the paper doll

Damn it NBC!

Dear Internet,

I'm sick of swimming and glad it's over (it is over, right?).  Swimming is the most boring spectator sport.  You can't see anything but white water and little plastic covered bobbing heads.  And don't even get me started on those unitards.  All this time we thought the Speedo was an abomination.  Those new get-ups are hideous and give everyone a camel-toe.

And Michael Phelps.  Oh Michael Phelps.  You bore me. 

Seriously, people actually spent evenings glued to their TVs watching him as if he wasn't going to win?  What's wrong with you people?  Of course he's going to win.  Why waste your time?  It's about as exciting as watching paint dry.  Yep, it's going to dry.  No need for me to sit there and watch it.

Whenever NBC did something douche baggy like cut from the freaking gymnastics to cover swimming I'd always get up and go pluck my eyebrows or stick my head in the oven.

How could you possibly cut from tiny people flinging their bodies around to giants splashing around in a pool?  Tiny cute people vs.  scary people with shoulders the size of trucks.  Tiny people, scary people?

Really people this should be no contest.

It basically boils down to, in which sport am I more likely to see someone get hurt-swimming or gymnastics?

Oh shut up you know you watch the Olympics for the screws up too.

Come on people you know when those girls fell off that balance beam you couldn't get enough.  Now I'm not wishing anyone get hurt.  Just fall.  Because that's what makes the Olympics.  When you screw up and come back.  Or you stick the landing even though your ankle is broken.  Hell gymnastics is even judged based on mistakes.  A deduction for this one for that. 

I just happen to enjoy major deductions like landing on your butt after a kick ass vault.

And with swimming there are no errors.  No one hits their head on the bottom when the dive in or drowns.  And for the love of god why no one smacks their head on the pool when they are doing flip turns I don't know.  But it just doesn't happen.

They dive in, swim to the other end, and that's it.

The only excitement is who hits the wall first and really that's not all that exciting because you knew that's what was going to happen.  It's predictable.  Especially when that oaf is in the pool.

I just like my Olympics with a dash of the unexpected that's all.

Plus Michael Phelps got a DUI once and has a horrible underbite.

-The Paper Doll is no athlete but she plays one on TV

Naughty Bird and Bees

Dear Internet,

For the record I own thigh highs, corsets, underwear that goes so far up my butt I swear it makes my crack bleed, and one pair of stupid red shoes I'd kill myself on if I ever had to wear them any where else beside the bedroom.

I'm comfortable with the dirty talk, and role playing, and most anything.  You think of it I've probably tried it.  Yes even that.  THAT which girls squeal at and clench their butt cheeks up tight about.  THAT.  And it was only once for you know the experience and please don't any of you try it at home.  Totally sucks.  I could never be a gay man.

So you know I'm open.  Especially considering I'm telling the whole farking Internet about it.  (Which I totally blame on Chelsea Handler, which I will get to.  This is not a random aside.)

It's just I did all that ages ago when I oozed sex out of every pore.  I was also very drunk.  Now the only thing I ooze is cellulite.  And the thought of cramming myself in thigh highs and a corset conjures up images of the Michelin Man. 

I'm all femme fataled out.  It makes me feel stupid and fat.  I'd rather just lie there and let him do all the work.  That way I don't get out of breath or give him a black eye with one of my jiggling fat rolls.

I'm up for about a 60/40 split.  I'd even go 50/50 maaaybe.  Most of the time straight up vanilla sex.  Well, as vanilla as you can get without having to go missionary the whole time.  Gah, give me some credit.  And the other portion I'd let my freak out. 

Which I seemed to have opened up a naughty Pandora's box with my freak because that's where we seem to be stuck.  The Musician just can't believe what I got hidden in my box and he's determined to get to the bottom of it.  ALL THE TIME.  And it's so exhausting.

Is it too much to ask to just shut up and do it?  Forget the theatrics let's just get down, get down, turn around?

All I'm saying is I'd like my effort to be rewarded with a little, "you just lie there baby and let me do all the work."

I never said I wasn't selfish.  But I guess that's the price you pay for being GGG.  One taste of that and it's all they want.

I bet Chelsea Handler never had this problem (see I told you I'd get to it). 

