Seriously - WTH?

Calling out the stupid...and boy is there a lot to call out.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Question for my Followers

Hey guys,

I just changed my URL to match my pen name. Can someone respond to this or my post I just did and let me know if you received it? I am hoping I didn't lose all of my followers.

Juli, if you get this, I'm not ignoring your comment. I changed the URL right after you responded to my post and it wouldn't allow me to review it or respond to it. In fact, it removed every comment from my previous posts as well. Grrrrrrrrr.

So if you guys can please let me know, I would appreciate it.

Thanks!

Shay

Friday, May 25, 2012

Trying this again...

I have a question for you guys. I tried to change my blog URL. It appeared to have done so, but it seemed to make me lose my followers as well as all of my comments. I just changed it back. The comments are still gone, but I am hoping you guys are getting my blog. Can someone please let me know if it is working again?

FIFTY SHADES OF EMBARRASSMENT 


So here's a conversation you should never have with your mother.

The other day my sister, mother and I were sitting at my sister's dining room table. We were talking about inconsequential crap  things going on in our lives when my sister brought up the newest book she was reading: Fifty Shades of Grey. Some of you, alright by now I'm sure all of you, have heard of this book. However, if you are anything like me, you may not have known what it was about. Honestly, I thought it was probably some sort of self-help book that dealt with depression.


**SPOILER ALERT**  **SPOILER ALERT**  **SPOILER ALERT**

Hopefully anyone that has not read the book and plans on reading it has stopped reading. If not, it's your own fault because , hey, I warned you. Moving on...

"Do you know what it's about?" she asked hesitantly.

"I have no idea. All I know is a bunch of my friends are reading it. Is it about depression?"

OK, it is so NOT about depression. But it seems I was at least partially right. It does have some self-help qualities. You know, if you want to help yourself learn more about S&M or are considering becoming a Dominatrix. My sister began discussing this book which is apparently about a naive twenty-something year old and what my sister perceived as a man in his late twenties- early thirties. Maybe they even say how old he is, I haven't read the book.

That's when it got weird.

She went on to tell us that it was about this billionaire guy who is basically the male version of a Dominatrix...(I'm going to call him a Dominator just because I feel like it). She talks about how the book lists the services this seemingly normal, straight-laced businessman offers.

"I mean the stuff in here... well... I had to google some of it because I didn't even know what it was. Now I'm afraid I'm going to get all of this weird email or someone is going to see what I looked up and..." my sister said trailing off, clearly embarrassed. "They talk about choking," she said like it was a question, "and...do you know what fisting is?"

My mom said no and unfortunately, I answered yes. I had grown up with all male friends that treated me like one of the guys, very seldom (if ever) curving their conversation just because I was in the room. I was also in the music business for a while, so you hear all kinds of crap.

"Choking?" my mom inquired.

 I went onto explain to them that some people like to be choked when they have sex because it is suppose to enhance the orgasm. Although I think I put it something like this:

"What can I tell you, some people are into some weird shit. To each their own." And left it at that hoping that would satisfy her and also provide enough embarrassment to end this conversation.

"Oh...jeesh. So what's fisting?" she said looking at my sister to make sure she said it right.

Now to say my mom is a prude would be an understatement. I can remember when she and my dad were celebrating one of their more monumental anniversaries. We took them to a restaurant that was in a hotel, walked around after dinner and stopped in front of a room that we had gotten them for the weekend. You could tell my dad was absolutely mortified that his daughters were dropping them off at a hotel room. Now, we had also gotten my dad a set of golf clubs as well and wanted to see the look on his face when he walked in and saw them so we walked into the room with them for a minute. My mom and dad looked around the room. My dad was very impressed that they had a TV in the bathroom. My sister pointed out the huge circular jacuzzi tub that was in the bathroom to which my parents looked at each other, then at us and told us they couldn't go in it because they "didn't bring their bathing suits."

So, yeah, my mom is a prude.

As my mom sat completely clueless, waiting for an explanation, my sister and I had the following conversation across the table with only our eyes:

"Go on, tell her," my sister's light blue green eyes encouraged.
"Oh no. You are the one that brought it up. YOU tell her," my green-yellow eyes shot back.
"I can't tell her," her eyes widened.
"Yeah, that sucks for you, but you dug this hole," my eyes replied sarcastically.
"No...I mean I'm not exactly sure what it is," her eyes confessed.
"Mother fuc@#%r. I'm going to kill you for this," my eyes scorned and threatened.

