And that’s why I’m posting. TEN YEARS LATER. Because there’s still yet some life to suck out of here. SATC lasted, what, 6 seasons? And that last one was a total mess.

So, I’m reading this book about sex toys right now. The history of the sex toy, really — and its inventors, testing subjects and physiologists doing secret research about human sexuality. The 50s and 60s of last century. Infamous (and apparently, urban legend) motorized pumping devices. The days before the fleshlight. Or any sort of sexual revolution. Perhaps there was one for some people, but these test subjects were considered the heathens of society. Most of the research was under a cloak of anonymity or desensitized with BIG MEDICAL WORDS.

The topic has once again captured my interest in studying sexuality and identity. There’s a great discussion made in the book about where the lines of studious passion and personal deviation blur. People, generally speaking, are still in this holding pattern of being really shy, uncomfortable and awkward talking (and listening and reading or watching) about sex — especially if it’s a reflection upon their own lives. But this is NOT a blog about my sex life.

Know this though: If you’re a stranger talking to me about my “sex in the city blog,” you’re just creepy.

Anyways, we are conscious of sustainable living — always looking for more ways to recycle, reuse things, use less energy, and learn how to grow our own food. I love the concept of composting, but not sure we are that diligent. There’s also the worms. I’m a serial unplugger, by the way. You know the type: unplugging all the electronics, appliances and cords when not in use. The boyfriend used to HATE when I did that to the coffee pot every morning. Now we can’t because the plug is behind the cabinet — near impossible to reach (and the furniture we purchased online was total crap, so you can’t move it without feeling it’s going to fall apart at any moment).

Our community garden plot yielded really well results for us last year (lots of strawberries and greens!), and I’m hoping to do even better (really hoping for peas and carrots to come up) in Season Two. I definitely need some refresh tips on gardening, however (mostly because I couldn’t do any gardening last year with the cast); so I’m always looking for advice. I’m also really looking forward to purchasing a potters bench for my birthday gift because I hate when all those tools and dirt come inside the house. I’d have the boyfriend make one if I thought he could handle having a saw. He needs his fingers to continue to make the bread. And my dinners. I also really want a citrus tree just because… well, because they are pretty, but the boyfriend doesn’t think the plant could work in this climate. I’m willing to try (even if the trend this last season was a REALLY long, cold winter). Maybe even put one in the house. Want, want, want… I know. I’m the worst. Alas, I don’t know that any of this necessarily categorizes me as a farmer.

But y’all know how terrible I am with indoor planting. Seriously. We just don’t have the appropriate amount of life for anything. And I’ve now killed my second bamboo plant. *sigh* I will do better. Just, outside.

Are you hip to the urban farming trend? What steps are you taking to live a more sustainable life?

I’m not deficient in magnesium, but there’s definitely more that I can do to supplement my healthy eating habits. And while I’m no Jamie Lee Curtis, it’s time to share the support for healthy immune system. I need to listen to my body more — especially about what has been destroying my insides, inducing my anxiety (really) and… well, wreaking havoc on my hormones. See also: hormone regulation to keep my dang skin clear.

You ARE what you eat. Seriously.

I want Twinkies. Really.

Have you ever looked what is IN those things? I can’t even look at a box of Fruity Pebbles — once my favorite cereal — without feeling nauseous over all the artificial dyes and ingredients.

But I digress. Certain vitamins are good for different functions, and as a mentioned, these macrominerals help out with metabolism. Here are a few reasons I take them: healthy appetite, prevention of muscle cramps and weakness, insomnia (I wish I could take all of the things to help that) and the right amount even helps out a bit with daily mood. Well, at least I can tell when I’m seriously deficient.

Are you using supplements? Have you caught onto this crazy health stuff with bodily functions?

It’s been a long fucking decade.

