How do you learn to trust in a world teeming with devils and deceivers? How do you distinguish between friend and foe? It's like the fable regarding the little boy who cried wolf. The townsmen constantly fell for the boy's lies. When the he actually decided to be truthful, his prophecy fell upon deaf ears. I find myself locked in this battle of learning to trust. Just when I slowly to tear down the brick and stucco wall I have built to encase myself, I find I have let in a lie; there is no wolf. I fear that when truth actually presents itself to me I will not recognize it, discarding what I believe to be a lie masquerading.
St. Anthony, the patron saint of the lost, once found a solution to spotting lies. On his travels he spoke of encountering demons disguised as angels and angels disguised as demons. People implored him, "How could you tell the good from the bad? The angels from the demons?" St. Anthony said, "It is quite easy to tell, for if you feel darkened after meeting the presence, than you were confronted by a demon. If you feel enlightened after meeting the presence, than you were confronted by an angel."
The media has created movies such as Paranormal Activity, The Exorcist, and The Last Rite portraying demonic possessions in a horrific light. Thanks to special affects and the magic of Hollywood, these movies show the ugly, the brutal, and the savage side affects of devil's play. Unfortunately, we all possess a little demonic force within us. That presence grows stronger in some. Most people are powerful enough to excommunicate their demon and resist temptation, therefore exorcising its hold. However, the weak allow for demonic domination. These people are not spewing out green or walking around with rotating heads; they appear completely normal. Their greed and selfishness allow for total dictation of evil. The only way to confirm a demonic encounter: Gage your feelings.
I am struggling to find meaning in all of this. I want to believe in the good, that people are not malicious or cruel. I want to believe lies are non existent and everyone lives a truthful life. I want to believe people can change. But these are just not so and to believe this is to be a fool. My instincts and heart have never synced up; one constantly beats out the other. I look to the day when my heart will finally catch up with my instincts. Only than will I see truth as truth.
December 9, 2011
August 9, 2011
To My Fellow College Grads...
This morning I took a drive and found myself at the beach. I stood on the brink of sand and water while the peaceful waves tumbled around my feet. I stood alone in silence as one thought kept washing back and forth in my mind. I wished I could employee one of the mighty waves to carry me across the ocean and back into the opened arms of Italy. I wished a change in my life would come.
With my school days over a year in the past, I still have yet to find my rightful place in society. It seems every corner of my life: career, stability, love... all remain stagnant. I often find the best example of my current situation to be like a tredmill. While I appear to be moving, it is only an illusion for I am going no where. My only solitude lies in the fact I am not alone in my sentiments. Many friends and fellow college graduates of mine find themselves stuck in these purgatories without the slighest glimpse of escape. I had plans. I had dreams. I dreamed of finishing school, of saving money so I could venture back to Italy for more growth and opportunity, of returning to America as an established transformation of my former self. So far... these dreams are on an indefiant hold. The economy has proven itself a God like force in this current day and age. Money and power allow its rule over every American's life. Unfortunately we college kids are the worst victims, falling hard under the economy's mighty wrath.
I like to compare a four year college education to Michelangelo's "The Last Judgement." In this extremely detailed and dark depiction of Christ's final judgement over humanity, only a select few souls are saved onto Heaven while the remainder forcibly perish in an enternity of despair. Colleges across the country constantly increase tution prices, allowing most middle class Americans to bow out of higher education. This institution has become a privelge for the elite while others fall short of its promise; the promise of a future. Most students today seek the assistance of financial aid, but face uncomfortable loans that haunt and plague their lives with no hopes of an exorcism. Like the puppets of New York's Off Broadway musical "Avenue Q" sing, "Four years of college and plenty of knowledge have earned me this useless degree!" We take these chances and journey off to college with the anticipation a remarkable job will sweep us into an intelligent, sophisticated, and diligent life. BUT with no settled employment opportunties in the near future AND this heavily hanging deficeit, I find myself asking who is better off; who really is "saved"? The high school graduate who took up a trade where money comes in regularly OR Mr./Miss College Grad who spent precious time and money on a degree they must pay off without a job or paycheck?
I am hoping this blog will acts as a beacon of hope for all of my fellow college grads out there and even some others who just want to find their place; to be settled into an adult life. I sometimes feel my money was wasted on an education I have yet to see the results of. It was not. We are only on the edge; merely scratching the surface of what we will become. When I slowly feel the bitter agnst towards my luke warm life congealing in my mind, I take a step back and say, "Things will get better... because they have to. I am not alone." You are not alone. Across this great nation thousands of accomplished students find themselves stuck in the mud with their expensive knowledge. So hold your head high. Keep treking through the flith. And know that the only direction from where we are sitting is up.
With my school days over a year in the past, I still have yet to find my rightful place in society. It seems every corner of my life: career, stability, love... all remain stagnant. I often find the best example of my current situation to be like a tredmill. While I appear to be moving, it is only an illusion for I am going no where. My only solitude lies in the fact I am not alone in my sentiments. Many friends and fellow college graduates of mine find themselves stuck in these purgatories without the slighest glimpse of escape. I had plans. I had dreams. I dreamed of finishing school, of saving money so I could venture back to Italy for more growth and opportunity, of returning to America as an established transformation of my former self. So far... these dreams are on an indefiant hold. The economy has proven itself a God like force in this current day and age. Money and power allow its rule over every American's life. Unfortunately we college kids are the worst victims, falling hard under the economy's mighty wrath.
I like to compare a four year college education to Michelangelo's "The Last Judgement." In this extremely detailed and dark depiction of Christ's final judgement over humanity, only a select few souls are saved onto Heaven while the remainder forcibly perish in an enternity of despair. Colleges across the country constantly increase tution prices, allowing most middle class Americans to bow out of higher education. This institution has become a privelge for the elite while others fall short of its promise; the promise of a future. Most students today seek the assistance of financial aid, but face uncomfortable loans that haunt and plague their lives with no hopes of an exorcism. Like the puppets of New York's Off Broadway musical "Avenue Q" sing, "Four years of college and plenty of knowledge have earned me this useless degree!" We take these chances and journey off to college with the anticipation a remarkable job will sweep us into an intelligent, sophisticated, and diligent life. BUT with no settled employment opportunties in the near future AND this heavily hanging deficeit, I find myself asking who is better off; who really is "saved"? The high school graduate who took up a trade where money comes in regularly OR Mr./Miss College Grad who spent precious time and money on a degree they must pay off without a job or paycheck?
I am hoping this blog will acts as a beacon of hope for all of my fellow college grads out there and even some others who just want to find their place; to be settled into an adult life. I sometimes feel my money was wasted on an education I have yet to see the results of. It was not. We are only on the edge; merely scratching the surface of what we will become. When I slowly feel the bitter agnst towards my luke warm life congealing in my mind, I take a step back and say, "Things will get better... because they have to. I am not alone." You are not alone. Across this great nation thousands of accomplished students find themselves stuck in the mud with their expensive knowledge. So hold your head high. Keep treking through the flith. And know that the only direction from where we are sitting is up.
