Sisters

"I don't want a hug now! I don't want a hug," repeated Lizzy with Maddy forcefully trying to wrap her arms around her sister, "kiss me." Both girls suddenly got serious and Madelyn kissed Lizzy on the cheek. They hugged.

It lasted for the longest time with the girls playing with each other's hair, completely oblivious to their surroundings. If I didn't know better I'd think they were french kissing.

"What are you doing, Lizzy?" I suddenly realized I wasn't the only spectator glued to the strange scene as Lizzy's boyfriend disturbed the silence. He didn't say anything else and we proceeded watching Lizzy slowly take off her sister's band exposing her long ravishing hair.

I didn't know what to make of it. It was intimate and lovely and a little strange. Yet another slow sip of hot cider went down my throat. Both sisters were utterly gorgeous in their own ways.

Give in to be a "fun girl"

I'm tired of this place. I am. I am sick of the highlight of every evening with a free morning turning into some party in a stale basement filled with sweaty fucking guys handing you cheap beer in the company of slutty little girls with smudged mascara and bruised knees trying to walk strait as they go up a flight of stairs to find a line to wait in for the bathroom so they can take 5 mintues re-applying their rail-road eyeliner that sweated off while they were bumping into other people, letting them grab their ass and laughing it off feeling lucky they were cute enough for some drunken guy to actually get up the nerve to feel them up..

The sweat, smoke and loud, shitty music with bad dancing and drunk conversations. There's always some frustrated guy who's being a dick about the fact you have a boyfriend and you're not willing to fuck him anyway for reasons of self-respect and image...some girl who's cried off all her make-up, who's lost her phone and purse all because she had some bad drunk dial with her boyfriend who goes to a completely different college....and who's already fucked someone else...and she knows this because because he got mad enough to tell her he did after calling her a bitch.

There'll always be some kid explaining to a girl that he's in college and doesn't want a relationship but goes on and on about how good she'd be to sleep with. Her only assets are her tits and ass and if she shakes it all up just right, she'll be lucky enough to get some stupid little fuck to neck her in the corner as he grinds his hard on into her back while she tries to keep her balance, dancing as horribly as she can.

Then she'll get back to his room or hers. Then it begins and there's no turning back without frustration and anger- so she'll give in to be "a fun girl". Inhibitions lost and the thought of how convientient it was that she shaved just 6 hours ago when she got ready for that stupid fucking party.She'll act like she doesn't want a thing. She's good and sloppy now, all over him, looking like shit until he finally turns out the lights...And they'll both ignore the liquor on their breaths and all you can hear over the emptiness of that room is the friction and the heaving breathing that will be done and over with as soon as he comes, and she'll hope that that precious little piece of latex didn't break THIS TIME...because no one likes being nausous for 12 hours... just to avoid making the call to planned parenthood when your period didn't come on the 12th like it did every other month.

The night before is all that matters. The morning after smells of stale beer and vomit and all you can think about is what today is going to be like now that you're good and hung over. You can tell everyone how hung over you are. How hard it was to get out of bed. How smashed you got the night before and awesome it fucking was.

From a Facebook note "ITS ALL BULLSHIT" by Rachael Bell

Can we save it?

"When I got married for the second time, there was no love. It was a matter of convenience...You know, I talk to some of my friends who've been married for 15-17 years, and they say it's not at all like it used to be when they were young. They stll say "I love you" to one another, but threre isn't that spark, excitement...just respect."

She stopped, perhaps noticing that I was getting carried away with my own thoughts. I knew exactly what she meant by that youthful passion that I'm blessed to still be enjoying: getting a crush on your husband again and again, longing to randomly kiss him or talk when you're away, and goofing around when you're together. I want to save it.

"Would you say that you love your husband now?"

"I love my life! I love my job. And I love my daughter..."

It seemed that she didn't finish, but she wouldn't go on.

Zombies

What amazes me in teaching is the amount of influence one is entrusted to have on their students. Teachers and administration have so much power while a child is at school. Certainly, there are school boards with their standards and evaluations, working on getting all the educators on one page, and if someone did something plain obnoxious it definitely would be known rather soon...but still. People are not robots and every teacher is a little bit biased. What if it's not a little in some cases?

I've had several job assignments when I spent as long as three weeks with the same students, being responsible for all the lesson plans. Not even a single person asked what we were up to in class.

Today I was working with a teacher who asked all the students who got the right answer to clap their hands above their heads, snapping their fingers in between the claps. Someone had the balls to ask why she makes them do that...besides some of the serious pedagogical reasons...because she can. How egoboosting is that.

