Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Voicemail from a whore?

Someone in Springfield, IL doesn't like me.

Yesterday afternoon, my Tabu phone rang, and as always, I waited for my phone-answering system to prompt the caller for his or her name. When the moment came, a female voice hissed "Dirty whore!"

My, oh, my. A phone call from Dirty Whore. What a very interesting name to bestow upon a daughter.

I let the call go to voicemail, and retrieved the message later in the evening-- very curious to hear what such a colorful caller had to say for herself.

"You look much older than you really are," she spitted. "Actually, you look like a transsexual."

Apparently she ran out of imagination at that point, because the line went dead.

Darling "Dirty," I'm truly sorry that you're upset with me-- for whatever reason. But if you're going to call names, get with the program.

I'm a naughty girl by nature. I'm a swinger by choice. And I'm a hooker with enthusiasm. There's hardly a name in the book I wouldn't answer to proudly.

If you were looking to shame me... well, I don't blush easily. So as one badly aging transsexual to another, let's make a deal.

I won't publish your phone number, which I now have saved.... and maybe you can think a bit more cogently before you let your fingers do the stalking.
OK. Gotta go.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Rule #1: Learn from the movies.

OK, I know you're all thinking that I'm just super hot for those rough-riding Brits like Daniel Craig and Jason Stathan (pictured left), and of course, I plead guilty.

But what you may not know is just how much I model my existence on the fine examples these boys demonstrate for me every time I fast-forward, double-clutch and rewind.

So, with a special red-lipped kiss blown to Frank Martin, the cool-headed and fast-driving hero of the Transporter (1,2 and 3) movies... allow me to pass along the latest epiphany he delivered right to my door.

Rules are sexy.

"What??" you may ask, "Since when is letting other people tell you what to do... sexy?"

Who said anything about other people? I'm talking about the rules you create for yourself... the ones that let you forget about the world's expectations... and let you drive right to your goal.

In every Transporter film, Frank has to educate his ne'er-do-well clients that he operates by very strict rules... guidelines that allow him to navigate the sometimes treacherous curves that underlie his mission to deliver the goods. No one is allowed to break those rules... not even him.

Of course, the movies being what they are-- it's not till someone tweaks the rules that the action really gets started.

Lately I've been thinking that I wouldn't want to live with a such bad boy-- but there's definite pussy appeal in his passion to get the job done.

So what does all this have to do with your vixen Tabu? Or you?

Just one small wish from your big-titted bitch. That I'll soon be opening my door to even more of these complicated, sexy boys who know that the best games are played when everyone follows the rules. Because when fire in the belly meets cool-headed resolve, the results can rev any red-blooded girl's motors.

So if you like to play within- let's say "gentlemen's rules-" you'll find a very willing partner riding shotgun.

Wild, wicked, just-within-the-lines seduction. I've learned something from the movies.