Enough

I took a break from my catch-up work to stay in touch with the Democratic National Convention last week.  My political leanings have varied over the years, which I figure is the natural course of things.  As I get older my perception changes and I re-fine (or re-define) my opinion on certain issues, but I generally stay close to “home”, meaning it’s rare for me to change my mind entirely on a given issues.  Rather, what seems to change is the degree to which I am willing to invest time and emotion into a given issue.

As some of you know, the Obama Coupon represented VibeReview’s official support.  But I didn’t reveal my own thoughts on Obama, because I didn’t want to strain any existing relationships – both personal and professional, sometimes with the two mingling.  Strange as it may seem, I wanted to wait until the DNC to discuss political matters on this blog.  My hesitancy: I wanted to see substance and style, not rhetorical bravo alone – which I felt had been Obama’s main contribution during the primaries.  Of course, at no point did I consider voting for John McCain, a man who has proven himself incapable of truly understanding women – what motivates us, what appeals to us, what we really want, and how we want to live our lives.

(I use “we” very loosely, I know.  I don’t intend to be the singular voice of all women, so please don’t be offended.  My only motivation in doing so is to share my own wants, wishes, and hopes that I know parallel so many other women’s hopes, dreams, wishes, and wants.)

So, Obama sealed up my vote when Hillary Clinton lost in the primaries.  No, I have no lingering bitterness toward what happened during the primaries, as I don’t see such sentiments as being productive in the short-term or long-term.   At this point, during these uncomfortably dysfunctional times, I felt that I couldn’t waste my vote on an Independent Party.  Reform must come from within the two main parties, if this country is going to overcome current obstacles.  While the primaries proved upsetting, I did recognize some of Obama’s brilliance, eagerness, and desire to lead.

Then I watched Obama’s speech.

Impressed?  Inspired?  Grateful?  Humbled?  Excited?  Connected?

All of those things and more.  I feel like I was smacked with a wake up call – not only as it pertains to my own individual actions, but also as it relates to participating in community affairs.  I can be better than I am without feeling bad about where I’ve been.

This is huge.

Breakthrough.

Wild.

I felt a sense of responsibility to my fellow citizens.  Probably for the first time in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I am a failure on a daily basis if I don’t treat people with respect (even those who don’t deserve it).  I care about people.  But this was a new sense of purpose.  A calling, if you will.  Now I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve fallen off the sanity-wagon, because I am still obsessed with self.  (Sounds silly as hell to admit, but I suppose we are obsessed with self to an extreme.  Only, well, we may not realize it all the time.)

Yes, I feel like I am obligated to myself and others, to say, as Obama did, “ENOUGH!”  Resonates with me, it really does.  No more, no longer, no way.  I hate campaign slogans, but the Democrats hit the jack pot this time around.

My favorite new slogan: McSame.  And true as can be.

Seeing that sea of people at the baseball stadium.  Remarkable.

I enjoyed all the convention speeches.  Gore and Kerry and Biden and Hillary.  Even ol’ Mr.Cant’s Keep.His.Pecker.Tucked.Away President Clinton.  It was a great event that energized me.

Did anyone else watch it?  If so, what did you think?  Agree or no?  And why or why not?

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I’m Back, I’m Bad, and I’m Tan

How many of you missed me?  That many of you?!!  Well, I am back from my vacation to Puerto Rico.  Tanning than ever, more relaxed than I have been in years, and fully charged and ready to get down and dirty with whatever comes my way until the next vacation.

Here are a couple of personal admissions and observations that smacked my brain during the trip:

Most of my fears have no basis in reality – that is to say, I have no justification for fearing certain things.  Yet I am still plagued by the strangest fears in normal situations that produce an overwhelming anxiety in my mind and then my body.

The combination of airplanes and flying freaks me out.  I hate flying.  Planes freak me out.  And I have no reasonable explanation as to why I have this dominating fear.  Every jerk, drop, or bounce – I start looking around at people’s facial expressions for comfort, the kind of body language exploration that will grant me a moment or two of serenity.  I’ll look for a nod of approval so that I can finally relax.  The whole “I know how you feel; I’ve been there” response without words.