June 30, 2011
Oh Nuts!
For my loyal blog followers, you are fully aware of the strange animal sightings at my place of employment. In recent months the art gallery I work for found itself invested with mice and rats who cleverly attacked the multiple candy bowls nightly. Exterminator after exterminator tried deep cleanses to send this persistent creatures back to the shadows, when peace finally settled upon the gallery. But as the old saying goes, "When the cats away the mice will play"... well in this case when the mice are away the squirrels will play!
Just a usual Friday at work commenced like any other. With my boss and two fellow employees (Erin and Ryan) next door working on a project, I was left to my own devices among the paintings. The overcast skies and scattered thunder storms left the summer air crisp and moist. There was no need for the air conditioning, so I left the front door ajar as to allow the stagnant gallery air an escape. I proceeded to walk away from my desk heading to the back room when all of a sudden I heard scratching against the hardwood floor. Turning with the utmost care I found a bushy tailed squirrel making its cordial approach to my feet! I froze, praying this beast would exhibit no signs of rabid behavior and dialed the phone as fast as my fingers would allow.
Now... my coworkers are quite use to my "dramatic antics." The Mouse Hunt of 2010 hit us all with a good dose of humility. My eyes fixated on this devious creature, who he return played my staring game. The dial tone turned from ringing to Ryan's voice, "Chetkin Custom Framing how may I..."
"AHHHHHHHH! RYAN! THERE IS A SQUIRREL IN THE GALLERY RYAN! A SQUIRREL JUST RAN IN HERE. OH MY GOD HELP ME. HELP ME!" I calmly explained.
A blast of laughter filled my ear as Ryan shouted back, "We are all coming over!"
In the mists of my blood curdling cries for help, the squirrel spooked and ran of course to the back room where all of our inventory safely sleeps. One by one my boss, Erin, and Ryan trickled into the gallery.
"Where did he go?" My boss said, not sounding too happy.
"He's in the back room somewhere." All four of us turned to looks as a furry head poked around the door frame to scope out the competition, then retreated to the top shelves of the back room. Erin and my boss flew to as they slammed the door behind Ryan and I.
"Stay here and watch the gallery. Erin and I will try to maneuver him out the back door." Ryan and I fought to contain our laughter when all of a sudden we heard crashing followed by a shrill cry, "OH MY GOD HE IS ON YOU HE IS ON YOU. AHHHH GET HIM OFF HE'S ON YOU!" We are the calmest and most poised of women... don't you think? Apparently the squirrel jumped onto my boss's shoulder and shimmed down her body! Ryan bee-lined for the front door as an explosion of his laughter filled the gallery; I myself tried to fight the urge.
Suddenly, the floating head of my boss peeked through the door's crack to ask Ryan if HE in fact was afraid of squirrels. Ryan valiantly marched to the back of the room and shut the door behind him. A few screams and scraps could be heard as I chuckled trying hard to vividly picture the battle scene taking place. A quiet finally settled over the gallery as the door slowly opened and three battered and beaten individuals emerged. Ryan somehow was able to sachet our little visitor out the back door.
A week later Erin, Ryan, and I still find ourselves smirking whenever a squirrel passes by. This creature of curiosity was able to shake up just an ordinary day, adding to a growing list of animal tales we are accumulating at the gallery. I would like to bid a special thank you to this squirrel.... Know that you are always welcome here whenever we are in need of a little adventure!
Just a usual Friday at work commenced like any other. With my boss and two fellow employees (Erin and Ryan) next door working on a project, I was left to my own devices among the paintings. The overcast skies and scattered thunder storms left the summer air crisp and moist. There was no need for the air conditioning, so I left the front door ajar as to allow the stagnant gallery air an escape. I proceeded to walk away from my desk heading to the back room when all of a sudden I heard scratching against the hardwood floor. Turning with the utmost care I found a bushy tailed squirrel making its cordial approach to my feet! I froze, praying this beast would exhibit no signs of rabid behavior and dialed the phone as fast as my fingers would allow.
Now... my coworkers are quite use to my "dramatic antics." The Mouse Hunt of 2010 hit us all with a good dose of humility. My eyes fixated on this devious creature, who he return played my staring game. The dial tone turned from ringing to Ryan's voice, "Chetkin Custom Framing how may I..."
"AHHHHHHHH! RYAN! THERE IS A SQUIRREL IN THE GALLERY RYAN! A SQUIRREL JUST RAN IN HERE. OH MY GOD HELP ME. HELP ME!" I calmly explained.
A blast of laughter filled my ear as Ryan shouted back, "We are all coming over!"
In the mists of my blood curdling cries for help, the squirrel spooked and ran of course to the back room where all of our inventory safely sleeps. One by one my boss, Erin, and Ryan trickled into the gallery.
"Where did he go?" My boss said, not sounding too happy.
"He's in the back room somewhere." All four of us turned to looks as a furry head poked around the door frame to scope out the competition, then retreated to the top shelves of the back room. Erin and my boss flew to as they slammed the door behind Ryan and I.
"Stay here and watch the gallery. Erin and I will try to maneuver him out the back door." Ryan and I fought to contain our laughter when all of a sudden we heard crashing followed by a shrill cry, "OH MY GOD HE IS ON YOU HE IS ON YOU. AHHHH GET HIM OFF HE'S ON YOU!" We are the calmest and most poised of women... don't you think? Apparently the squirrel jumped onto my boss's shoulder and shimmed down her body! Ryan bee-lined for the front door as an explosion of his laughter filled the gallery; I myself tried to fight the urge.
Suddenly, the floating head of my boss peeked through the door's crack to ask Ryan if HE in fact was afraid of squirrels. Ryan valiantly marched to the back of the room and shut the door behind him. A few screams and scraps could be heard as I chuckled trying hard to vividly picture the battle scene taking place. A quiet finally settled over the gallery as the door slowly opened and three battered and beaten individuals emerged. Ryan somehow was able to sachet our little visitor out the back door.
A week later Erin, Ryan, and I still find ourselves smirking whenever a squirrel passes by. This creature of curiosity was able to shake up just an ordinary day, adding to a growing list of animal tales we are accumulating at the gallery. I would like to bid a special thank you to this squirrel.... Know that you are always welcome here whenever we are in need of a little adventure!
February 10, 2011
"I'm Thinkin No... But Thanks!"