Obviously, the last few years of this blog have morphed from one of loneliness and drunkenness to that of happy companionship and pictures of my cats. Writing from any-and-all of those angles has been eye-opening (especially when going back to read said archives), cringe-worthy, life affirming and fulfilling — on both a personal and creative level. Blogging is what provoked me to pursue a passion of writing professionally full time (that, too, has its own ups-and-downs) — I even named my company after my identity here. Blogging has made me invaluable friendships and connections. It has also been the source of some really awesome life experiences. Hey, I even made some money out of the deal!

It’s seen three different platforms, some 2000+ posts, and an immeasurable number of pictures. There’s been So.Many.FuckUps., two European adventures, at least eight jobs, an engagement, a canceled wedding, the acceptance of my sexual identity, a reconciliation with a high school boyfriend, three baseball players (and one coach!) and an irreplaceable Arrogant Bastard.

But just like some of those heartbreaking downfalls of Relationships Past, I’ve made the wrenching decision to Pancake my blog. At least I’m TELLING YOU FIRST INSTEAD OF HAVING YOU GUESS WHAT HAPPENED FOR THE NEXT 6 YEARS. It’s me, not you. I’m bored. I grew up; you didn’t. I’m just not that into you. And… there’s somebody else, err, a new project, that is. You’ll find it soon enough if you’re looking, I suppose.

I’ve tried walking away from this blog so many times, but I could never stay away. But I think I’m ready now. Ten years was a good run for POYB. Even in the embarrassment all those penises, I’m proud of it.

True Story: I was one of “those girls” who gave you the wrong number in the bar, when I didn’t really want you to call me.

That number was either: a) a quickly made-up number, b) a pizza delivery number (seriously, thanks Pizza Pan!), c) the local police station (even truer story!) or d) an old cell number (it was easy to remember!). I was also that girl who went out and purchased a second cell phone used to cheat on her boyfriend with a guy from the bar that I DID want to call me, but that’s not here-nor-there. OK, it’s there, and it was stupid and shitty and immature, but it happened, and I can’t take it back.

Before the days of social media and reverse phone lookup — and, sadly, this blog’s popularity — I could get away with these despicable acts of dating.

Awkward? Meh, not really. Or at least not until I saw you again and discovered the usefulness in that second phone. Difficult? Yes. Who is this again?! Necessary? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But having a second mobile number probably would have made dating a little bit easier back in my game-playing days.

Enter: MyAKA.

MyAKA is a service that allows for a second number in your local area code, essentially allowing an additional phone number on the same phone. Voice and text messaging is available in the US and Canada, and there is complete cellphone privacy — with protection on all incoming and outgoing calls (unlike with forwarding). Your assigned number is NOT linked to user information in any way, and BEST OF ALL: block any number you want (and unblock when you’re ready to give that asshole a chance.). Heck, use the Do Not Disturb feature to send all calls to voicemail when you’re seriously hungover and that guy just WON’T STOP BOTHERING YOU ABOUT GOING TO SUNDAY BRUNCH. There is no app to download and no internet required; all features are controlled via text message.

For YOU!
MyAKA is giving you a 7-Day FREE Trial! Try the service for seven worry-free days of flirting (and subsequent blocking) without even entering your credit card. And when you decide to keep the service (because it is awesome!), you can upgrade your number in two easy steps at the MyAKA site. It’s as simple as that to date safely AND smartly this fall. Signup today for a fun second mobile number with no-strings-attached.

Disclaimer: this is a sponsored post for MyAKA. Please read my disclosure page for more information.

Seriously. How does shit from 2010 keep ending up in our house?

My rookie season for roller derby is over, which makes me… all over the place in terms of emotions, but I’m really proud of all that I accomplished. Um, being rostered and actually PLAYING in regionals tournament games being a HUGE accomplishment. OK, a few jams, BUT STILL. I learned so much about myself, my teammates… and sadly, how sucky a major loss feels for everybody involved. Regardless, I’m so proud of my team this year!

I also learned that I can easily drive a 12-passenger van through the Adirondacks.

And I got to sleep in a bunk bed for the first time in… 25 years?

