O'Really?'s Open Salon Blog

Filling an Empty Position

Tue, 15 Nov 2011 09:11:11 -0500

In the bedding department, the men I’ve shared one with reads like a veritable ~~who’s who~~ do not call list. Don’t ask me what my number is. For the record, it’s ~~on a need to know basis~~ unlisted. But recently, things have changed. Here’s a sentence I never thought I would write: “My sex life is like Texas”. It’s not hot, but for what seems like ages, it has been awfully dry. I guess it’s called the lone star state for a reason.

To put things mildly, I’m in a drought.

However, when it comes to a “To Do” list, this is where things get much more interesting. George Clooney, Bill Maher and Anthony Bourdain are at the top of it and certainly go to the head of the class. Those are three names I could live with. Not all at once, mind you. That would be ~~way too good to be true~~ impossible, even for me.

I can fantasize. That’s not a question. It’s a fact of life. In real time, with no reservations. I’ll stop now with the references only a person with no sex life and too much TV time can understand. And here I was hoping that you might let me get to seven of them. Eight is enough Mr. and Mrs. Duggar.

Which leads me to my next ~~rant~~ point. I can count on one ~~abacus~~ hand the men in my life who have come up short in the sex and romance department. Insert your own ~~list of names~~ ruler here. It’s not that they were ~~pitifully endowed~~ unwilling or unable, it was that they may as well have yelled, “Fore!” the moment they decided to start charging inside of me like it was a 30 second shopping spree instead of a leisurely round of golf. No iron, no wood, but a whole lot of false advertising. If only I had been able to collect 3% interest for some of those transactions ~~I’d be retired~~. Do not even think for a moment about inserting a reference to 18 holes. Believe me, I’m ahead of you.

For every sports enthusiast that can waste an entire Sunday watching a game that often goes into overtime, why can’t ~~that happen in the bedroom~~ I be given at least an entire ~~quarter~~ inning’s worth when he decides it’s finally time to score with me? If my 30-second G spot is really as important as the “big game”, why aren’t I demanding and getting Super Bowl prices for admission into my very own superdome? And why do I suddenly have images in my head of Mr. Haney from “Green Acres” and Soupy Sales trying to make this happen just for me?

Life is messy and complicated enough. By this stage in life, sex shouldn’t be ~~like the game “Operation”~~. Tweezers optional. A GPS is fine for getting to one’s destination as quickly as possible but you’d think they’d have invented a device and a map that helps men know which button to press when they’re going up or down ~~there~~. Is it too much to ~~hope for~~ ask for directions? If a man wants to get to the top, there's work to be done; if he wants to sleep his way to the bottom, let’s just not go there. Really. Some things are best left alone.

Not all lovers were disappointing. Some had ~~girlfriends in other cities~~ potential. Others were extremely tender ~~after I was done with them~~ and considerate. But it wasn’t always this way and for all the frequent flier points I ~~wasted~~ accumulated, my luggage was lost more than once when it came time to decide if I wanted to check into a less than satisfying relationship. Somewhere, there is a waitlist with my name still on it.

I like to remind my younger female friends that you can lead a man to the bedroom, but ~~getting him to leave the toilet seat down is an endless battle~~ you can’t get him to decorate it. Better he should decorate you. With respect, love, kindness and ~~big cash prizes~~ support. If he has a healthy ~~libido~~ sense of humor and the ability to perform routinely, I want his resume.

I’m taking applications.

Andy Rooney is Retiring and I Want His Job

Fri, 30 Sep 2011 09:09:05 -0400

Dear CBS:

In case you haven’t heard, your oldest living ~~and still breathing~~ employee is just about to exit the building. Are you surprised ~~as I am that he lived this long~~ by this news? Me too! What am I going to have to look forward to every Sunday night after watching ~~football all day~~ long insightful segments about the national debt and healthcare woes that prove we are no smarter or better off today than we were when he started this gig back in 1978? It ~~excites~~ saddens me beyond measure to think the only person that makes more sense than me is finally ~~giving up this job so I can step in~~ heading into retirement. The last time I thought I had a shot at a gig ~~so up my alley~~ like this was when Erma Bombeck called it quits ~~and I unfortunately was living in the middle of a tiny village in France without Internet access.~~

Did you ever notice that the minute someone mentions Andy Rooney’s name, you can’t help but hear his voice inside your head? Now that I’ve given you that earworm, please continue reading ~~this as if he weren’t talking to you~~.