I eventually worked myself up on this short flight (like five or six hours) to the point that sleeping became my sole remedy.  I can’t figure out why I am afraid of flying, which is what bothers me the most.  I flew back and forth from my father’s city every Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthday, or any cause for celebration since I was a kid because my parents were divorced.  I never freaked out when I was younger, so this is a relatively new sense of emotional discomfort.

Regardless, I made it through the flight.  There and back.  And now I am home bragging about how I managed to sleep my way into forgetting that I was thousands of miles in the air, high above deep oceans and massive cities.  Maybe this was a one time event (wrapped up into two flights) for me?  I’m not sure, but I hope that’s the case.

While in Puerto Rico I refused to stay on the resort property.  I spent several hours each night sitting in the hot tub or swimming in the pool, but during the day I was out and about, mixing it up with the locals, who I found to be quite friendly and helpful.  Why go on vacation to another country and sit by a pool or hang out with people I could visit with in my own country?  I could have saved a lot of money by just staying in the US if that’s what I wanted.

So, yeah.  I said screw that … I am going to snorkel, swim, eat, and whatever else with an unfamiliar culture.  Great, great experience.  The food, fantastic.  Loved every dish at each restaurant.  I even managed to force down squid and sea snails.  Yuck, right?  The stuff tasted wonderful.  Kinda like chicken with a rubbery texture.  I figured both would be somewhat slimy, but that wasn’t the case.  If you ever plan on visiting San Juan or Fejardo, I can help you find the best spots to eat at.  (Most of the better restuarants are expensive, so keep that in mind.)

I took sex toys with me.  Several of my favorite vibrators, my favorite dildo, and of course, my lovely fella.  Lots of sex, several times a day.  I’m not the most exciting lover on most days, as I am so worn out with work.  I need to mix a little pleasure into my life, especially seeing as I am in the adult toy business.  It becomes all too easy to pull out a toy and please myself in a few minutes, whereas my guy is ready for a long night of sex and experimentation.

Part of it is having the kids and working so many hours, but the other part, I think, is the saturation of sex-related themes in my work life.  I have a libido; I am … Well, I am lazy lover, or have been over the last 4-5 months.  This trip allowed me enough time and relaxation to really open up.  I was bad.  A bad, bad girl.  We had sex in the pool, hot tub, and on the beach.  Public sex!  I hadn’t done that in a long time, so it was an enthralling experience.  And the naughtiest of times in our room, which overlooked the ocean. My sex toys, too, were used in new and innovative ways that, for whatever reason, hadn’t ever occured possible.

Trash.  I don’t consider myself to be the best environmentalist.  But – I get really upset about seeing trash everywhere.  I’ve been known to pick up my neighbors’ trash frequently, if only to keep my sanity within grasp.  If I see trash on the ground, even in the city, I pick it up.  I get so pissed off when I see trash laying on the ground.  In fact, it’s one of the few things that make me angry.  Puerto Rico is full of trash: cigarette buds are everywhere, beer cans on the beach, diapers sitting in the grass, wrecked car parts laying all over the street.  And in the ocean, I noticed all of these things and more (even a Halloween costume!) laying on the sandy bottom as I snorkeled.

I fished out trash, threw it on the beach, and eventually put my new collection of discards in a trash can.  The locals watched me like I was crazy, wondering what the hell I was doing.  I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t walk or swim away with all that trash in the ocean.  And, most of all, I couldn’t understand why anyone would throw away his or her shit in the ocean or on the beach.  This happened at most of the beaches we frequented.  It was a sad, disgusting sight still bothering me.

The resort itself wasn’t very clean, either.  When I mentioned this to the manager, he responded by saying, “This is a third world country.”  At which time, I asked him, “Is this a third world resort?  Because if it is, I need a third world hotel rate, because I significantly overpaid.”  He didn’t like that response, so he followed it up with, “It did rain several days ago and the river probably washed up most of the trash you are referring to.”  Again, I retorted, “Did the river wash tons of trash under my hotel room’s balcony?”  He took a few notes and said, “I will mention this to the general manager.” He wrote something down, but it had little to do with the trash we discussed.