I came home in time for a few hours of sleep before serving my jury duty obligations on Tuesday. Which, in judicial terms, means sitting around for 6 hours doing absolutely nothing but watch my phone battery die until I’m dismissed and get 10 bucks (I donated it).

This week’s been really rough, now that I have some quiet to think about it. After traveling for so long and being away and aforementioned derby feelings, the boyfriend’s work trip to the west coast overlapped mine, so I’ve had to deal with being lonely and all that on top of it.

And then there’s the stinkbug invasion (I haven’t mastered the swooping-catch-with-TP-and-into-the-toilet with these things, and the boyfriend is not here. WAH.).

weekend:
I’m not up on what’s going down this weekend… I work most of it to make for my time off earlier in the week, but there will be lots of relaxing and recovering. I’m going to start the planning stages of an “easy” home improvement project. Goal: to finish by the end of October.

I also have to finish my freaking taxes.

Don’t hassle the Hoff!

seven things, seven days:
1. {head in the clouds} Fantasizing about restorations like this and cabins in the mountains of Vermont. Seriously, Vermont was beautiful.
2. {wardrobe therapy} This season’s Cakestyle box was mostly meh. But a shopping trip to Pavement will do the trick for some Fall shopping therapy.
3. {makeover} Finally getting my hairs did tonight!
4. {sweet tooth} Pineapple cake for dinner. I’m sick; why not?
5. {the more you know} The plural of moose is moose, btw.
6. {full house} I need a place or organization to donate clothing. This is the biggest closet upheavel I’ve ever done… ever. And there’s more to toss. This is what happens when you have small closets!
7. {season’s greetings} CANDY CORN and sunflowers. Fall is my favorite.

Happy Birthday, Joe!

weekend:
Tonight is our first night playing in our new bowling league. *snort* The boyfriend and I aren’t even on the same team (weird, right?), but we’re playing against one another. So, this should be an interesting evening in NO, YOU’RE NOT HAVING THE SEX TONIGHT. Also, I have to bowl with my wrist guard. I PUT THE F IN FUN… in bed.

Also tonight: Dixie Doc is playing at the Elk’s. If you’re already a fan of Banjo Night, you’ll love this.

This weekend marks the seasonal opening of Scarehouse. I HAVE to visit this year!

Not sure if I’ll make it to my spinning class in the morning, but it’s for a good cause. Err, for the kitties… and doggies… and bunnies!

But I’ll definitely be chowing down on some GOOD FOOD at the Lebanese Food Festival in Scott Township. Runs today through Sunday.

seven things, seven days:
1. Did you read part one of my Finger Lakes adventure?
2. BETA open for Stress Free Recipes. THIS is totally up my alley, and I can’t wait to get my invite.
3. So honored to be asked to be part of a Bridal Brigade for my friend here in Pittsburgh. All the fun parts of weddings, without all the bridesmaids duties. We’re on to something, ladies!
4. Randomly came across THIS POST from 2008. You know what’s significant about that horoscope? THE DAY I QUIT SMOKING. Huh.
5. We decided not to plant anything for fall and winter in our garden plot. So, I’m considering buying into a Penn Corner Winter CSA. Thoughts from anyone?
6. Good luck to friends and skaters participating in WESTERN REGIONALS!
7. Go read this blog post from Burgh Baby. Seriously. GO NOW.

More than anything, I just wanted to unplug. Like, literally.

Naturally, the boyfriend found us a campsite with electricity options… which came in handy when he didn’t charge the batteries in advance for the air mattress.

This was a first-time trip to the Finger Lakes for both of us. And in anticipation of this mini-vacation, I had ZERO idea that planning would be so overwhelming. I mean, there are HUNDREDS of wineries, it seems. And then there’s breweries and cheese and distilleries to make your travels even MORE interesting. We were given wonderful suggestions from friends for neighboring lakes Cayuga and Keuka, but were mostly left to our own decisions for Seneca (where we were staying).

And, holy hell, WE DIDN’T EVEN MAKE IT TO THE LAKE ITSELF. There is so much to see and do.