"Well? What is it?" my mom asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Um, well..." and I went on to explain fisting to my mother (and sister).

"WHAT?!? OMG! How does that even..." my mom said trying to comprehend. "How do you even know..."

My sister chimed in, "I only know because it says it in the book. Vaginal and anal fisting, so I figured..."

"ANAL!?!" I could see my mom's head about to explode as she turned and looked at me. "And you know about this?!? How do you know?!?"

Dear God, 


Please let a runaway train or plane come crashing through the house and take me out right now. Oh, and give me a new sister.


"You hear things," I said then tried to explain to my mom the whole guy friends talking and music business thing and that I had never actually taken part in any of it.

"Whatchya talking about?" my eleven year old nephew asked saddling up next to me. "Do you want to play a game?"

"Good God, yes!" I said jumping up from the table as my nephew ran into the other room ahead of me. I turned and looked at my sister, "And I'm telling you right now, if for some crazy reason he asks me about fisting, choking or S&M I'm sending him straight to you and mom and getting the hell out of here."

Seriously, WTH?!?

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Crush - Conclusion

"Hey," Joe said with a smile. A smile I knew was meant for me. He slipped his arm around my waist, pulled me to him, embracing me. (Alright, it was just a hug but I'm setting a mood here people!). I could smell his Drakar cologne. I breathed in a little deeper to take in the scent as he began to let go.

"Thank you for this," he said holding up the rose and the card. "I mean, 'wow'. (pause) Do you think maybe I could pick you up from school today and we could go talk for awhile?"

I have no idea what happened next. I guess I said yes because he was there at 2:30pm to pick me up. I had dreamed about him picking me up from school in his car since he first pulled it into the parking lot a few years ago. Now there I was sitting in Joe Smith's Camaro right next to Joe Smith! Holy crap. I was smiling so much I must have looked like the Joker from Batman.

We drove to his house. As we pulled into the driveway he said, "Well, this is my house."

"Yeah, I know," I said then wanted to kick myself. Yeah ya big dork! Let him know that you stalk him on a regular basis. DOH!

As we walked into the house I was immediately overcome with the lovely, fragrant smell of dog pee. Well dog pee and Drakar. He turned to me, offered me something to drink then asked me if I wanted to go into his room and, yep, you guessed it... look at his clothes. At first I was nervous. I thought Oh my God, I hope he isn't bringing me here because he thinks I'm gonna..we're gonna...

Joe was no stranger to sex. His reputation preceded him. He was very experienced. A man whore some might say. I, on the other hand, was not. To say I was inexperienced was an understatement. I'm serious. My best friend and I thought oral sex consisted of 2 people talking about sex. Joe must have seen the hesitation on my face. He said, "That's OK, I can bring some out." And that was exactly what he did. He showed me his clothes. IOU sweatshirts, Guess jeans, fancy tennis shoes. He told me how his mom had a garage sale and the following Monday all of the kids from school started showing up in his clothes. I tried to look interested, but seriously WTH? This was so not the way I imagined our first date would be.

Next we went down into his basement where his pool table was. I thought OK cool, we can play pool. That'll be fun...more fun than looking at his stupid clothes. Unfortunately the pool table was littered with clothes and knick-knacks his mom had placed on there presumably getting ready for the next garage sale. At least, I hoped she was.We decided to sit down on the basement couch.

"Oooooo, I have something I want to show you," he said with excitement as he jumped up and ran to get something out of his bedroom.

What could he possibly have to show me? What was this special thing he was about to share with me? My heart started to race. I wasn't sure if it was from anticipation of what he might bring back or out of fear that he was going to show me more clothes. He returned with a photo album.

"Here," he said opening the book, "This is a photo album of all the girls I dated that screwed me over."

What do you say to that? I mean how do you respond to that? "Oh gimme! Let me see" ? or "Oh, you have one of these too?" I suppressed my urge to say well, that's healthy, ya freak and decided to go with, "Wow, a whole book?"

Yup...it was a whole book -about 60 pages of pictures and notes - and we went through every damn page of it. When we finished and he had relayed all of his stories to me he remarked about how he knew I'd never hurt him like that. I took this opportunity to tell him I had to go home because...hell I don't remember what I told him. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. The pee/Drakar aroma was starting to burn my nose and eyes.