So it goes: boy meets girl, boy takes girl on date, boy and girl fall in love. That first date parades a menagerie of emotions: anxiety, excitement, and the anticipation of what may come to pass. You begin piecing together who the the person sitting across from you is through casual conversation and funny anecdotes shared. Slowly, you both realize your feelings for each other, yet bottle these emotions hoping not to appear too eager. The night ends with a warm embrace, dainty good night kiss, and second date plans already in the works. You skip back to your car, head reeling, unable to keep your feet grounded. The date was perfect. But what happens when a first date spirals from awful to unbearable leaving you yearning to run like hell for the nearest exit without so much as a backwards glance? I recently endured one such date and am compelled to turn it into literature!
For those of you who read my blogs... I unfortunately endured a month long membership on a little dating website called match.com. I met some real "winners" and when one potential relationship went utterly wrong, I removed myself from the embarrassment and promised to find love the old fashioned way; by actually going out! One gentlemen I had chatted with a few times on the site seemed really interested in me, so long after I closed the doors on match.com, I kept a window opened for him. He was attractive, well spoken, educated, and a bartender/drummer (for some reason I am a sucker for musicians)! Our completely opposite schedules and living circumstances offset an actual meeting, but never the chemistry. Finally, after months of flirtation and conversations we planned on a first official date. I felt all of the fore mentioned emotions with the hopes this might lead down a happy road. Boy was I in for a treat.
Any initial first date in which I am unfamiliar with the person, I like to take my own car. (Just in case he has corpses stashed in the trunk or a pull out bed displayed in the back seat.) My particular gentlemen was persistent on actually picking me up, but instead I gave him the restaurant directions. I arrived fashionably late to find him sitting at the bar happily chatting with the young, cute bartender. When he turned upon my entrance, I was delighted to find his photos had not lied. His curly black hair ascended around his piercing dark eyes that were completed by a killer smile. Then he opened his mouth...
"Oh my God! It is like so finally nice to meet you! You are like soooooooooooooooo pretty!" Wow, I truly did not expect that voice to come out of that body!
"Oh, ugh thanks! Nice to meet you as well," I mustered back stunned.
Why did he feel the need to slap on a thick "girly" accent? Was I suppose to swoon? I took a sit and ordered my drink as we began to start the real "getting to know you" process that usually occurs on a first date. For this he seemed completely normal as we chatted about his band, my family, and our jobs. I listened intently and decided to side step his "Welcome" greeting until disaster number two struck.
I picked up my refreshing mojito for a sip when all of a sudden I felt two hands slide aggressively up and down my legs. I turned to find his body practically in my lap and his face only centimeters from mine. "You are like soooooooooo pretty," he whispered in my ear the way a pedophile might call over to a small child. Of course he then proceeded to take my hand and scoop it into his wide opened mouth, lightly biting down on the clenched fist I had made out of shear frustration. I withdrew my hand so fast his teeth actually penetrated skin. I attempted a conversation after to keep his mouth busy when the topic changed from appropriate to sexual.
"You know... I'm really good at getting girls off. There are never any complaints I do it all of the time!" Are you trying to prove to me or yourself that you like girls?
"Oh well that's nice," I said quite quickly. I could see the bartender studying the writing on my face; I was mortified! My date decided that this conversation needed to be shared with more people though, so he gaily relayed his sexual escapades to not only the bartender but other patrons trying to enjoy their happy hour cocktails without a side of cock-stories.
I took a large gulp of my mojito praying Jesus Christ would miraculously turn it into something stronger when the food arrived. Naturally, my date hand fed me sushi since I am clearly incapable of feeding myself. I don't mind being playful or flirtatious, but on a first date I tend to show off my motor skills by using them! After the sushi had met my lips his hands slide back down my legs ending with my hand yet again in his mouth for another tasty nibble (apparently the sushi was not enough for him). My feelings could not have been more plain had they been chiseled onto stone; how did he not read this? Finally we finished eating and his comments about the sushi being mind blowing were silenced. Still, he ordered another drink believing this date to be going exceedingly well.
"Do you want to know a secret?" He whispered in my ear as his hands found my legs again, "I think you are so pretty and I like you a lot. I have a van that folds down into a bed outside if you want after! You know you will leave satisfied with me!" The only thing that could satisfy me right at this point would be my bed... without YOU in it!
"Wow, it's getting late, I have work tomorrow, I really cannot tonight. I am tired enough as it is." I hoped he would buy this.
"Well, I don't want to leave you. Let's do something crazy.... let's go bowling!"
"I don't think so. I really need to get home."
"I drive all this way to see you and you just want it to end! I am hurt, but you are just sooooo pretty! Seriously... can we please go bowling?"
Thankfully the bartender had Sex and the City playing on the screens so in between prying this guys mouth off of my hand and declining his many bowling propositions, I happily got lost in the wild and crazy dating world of 4 New York women.
"Oh my God, I feel like you are not even here, like you are dating Sex and the City. I'm like on a date alone right now," he spout out when I so much as glanced in the TV's direction.
"I"m sorry," I said casually.
"I have a TV in my van too. I know you like Lord of the Rings so let's just go watch up to the part where Frodo leaves the Shire. Oh, I cry like a baby watching that movie; any movie really! Happy, sad... I just sob! We could do that or... go bowling!" He sang out to me in his expressive voice.
"It really is getting late for me and I have to drive home too. Let's call it a night"
With that said, he reluctantly paid the bill and I pushed open the heavy, glass doors to freedom. I saw his van parked in the distance devoid of lights or any sign of life. It was no mini van nor SVU, he actually drove a large camper. Apparently this vehicle can safely hold all of his musical equipment from one destination to the next. Clearly he anticipated a love session at the night's close. Suddenly his hands grabbed my entire face into his for that "Special Goodnight Kiss". As I pulled away, he brushed the hair out of my face and whispered, "You're hair is soooooo soft."
"Well thanks for dinner. Good night!" I shouted scurrying into my car. My jeep hit a bank of snow in my attempt to race away from the crime scene. A few minutes into my drive, I heard the familiar ring of my text message alert. "I'm behind you! Not sexually!" Mr. Date from Hell. A few moments later I received 3 more messages, "I felt like you did not even want to be with me tonight. I really like you. We would be great together. Why didn't you want to spend time with me?" Well let's see... you talked like a girl, kept touching me inappropriately, bit my hand several times, shared your sex life with everyone in the restaurant, and would not take no for an answer! Instead, I ignored them all feeling silence best for the present, and just drove home.
The next day I awoke to another message, "I guess we are not talking anymore!" Now, I have always been told to treat people the way I wish to be treated, so I answered him in a respectful manner...
"I appreciate you taking me to dinner and making time for me, but I don't want to lead you on and am sorry to say I am just not interested." There, I handled this with dignity and grace.
"Cool," he answered back. Game Over!