The drive took us around five hours (at least, to explore Keuka, first), but I couldn’t resist stopping in CUBA on the way up: HOME OF THE CUBA CHEESE SHOP AND ITS DELICIOUS CURDS AND AGED CHEDDARS, OH MY! (PS: they deliver)

The Hammondsport area was home to Chateau Renaissance, the Finger Lakes Beer Company and Dr. Frank’s winery.

Chateau Renaissance HAS CHAMPAGNE (and yes, they can call it that), so that’s how we celebrated our arrival. Our case was started with a bottle of their Demi-sec. They had some delicious fruit wines too (sadly, out of their cranberry on our visit).

Oh, look! Chickens!

Finger Lakes Beer Company had some awesome brews, and we took a growler of their IPA back to the campsite. They also make a nice wassail, which was unexpected.

The brewer gave us some suggestions on where to find some craft bottles in the area — one of which, a totally random FOOD store. But his selection was impressive, and we came home with several local bottles that we can’t otherwise find in PA. Also, GEORGE!

Dr. Frank’s was swanky in comparison to the Chateau (which would seem backwards, right?) But the boyfriend gleefully took me down random side gravel roads to the home of a winery with a fantastic view.

It was just a beautiful day… until “those dry people” showed up. Man, those vineyard employees have got to take some snobby shit, for sure. I just cannot see being a snob about ALL THAT AWESOMENESS. Also, totally random, but the guy sampling for us totally looked like my ex, Claymation. The hell? Their Rkatsiteli and Lemberger were enjoyed by both of us (and two varietals we’ve never had); two more bottles for the case!

There was one more stop before taking off for Sampson State Park (yes, we started early, so that we would still have plenty of daylight to put together the campsite): Fox Run Vineyard on Seneca Lake. They have a small cafe and market in addition to their sampling room, so we ordered one of their featured wine & cheese board options (Option 2) to enjoy the gorgeous day on their lovely patio. No bottles taken home (although I really enjoyed their Arctic Fox), but noted that we HAD to visit the Lively Run cheese farm for more of that Cayuga Blue.

As for the camping portion, I was mostly disappointed to see our campsite filled with campers. Luckily, since there was power at each plot, we didn’t have to hear generators and motors throughout the night.

Sidenote: what the hell is going on with that canopy?

The tent was put up in no time (ahem, thanks to me), and aside from air mattress issues, the realization that we were camping… finally… was a total relaxing moment. Even for that skunk that wandered over to our tent (we were situated back against the woods and made friends with a variety of critters). He ate our roll of toilet paper as a “welcome to the neighborhood” communication, I presume.

And then the air mattress popped in the middle of the night. The end.

Err… actually, two more days to go.

- – -
I’ve seen some penises in my life. Not an exorbitant amount, but enough to feel like I have a good gauge (heh) on the male species. You could say that I’ve experienced a rather large (and sometimes small) sampling. I can thank my college days, bartending days and hell, just plain’ ol slutty days for those.

But there was a time, when familiarity was not my strong point. And while my moves had been practiced, my experience was left to only one man. A post relationship breakup in junior year of college led me down that long, veiny road of adventures. It was here that I had my many firsts with male appendages.

It was almost 5 years ago to this day. September, 2007. I know this because it was just a few weeks after the Big Break-up… and because I was wearing new boots, but that’s not the point. Despite my cardinal rule of abstaining from guys at my school, I found myself lusting after an eclectic sophomore. Naturally, he resembled the ex, but was more fun and only marginally mysterious.

I was still learning how to flirt, a skill forgotten in the three years I spent as a girlfriend and was fairly awkward of how to go about moving from party mode to sexual mode. An easy transition for me now, but new to me at the time.

I stood on the porch of his apartment. I was trying to quell the growing vomit feeling that was lingering in the depths of my throat. He was sitting and watching me. As I leaned over the balcony, half hoping I would throw up and half hoping I wouldn’t. As I said, I didn’t know how to move from one stage to the next. Not without being overtly sexual at least. I was prepared to go all Adam & Eve on him.