It’s not because I don’t think there are probably ~~two~~ other highly qualified individuals who could step in and create their own niche in the “60 Minutes” family or because I deserve a shot at the big time ~~more than they do~~, it just seems to me that after giving the stage to a more than talented and deserving man for 30 plus years from which he shared his unique perspective and hilarious point of view, it’s about time to turn that time slot over to ~~a talented and deserving female~~ me. Hell, I’m 51 and based on the fact that my parents are still alive, I could probably give you 30 years or more myself. I’d only be 84 if you forced me into retirement after the same long tenure he enjoyed and could probably muster a few more ~~boyfriends and one or two husbands~~ ~~between now and then~~ years, if required. It’s not like I’m going anywhere ~~in my career or my love life~~. More importantly, I’m a woman. I’m deserving. And I’m funny, too.

In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not a whole lot of funny going on in the world anymore and someone needs to find a way to convey that in a humorous fashion. I’m pretty fashionable if I do say so myself. Have I mentioned I’m ~~available~~ funny? You should see my collection of ~~lingerie and blog posts~~ writing. I am prolific and probably the highest unpaid ~~comedienne artist~~ writer out there. I’d love the opportunity to contribute to the ~~IRS~~ CBS on a weekly basis. I wouldn’t ask for much ~~more than you pay him~~. My eyebrows are in order, so you wouldn’t have to pay for any additional maintenance. I have a pretty nifty wardrobe and I wouldn’t mind using Rooney’s old desk to ~~sell at auction later on~~ save on expenses.

I’m certainly not as ~~old~~ curmudgeonly as Andy Rooney was when he started his career with you, but if given the right ~~contract~~ opportunity, I could surely start ~~acting like the woman with the stick who people are afraid of every time they walk down the street~~ next week and relocate to New York if necessary. I’d even be willing to show you my collection of ~~old~~ ~~boyfriends~~ essays that I have waiting in the wings to prove that everything I say is true.

As a side note, I’d like to say, “Thank you,” to Andy Rooney for giving me more than 60 minutes of laughter over all these years.

~~Now it’s my turn~~. May you continue to complain in peace.

This was orginally published on Huffington Post.

New Regime: Foods to Revolt By

Wed, 2 Feb 2011 13:02:14 -0500

Necessity breeds invention. With all the events unfolding in the Middle East, I just know there is some foam-making, fire- eating, bacon-burping, Seventh Day Applebee’s foie gras Adventist, waiting to create a couple of new dishes from ~~scratch~~ all this chaos and serve it up to an increasingly ~~disturbed~~ hungry public. I’m just the right ~~disturbed~~ person to break this story and finally take my rightful place on ~~Con Chapman's favorites list~~ the Food Network.

After being glued to the TV for the past week, I realized that while I was miltitasking on Twitter and surfing the net, there were chefs hard at work bringing food to ~~the edge of uprising~~ its next level. Yep. There's a New Food Regime going on and the only place you will ~~ever hear~~ read about it is right here.

Introducing the latest foods to storm a palace, down a dictator or even overtake a small country, directly from the names you trust:

McDonalds is already hard at work on their “McMubarak”. Just like their hamburgers ~~and his hair~~, this tough bastard of a burger will never go gray, no matter how long it lies ~~around~~. Unfortunately, it also takes a little more than 30 years to digest and leaves a foul taste in your mouth. (“McHosni” just didn’t have the same ring to it and was nixed immediately by protest focus groups for being too forcefully rammed down their throats.)

Baskin Robbins is introducing its latest flavor sometime this week: “Mubaraky Road”. The enticing press release reveals, “It has a revolting taste and is loaded with nuts.” Give me two scoops. Please. I was kind of getting tired of them teasing me with promises of Anwar Sadat Dot Dash. King Abdullah Jordan Almond has been all but scrapped from the test kitchen. In a related story, there are rumors of behind-the-scene talks with Dairy Queen ~~Noor~~ that may yield a less forecful, soft serve option that may be easier for the Jordanian public to swallow.

PF Chang's doesn’t want to get left behind in the food truck and is frantically racing to perfect the recipe for “Muammar al Gaddafi Duck”. Sources tell me that the secret to its crazy allure and unique flavor is that the dark, sweet sauce is a derivative of and rhymes with “hoisin.” I sure hope they put it on the menu soon and serve it with fried ricin. Mmmmmm. If that doesn’t work out, chefs are prepared to offer "Chicken Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini". Its bite is something fierce but it fucks up the layout on the menu because, like its namesake, it’s ~~been around~~ just too long.