This date was like a guided tour of Dante's infamous, layered Hell. Deeper and deeper I was dragged down until I hit the icy bottom. I live my life with no regrets though and consider this to have been a night of learning. The growth and maturity I take away only enhances who I am. Plus, this adds some comical tales to my history. So, here are some things I learned on this date:
1. Always take your own car.
2. Wear scented hand lotion that leaves an awful after taste.
3. Treat others (no matter how perturbed) the way you want to be treated.
For those of you who read my blogs... I unfortunately endured a month long membership on a little dating website called match.com. I met some real "winners" and when one potential relationship went utterly wrong, I removed myself from the embarrassment and promised to find love the old fashioned way; by actually going out! One gentlemen I had chatted with a few times on the site seemed really interested in me, so long after I closed the doors on match.com, I kept a window opened for him. He was attractive, well spoken, educated, and a bartender/drummer (for some reason I am a sucker for musicians)! Our completely opposite schedules and living circumstances offset an actual meeting, but never the chemistry. Finally, after months of flirtation and conversations we planned on a first official date. I felt all of the fore mentioned emotions with the hopes this might lead down a happy road. Boy was I in for a treat.
Any initial first date in which I am unfamiliar with the person, I like to take my own car. (Just in case he has corpses stashed in the trunk or a pull out bed displayed in the back seat.) My particular gentlemen was persistent on actually picking me up, but instead I gave him the restaurant directions. I arrived fashionably late to find him sitting at the bar happily chatting with the young, cute bartender. When he turned upon my entrance, I was delighted to find his photos had not lied. His curly black hair ascended around his piercing dark eyes that were completed by a killer smile. Then he opened his mouth...
"Oh my God! It is like so finally nice to meet you! You are like soooooooooooooooo pretty!" Wow, I truly did not expect that voice to come out of that body!
"Oh, ugh thanks! Nice to meet you as well," I mustered back stunned.
Why did he feel the need to slap on a thick "girly" accent? Was I suppose to swoon? I took a sit and ordered my drink as we began to start the real "getting to know you" process that usually occurs on a first date. For this he seemed completely normal as we chatted about his band, my family, and our jobs. I listened intently and decided to side step his "Welcome" greeting until disaster number two struck.
I picked up my refreshing mojito for a sip when all of a sudden I felt two hands slide aggressively up and down my legs. I turned to find his body practically in my lap and his face only centimeters from mine. "You are like soooooooooo pretty," he whispered in my ear the way a pedophile might call over to a small child. Of course he then proceeded to take my hand and scoop it into his wide opened mouth, lightly biting down on the clenched fist I had made out of shear frustration. I withdrew my hand so fast his teeth actually penetrated skin. I attempted a conversation after to keep his mouth busy when the topic changed from appropriate to sexual.
"You know... I'm really good at getting girls off. There are never any complaints I do it all of the time!" Are you trying to prove to me or yourself that you like girls?
"Oh well that's nice," I said quite quickly. I could see the bartender studying the writing on my face; I was mortified! My date decided that this conversation needed to be shared with more people though, so he gaily relayed his sexual escapades to not only the bartender but other patrons trying to enjoy their happy hour cocktails without a side of cock-stories.
I took a large gulp of my mojito praying Jesus Christ would miraculously turn it into something stronger when the food arrived. Naturally, my date hand fed me sushi since I am clearly incapable of feeding myself. I don't mind being playful or flirtatious, but on a first date I tend to show off my motor skills by using them! After the sushi had met my lips his hands slide back down my legs ending with my hand yet again in his mouth for another tasty nibble (apparently the sushi was not enough for him). My feelings could not have been more plain had they been chiseled onto stone; how did he not read this? Finally we finished eating and his comments about the sushi being mind blowing were silenced. Still, he ordered another drink believing this date to be going exceedingly well.
"Do you want to know a secret?" He whispered in my ear as his hands found my legs again, "I think you are so pretty and I like you a lot. I have a van that folds down into a bed outside if you want after! You know you will leave satisfied with me!" The only thing that could satisfy me right at this point would be my bed... without YOU in it!
"Wow, it's getting late, I have work tomorrow, I really cannot tonight. I am tired enough as it is." I hoped he would buy this.
"Well, I don't want to leave you. Let's do something crazy.... let's go bowling!"
"I don't think so. I really need to get home."
"I drive all this way to see you and you just want it to end! I am hurt, but you are just sooooo pretty! Seriously... can we please go bowling?"
Thankfully the bartender had Sex and the City playing on the screens so in between prying this guys mouth off of my hand and declining his many bowling propositions, I happily got lost in the wild and crazy dating world of 4 New York women.
"Oh my God, I feel like you are not even here, like you are dating Sex and the City. I'm like on a date alone right now," he spout out when I so much as glanced in the TV's direction.
"I"m sorry," I said casually.
"I have a TV in my van too. I know you like Lord of the Rings so let's just go watch up to the part where Frodo leaves the Shire. Oh, I cry like a baby watching that movie; any movie really! Happy, sad... I just sob! We could do that or... go bowling!" He sang out to me in his expressive voice.
"It really is getting late for me and I have to drive home too. Let's call it a night"
With that said, he reluctantly paid the bill and I pushed open the heavy, glass doors to freedom. I saw his van parked in the distance devoid of lights or any sign of life. It was no mini van nor SVU, he actually drove a large camper. Apparently this vehicle can safely hold all of his musical equipment from one destination to the next. Clearly he anticipated a love session at the night's close. Suddenly his hands grabbed my entire face into his for that "Special Goodnight Kiss". As I pulled away, he brushed the hair out of my face and whispered, "You're hair is soooooo soft."
"Well thanks for dinner. Good night!" I shouted scurrying into my car. My jeep hit a bank of snow in my attempt to race away from the crime scene. A few minutes into my drive, I heard the familiar ring of my text message alert. "I'm behind you! Not sexually!" Mr. Date from Hell. A few moments later I received 3 more messages, "I felt like you did not even want to be with me tonight. I really like you. We would be great together. Why didn't you want to spend time with me?" Well let's see... you talked like a girl, kept touching me inappropriately, bit my hand several times, shared your sex life with everyone in the restaurant, and would not take no for an answer! Instead, I ignored them all feeling silence best for the present, and just drove home.
The next day I awoke to another message, "I guess we are not talking anymore!" Now, I have always been told to treat people the way I wish to be treated, so I answered him in a respectful manner...
"I appreciate you taking me to dinner and making time for me, but I don't want to lead you on and am sorry to say I am just not interested." There, I handled this with dignity and grace.
"Cool," he answered back. Game Over!
