a few of my favorite things

recipe for: a few of my favorite things:

1/2 oz amaretto almond liqueur
1 oz Bailey's® Irish cream
1 oz Kahlua® coffee liqueur
1/2 oz vanilla liqueur
1/2 oz butterscotch schnapps
1 oz vodka
7 1/2 oz milk

Shake ingredients in a cocktail shaker with ice. Strain into a highball glass, and serve.

First I had to post the recipe just to prove it’s a real drink, I would have doubts too..

So anyway as the title implies this is a list of a few of the things I live for…

1. Amarige de givenchy

    this is my favorite scent and sort of my signature, i have been using it for years now and it is as beautiful as it sounds.amarige is the ultimate symbol of femininity

2. gold jewellery

    this is one of my more recent fetishes, i used to be hardcore silver but somehow somewhere along the way i met gold and twas love at 2nd or 3rd sight, i have been true ever since

3.durex 

 i dont know if its just my mind/ pussy being choosy but i seem to be allergic to every other brand. they all make me dry up whereas am usually a dripper.

4. my weave

i have terribly hard kinky hair and i thank god everyday for the little Asian girl somewhere who makes a living growing hair for me to flaunt around. human weaves are the in thing... its no longer shady to rock a weave as long as you keep it in good condition and it at least looks real. i swear there are some people who think i have the most beautiful hair possible... hihi. shhhh... dont tell anyone but " am rocking a weave"

5. my favorite girl sheila...

i absolutely love her and in another life i know i am going to be a lesbian and marry her(i dont want to be a man) PS i chose this photo because it actually looks like something that sheila would wear.

6. Tequila, Tequila ,Tequila

i cannot say this enough, i love tequila. no explanation necessary

7. sunny rain

i love the rain but i love it even more on a sunny afternoon. i don't mind the gloomy cuddling weather kind of rain but the sunny walk in the park drizzle is just erotic, especially if coupled with a rainbow.

8.granny undiez
the bulk of my underwear collection is made up of these beauties... they are just too cormfortable to let go. i still havent gotten the hang of wearing a thong all day... how does someone survive with a permanent wedgie???

9. my best friend
my laptop. we go everywhere together. and she is the one person i miss the most when i am away from her. i call her toshi-baby. i still dont know how people survive without a personal computer and i am not in a hurry to find out.

10. my 2nd best friendz
my phones, i use the nokia as my personal phone  while the samsung z my work line, its a rusty old thing and i hardly receive any calls on it.

this list is definitely far from over... watch this space.

HELLO KITTY

I am just from a very painful but very rewarding trip to my waxer. I am loving the smoothness of me all over, although am still a bit too sore to enjoy the fruits of my hard labor. I am not ashamed to say that I cried(just a little) but the results are so worth it.

The picture is obviously not of my bushless punani but I swear mine looks just as good if not better the only reason I cannot post photos of it is because I know eventually this blog will stop being anonymous and I don’t want everyone to have seen my kitty. The boyfriend is so going to love this…

I predict a very long night tonight.

the whizz banger

Whizz banger… has a sort of sexy ring to it, don’t you agree?

A whizz-bang is the term that Sheila and I use to refer to a quickie, and also happens to be the name of a cocktail. Yeah! For me

It all started some day when we were cleaning out Sheila’s room and stumbled on some old comics, that marked the end of cleaning time and the beginning of comic reading time. Trust Sheila to turn an innocent act like that into sex talk… 

Sheila: if Billy whizz is so fast that you can barely see him pass by, I wonder how good he would be at sushi (sex)

Me: obviously too fast, you would barely feel him in there

Sheila: I disagree, I bet it would be mind blowing, the intervals between your orgasms would be shrunk to milliseconds and you would end up with one major rocketing experience, I think from now on I am going to start fantasizing about Billy whizz banging me

Me: guys who come too fast should use you to market for them… “One time only, whizz bang,”

                … And hence began the whizz-bang, now we just use it to make fun of guys who come too fast or to refer to quickies.

So yesterday the boyfriend and I had a 407 whizz-bang, it was the fastest quickie I have ever been a part of, I swear I’m not even sure it all got in there. 

He was in, he jeezed and he was out.