(OK, I realize this post is getting long, but I PROMISED you guys I would finish it. Besides, here comes the funny stuff).


I reflected on everything as Joe drove me home. Was this his idea of a date? Was this what he did with girls? I made some small talk as we pulled into my driveway. He put the car in park, turned to me, his beautiful blue eyes peering into mine and said the words I had waited to hear since 7th grade.

"Can I kiss you?"

OMG! OMG! Holy crap! He wants to kiss me. OK, so sure the date sucked and being with him was more boring than watching paint dry. And yes I had to use small words when I spoke to him because he looked like I had asked him to divide 458936894326 by 833975794 every time I used a word with more than 2 syllables, but I had been dreaming of him kissing me for like 5 years.

"Sure. But do you see that man and woman?" I said pointing to the two people working in the front yard that kept looking curiously at the strange car in the driveway. "Those are my godparents. So would you mind coming in the house?"

He smiled and agreed. I went to open the front door, but my mom, who had asked for my key because she lost her's, forgot to leave the door unlocked.

"Hold on, I'll be right back." I went to the side door which was also locked. I went around back to the french doors...also locked. I pulled the picnic table over to the bathroom window, popped out the bathroom screen, slid the window open, grabbed onto the roof overhang and swung my leg in through the window turning my body just enough to see Joe standing there watching.

"Ummm, the door is locked so I have to go in through the window," I said, hoping with any luck, that God would allow me to spontaneously combust right then. Joe watched as I finished climbing in.

"OK, I can let you in now," I said smiling.

"OK," he said as he climbed up on the picnic table about to come in through the window. Man, it was a good thing he was pretty because there wasn't a brain in that boy. Just dust, cobwebs and mounds of clothes.

"No, no," I said stopping him. "I'm in now. I can unlock the side door."

"Oh," he said. You could tell that thought had not dawned on him and he was still trying to comprehend what I meant. As I walked to unlock the door I thought, OK, so he isn't smart...alright he is an idiot, but you have waited for this forever. I unlocked the door and he came in. I told him I apologized for the door being locked as he slipped his arms around my waist. He took one hand and brushed my face lightly. This was it! OMG! I am about to get my kiss! I was so excited. I prayed I wouldn't throw up.

He leaned in and closed his eyes and I closed mine. I could feel his lips so close to mine, about to touch.

WOOF! WOOF!


My dog had jumped up between the two of us so that we kissed her instead of each other.

"Shadow!" I yelled while pushing her away. "Get down!"

I wanted to die! I apologized as I buried my head in his chest wondering if it was indeed possible to die of embarrassment. He laughed and as I looked up at him, he lifted my chin with his hand, bent down and kissed me. Let me be more specific: He gave me the the worst kiss I have EVER had in my life!

Seriously I felt like he was shoving his tongue so far down my throat that he would be able to lick my stomach. I began to wonder if tonsils could actually be sucked out. I kept waiting for it to end. I even tried to casually pat my leg to call my dog back over. She wouldn't come, presumably because she didn't want to get spit on her head. Seriously, when we were done, there was so much, shall we say moisture that I thought I was going to need a shop vac. He smiled, clearly proud of his ability. He hugged me good-bye, asked me for my phone number, hugged me again and told me he would see me at school tomorrow.

Needless to say that love affair did not happen. 5 freakin' years of waiting for that! I replayed that date over and over again in my mind and always came to the same conclusion. The shop-vac would have been a better kisser.

Like most things in life, he was so much better in my head.


Friday, May 11, 2012

The Crush: Part Deux

I'm actually on the left...got confused last time;)
When I threw my little cliffhanger at you guys (for those that have no idea what I am talking about, see my previous post) we were two weeks away from Joe graduating and me never seeing him again. BTW...in my last post, I was not the one on the right...I was the nerd on the other right:)

I don't know if your school did it, but our school used to pick certain occasions where you could send flowers to people (Valentine's Day, Sweetest Day - only Midwesterners celebrate that). They decided to let us send roses to our favorite seniors before they left. Now over the years, I had sent Joe several flowers anonymously that he most likely gave to whatever girl he was dating at the time. But not this time. No, this time I was going to be ballsy. I figured what the hell? So I wrote this on the card:

Dear Joe,


I just wanted to say thank you for giving me something to look forward to everyday. You made my high school years and I will always remember you as my crush. Congratulations on your graduation. I wish you all the luck and happiness in the future. - Love, Shay


I paid for the flower, handed in the card and there was no getting it back. That whole week my stomach was in knots. Every time I saw him I would think about him getting the rose. Would he laugh? Scoff? Care?