This date was like a guided tour of Dante's infamous, layered Hell. Deeper and deeper I was dragged down until I hit the icy bottom. I live my life with no regrets though and consider this to have been a night of learning. The growth and maturity I take away only enhances who I am. Plus, this adds some comical tales to my history. So, here are some things I learned on this date:
1. Always take your own car.
2. Wear scented hand lotion that leaves an awful after taste.
3. Treat others (no matter how perturbed) the way you want to be treated.
February 6, 2011
The "Little Too Far" Mermaid
I recently read a heart wrenching tale about a young woman who met an ill-fated end for what she assumed to be "true love." Her great wealth, renowned beauty, and unearthly talents procured her as a most desirable match for any eligible bachelor. One day she meets one such gentleman, who's life she saves from a terrible boat accident. His striking features and sweet disposition hypnotize the young woman. Driven by extreme infatuation ( or "love at first sight"), she immediately goes into a downward spiral of depression because her love seems unrequited. She abandons her family and friends to work on gaining this man's love. In an attempt to make herself more appealing to his eyes, she undergoes painful body changes that leave her in physical distress for weeks. Her hobbies and recreations are dumped like mere garbage so that her free time can be spent partaking in his favorite activities. Each day she works a little harder believing all of her efforts in this one sided relationship are finally paying off. She becomes a woman obsessed, a simple shell of her former self that goes unrecognized by all who know and love her. Still, he never commits to her, continuously leading her to believe her heart's greatest desire is within reach. Suddenly, he meets someone else, falls head over heels in love, and marries. The young woman's heart explodes open hearing this news and she finds her only solitude from the pain is in death. Who is this psychotic girl?... The Little Mermaid!
Unlike the happy-go-lucky picture Disney so vividly paints, the original version of "The Little Mermaid" was filled with immense sorrow and suffering. 19th century Danish author Hans Christian Andersen simply tried to education his young, captive audience through fantasy and folklore. Andersen wanted children to know the rewards of selfless sacrifice for others through the Little Mermaid's. Frankly Andersen was unaware that these behaviors actually take place today among the women in 21st century society.
Women constantly seek self improvement, with the hopes of stimulating desire from the opposite sex. Many turn to physical altercations like botox, liposuction, collegien injections, breast augmentations, and face lifts. They endure constant pain and uncomfortable recoveries to either win the heart of their Prince or win the heart of every Prince out there! Sadly, this latest drug proves so addicting that once the first cut is made, you are hooked. Aside from plastic surgery, some women abandon their own personal joys for the heart of another. I have had many friends dispose of activities, friendships, and even family members to appease their partners. These women completely lose their independence and are left with nothing but painful reminders of their former selves if the relationship ends. I once knew a girl very much like the Little Mermaid.
When I was 16, a friend of mine passed away. I knew her from the beauty salon my family frequented. She was in her early 20's, extremely gorgeous, yet utterly controlled by "love". Her drug addict boyfriend had purchased the house across the street from mine, and she readily moved right in with him. He dragged her confidence level to the ground by his abusive words and hateful actions. Still, her love for him stayed and she looked to improve herself physically in the hopes of igniting the fire. She traded her friendships in for his. Every activity she partook in was merely for his benefit. After, the storms would seem to calm, but with passing time he went right back to his old ways.
One summer night I heard screaming, muffled voices coming from across the street. Suddenly, my friend sprinted from the house, jumped in her car, and sped down the street without so much as a backwards glance. Later that evening I was surprised to see she had not returned, but figured their fight had pushed her to work on a very important relationship; the relationship with herself. The next morning, I awoke to my mother sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a forlorn look. She proceeded to say my friend and her boyfriend had a terrible fight last night, resulting in a break up. Maddened by grief, my friend stole the gun he kept hidden away, drove down to the beach, and shot herself in the head. She was found dead that morning by some fishermen. I was sickened by this story. She had allowed a man to control her entire life and ultimately end it.
Women do some strange things for "love". They try with extreme efforts to please their significant other, yet these men do nothing in return but be themselves. Isn't that funny? We love these men simply for who they are, yet we feel the need to change everything about us in order to gain back that love. Maybe this is why I am still single, because I refuse to conform to the fairy tale. Instead of figuring out what we can alter about ourselves to attract a man, we need to put the person we already are out there for whoever wants us; just the way we are.
Unlike the happy-go-lucky picture Disney so vividly paints, the original version of "The Little Mermaid" was filled with immense sorrow and suffering. 19th century Danish author Hans Christian Andersen simply tried to education his young, captive audience through fantasy and folklore. Andersen wanted children to know the rewards of selfless sacrifice for others through the Little Mermaid's. Frankly Andersen was unaware that these behaviors actually take place today among the women in 21st century society.
Women constantly seek self improvement, with the hopes of stimulating desire from the opposite sex. Many turn to physical altercations like botox, liposuction, collegien injections, breast augmentations, and face lifts. They endure constant pain and uncomfortable recoveries to either win the heart of their Prince or win the heart of every Prince out there! Sadly, this latest drug proves so addicting that once the first cut is made, you are hooked. Aside from plastic surgery, some women abandon their own personal joys for the heart of another. I have had many friends dispose of activities, friendships, and even family members to appease their partners. These women completely lose their independence and are left with nothing but painful reminders of their former selves if the relationship ends. I once knew a girl very much like the Little Mermaid.
When I was 16, a friend of mine passed away. I knew her from the beauty salon my family frequented. She was in her early 20's, extremely gorgeous, yet utterly controlled by "love". Her drug addict boyfriend had purchased the house across the street from mine, and she readily moved right in with him. He dragged her confidence level to the ground by his abusive words and hateful actions. Still, her love for him stayed and she looked to improve herself physically in the hopes of igniting the fire. She traded her friendships in for his. Every activity she partook in was merely for his benefit. After, the storms would seem to calm, but with passing time he went right back to his old ways.
One summer night I heard screaming, muffled voices coming from across the street. Suddenly, my friend sprinted from the house, jumped in her car, and sped down the street without so much as a backwards glance. Later that evening I was surprised to see she had not returned, but figured their fight had pushed her to work on a very important relationship; the relationship with herself. The next morning, I awoke to my mother sitting on the edge of my bed wearing a forlorn look. She proceeded to say my friend and her boyfriend had a terrible fight last night, resulting in a break up. Maddened by grief, my friend stole the gun he kept hidden away, drove down to the beach, and shot herself in the head. She was found dead that morning by some fishermen. I was sickened by this story. She had allowed a man to control her entire life and ultimately end it.
Women do some strange things for "love". They try with extreme efforts to please their significant other, yet these men do nothing in return but be themselves. Isn't that funny? We love these men simply for who they are, yet we feel the need to change everything about us in order to gain back that love. Maybe this is why I am still single, because I refuse to conform to the fairy tale. Instead of figuring out what we can alter about ourselves to attract a man, we need to put the person we already are out there for whoever wants us; just the way we are.
February 1, 2011
Decisions Decisions
What is is about parent's concerned words that can make our most desired wishes fall by the waste side? I am in a dilemma and unsure of the right choice.I have been given the opportunity to be a salaried English teacher for the duration of 6 months back in Italy. This was not some sporadic idea I concocted one day due to post break up depression. This goal as been in mind for the past 2 years now, and with the departure date rapidly approaching everyone in my life seems to be in a tale spin.