I am not complaining, I am just shocked, I have been having sushi with this man for a while and it’s never been that fast. Nigga must have really missed my sugar. As soon as I was in the door he groped me with an urgency that meant “strip or I will fuck you through your clothes,( I don’t even think he noticed the grannies and the hairy legs) and at least now I don’t think he cheated on me, which is just sad coz I was busy picking up used condoms from my bedroom floor when he was missing me. (I belong in hell)

Afterwards we just lay there and did the talking thing, the rare moments when the boyfriend and I are nice to each other, there were tears and apologizing and promising not to hurt each other again.

I almost feel guilty, but unlike those very dumb-ass movie characters am not half as stupid as to admit that I cheated on him just a day ago, I will just let it go. I will let karma run its course, maybe I will get cheated on eventually or better still, maybe my transgression is karma getting back at him for a past sin (comforting thought)

PS: I am just about to call Sheila and tell her all about my whizz-bang and my night with Peter. I might use the good news-bad news approach, maybe then she wont be so mad at me for cheating.

have a great day loves.

bloody mary extra hairy

1 oz vodka
1 tbsp lemon juice
8 oz tomato juice
1 celery stick
3 dashes black peppers
1 dash salt
1 pinch horseradish
1 tspdijon mustard
3 dashes Tabasco® sauce
2 dashes Worcestershire sauce

Shake all ingredients except celery in a martini shaker with ice. Strain into glass with ice and garnish with stalk of celery. Can optionally add olives, cocktail onions, or lemon/lime wedge. For a little lighter drink, cut this with a fourth to a half a can of light beer. 

I know it’s not my norm to post actual recipes but this one just caught my fancy, mostly cause of the gross name and the fact that I have no idea what Worcestershire sauce is (feel free to fill in a sister, or better yet I will just Google), plus bloody Mary extra hairy completely ties in with what am feeling right now.

Am guessing the boyfriend has decided to forgive me on account of; he broke the silent treatment-finally- .

I was almost considering myself single again. He texted today in the morning… not exactly a warm gesture but based on what I have been through in the past few days I will settle for anything. I know y’all are thinking “this guy obviously isn’t that interested in you”, but you are wrong, he is exactly perfect for me, in a way we deserve each other (am not exactly the most faithful person either).

His text was simple… “407 at 5"

Y’all probably don’t understand that, which is the idea.

Anyway 407 is a room number. It’s a thing we usually do. Some people call it spicing up the relationship, I call it ‘quickie in town in the middle of a work day’, but it definitely serves the whole ‘spicing up’ purpose.

So the boyfriend is ready to make up and wants a bit of sugar (that’s the name I gave to my pussy), you would think that I would be ecstatic. But instead am tensed, frigging tensed.

Why?” you ask,; because there are two things about me that are absolutely repulsive: 

1.     1.  I have a very ugly taste in underwear, the grandma undies are always so comfy.( agree or die)

2.      2. I am possibly the hairiest woman who has ever lived away from the arctic. 

You would think that I would be one of those people who accept their faults and flaunt them but nooo, even the boyfriend who I have been dating for a considerably long time has never ever seen ma grannies nor felt even a strand of hair away from my head. I make a point of waxing every 2 weeks and always carry an extra thong in my purse just in case am going to meet the boyfriend. I kid you not.

But this week, given the fact that I have been in a state of pre-depression, I didn’t go for my wax and worse still, i have no sexy undies…

What am I going to do?

Or is this that inevitable moment when the boyfriend finds out the true nature of the trawl that he is dating?

And to make it worse, I chose to wear that extra short but usually sexy skirt. In the morning it didn’t matter because I was driving to work and my day would be spent tucked under my desk.

I obviously cant cancel on him, he will definitely dump me now, but the thought of my hairy legs  in a short skirt or taking off these polka undies in front of him, yikes!!

I almost wish he had saved the make up till tomorrow.

I might just walk in to a random bar and order me one of those bloody mary extra hairy's to make me feel less conscious.

lady scarlet

I did it, I actually did it. It’s actually pretty hard to believe.

Right now I am feeling empowered like one of those feminazi , Martha karua types but I know deep inside I will terribly regret it tomorrow. 

Oh, y’all are probably wondering what am yapping about; well… lets just say the boyfriend didn’t call and I found out from reliable sources that he isn’t dead and rotting in his living room so I went ahead and gave Peter the time of his life, I laid him, I fucked him, sushid him up… call it what you want… its every bit as disgusting as the words used to describe it. I guess i am a lil' bit slutty, but who isn't? He is actually lying next to me as I write, blacked out or asleep or pretending to be, I do not care, I actually wish he would leave so that I could take out the bottle of tequila that Sheila and I bought to nurse our hangovers last Sunday… which reminds me, Sheila is going to kill me when I tell her what I did. I know the bright thing would be to just move on and pretend it didn’t happen but am not good with secrets and its either I tell Sheila or I get drunk and blurt it out to the boyfriend, if he still is the boyfriend that is.

