Let’s welcome to the stage….

You remember that scene in Varsity Blues when the football players go to the strip club and see their teacher Miss Davis dancing? She comes out lookin all business in her suit, with a chalkboard that reads Sex Education and proceeds to take off her clothes to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher all the while playing up that naughty teacher bit like it’s her job (well technically it is her job). That is stripping; taking your clothes off in an effort to obtain money from strangers.

I don’t know if they exist elsewhere in the world but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever been to an actual strip club. Stripping is not coming on to the stage wearing a bikini, taking off the top portion of the bikini to reveal pasties and subsequently rolling around on the floor for 3-5 minutes. Strippers, I appreciate that you are intoxicated and probably high off of a drug I’ve never even heard of, but you’ve been letting your patrons down. They want themes; they want naughty teachers and nurses. They do not want “Let’s welcome to the stage a dirty crack whore with a snaggle tooth”. That’s not a theme, that’s you. The day after Halloween all the costumes stores sell things for 50-70% off, get your "boyfriend" to buy you that eightball and drop a few bucks on a pair of ears and a tail. Hell, if you want go get fancy pick up a Little Bo Peep costume (if the old whore at the Clermont Lounge in the ATL can pull it off you can too!). Have the DJ blast Cat Scratch Fever, put on your ears and tail, get on stage and strip them off for the people. The people want it; Nay…they demand it.


Shout out to Sweet Little Baby Doll JT and Look Imperial for inspiring this post by their weekly trips to a local gentleman's club.

I like her hair…I wonder if the carpet matches her pubes

I am peter pan, I never want to grow up but lately the battle is getting harder. If there was some type of potion that I could drink and stay 25 forever I would chug that shit like I was thirteen and someone handled me a bottle of boones farm. That being said, I have been noticing that with age comes a lot of new things…

Let’s talk about the hair. Unlike the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, I do not derive my power from real or fictional dinosaurs, nor do I wear a color-coded battle suit made of spandex and a helmet (though a helmet would have proved useful on many occasions when intoxicated)… I derive my power from my hair. My hair doesn’t provide superhuman strength, or ability in hand-to-hand combat; but I often call on Power of Awesome Hair! in social situations.

You see, about a year and a half ago I cut off nearly 15 inches of blond hair. The result of that cut was the glory that is bestowed upon the eyes of those who interact with me each day. Since the cut, and going back to my natural darker hair color I have noticed quite a few gray hairs coming in. They are patchy at best and I keep them around because they make me look distinguished (and I secretly believe the old wives tale that if you pull one out that two will come back in its place). I’m sure genetics play a factor in the graying of my hair and I do look exactly like my Momma but I can’t seem to get a definitive answer from her on when she actually went gray. I believe two factors contribute to her inability to be able to answer this simple question. 1) She made the decision to start coloring her hair blond at the age of 19 and continued to dye it until about 6 years ago. So, what actual color was under that dye at age 30, 40, or 50 is a question that no one can answer. 2) Momma drinks.

I’m figuring I have about 5 to 7 years to still be able to call on Power of Awesome Hair! before I have to say goodbye to a piece of me that makes me more confident than I’ve ever been. But hey, at least I won’t get caught checking myself out in any and every reflective surface I pass by anymore. There’s always a silver lining ;)

Let’s just hope the silver lining isn’t around my head too soon.

Photo from Halloween preparation...this year I'm going as a really old version of myself (aka: Momma)

That just happened

We have an entire file cabinet drawer for toys in our office…

Oh, you need a plastic grenade for your presentation this afternoon? No, worries. Giant ink pen to write that proposal? No need to run out and get one, we have three. Got some time between meetings to do a little toning? No need to hit the gym, borrow our exercise band.

A's Yearbook

In an effort to help you get to know the wonderful individuals that are daily players in my life and in this blog, I'm introducing them to you ‘yearbook’ style. Hope you enjoy!

Best Dressed:

No-Longer-Easy-E

I met No-Longer-Easy-E in grad school at IU and eventually moved down to FMB with her. In school No-Longer-Easy-E was always the first to be up for a party or a trip to the bar so naturally her and I made fast friends.

While the average 7 year old is a fan of the wet-willy, No-Longer-Easy-E prefers the dry-willy. She finds it to be less gross and ultimately a lot creepier. I do not think I attended a graduate-level course where No-Longer-Easy-E’s finger did not find its way into my ear canal at least once a week. As a side note: she is correct, it is less gross and absolutely creepier. I have had fleeting thoughts that my success in grad school may be directly attributed to my professors believing I had torettees syndrome (due to me violently shaking and jerking away from No-Longer-Easy-E every time she dry-willyed me) and feeling sorry for me.

Above: No-Longer-Easy-E caught in the act...

classic dual dry-willy

No-Longer-Easy-E and I have been roomies for three and half years, she has broken our hammock (ask her about it, it’s a great story!), been a wonderful step mom to Tux, and is no stranger to fashion. She is best known for owning several tiny vests and summer scarves. For that, No-Longer-Easy-E I award you “Best Dressed”. Congrats!

Do you know how I know I’m young?!?

The other day I was reminded that I am (ugh) almost 30. That’s right, peterpan is getting older. This reminder led to a series of “Do you know how I know your old?” and “Do you know how I know I’m young?” statements. I, being peterpan, obviously was spitting out the latter of the two. A sampling….


Do you know how I know I’m young?!?
Because given the chance, I arrange magnets to spell things like poop.

Because I have young people’s hair.

Because I don’t clean my room.

Because my body can handle a case of beer with impunity.

Because momma says I listen to music too loud.

Because I stay up late.

Because my favorite foods are pizza and macdonalds.

Because I still get carded to buy beers.

Because I don’t own mom jeans like No-longer-Easy-E and KFBS (burn!).

Because when I text I say stuff like omg.

Because I wear flip flops everyday.

Because I’m easily distracted by toys and/or shiney things.

Because I giggle when someone says “duty”.

Because I have a thumb ring.

Justice

So I've been told that the last picture I posted of my "bed head" didn't really do it justice so here ya go.



I like to call it "The Kate".

I'm sexy.

Cut Footloose

If 80's clothing has to come back I want 80's dancing to come back too. It would be awesome to actually be a good dancer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhZU5G6qFqE