Embarrassing myself is nothing new. I do it all the time.

Embarrassing myself by showing my boobs. Also not something new. But it’s always accidental.

I accidentally sent a topless picture of myself to one of my dearest friends. A guy friend. Much to his surprise this happened over an IM chat. Story is here. Lucky for me, this guy had already seen them. We dated years ago. For a while. Not like for a few days. MUCH longer. Like a few weeks. Because otherwise that would make me a hooker or something. Anyhow, that picture peep show was totally an accident.

I’ve even shown my boobs to a group of strangers. On an airplane. Of course, they didn’t sign up for the show. Nor did I mean to do it. But here’s the story retold. Clearly this live boob show happened unintentionally.

I’ve even purposely shared pictures of my boobs with that special man in my life. Hell, isn’t that the perk of being in a sexy and exciting relationship.  This was alway intentional. And always reciprocated. Meaning, I had also received pictures. It has been a mutual sharing event.

But ladies, be smart. Whatever you do, DON’T send pictures of your naked boobs, cleavage, thighs, etc to a man who you aren’t in a relationship with. You want to know why? They don’t have loyalty to you. Sure they appreciate the peep show for the time being. Men are visual. And they love the attention.

I’m here to tell you ladies, WAIT. Send pictures. But do it later. When he’s really into you.

Because otherwise these men will show these “sexy” pictures to other people. And they include names to call you. Trust me, sexy is not the descriptive word they use. It’s not cute. None of us want to be referred to the chick who “wears ugly bras” or to be called “big girl” or be tagged as a “a sure thing” for sharing this over email.

I’ve personally heard this from men who share this shit with me. From the men who willingly accepted these photos, and actually might have seemed excited to get them. At first.

So please, for the love of a higher power, STOP THE INSANITY. Okay, that was dramatic. But for those of you who feel sexy, and you should (we all should), share those pictures! But only share them with someone who has your best interest in mind. And I don’t mean just for the night.

This post was inspired by recent a recent reality tv show episode, articles I’ve come across and real life boys I’ve had to listen to.

Having pictures of myself talked about didn’t happen. I’m not saying it couldn’t happen. Aside from the events above, I’ve only shared photos with boys I’m “with”. So if they did show others, it would be the ultimate breach of trust. And paybacks are hell. Especially when I save all the photos I’ve received.

Side note to exes: In the rare chance that you read this, please don’t worry. I will not share that picture of Mr. Youknowwho or of you doing that pose.

Side note to readers who get this far: I do not choose to be with men who come up with names for that part. Ever.

Tags: boobs, pictures

This Wino Wednesday post was inspired pairing fancy wine at a fancy place. I have no idea what wine we were drinking though.

I love to gamble. I love to drink wine. I love food (especially food I didn’t cook).

I booked a trip to Vegas, partly because I wanted to enjoy the loves of my life. But mostly because of these people.

Me, Mike, Suz
at Cut in Las Vegas

We ate at the most amazing restaurant, Cut. It was one of the best dining experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve been there one other time (in 2008) and said the same thing. Un-fucking-believable!

Pairing is an art. When you get the perfect pair, life is grand. I learned this on my recent trip to Vegas.

For instance, when gambling I love to see 8’s paired up (when the dealer shows a 7 or higher). I love to split them…like a hooker. This term is explained in my recent post Like a Hooker. I won money on this trip. Paired up 8’s helped, but discovering the term “like a hooker” made it a complete success.

Another example of pairs is when finding wine. I love to have it perfectly paired with my meal. Cut’s Sommelier had to help us select a wine. Fuck, the list was huge. And our choices started at well over $200 per bottle. Many bottles cost over $1000. I can’t deal with that. My taste is so much less discriminating. Plus I had been drinking cocktails for several hours prior to dinner. Anyhow, I still can appreciate a lovely wine paired with my meal.

This pairing up idea even works with food. I love to eat food that pairs the perfect flavors together to cause a party in my mouth. Cut did this. The food was flawless.

But the best pair of all…Suz and Mike. They are married. They met in law school.

Suz picked the perfect husband, Mike. And by perfect, I mean perfect for her. He’s far too hung for me. (I kid, I have no idea.) They are the healthiest married couple I know. And by healthiest, I mean in the married sense. Sure they eat healthy, but that’s not what I mean. I admire them.

Suz has been my dearest friend who I’ve known for 20 years. We met in college right before our freshman year. Obviously we stayed friends long after college.

Cheers to Suz and Mike, the perfect pair! I love you guys. xo

And what post talking about pairs couldn’t mention boobs. Yep, they are also the perfect pair. Trust me on this one.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Tags: boobs, Food, gambling, hooker, pairs, Vegas, wine

This Wino Wednesday post was inspired by free chardonnay in Bellagio in Las Vegas. It was delicious. And free.

When I’m in Vegas I often say, “You aren’t allowed to use the terms woulda, coulda, shoulda because they are all filled with regret.”

I must say…I love Vegas. I love to gamble. I love free drinks. I love time at the pool. I love people watching. But that’s it. Therefore it is not a destination that is great to go, say when I’m married. Or at least it wasn’t back when I was married. We (husband and I, before we were exes) went once. It was a disaster.

So here’s the story. I gambled all day. Husband was attending a chef show thingy all day. Again, I was gambling all day and they serve a damn fine house wine at the Bellagio. Trust me on this one. It’s lovely.

I sat in the same exact chair all day long. I sat there through a zillion shift changes. I was doing okay gambling. Not winning big. Not losing either. Just staying even.

Hours later husband came back from conference thingy. He reminded me of our dinner reservations. He planned our entire trip around this dinner. It was a like a 15 course meal and every critic raved about every fucking course. My response to the husband, “I’m doing really well. It’ll only take me a few minutes to freshen up so I’ll meet you at the restaurant at our reservation time.” (<~ big mistake) Anyhow he went up to the room to get ready.

Time passed and I finally peeled myself away from gambling, ran up to the room to change and then raced to the restaurant. Probably forgetting panties…mostly because I was rushed and also I needed a diversion tactic for husband. These tactics don’t always work. Anyhow I got there before out table was ready. He was in the bar. I joined him, for yet ANOTHER drink. (Remember I was drinking chardonnay all day long). This time I indulged with a martini.

Finally we are seated. We get through a few courses and I realize something very important. I’m tired. Exhausted really. So I tip my head and take a cute little nap. Really though, I was sitting up the whole time. I just closed my eyes. But I also missed a few courses.

Finally I opened my eyes. I yawned and stretched. And I quickly realized husband wasn’t thrilled with dining alone. Or with me. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

We came back to the hotel room after dinner. Husband got into bed. I was no longer tired. Naps at dinner help.

As I glanced over at husband in bed I also noticed the clock. It said….11:11. It was a sign. So I bolted. Said I had to go gamble. Figured I was already “in trouble”. He was ready for bed. And I left the room.

In the casino I felt free. All alone I had a blast. And I won. BIG. HUGE. On the blackjack table.

The rest of the weekend was silent. I didn’t care. I gave him money for my portion of the fancy dinner. Hell it was only a fraction of my winnings.

Turns out…husband was pissed. Really pissed. So much so, it came up in counseling months later. And now we’re divorced. Not because of the Vegas disaster. But that trip didn’t help.

However what I did learn was that 11:11 is my good luck time. And that I should never marry a man who doesn’t gamble.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.

Tags: drinking, free, gambling, Vegas, wine