My parents truly loath the idea, believing I simply despise my mother country and wish to vacation for several months leaving behind all of my responsibilities. "The grass isn't greener on the other side," has become a daily phrase in my house. "Do you have any idea of the money involved with this?" is also another. Dear parental units, I truly love how despite your extreme differences that led to the demise of your marriage you managed to come together quite strongly on this one topic. I congratulate your efforts of cordiality towards each other and hope one day it may lead to friendship, but please allow me to set the record straight on why I wish to partake in this once in a lifetime opportunity...
The only way I can describe my affections for Italy: it is like falling in love for the first time. Before it ever commences you dream of what it will feel like. Are the movies accurate? Does it consume your every thought? How do you go on if it all ends? Then one day, it just happens... you fall in love. Not just trip, but completely fumble head over heels. You now understand extreme wonder, animal passion, sweet romance. Your heart has comfortably fit the missing puzzle piece into place. All thoughts of your former life pre-love go fleeting out the window. But something happens that pulls you apart; distance steps in and separates you both. Still your love contentiously grows, only to be solidified when a reunion finally occurs. You set your gaze on him after an eternity of waiting and the comfort of his embrace, the familiar caress of his touch has you falling in love all over again.
I had dreamed of Italy since my childhood, yearning as each year passed to finally set foot upon its soil. I heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of this majestic country that undulates with every desire the heart could want; my heart could want. How the mere sight of its historical monuments and romantic art can bring down even the most manly of men. Finally, after the long wait, my turn came... I made my first journey to Italy. Right away I was consumed with complete infatuation of the culture, food, people, and history. My 2 week stay simply was the newlywed phase of my feelings as I skimmed the surface of everything Italy had to offer. After that initial meeting between Italia and myself I wondered how I ever survived it. What was my life like pre- Italy? Of course I did make it back, a total of 3 times. Upon each return I discovered a little more about my ancestral country that pushed my love further. Each return was like seeing my distant lover once more.
This 6 month opportunity to live among the natives again with the hopes of divulging my knowledge further has been placed in my hands. There are many risks to this decision, especially in the finance department. I understand my parents' fiscal concerns: can I live comfortably yet still bind myself with peace of mind to my obligations at home? These are troublesome circumstances should I find myself in hot waters, but I have to ask myself what is worse: Playing it safe by staying in the United States and years later wondering what might have happened; or taking a chance in every definition of the word so I may be reunited with my estranged "lover".
I love my parents immensely, and collecting their support on this is simply a must. I want to know they will support my decision, whether to them it be smart or moronic. I want to know they will support me should I fail in my pursuit. I want to know they will support me... period. Those on the outside of this predicament think this is an amazing chance to embark on a youthful adventure before rooting myself to full fledged adulthood. I find myself in the middle of a constant tug of war; my family on one end and everyone else on the other. As a 23 year old woman who as experienced a bit of the world thus far, I know what I must do. I must walk away from the rope and ultimately decide what is best for me. At the moment I am not sure which choice I should be making but I do know this:
My parents truly loath the idea, believing I simply despise my mother country and wish to vacation for several months leaving behind all of my responsibilities. "The grass isn't greener on the other side," has become a daily phrase in my house. "Do you have any idea of the money involved with this?" is also another. Dear parental units, I truly love how despite your extreme differences that led to the demise of your marriage you managed to come together quite strongly on this one topic. I congratulate your efforts of cordiality towards each other and hope one day it may lead to friendship, but please allow me to set the record straight on why I wish to partake in this once in a lifetime opportunity...
The only way I can describe my affections for Italy: it is like falling in love for the first time. Before it ever commences you dream of what it will feel like. Are the movies accurate? Does it consume your every thought? How do you go on if it all ends? Then one day, it just happens... you fall in love. Not just trip, but completely fumble head over heels. You now understand extreme wonder, animal passion, sweet romance. Your heart has comfortably fit the missing puzzle piece into place. All thoughts of your former life pre-love go fleeting out the window. But something happens that pulls you apart; distance steps in and separates you both. Still your love contentiously grows, only to be solidified when a reunion finally occurs. You set your gaze on him after an eternity of waiting and the comfort of his embrace, the familiar caress of his touch has you falling in love all over again.
I had dreamed of Italy since my childhood, yearning as each year passed to finally set foot upon its soil. I heard a great deal about the beauty and charm of this majestic country that undulates with every desire the heart could want; my heart could want. How the mere sight of its historical monuments and romantic art can bring down even the most manly of men. Finally, after the long wait, my turn came... I made my first journey to Italy. Right away I was consumed with complete infatuation of the culture, food, people, and history. My 2 week stay simply was the newlywed phase of my feelings as I skimmed the surface of everything Italy had to offer. After that initial meeting between Italia and myself I wondered how I ever survived it. What was my life like pre- Italy? Of course I did make it back, a total of 3 times. Upon each return I discovered a little more about my ancestral country that pushed my love further. Each return was like seeing my distant lover once more.
This 6 month opportunity to live among the natives again with the hopes of divulging my knowledge further has been placed in my hands. There are many risks to this decision, especially in the finance department. I understand my parents' fiscal concerns: can I live comfortably yet still bind myself with peace of mind to my obligations at home? These are troublesome circumstances should I find myself in hot waters, but I have to ask myself what is worse: Playing it safe by staying in the United States and years later wondering what might have happened; or taking a chance in every definition of the word so I may be reunited with my estranged "lover".
I love my parents immensely, and collecting their support on this is simply a must. I want to know they will support my decision, whether to them it be smart or moronic. I want to know they will support me should I fail in my pursuit. I want to know they will support me... period. Those on the outside of this predicament think this is an amazing chance to embark on a youthful adventure before rooting myself to full fledged adulthood. I find myself in the middle of a constant tug of war; my family on one end and everyone else on the other. As a 23 year old woman who as experienced a bit of the world thus far, I know what I must do. I must walk away from the rope and ultimately decide what is best for me. At the moment I am not sure which choice I should be making but I do know this:
I am lucky to have a great family whose love propels the constant concern for my well being.
I am lucky to have supportive friends who understand my passion and want me to live out my dream.
I am lucky to already have been where I have been.
January 9, 2011
Is the Earth Really Flat?
(This post is dedicated to my good friend and confidant Nikki... one day lady, one day!)
Have you ever been romantically conversing with a man whom you thought was magnificent? Your face illuminated when his number appeared on your phone, your eyes sparkled whenever he entered the room, and Heaven never existed when his attention was utterly on you? But then (of course) one ill fated day, he just disappears? He ceases to answer your messages, becomes devoid of communication, and all the while you analyze every fiber and detail of what possibly went arye. He has fallen off the face of the earth.