I was a witness to a disciplinary meeting in our Middle School's gym the other week. All 7-graders were seated on the bleachers. To get the students on track our principal played a little game. He would ask the crowd to clap once when he crossed his hands and tap their foot whenever he did a vertical motion with his hand that in my head really asked for a high-pitched "chu-chu" accompaniment. There were about 350 kids in the gym with 5-6 adults standing directly in front of them all in a row. The doors were closed. We stood still, making sure everyone complied with what they were told. 1-2-1-2. Just like a small army, the kids clapped and tapped their feet amazingly in synk. If they wanted to, they could start a coup right there and run over all five of us before someone even got a chance to get out a walkie talkie. Instead they obediently moved their bodies. 1-2-1-2.

What does sex mean to you?

I was about to ignore this facebook event when something caught my eye. It was clearly one of those tupperware parties, when it's socially appropriate for someone to cash in on their friends, getting all their gals together for a stealth sales presentation and plenty of overpriced stuff one probably doesn't really need. This seemed somehow different though. I really had no idea what it was about. The description was too vague, and a pretty pink title "Pure Romance" wasn't helping. Candles? Perfume? As always, Google made my life easier. Adult Sex Toy Party...Well, that's romantic.
***
I showed up a little early. The room was full of women I didn't know, with rice-crispy penises and dough-covered weinners spread on the dining table. The party promised to be classy.

We started off with a very interesting question which probably was the most insightful part of the party. The host asked "What does sex mean to you?" She was going to hand a product for every answer and have us pass it around afterwards. Sex is sex, obviously. I think she meant how we perceive it, but everyone answered in their own way.

A rather big woman on the utmost left shrugged her shoulders, "I've been married for 15 years, so there isn't much going on with us. We fall asleep." She got a whip. A pretty lame object for someone whose sex life is that low if you ask me. Is that a way to wake him up?

Next there was this beautiful tall girl with wavy long hair, which gave her a very romantic mermaid look. "Sex means nothing. I'm sorry". I don't remember what she got. I was too lost in my own thoughts remembering that I once tried to learn that mantra, because "sex means nothing" did not at all come naturally to me.

The girl next in line was very obviously pregnant. For her sex was closeness and bonding. It seems like her answer hit home with several girls, including me.

There were many other honest answers: "Painful", "Work". A tom-boyish girl with a cute cap saying "Boobies make me smile", said "Love". Later I found out she was also the youngest.

By the time it was my turn, all my initial answers, like closeness and fun were taken. Sex is a very intimate expression of a sort. You entrust your partner to see you the way not everyone gets to see. My fantasy sex, the one where I did it with strangers, women, people who didn't care about me, was all about fun only, very hedonistic. Not just that in reality. "Pleasure" was my answer. I got lube. Plain and simple.

We later looked at different lotions and potions. My mouth was a little numb from "Great Head", I had something minty meant to be put on nipples on my lips, both wrists were covered with aromatic ointments the purpose of which I have long forgotten. Nothing truly useful.

"Dust it and he will lick it!", our host explained with a tone of a telemarketer. She held a nifty jar with...dust. In my experience he licks without dusting, I thought to myself, but didn't share.

The host used strange terms for genitals mispronouncing clitoris and calling vagina a frog. Things like "His junk" were more familiar, but then left clitoris to be the only medical term used. Overall, her presentation seemed a little too by-the-book and pitchy. Sometimes she was trying to be "frank" or made a comment that perhaps was meant to be a joke, yet no one laughed. Nevertheless she gave me what I want, so I shouldn't complain.

We finally moved on to the part I came for and was very curious about. Buzzing vibrators, shiny bullets, and quiet dildos started wondering across the room. It was the first time I ever saw such things with my own eyes and got to touch and examine everything in a setting that made it perfectly appropriate. This was the fun part. Women seemed to compete in their witty comments about products, definitely not being honest but fun.

In the end it was time to order. The host would invite us one by one to the improvised order room with the rest of the crowd staying in the main room. We talked about lotions...like it was the only thing anyone cared about at this party.

At one point I stopped flipping pages of Pure Romance catalogue and decided to go. It was difficult at the beginning. (this should tell you more why). And then it occurred to me that if I just ask something lame and go away, I'll hate myself later for wasting all this time. So I did what I usually do when I don't know what I'm doing - put it out in the open. "OK, I feel very awkward about this". The host looked at me with indifference, kind of like "you're wasting my time" sort of look. And so I just jumped on it and started asking. I asked so much the host seemed annoyed, but she was content when I left the room with a beaming smile. And I didn't care when everyone looked at me when I almost skipped to my car. I freaking got exactly what I wanted. And I was happy.