But let’s not make a long story longer: I was excited for my first post break-up penis sighting. I wanted to know if they were similar, if they reacted the same. It was a life experiment.

I arrived to find that they were quite similar. I mean, it’s a penis!

But what makes this story special? Well. A week or so later, I hung out with a mutual friend, who knew about the hookup. He asked me how I liked his one-eyed monster. Strange question. He clarified, “you know, it may not be something you’re used to.” I cocked my head.

“He’s uncircumsized…”

I think that’s something I would have noticed. I always thought it was something I would. I mean, there were no ant eaters present that night. My friend insisted. Then followed up with, “I thought you would have noticed.”

RIGHT?!

And that’s the day I learned that circumsized penises are actually just like normal penises.

They’re just a little sneakier.

With that, I’m finally proud of an article I wrote. It’s probably been a year that I’ve completed something that didn’t leave a feeling of worthlessness; it’s all too humbling, and I struggle with these emotions endlessly. So, naturally, I hope everyone else likes the piece. But I really need to work on my confidence.

weekend:
Many, many things! Friday night a certain someone is celebrating his birthday at Toonseum and it’s also the opening reception for A Matter of Convenience at Future Tenant. I will probably end the evening with some pink underwear hunting at the champagne bar.

Saturday is my first spinning class. If the bone in my vagina makes it, I’ll be heading to the fundraiser for Colin Albright at OTB, then to the EatPGH Book Party (and likely, a bar crawl of Larryville).

I WILL ALSO BE WATCHING LIVE, STREAMING NORTH CENTRAL REGIONALS! WOOT!

seven things, seven days:
1. {do good} Received my first Love With Food: a monthly subscription box filled with FOOD samples. And the organization gives back.
2. {recovery} Finally hit my milestone 50 push-ups again. It’s been too long, old friend… err, wrist.
3. {sports} We joined a bowling league. Stupid excited. I mostly suck, but sucking is so much fun when you get to play with balls… WAIT A MINUTE!
4. {impatient} Already organized my closet for Fall and put away all the summer things. TIME FOR LAYERING!
5. {OCD} And the Fall comforter set is on the bed already too. Yes, I am THAT person.
6. {shoe envy} These boots from Hunter. MINE.
7. {pride} Good luck to friends and skaters competing in the Thrill of the Spill this weekend!

I was wondering if I had too much to drink, hearing that direct quote from our party (ahem, boyfriend). But we all played along with the I Wonder What Kind of Underwear She Has On game. And could pinpoint the women in the room who were wearing the pink underwear.
BOY, WERE WE HAVING A NIGHT!

Back to that aforementioned champagne lounge.

Looking around, we realized that this bar had all the makings of a pick-up place. And a date place. We looked around and evaluated everyone from the cocktail waitress to those old Mean Girls (who I wrote about here) to the awkward, mismatched couple evidently on their first date (dessert date!) and the sweet glamourous older couple (man, this woman was wearing a FABULOUS emerald green skirt suit. FAB!). This could only lead to a tipsier male-female discussion, of course: What Kind of Woman Are You Based on Your Undergarments.

The boyfriend seemed to have to many opinions on the “type” of women who wear pink under-things. Certain people were boring or predictable. Others were trying too hard (hello, waitress whose underwear I could see through your pants!). But mostly, these women were nearly ALL pink underwear-wearers. And no, I was NOT going to participate in what kind of panties Green Classy Lady was wearing. Ladies, did you know that not only are you labeled a certain type of female, but there is an underwear style attached to it? BECAUSE THIS IS A THING!

And then there are those who wear none. I can’t even.

For the record, I am not one of these pink ladies. Sure, I own a matching hot pink set, but I am not that type. I know what you meant, boyfriend! I am quite proud of my low-rise bikini briefs. For my size, my ass is curvy, and I can’t pull off boy shorts anymore (which were my previous faves) and g-strings can suck my crotch because that’s about all they do for me. Those things are NOT comfortable. I don’t care what lengths you will go to discuss that benefit with me.

So what does that type say about me?

Stop judging me before I kick you in your balls, that’s what.
AND, I LIKE COMFORT, DAMMIT!

So… what type of underwear are you?

Two friends were gabbing on about how they didn’t like another friend’s new boyfriend. The woman, topic of a heated discussion, was not in attendance in said restroom. The lovely new couple (and entourage of girlfriends… what the fuck, awkward!), however, was seated near us in the lounge.

They called him names and said dirty things about his personality (by the indignant tone of their conversation, it appeared it was their first time meeting him — and frankly, he DID sound like an ass, by their standards and vocabulary). But they carried on as if all was normal while on the Fifth Wheel Date.

I wondered if these “friends” shared in private with their female counterpart their disdain of the new romance. I guess, I HOPE that they would. But these women were no less catty than the 20-something drunk chicks on Carson Street, so I suppose hoping for any sort of maturity (aside from aging hands and sunspots) from them deserved a backwards-heavy, disappearing eye roll.

But… I’VE BEEN HERE — on both sides. I have told friends when I thought a man was no good (which never does anything for the friendship, mind you, so long as said relationship continues), and I’ve been told when a guy was a total jerk or complete weirdo. See: 10SB, HG Shady McShadester, Claymation… and strange Chocolate-covered Strawberry Guy. Need I go on?

God damn, that flood of memories was NOT needed this early in the morning. Man, now I wonder if I lost friends over my current relationship. My stomach hurts…

What would you do if your friends told you that they didn’t like your boyfriend? Would you respect them for telling you? Hate them for being bitches (or jealous, natch, because the likelihood of these other two women being single was 92%)? Or take into consideration that THE GUY YOU ARE DATING MIGHT BE A COMPLETE ASSHOLE.

What’s penis degloving, you ask? Oh, you could ask Google.

But, just… don’t. That is, if you ever want to look at a penis as a sexy wilderbeast the same way again.
EVER.

Let’s just say that I will never cook a hot dog or sausage so hot as to split the casing.
EVER.

After spending five-plus hours in the car ride home on Saturday, I took another one-and-a-half trip to Ohio to play in three derby scrimmages on Sunday. YES, I WAS THE WOMAN WHO PUKED OFF THE SIDE OF 76-W NEAR THE TOLL BOOTHS!

Then, I slept for 10 hours. And it was good.

seven things, seven days:
1. {exercise} starting a new training program
2. {moar exercise} …and starting Spinning this Saturday!
3. {nom} amish baked goods. hello, apple fritter bread.
4. {pamper} came home to a goodies package from ULTA
5. {indulge} poshmark is my new mobile obsession.
6. {puke} ugh, car sickness.
7. {derby} first practice Tuesday night with my new derby home team: Allegheny Avengers assemble!

For now, remaining in Pittsburgh remains a part of our short-term plan.

First things first, my first year review of being a ‘Burgher. Many of these aspects, I can still relate. I really love it here; I don’t think I’ll ever wrap my head around how other transplants have “issues” with things like: finding stuff to do (or finding things, in general) or “fitting in.”

After two years:

I almost know my way around. Even if I still get turned around in the east end and the south hills. And missed the memo on the West End Bridge being closed after Steelers games. But I finally know of at least one or two neighborhoods in the West End. And what the West End Circle is. I can finally spell Monongahela without looking. Shit… maybe not. I’ll work on that. I learned the bus and T system. I can usually find my way home without checking Google Maps.

I’ve deepened my friendships and made new ones. I’ve lost friends. I’ve blocked people-who-probably-should-never-be-my-friends. I have friends to text when I want a margarita. And a favorite place for margaritas. I have friends to call to gossip over brunch. And a favorite Thai place. And a favorite place for cupcakes. I know at least three local skating rinks and their times for open skates. I have connections when I need help with events, marketing, charity, social media, writing, job search or suggestions for the best damn place in tahn. I started working part time with a wonderful local non-profit. I became a chairperson in a local professional organization. I took the role of Head of Marketing in another. I volunteer. I flyer. I adopted another cat…

Gratuitous Cat Photo!

I have a favorite date place with AB. We also have a favorite happy hour. I have a favorite view. I have a quiet, tranquil space just steps outside a bustling downtown. I volunteer. I work sometimes from coffee shops. I have a museum membership, season tickets, favorite annual events and fundraiser parties — and places to shop for just the perfect outfit. We have a local farmers market — we even grow our own produce in a community garden plot within our neighborhood! I finally have a dentist, aesthetician, hairdresser and doctor that I trust, respect and recommend. We recognize our local news people. We know the names of local “celebrities” and can finally be “in” on the local jokes. We can even commiserate over “that other team” with fellow transplants (heh).

Yet, I proudly wear my Black and Gold.

I’ve developed a deep connection with my new city. Well, I suppose it’s not so “new” anymore. I want to shout about it, promote it, be involved… shoot people down when they dismiss how awesome it is here (or at least shoot them a dirty look). I continue to be absolutely in LOVE with Pittsburgh. I love it even more now that we’re part of a close-knit neighborhood with stoop-party-friendly neighbors.

Does two years in officially make me a Pittsburgher? Eh, maybe?
But belonging here isn’t something I need to prove anymore.

Happy Yinzerversary!

I’m have a total love for Fall though, and I can’t wait for all it brings (um, hello pumpkin everything!).

But, um, I hope I actually get to DO some of those things that I’m anticipating.

{the week}
Has this been the longest week ever? I mean, way to go with making the last week of summer do some work, but… oof.

By the way, that bridge is closed.

{weekend}
TONIGHT! Derby, the photography exhibit by Rob Larson, is opening at 6pm at 709 Gallery downtown. You should be there. (And then join us for drinkies and enchiladas afterward at Las Velas!)

{seven things, seven days}
1. Back into a serious obsession with Yoga. I love how it makes me feel so strong, yet relaxed. Especially when I am discouraged at certain skills that don’t come easy with derby. It’s a good mental-slash-physcical reminder of how far I’m come in a year.
2. Planning — and looking forward to — a trip to the Finger Lakes. Oh, all that wine and cheese and nature. Downright giddy.
3. I think I’ve paid the last of the medical bills for my wrist injury. Man, that feels something of an accomplishment, all things considered. Now, to start hammering away at the credit card balances.
4. And then I received an invoice this week from Planned Parenthood for an in-office pregnancy test from 2011. Way to go, Billing! An explanation on THAT probably deserves its own TMI post. Or I can just make you wonder.
5. My first “taste” of fall: pumpkin spice granola bars from Kashi. YUM!
6. Wake up and watch live streaming derby Saturday morning! My teammate is playing with Team USA in Helsinki. How amazing is that?! Check out the bouts vs. Sweden (11am US EST) and vs. Finland (1pm).
7. Currently hating: detours. *honk*

Nope.

I mean, good for you; you can read, and you found porn — ridiculously, immaturely and probably improperly-written smut; but pornography, yes. S&M porn at that, you slut. You know that stuff’s been free on the Internet since 1996, right? Now, go have some real sex.

THIS discovery in Louisville, KY: {Underground sex club found at Whiskey Row – WHAS11.com}

I’m online-obsessed with urban exploration (I probably don’t have the real balls to explore in person, so I live vicariously through the Internet.) and hidden beauty. And sex (see aforementioned vicarious-living text).

YES, SEX IS BEAUTIFUL.

How fucking awesome must this place must have been in its latex glory?!

But scientists warn:

… not just any sperm, it should be the sperm of the person who got you pregnant.

But honey… SEE?! IT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!

Did you hear something? I don’t have my pregnancy ears on.

{Study: Oral Sex Cures Morning Sickness via CBS Local Washington}

It can also cure depression. It, being the semen. That you take orally.

And… la pipe? Wee Wee.