My friend Nikki and I have grown accustom to using this pharse:
"I don't understand. We talked everyday on the phone, we had a great night last weekend, he asked what I was doing tonight, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
"He keeps telling me how attracted he is to me, he wants to get together, he makes plans with me, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
In fact, we have become so familiar with this infamous disappearing act we no longer use words; just a simple lean back body gesture with arms and legs flailing wildly in the air. It seems one by one our close friends are rooting some great catches on the male front, none of which have fallen. Why us?
This "falling off the earth" business just proves most men's immaturity and incapability to respect a woman by gracefully declining her informal invitations to get together. Many feel ignorance to the situation produces the best solution. True or False: All of those rejectful words will go unsaid and save a heart from breaking if we choose the path of ignorace. FALSE! Actually gentlemen, our feelings become fatally damaged with no response. We find ourselves stranded in pugatory wondering what the hell happened to you. The healing process prolongs itself as our brains work towards figuring out why you drifted. Just tell us point blank you no longer wish to see us. Sure, we will be crushed at first, but a day later we will be continuing the man hunt with no recollection of your name.
Unfortunately "falling off the earth" commenced an extremely long time ago, when the earth was actually preceived to be a hazard. Back in the early 1400's sea captains and explorers would tell their beloveds, "I'm shipping out to sea darling, and if you no longer receive word from me, it is because the earth is flat and I have fallen off." These simple women, with no disproof to this theory, ate these lies up. And when their husbands, fiances, or boyfriends never contacted, they tearfully told everyone in town "I haven't heard word from him in months. He must have fallen off the earth." Truth be told, these smart gents probably set up camp on some tropical island with beautiful, foreign locals taking care of their sexual fantasies and needs. Of course one man ruined the mind set for many women by falsifying the earth's flatness. Christopher Colombus showed women around the world that their men were not physically falling off the earth; they simply could not convey, "I don't want to see you anymore."
Well centuries later we know Colombus' theory to be accurate, yet men are still finding ways to fall off the earth leaving thousands of women in unnecessary mourning. Just step up. We will respect you more and be less broken hearted if you simply TELL THE TRUTH! Tell us you no longer wish to see us, tell us what you felt before is gone. We may hate you in the beginning. We may bash you to all of our girlfriends over Friday night cocktails. But honey trust me... come Saturday night... we will have thrown you off the face of our earth!
Have you ever been romantically conversing with a man whom you thought was magnificent? Your face illuminated when his number appeared on your phone, your eyes sparkled whenever he entered the room, and Heaven never existed when his attention was utterly on you? But then (of course) one ill fated day, he just disappears? He ceases to answer your messages, becomes devoid of communication, and all the while you analyze every fiber and detail of what possibly went arye. He has fallen off the face of the earth.
My friend Nikki and I have grown accustom to using this pharse:
"I don't understand. We talked everyday on the phone, we had a great night last weekend, he asked what I was doing tonight, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
"He keeps telling me how attracted he is to me, he wants to get together, he makes plans with me, then BOOM! He falls off the face of the earth."
In fact, we have become so familiar with this infamous disappearing act we no longer use words; just a simple lean back body gesture with arms and legs flailing wildly in the air. It seems one by one our close friends are rooting some great catches on the male front, none of which have fallen. Why us?
This "falling off the earth" business just proves most men's immaturity and incapability to respect a woman by gracefully declining her informal invitations to get together. Many feel ignorance to the situation produces the best solution. True or False: All of those rejectful words will go unsaid and save a heart from breaking if we choose the path of ignorace. FALSE! Actually gentlemen, our feelings become fatally damaged with no response. We find ourselves stranded in pugatory wondering what the hell happened to you. The healing process prolongs itself as our brains work towards figuring out why you drifted. Just tell us point blank you no longer wish to see us. Sure, we will be crushed at first, but a day later we will be continuing the man hunt with no recollection of your name.
Unfortunately "falling off the earth" commenced an extremely long time ago, when the earth was actually preceived to be a hazard. Back in the early 1400's sea captains and explorers would tell their beloveds, "I'm shipping out to sea darling, and if you no longer receive word from me, it is because the earth is flat and I have fallen off." These simple women, with no disproof to this theory, ate these lies up. And when their husbands, fiances, or boyfriends never contacted, they tearfully told everyone in town "I haven't heard word from him in months. He must have fallen off the earth." Truth be told, these smart gents probably set up camp on some tropical island with beautiful, foreign locals taking care of their sexual fantasies and needs. Of course one man ruined the mind set for many women by falsifying the earth's flatness. Christopher Colombus showed women around the world that their men were not physically falling off the earth; they simply could not convey, "I don't want to see you anymore."
Well centuries later we know Colombus' theory to be accurate, yet men are still finding ways to fall off the earth leaving thousands of women in unnecessary mourning. Just step up. We will respect you more and be less broken hearted if you simply TELL THE TRUTH! Tell us you no longer wish to see us, tell us what you felt before is gone. We may hate you in the beginning. We may bash you to all of our girlfriends over Friday night cocktails. But honey trust me... come Saturday night... we will have thrown you off the face of our earth!
January 6, 2011
Vegas Tested, Stripper Approved
Las Vegas, the City of Sin. A place where the hungover come out of their darkened hotel rooms mid day to trudge around the city, only to party later like the apocalypse is near. I had never been to Vegas before, just lived vicariously through the stories and folklore of people I knew. With the new year approaching my favorite travel companion and best friend, Nikki, decided we should spend this alcohol induced holiday in the City of Sin. Before long our trip was booked, our bags were packed, and we headed over to the west coast in search of this mythical party town.
Now, what you should know is that when Nikki and I travel together, there is honestly no telling what will happen. Random outbursts in the streets are the norm as we reflect upon the previous night's escapades, promoters constantly harass us as if we were celebrities, we dine at 5 star restaurants with former baseball players for free, and all the little nuances of our trip are recorded in full via camcorder for the world to enjoy. I could truly write a novella based upon the wild adventures of Nikki and myself (or as our aliases have come to be, Claire and Sofia). But attention must be drawn to one particular incident, the night Nikki and I posed for a picture with the stars of a famous male revue.
The Thunder from Down Under, Las Vegas's hottest male revue, luckily was on of the attractions at our hotel, Excalibur. I have watched many talk shows interview the various "performers" and witnessed women travel far and wide just to catch a glimpse of Australia's finest export. To call this show a male revue proves utterly wrong. Classy, well mannered (well to some degree) men dance, sing, and tastefully strip for the delight of women! A must on our Vegas itinerary, we found ourselves one Saturday night at the Thunder Showroom.
