Sick Weekend

This weekend SoyBoy is skiing in Utah. This weekend I should have been partying. This weekend I've spent crawling from bath, to bed, to fridge/freezer, to bath and back to bed; I think I'm going mad.

I'd been scheming for weeks prior - cooking up all sorts of bad behaviour to delight in.....the natural thing to do when one's boyfriend is away. As it turned out I came down with flu mid week and have been sickly ever since. Porn Man even blew me off not wishing to catch the nasty lurgies harbouring in my body.

Unable to sin, this was my weekend:

Friday night bath for one. I may have been ill but it was still Friday night. I'd earned several cocktails following a hellish week of knickering. Frozen banana daiquiri cleverly disguising dissolved Advil my Mother ordered I gurgle to numb sore throat. Note to Mum - still works as frozen daiquiri but actually tastes delicious. The bananas - a fruit serving, and source of vitamins and minerals. The alcohol to fight bacteria. Good thing I made a full blender batch....that way I didn't have to drip from bath to kitchen and back for top-ups.

Once the bath water was cold I tucked myself into bed with a hot toddy. A triple - brandy, lemon juice and honey to wash down the disgusting cough syrup apparently flavoured like cherries. Needless to say my three-course supper was a knockout menu.

Saturday was somewhat dull. I dragged my sickly self out of bed to have supper with my girlfriend, Buns Of Steal (her Title and name of fitness video where... she shows us why). Incidentally she is also X Maverick dancer (football team cheerleader I think?) and yes her body is awesome. It's actually quite sucky going out with Buns of Steal. The ogling never stops and Saturday night was no exception. Two guys at the bar closest to us, barely said a word to each other - engrossed as they were with Buns of Steal numerous attributes.

Buns of Steal and I had a laugh, which hurt and sent me into several gulping coughing spasms - probably good for my stomach muscles. I wonder if it's like doing sit-ups? Glimpsing her highly honed quadricep, delicately outlined by tight Gucci pants I did my own version of cheerleading later that night without the Gucci pants and highly honed quadriceps. Prancing in my kitchen feeling the effects of wine and drugs; I swear all above counter, the Roosevelt Island cable car travelers my passing audience. Nudity from my apartment is not new, the addition of high kicks in Ugg boots (to keep my feet warm) may be.

Sunday had slightly more promise. Wanting to go back to yoga for weeks, finally I did. Two sun salutations into the practice I had second thoughts. One nostril streamed, the other blocked and both sinus cavities pounded. My yogi has the body of chewing gum but his lack of squeamishness admirable. He pretzeled my appendages into a ridiculous configuration, urging deep, long breathing. This is a very difficult task when one's knee is wedged into one's diaphram and harder still when a silver slither trails from nose to lip, threatening to settle between pursed lips. Not to worry it turned out. Said slither was lovingly wiped away, as only a mother would do...or in this instance my Yogi.

During the practice-end prayer I sent extra thanks to my Yogi and his nose-wiping kindness. I also experienced a yoga epiphany - and intend adding it to my practice. Towards the end of the chant Grand Marnier is mentioned. Feverishly excited to get home I made myself a wonderful Grand Marnier Margarita loaded up with freshly squeezed lime juice and several liberal sloshes of Grand Marnier just as my Yogi mantraed. Vitamin C enriched alcohol and a couple of Claritins the chemist recommended - sure beats chicken noodle soup.

No more rogering

I've really not wanted to shag SoyBoy for some time and I don't know why. I'm beginning to worry that it's because he's so nice to me. Affliction has happened in past and wondering if other women suffer the same thing. Is this why we covet arseholes? Do we love men who are complete wankers because we never get the upper hand - constantly yearning for them to adore us. Once they do adore us, bordom sets in? Or maybe it's just me?

After getting off to fabulously raunchy sexual start which led me to move in for sex-on-demand (also saves on cable bill), our sexual rampages have dwindled to almost non-existent. Apart from the possibility of his icky niceness, there are a couple of other turn-offs, namely:

a) He sports a rather large penis, and wedging me against the stove as if it were a bollard is perhaps only accepted the first time for sick glee in having a lower-back knob indenture reading "high". Dent eventually diminishes (takes about a week) but huge penis doesn't.
b) Basic sex can hurt. Depending on position the pain can sometimes be mild like a dull tooth ache or severe - ie anal.

to be continued...or not