The bell between third and fourth period had just rung. We had 5 minutes to get to our classes. My 3rd and 4th period was a 2 hour block so I just stood outside the door with my friends talking. Although today I wasn't saying much. The flowers were delivered 3rd period. The butterflies in my stomach had morphed into bats. He knew. Before he probably suspected it, but now he knew.

"Here he comes!" my best friend informed, clearly excited to see what, if anything would happen. I saw him walking down the hall. Books in one hand, rose in the other. As he approached, our eyes met and my heart relocated to my throat. Would he stop? Keep walking? Give me an appreciative smile and head nod as he walked by? I felt dizzy as the scenarios ran through my mind at warp speed.

"Hey..." Joe said with a smile. A smile I knew was meant for me.

** Next post: The dramatic (and embarrassingly funny) conclusion. I would have done it here but the post would have been really long.To my loyal readers, sorry I know THIS post wasn't funny. I'm setting the stage. The conclusion to it will have my usual humor and sarcasm;)**

OH! One more thing. My official Author Page is now on Facebook. If you are on FB, go to Shay Stone and "Like" me. You know...if you really do like me;)  






Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The Crush

My niece went to prom this weekend. I did her make-up, helped her with her dress, and then watched as she and a group of excited teenagers took 5 million pictures. As I listened to their happy teenage chatter I started thinking about high school and all of the crap that goes with it.

Now I hated high school. The clicks, the catty girls, and boys filled with too much testosterone that never seemed to ask me out. Still, there was one reason to gnaw through the bed restraints every morning and make my way off to this virtual hell.

OK, I just scanned through mullets. This
one is remarkably similar to "Joe's."
His name was Joe. (OK, it wasn't really, but I have friends that I went to school with that read my blog and given what I am about to tell you, I don't think he would want his real name known. Besides, I'm not certain if I could be sued for defamation). Anyway his name was Joe ;) He was about 6 feet tall, had eyes as blue as the ocean (the part without all of the oil in it), and had brown, curly permed hair, that was short on top, slicked back on the sides and just touching the top of his neck in the back. I know, I know...that's a nice way of saying a short mullet, but somehow, on him, it worked .

I had first seen him when I was in 7th grade. He was older and more mature...an 8th grader, and didn't know I existed, although I did catch him checking out my legs once or twice. For years, I had a secret love affair with him that he didn't know about. Well, maybe he did...OK, by the end of high school he would have been a total idiot to not have known, which, I heard he kind of was. Anyway, I was a cheerleader and he was a football player, so I got to see him on the bus every week and cheer my head off for him at games. I knew which way he would be coming after his classes so I made sure I was there talking to a friend so I could see him in the hallway. Hoping...praying that he would see me one day, realize his love for me and we would ride off into the sunset in his Camaro.

I'm the nerd on the left.

That didn't happen. The closest I got was when his best friend that was older and not at all attractive developed a crush on me. But that wasn't happening. I mean surely Joe would never date a girl that had gone out with his best friend. Besides, if nothing else, I was loyal. I was Joe's girl even if he didn't know it. How could I date someone else when my heart belonged to the boy in the acid washed jeans and polo shirt with the collar turned up? A little stalkerish. Perhaps. But hey, I was a stupid high school kid that thought Joe was the greatest thing since sliced bread. (Not that I ever dated sliced bread.) Besides with my luck, the minute I got a boyfriend, Joe would realize his love for me and I wouldn't be available. I spent almost 7 years pining for him, but nothing ever happened.

Until...

It was the end of Joe's senior year. I was about 2 weeks away from never seeing him again. You know except at the mall or when my best friend and I rode our bikes past his house 7 or 8 times a day. Still, I had to do something...

**More to come in my next post - remember to follow me by email and my blog will come right to your email account as soon as I post it:) Come on...you know you want to;) That's right...I'm not above peer pressure.**