I hate him so much right now; if only he had answered my calls, he would be lying here not wearing those god-awful ugly boxer shorts, and there wouldn’t be a used condom on the floor… does this fool actually expect me to pick that up? I miss my man terribly… you know, cheating might actually be healthy for relationships, its only now that I am appreciating the little things he does like disposing off the condoms far away from my bedroom floor and removing his socks before his underwear…(its true what they say, naked man in socks is not a good sight). Anyway, what kind of man agrees to go sleep over at a chicks place, call me old- fashioned but if Peter was the gentleman he appears to be I would be in his bed right now.

I hate that I miss him when he is being such an ass hole. Am tempted to hope that if at all he is with another woman right now, I hope he is hating everything about it and missing me.

I will however admit that this whole hiccup is my fault, although I do not live for regrets… this is one of those things I am sure I will regret. At least I do not have to worry about people at the office finding out. Not because peter is the all-so-reliable types but because I was labeled an office tramp long before I ever engaged in any thing worthy of qualifying me for one. No one could understand how a fresh graduate, 20 years old (at that time) could nail my job without offering up some pussy or at least some head. “Haters, the only head I offered was my brain and yeah, am that good”

So tomorrow Peter will have a tale to tell beginning with why he has repeated the same clothes to work, unless he plans to wear one of my mini-skirts.  And I will have a nerve wrecking hangover after the tequila I am about to down. Goodnight loves.

virgin's kiss

I think I will start going to work early more often, not because I love my job (which I do), nor because I have suddenly become a better person, but solely because I have discovered just how much better my days can be if they begin with a little mischief in the office…hihi, still feeling a bit naughty about what I did. Before I let you in on my morning musings and you get all judgmental I will let you in on a lil’ history of how this almost turned into a depressing day.

Why I did it…

It’s been thirty-six (36) hours since I last communicated with my so called boyfriend. I don’t even know why I insist on calling him that, the only things we have in common is that we are both hopelessly bright and have a wide array of abusive vocabulary that we pleasurably use on each other way too often to be a functional relationship. That and the fact that we have beautiful sex. Anyway, not to digress… I love-hate this man, more hate than love. He can be such an a-hole at times but I guess you have to be that way to survive some of my manic episodes.

So 36 hours and still counting. The last time I heard from him was on Sunday afternoon, I was nursing a hangover and a cold after a night out in the rain with Sheila; so you can see why I wasn’t really in the luvy-duvy-buji-wuji mood. For him, this translated as “I am cheating on him and therefore cannot speak to him” I wasn’t in the mood for an argument so I just hang up and 36 hours later, here I am still waiting for him to get back at my countless missed calls. Maybe he has left me for good this time, I know I have done it a couple of times before, I guess ‘for good’ isn’t as long as it’s cut out to be.

Who I did it with…

Peter, work mate, drinking buddy, long time crush

Where I did it…

My office, actually my boss’ office, I just have a key and a desk there…

Morning musings…

I heard somewhere that if you don’t have sex for a whole year you could actually revirginise; I have my doubts as to how true that is but I wasn’t willing to test the theory. Hence, after 1 and a half weeks of not having sex with the boyfriend, and 3 days of not speaking, I was well at my horniest, feeling like a virgin after a sex dream.

Picture this( like the setting of a lame romance novel), I am in the office snooping in the boyfriends facebook account to see if he has been active since he fell off the face of MY earth, when peter , lush and sexy, walks in to my office and jokingly mentions how it’s such a prime spot to have a quickie. He teased, I played along and when he dared me to kiss him, I lingered but only for a moment so it wouldn’t look like I had been waiting to do it since I met him.

Then I kicked him out of the office coz I knew the boss could walk in at any moment

hahaha...

Disappointed??? What did you think I did with him; I am not a complete slut you know…

But it was exciting and wrong and risky and it made me smile, and if that idiot man of mine doesn’t answer his phone by tonight-assuming he is alive and not rotting in his apartment- I will fuck the brains outa peter and blog about it!! This girl aint re-virginising any time soon

acid rain punch

There’s something about rainy mornings that just excites me.Unlike most people, nothing gives me a boost out of bed like hearing the sound of sudden heavy rain in the morning. I guess that explains why am in the office on time for the first time this year. Not that am lazy or not time conscious, I just hold one of those positions where they can’t do without me but if I miss work for three days in a week I won’t be missed, NO AM NOT A MESSENGER!! Am a programmer, as long as the i.t department is up and running I can keep my couch and tequila company at home.