Immediately we took our seats while a guided video tour exhibited the various performers posing throughout the Australian outback. Suddenly, the screen drew up as a darkened staged produced swirls of white smoke . Music started blasting and a strobe light hit the stage as one by one men with bodies like the David and faces like Adonis strutted their stuff for all of us screaming banshees in the audience. Each did their own themed strip tease (pirate, firefighter, break dancer, ect.) choosing one lucky woman at the end to sit and be "serviced". They touched their muscles, caressed their skin, and even grabbed their packages. Of course we picked our favorites: Mine was the bald stripper named Leigh who performed a break dance strip tease to Usher. Nikki quickly fell in love with Adam, who otherwise came to be known as Mr. Australia.
After the show, we were all invited to take pictures with the gentlemen on stage. Any girl would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind to not pose for such a momentous photograph. Nikki and I quickly jumped on line and waited patiently for our turn. Closer and closer we creeped as girls left the stage blushing and fumbling. "Almost to Heaven," we kept telling each other as it slowly became our turn.
"That will be $20 girls," the fireman stripper said to us through his thick accent. "By the way, nice dimples," he sang out to Nikki as he tossed her a little wink. She blushed a bit as we proceeded to the stage.
Finally we were in Eden and again quickly greeted by another shy, but very attractive performer who gave us both a hug. "Have a seat on whoever girls," he said smiling.
Nikki and I quickly found the lap closest to us and sat down gingerly. All of a sudden my lap spoke to me.
"Wow, darling... You have the most amazing ass! Mmmmm," he shouted out as he took a nice handful and squeezed lightly.
"Thanks," I stuttered, "I get that a lot." These were the only words I could muster through my wide smile. A stripper, nay... a performer from the Thunder from Down Under, just told me my ass was not nice, not great, but AMAZING! Nikki was nervously smiling as well as the camera flashed on this perfect kodka moment.
I started the getting up process not wanting this time to end when all of a sudden I felt a tug back on my waist.
"Mates... get a look at this girl's amazing ass! It's beautiful!" he sang out to his fellow co-workers as he proceeded to lift up my shirt slightly so everyone could get a better look. What happened next completely caught me off guard... each stripper came up one by one to pat my ass! These men have women throwing themselves at them twice a night, yearning for just one touch of their perfectly chiseled bodies, and yet they all felt it was extremely crucial to have a feel of a 23 year old New Jersey girl's ass. Needless to say, but I did a little wiggle for them and left the stage with Nikki forever changed.
At the end of the show Nikki's love, Adam said, "Now go back to your home towns and tell all your mates about this." Nikki of course said, "I am telling everyone I know about this. Try and stop me!" That is exactly how I feel... this story needs to be heard everywhere. My ass has been stripper approved. Enough said. No matter what compliments I may receive in my life time, none can ever truly top this. I encourage any woman who plans to travel to Vegas or even just wants to watch some fine men shake their thang... to please purchase tickets to the Thunder from Down Under located at the Excalibur Hotel. The performances are wild, the men are sexy, and you never know what could happen! ; )
Now, what you should know is that when Nikki and I travel together, there is honestly no telling what will happen. Random outbursts in the streets are the norm as we reflect upon the previous night's escapades, promoters constantly harass us as if we were celebrities, we dine at 5 star restaurants with former baseball players for free, and all the little nuances of our trip are recorded in full via camcorder for the world to enjoy. I could truly write a novella based upon the wild adventures of Nikki and myself (or as our aliases have come to be, Claire and Sofia). But attention must be drawn to one particular incident, the night Nikki and I posed for a picture with the stars of a famous male revue.
The Thunder from Down Under, Las Vegas's hottest male revue, luckily was on of the attractions at our hotel, Excalibur. I have watched many talk shows interview the various "performers" and witnessed women travel far and wide just to catch a glimpse of Australia's finest export. To call this show a male revue proves utterly wrong. Classy, well mannered (well to some degree) men dance, sing, and tastefully strip for the delight of women! A must on our Vegas itinerary, we found ourselves one Saturday night at the Thunder Showroom.
Immediately we took our seats while a guided video tour exhibited the various performers posing throughout the Australian outback. Suddenly, the screen drew up as a darkened staged produced swirls of white smoke . Music started blasting and a strobe light hit the stage as one by one men with bodies like the David and faces like Adonis strutted their stuff for all of us screaming banshees in the audience. Each did their own themed strip tease (pirate, firefighter, break dancer, ect.) choosing one lucky woman at the end to sit and be "serviced". They touched their muscles, caressed their skin, and even grabbed their packages. Of course we picked our favorites: Mine was the bald stripper named Leigh who performed a break dance strip tease to Usher. Nikki quickly fell in love with Adam, who otherwise came to be known as Mr. Australia.
After the show, we were all invited to take pictures with the gentlemen on stage. Any girl would have to be dumb, deaf, and blind to not pose for such a momentous photograph. Nikki and I quickly jumped on line and waited patiently for our turn. Closer and closer we creeped as girls left the stage blushing and fumbling. "Almost to Heaven," we kept telling each other as it slowly became our turn.
"That will be $20 girls," the fireman stripper said to us through his thick accent. "By the way, nice dimples," he sang out to Nikki as he tossed her a little wink. She blushed a bit as we proceeded to the stage.
Finally we were in Eden and again quickly greeted by another shy, but very attractive performer who gave us both a hug. "Have a seat on whoever girls," he said smiling.
Nikki and I quickly found the lap closest to us and sat down gingerly. All of a sudden my lap spoke to me.
"Wow, darling... You have the most amazing ass! Mmmmm," he shouted out as he took a nice handful and squeezed lightly.
"Thanks," I stuttered, "I get that a lot." These were the only words I could muster through my wide smile. A stripper, nay... a performer from the Thunder from Down Under, just told me my ass was not nice, not great, but AMAZING! Nikki was nervously smiling as well as the camera flashed on this perfect kodka moment.
I started the getting up process not wanting this time to end when all of a sudden I felt a tug back on my waist.
"Mates... get a look at this girl's amazing ass! It's beautiful!" he sang out to his fellow co-workers as he proceeded to lift up my shirt slightly so everyone could get a better look. What happened next completely caught me off guard... each stripper came up one by one to pat my ass! These men have women throwing themselves at them twice a night, yearning for just one touch of their perfectly chiseled bodies, and yet they all felt it was extremely crucial to have a feel of a 23 year old New Jersey girl's ass. Needless to say, but I did a little wiggle for them and left the stage with Nikki forever changed.
At the end of the show Nikki's love, Adam said, "Now go back to your home towns and tell all your mates about this." Nikki of course said, "I am telling everyone I know about this. Try and stop me!" That is exactly how I feel... this story needs to be heard everywhere. My ass has been stripper approved. Enough said. No matter what compliments I may receive in my life time, none can ever truly top this. I encourage any woman who plans to travel to Vegas or even just wants to watch some fine men shake their thang... to please purchase tickets to the Thunder from Down Under located at the Excalibur Hotel. The performances are wild, the men are sexy, and you never know what could happen! ; )
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