Small cars rock.  Sort of.  Don’t ever drive a big car or a truck in Puerto Rico.  The roads are surprisingly narrow and people do not slow down, so there were a few times that we barely managed to escape a collision.  The police officers drive with their lights on for no apparent reason.  People honk for no real reason at all.

If you don’t like beggars coming up to your car in the city, you will dislike Puerto Rico, since locals flood each and every stop sign and traffic light, seeking free money or for drivers to purchase cold beverages or tropical fruit.  No one is rude or demanding, or expects anything.  It’s their version of business mingling in a society that lacks jobs, education, and overall economic advancement.  But this process works for them, as many people preferred to purchase beverages from their cars rather than pull over at a gas station.

So, I had a great time, learned a lot about my fellow human beings and myself, and found enough time to mix in some sexy pleasure.  Plus all the lounging on the beach and snorkeling in the ocean.  Oh, and I found a massive conch shell and gigantic starfish on the Seven Seas Beach in Fejardo.  Both sea creatures were alive, which added a lot of excitement.  I plan on posting some pictures in the coming days – if I don’t get too behind with catching up.

Hope everyone has been doing well.

Sex Toy Theft, Criminals, and Fallen Angels

Consider the following Henry Morgan quote:

A kleptomaniac is a person who helps himself because he can’t help himself.

Sex toy thievery. Take the above quote and apply it to out of control sex toy fetishes. Want an example of someone sexing out beyond their means? Screw it, I’ll give you two recent examples of individuals who recently stole sex toys in the most bizarre of circumstances, in the strangest ways.

I can’t remember sex toy theft being a major issue in the past, but with adult toys becoming mainstream sexual enhancement devices, I guess we will witness a revival of peculiar sex toy incidences.

The first story:

Man Pleads Guilty to Sex Toys Theft

Daniel Edward Ray broke into three sex toy stores in Springfield, Illinois, back on January 24, 2008. He pleaded ‘no contest’ to the charges. His sentence hearing is scheduled for September, 2008. He used a baseball bat to bash in the windows of one sex toy shop and then, in all his brilliance, decided to use his car as battering ram for the other two stores. Dude was straight desperate to get his hands on some sex toys, and not just a few – but a lot of sex toys.

His ex-girlfriend ratted him out to the cops, explaining that Daniel Edward Ray had a little something-something for sex stuff. [Who doesn’t? But that doesn’t mean the craziest of pervs are going to smash their car into the front doors and windows of the local sex shop.] The “sex toy bandit”, as the local press referred to him, was captured on surveillance cameras during his moment of passion, and left behind traces of blood and – get this – fingernails. At first he denied the allegations but certainly came around when the police showed him the evidence.

He blames his methamphetamine addiction as the root of his troubles. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Or maybe the dude just has a thing for stealing strange shit. He was on parole for burglary at the time of sex toys theft, so he’s looking at hardcore jail time – which means, like, six months in jail.

The second story:

Pastor Succumbs to Psalm 69 Sexual Urges, Breaks Into Home, and Steals Woman’s Sex Toy and Lube

On July 25, 2008, a South Carolina pastor, Scott Murray, broke into a woman’s home, raided her panty drawer, and stole one bottle of lube and an unidentified sex toy.  Felony burglary and larceny charges have been filed.  Repressed sexuality comes out in the strangest ways, yes?  Bizarre. Funny enough, this guy was part of the OUTREACH program.

He stole a used sex toy, which reminds of the Used Sex Toy Listing on Craigslist that came out a few years back. Only this pastor was for real, whereas the listing was a complete hoax. I know some wild ass people and none of them would ever consider stealing a used sex toy, especially if it means breaking into someone’s home to get it. Why are the religious freaks the ones who are involved in more sexual scandals than anyone else? Repressed sexuality, I guess. All that pent up sexual energy screws with normal brain function.

Shocked! Armageddon is here! Pastor surprises congregation with sex toy fetish: