically.

Then we do it. And it’s totally rad.

Two Shades of Vague, Part II

Two Shades of Vague

II

The elevator doors open and I walk out. Shimper has resumed his cool and controlled self, except he has some lipstick of mine smeared on his face. Somehow this makes him look even more authoritative.

“Miss Gasm,” Mr. Vague says, his breath hitching as he says it.
“Mr. Vague,” I say, his eyes widening.

For the first time in my life I realize how much I love mentioning breath hitching and eyes widening. At the realization of this I blush. Mr. Vague’s eyes widen again at my blushing.

“What are you thinking, Miss Gasm?” he asks sternly.
“I was trying to think where I parked my car,” I reply. Then I realize I have no idea where I parked my car. That’s ironic.

I manage to find my way to my car and I drive home. This is another opportunity for me to think through things. Here’s a breakdown of my thoughts.

2.5% – This is finals week, and I better work toward that
2.5% – Various friends and family and what they’re up to
5%    – More introduction to myself as a character (honestly, stuff you wouldn’t want to hear about)
45% – Hitching breath
45% – Eyes widening

I get home, and Susanna is waiting for me. Oh no!, she’s going to want to know everything about the interview!

“How’d the interview go!?,” Susanna says.
“Oh, it was fine,” I say, unsure where to start, and knowing I don’t want to mention that … kiss. Oh, that kiss. My inner goddess is making a gun with one hand and pointing at me and making “pew pew pew” noises.
“Fine? What happened? Did he take your breath away with his good looks?” I look at Susanna, shocked, how did she know! Susanna responds as though she’s read my mind, “I saw lots of pictures of him when I was looking up information about him for the interview.”

Oh of course. The internet. Although it is 2011, and I am a senior in college, I am still very unfamiliar with this thing. I thought my grandmother’s stance on the internet was the approach to take – so I have avoided having an email, and I am maintaining my staunch advocacy of obliviousness towards all things net. Lawlz, it’s so silly that I’m like this. o_O you might think, but it’s who I am.

“He answered all your questions, and I have them on the tape recorder I left on the counter in the kitchen … I need to shower for work!” I run off before she has a chance to answer. I know she’ll be curious about the interview, and that tape will keep her occupied for a while. Even better, it’ll give me a chance to process that kiss. Oh, that kiss. My inner goddess does the cabbage patch.

I work at a place in town that’s a mom and pop shop. This reinforces my small town America good girl sweetness. I am close to the owners and the brother of the owner, who wants to bone me. No biggie. Just sayin.’ I find myself unattractive, but some good looking dudes want to bone me – so that means I’m just bashful and unaware of my hotness. Aw, shucks. I think this stuff, but in a much more verbose way.

I get to work and it gives me time to think. This is both a blessing and a curse. Part of me wants to shut off my brain and get rid of all the thoughts of Shimper. Part of me wants to curl up inside my brain and only spend time with my memories of him. Or wait, no I don’t want that. Oh wait, yeah I do. I don’t know. I think I’m in love! No wait, it’s hunger.

I have a snack. The snack is chocolate, it’s sweet, like Shimper’s kiss. Oh, what a kiss! My inner goddess does the running man. She’s really good at it. I wish you guys could see it. Oh dang!, and my inner goddess just did the splits!

I’m lost in thought, looking down, when my boss yells, “Olivia!, you have a customer in front of you!” I look up and – oh my! – it’s HIM! Shimper Vague is here, in this store, hot as the sun, wait, hotter than the sun!, and I’m melting in his presence …

“Miss Gasm,” Shimper says. The way he says my name sends shivers down to my hoo-ha. It’s neat-o mosquito. Suddenly I realize, oh, the effect he has on me is sexual! I get it now! At twenty-two years of age, memories of health class come flooding back to me. More importantly, the most poignant line of Kindergarten Cop comes back to me, “Boys have penises, and girls have vaginas.”

Shimper interrupts my revelry with a statement, “Oh, Miss Gasm, I wish I could know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, just thinking about birds … and bees,” I realize I’m blushing, and my statement has just made me turn the color of the Communist Manifesto. Get it? Cause it’s written by a bunch of red commie bastards! I’m so clever. For once, Shimper seems at a loss for words. I take this opportunity to seize the upper hand, and coolly say, “what can I help you with, Mr. Vague?”
“Some supplies,” he’s recovered his cool so quickly!, “I need some rope, and a board.”
“Ok, the rope is on aisle four … do you need manilla rope? Or nylon? Or polypro?” Mr. Vague’s eyes simmer with heat, with each type of rope I list his eyes go to a new level of smoldering. If I had to compare it to something, I wouldn’t, because I’m bad at that.
“Lead the way …,” Shimper says huskily, quietly, hotly. I feel like Shimper, because I wish I could know what he was thinking! As though he’s reading my mind, he suddenly stops, grabs my hand (and it’s electric! boogie-woogie-woogie!), and begins to speak, “Miss Gasm … I find your knowledge of ropes very … alluring. I have apparently never encountered anyone with knowledge of ropes even though I run in kinky rope-loving circles, and … I have a proposition for you … Have dinner with me tonight at a fancy hotel?”
“I guess you’ve … roped me into dinner,” I say, as I hand Shimper some rope.
“Oh, Gasm.” He says, and something down there is all whoop-whoop!, time to go to party-town!

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