Kim Jong Philly Steak is sure to be a hit in the city of ~~brotherly love~~ Pyongyang. While a little spicier than its American counterpart, people appear to be dying to know what exactly is going on inside of it. I’ve been told that it’s pure torture to try to get your hands on one. It also makes you shit missiles. No comment from Subway as of yet. They are still on the border as to whether or not they can get away with saying,“It tastes just like chicken.”

In other news, the people of Israel have decided to stick to baking and won’t enter the food frenzy fray any time soon. Aside from settlement issues ~~and the fact that even I couldn't come up with something clever to go with "Netenyahu"~~, they are a little skittish about all these recent quick fire challenges from all these wannabe Top Chefs and are quietly waiting for the yeast to rise, lest they be forced to make a hasty exit. As of this writing, thankfully, they still retain control over their own ovens.

Until this morning, Queensland, Australia seemed like a perfect refuge for those seeking a peaceful existence. Instead, like the Middle East and other hotbed areas of the world, it became the eye for a perfect storm.

It makes you kind of ~~want to vomit~~ hungry, doesn't it?

My Life in Lingerie

Tue, 25 Jan 2011 14:01:08 -0500

I’ve got several drawers and half a closet full of sexy lingerie. They hold more secrets than Victoria could ever keep. They whisper sweet nothing into my ear. But then again, so does my sex life ~~this week~~.

They don’t call it a “dry spell” for nothing.

Back to the lingerie. Pure invention, I tell ya. Lingerie is the equivalent of a candy dish. Nobody wants either, but they are both often bought as gifts ~~by people who have no taste or concept of size~~. It’s something that gets displayed only when the person who purchased it comes over to visit. (I sew nametags into mine so as not to offend the wrong party.) Within minutes of said party's departure, it gets relegated to the laundry room or the dry cleaning pile. The candy dish gets regifted. Buyer’s remorse comes (and goes) with a hefty price tag.

During my last long-term relationship, my mother thought I should have a collection of peignoirs and high-heeled slippers with feathers on them to establish that I was the lady of the house. That’s so last century. But so was that relationship. When your chilly morning consists of cleaning out a barn and hauling the excrement of two Shetland ponies down a hill to the compost bin, a negligee doesn’t beg to be worn.

This is not me (or my pony)

In these circumstances, dangling the carrot does not require protruding nipples. Those horses knew how to bite the hand that fed them and the damn stable boy didn’t come until later on in the day. Come to think of it, now that I see that last sentence in writing, it makes me wonder what he was doing in that barn for so long on those winter afternoons. And why I didn’t go visit him more often. ~~From what I can remember, he was hung like a horse.~~

My first experiment and foray into lingerie was in the form of the dreaded “Teddy”. Why it was called a Teddy is beyond me. Was there once a longer or larger version that didn’t creep up the ass and divide a woman’s body into two piles of yeasty dough? Was it all the rage and called a “Theodore”? Theodore and Teddy belong on a Roosevelt, not on my body. There is no presidential pardon for what a Teddy did to the female figure. Crotches with snaps are fine for infant clothing but are not riveting in the bedroom. Thankfully, the Teddy suffered a deservingly quick demise and ended up in landfills along with Members Only jackets.

Where's the rest of it?

Next came slinky slips with straps that required a degree from MIT in order to adjust them properly. They were colorful and feminine looking but often ill fitting and tight in the wrong places. The darts never pointed anywhere near my nipples and at the time, mine were still doing an about face. Frankly, if a man requires darts to direct him to the bull’s eye, there’s a pretty decent chance that he should be looking for an optometrist and not sex.

Next came the anal floss of all underwear in the form of the thong. The skimpier and prettier it was, the more expensive it was to buy. This disastrous invention also propelled Brazilian waxing into the economic stratosphere. To the uninitiated man, getting a Brazilian wax is similar on the humiliation scale to having the proctologist’s hand up your butt for longer than necessary but with the added excitement of potentially suffering third degree burns. We pay for this. Dearly. And trust me guys, when a woman screams while having her pubes ripped out by their roots, she’s never faking it.

If you want to hear some real screaming, head over to Mona’s parlor ~~this Thursday at 3 when I have my next appointment~~. It’s not like we can get away with a once yearly visit if we plan on wearing that thong as an invitation to the garden of eatin’. I have a standing appointment that I take lying down.

Would you stand for this?