A friend, we'll call him Bob, was cleaning off his desk and unearthed a ragged copy of  My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler.  It had made all the rounds so he decided to initiate me into the club. 

It is filthy fabulous.  Trashy.  Clever.  And full of sex.

I read it in one night and then promptly went out and bought, Are You There Vodka?  It's Me, Chelsea.

I totally have a girl crush on her. 

Please go read these now.  And watch her late night show on E!.

You'll thank me.

XO,

The Paper Doll

Lack of the Birds and Bees

Dear Internet,

We need to talk about sex.  If that makes you uncomfortable just move right along. 

I've never had to work at sex.  I mean it's always just sort of...happened.  Sometimes twice a day.  I'm not against dressing up, and thigh highs, and wigs but I've just never HAD to do that before.  Like usually I was having so much sex with my boyfriends they wouldn't have even noticed that stuff because we were naked most of the time we were together.  So why spend good money when I could just open the door in a towel or buck naked to get things going?  Take that Victoria's Secret.

Really.  Ask my high school roommate.  My boyfriend would come visit for the weekend.  He'd pick me up at 7 am and we'd spent the next 15 or so hours at the La Quinta.  I'd be sore and sleep all the next day.  Real upstanding girl I was.

Anyway.  This just has never been a problem for me.  The problem has been keeping the clothes on and making it to dinner.

So I'm sort of mystified by the lack of bed room mamba that's been going on around here.

Granted my vagina is sort of broken right now and a lot of shit went down between the Musician and me.  But still this has never stopped any of my other boyfriends.  Who I'm now beginning to think were man sluts.

This is hard work.  Keeping the chemistry alive.  It almost makes sex unbearable.

You mean I have to shave my legs and keep my toenails clipped?  Really?  My overgrown bikini line is a hindrance?  What's wrong with you?

I'm dating a high maintenance sex person.  One who needs things like foreplay and for me to wear clean non-cotton underwear.  Which, so doesn't matter because they're coming off and it's going to be dark anyway?

How do you girls do it?

Putting on the sexy just seems so over the top and fake.  Can't we just turn off the lights and grope each other?  That's exciting right?

Turns out not so much.  And especially not so much when he's in his 30's.  There's no adolescent hormones to start the fire which means I have to do it and I never made it past my first Girl Scout meeting so I'm not so good at the fire making.  I get bored and want to move on to something else a little less strenuous like watching TV in my flannel pajamas.

I wish I would have known in high school what a chore sex becomes.  I would have sprung for two nights at the La Quinta instead of one.

-The Paper Doll just wants an old fashion thrown down

BRB

I ate chicken and it tasted good.

I also just got back from the beach.  My brain is an amalgamation of sand and booze.

I'll write when it solidifies.

XO,

The Paper Doll

Public Service Announcement: Frozen Vaginas

Alright people women you need to listen to those snappy "One Less" commercials least you have to have your vagina frozen too.

I'm serious.  Frozen.  Like those Tyson chicken breasts except you know-YOUR VAGINA.

I haven't actually had the procedure done yet but I'm imagining something akin to my gynecologist playing that game Operation but you know-inside MY VAGINA and with a wand that freezes stuff.  Stuff that shouldn't be frozen.  God I hope she has a steady hand.

I'm also not really sure what happens once it's frozen.  Do I just stand up, jiggle around, and the abnormal possibly cancerous cells just fall right out?  Could I possibly just do this at home with some ice?  Because that would be much more cost effective.

And the fact they they pour vinegar in there to make the abnormal possibly cancerous cells react and turn some funny color also sounds a bit weird.  Like are we still in the Dark Ages?  Seriously vinegar?  Vinegar in MY VAGINA.  With all the KY they'll use to oil me up I'll have a salad between my legs.  Maybe I can even request Balsamic.  And is it going to smell?  Will my co-workers days later get a whiff of dressing as I walk by?

At any moment I feel like my doctor is going to break out the leeches and blood letting to help with the abnormal possibly cancerous cells. 

If all of this sounds really unpleasant I beg of you to get regular pap smears and have the Gardasil shots.  All better than spending agonizing weeks wondering how exactly a vagina is frozen.  And don't even get me start about having to worry about THE CANCER that could possibly you know be IN MY VAGINA.

-The Paper Doll says don't say I didn't warn you