I work somewhere in upper hill, I live somewhere in lavington. I am one of the lucky ones, who got to do just what they love, play with computers for a living. Needless to say I am a bit of a nerd, if there exists a classification for nerds who have ingested as much tequila as I have and still lie in the high percentile IQ level of genius, (seriously, brain cells am proud of you. Don’t know if the same can be said for my liver though)

A girl, a beer and a rain drop…

That is basically how my weekend was spent; I was out with one of my favorite girls, Sheila. She is something else, borderline crazy. The closest to defining her would be phoebe of friends. Honestly, her fashion sense is almost illegal, she knows everything about everything but somehow every word that leaves her mouth makes her sound like a blonde, the kind that cannot spell their names. She is bisexual, more like lesbian when sober, straight when drunk.(Not the opposite like most confused girls these days) we have been best-frenemies since I was about 10.

So anyway, twas Friday and I was at my place, sober, on my computer updating some program about… let’s leave out the work stuff. Phone rings and its Sheila with a ‘present’ for me which turned out to be a six-pack of reds(my favorite non-cocktail drink) and a packet of cigarettes (which I figure was more for her than for me considering that I do not smoke.

We ended up outside on the balcony, sipping, smoking and mostly just venting. Sheila hates her job, her life, her man, and everything else that walks, crawls, flies and breathes for life. Apparently now Jay, her man (who happens to be divorced and a father of two  (yikes!!), well he is being a total ass for some reason I cannot remember, evidently I wasn’t listening,am not such a good friend after all.
But that was until she actually paused and said something I have never heard her say before. “crystal, I think I love him”I thought she was just joking around to get my attention but then as if on a roll to do shocking things, she started crying.

Even after all these years, I have never known what to do when someone starts crying in front of me so I just stupidly asked “are you crying?”

Sheila: “Of course, am not crying Crystal. It’s just a rain drop”

And just as I was to discredit her excuse, the rain came pouring down as if she had made some pact with the weather, so we did what we always do when it starts raining:get warm, call a cab, and go party somewhere where there’s a rooftop and cocktails.

I may have escaped Sheila’s 'raindrop moment'  that one time but I know we still have to talk about it eventually. Am dreading that but as a good friend, I know I must.

brain damage

Cocktail names are the most interesting thing since body shots( whichever came first). I have this theory that there is a cocktail to define every mood and situation and i am out to prove it. Each and every title of my posts in this blog/site will be a name of a cocktail, and  when i run out of relevant cocktail names i stop posting, let the challlenge  begin.
y'all are free to confirm that am not making up this names... even 6 am sunrise is a real cocktail.
to make it all the more interesting i will try to sample all my titles. you are welcome to join me.
P.S in as much as i am an alcoholic, i am not obsessed about alcohol and NO,(if you were wondering) i will not bore you with purely alcoholic tales.

6 a.m sunrise

This is my first post (of many I hope, I love to write…especially to blog),
opening cue:
                “Hi, my name is crystal and I am a proud addict. My drug of choice ranges from alcohol to sex to summer rain, basically anything that can catch my fancy and ignite my inner freak. So there you have it, I am an alcoholic (the high on a Monday afternoon kind, recently toying with the possibility of being one of those people who do not remember themselves sober). I love money, even more because I have lots of it, and yes I earned it, how do you think I support my inebriations? I love to chew gum, I keep my nails long, I hate panty hose and all who wear them, I love rainy-sunny weather(the kind that rainbows are made from), I have a very diverse and interesting(not to be mistaken for sexy) selection of underwear, I recently discovered that I am a pathological liar… and any other useless facts about myself.”

whats on my mind???...Malibu-Bacardi-tonic.Thatcocktail is just too sweet to be classified among the other hard liquor. There should be a whole separate name for drinks like this and the strawberry margarita, something that rhymes with heaven or orgasm.
I might be drunk; I don’t know how to tell anymore. But I reckon with the randomness of my thoughts there must be something amiss. Anyway loves,imma go get up to some mischief and I promise to keep it naughty enough that you would want to read about it.