Since women are going for the bald look these days (what’s up with that?), that doesn’t leave much for men to graze on or to the imagination. Neither does lingerie. I like a man with a good appetite and appreciation for what a woman is supposed to really look like. Naked and well fed.

Which is why I've decided to get off the lingerie and waxing rollercoaster and save myself a small fortune.

~~I could give dreadlocks an entirely new meaning~~.

From this point forward, if a man wants to slip into something more comfortable, he should just try me. Without the lingerie.

"Eat Her More Often" by Patricia A. Smith

Other Images: Fabsugar.com, marshasvintage.com, metro.co.uk, ambush101blogspot.com, Shetland-pony.com

Slanguage

Fri, 7 Jan 2011 11:01:48 -0500

Have you always dreamed about learning a second language, but didn’t think you had a good ear or the ~~money~~ time required? Do you have visions of listening to Berlitz cds while absorbing ~~money~~ Spanish in your sleep? Can you imagine yourself speaking in tongues and sounding decisively ~~American~~ continental wherever you travel?

Forget about all that troublesome pronunciation, picking up an accent or knowing ~~if I’m~~ masculine from feminine. For a limited time only (or as long as this post should live), I’m offering you the opportunity to do something that is both educational and fun. Best of all, it’s ~~free~~ easy. Just like me.

Welcome to Slanguage!

Slanguage is easily learned and recognized worldwide ~~by one other person including you~~. Who cares? The key is to use words in context so that your vocabulary builds quickly and effortlessly. More importantly, you utilize these words in a variety of circumstances that are compatible with modern day ~~woes~~ life. Before long, you’ll be able to matriculate anywhere and share your newly acquired bon mots in just about any social circle. In a matter of moments, you’ll be drunk with delight and slurring your ~~fingers the next time you play the piano~~ words. And, as an added bonus, you’ll impress ~~no one~~ everyone with your skills.

Let’s get started!

He’s divorced. She got everything. You’re attracted to him. Before you can even think of sleeping with him, make sure you avoid the most common mistake in newly formed relationships. See where and how he lives. Make sure he has a ~~checking account~~ real address. Examine his digs and his bedding. If you do this, you will avoid the unnecessary heartbreak that comes with the Futonic Relationship. If you don’t, you could be making that bed. And sleeping in it. Which will lead to nomance.

See how simple this is? Futonic Relationship = Nomance.

Moving on.

Y2K (remember that scare)? So last century. Obesity is a growing problem in the United States and we need to start focusing on Y2Fat? ™

Want to know the culprit? Cargohydrates! They clog your system and make you ~~join the Elks Lodge~~ lethargic. Cargohydrates are hiding in ~~the closet longer than Rock Hudson did~~ places like McDonalds, Costco, Sam’s Club and BJ’s (no, not those kind). Avoid them completely, lest you start looking like a tanker. Buying in bulk will yield similar results on the scale and in the mirror. The proctologist does not call your poop shoot the eerie canal for nothing. You’ll thank me the next time he’s doing his dredge report. So will he.

You’re getting the hang of this now, aren’t you? Let's advance.

If you have a tendency to eat in a hurry and have no time to go to the gym, then Mexercise ™ may be just the cure for you. The ~~half~~ brainchild of Sarah Palin and Michele Bachmann, this national chain will debut in Washington and feature nicely packaged food ~~with no nutritional content whatsoever~~ that causes you to (wait for this), run off at the mouth and head to the bathroom at the same time! Put your money where your mouth is and you too can suffer from verbal diarrhea while achieving that slow burn.

Mexercise will not be available near any borders and (iced) tea is complimentary

Are you a diehard Apple supporter? Is your idea of Mac n’ cheese an iPad and some Brie? Are you a 20 (or 30 or even 40) something, happily married, politically ~~inactive~~ aware, techno geek properly fitted with all the latest gadgetry and eagerly awaiting your bundle of joy? Do you want to be sure that your baby is as smitten by and devoted to ~~Steve Jobs~~ Apple products as you are? The iPadmini kills two birds with one stone by introducing the world of Macintosh to your cooing infant and keeping his or her bottom fresh and clean all day long. It monitors everything baby does while you ~~play on Facebook~~ work hard for your money so baby can grow up to be a well-adjusted ~~Apple of your eye pod~~ toilet trained toddler.

Unfortunately, live streaming will only be available for free on certain models.

Now that you have another mouth to feed, you better watch your Slanguage. It might get you into some deep doodoo.

And yes, there’s a CrApp for that.

Images: Northernnaturals.com, washingtonpost.com