oopsie daisy

Should I Be Offended That He Completely Omitted "Hot?"

Last year, when I started surfing, a friend of my brother asked me if I'd be interested in doing some writing for his website about learning how to surf. I was down, but nothing ever came of it and once winter arrived, I stopped surfing in favor of snowboarding and didn't think much about it...

Until I received this in my in-box a few weeks ago:

Hey Daisy,

I'm checking in to see if you might still be interesting in writing about your experiences with surfing, as we discussed last summer.

I'm hoping for a post (or series of posts) that would makes surfing purists cringe: A vain, shallow, materialistic party-girl's perspective on surfing and its challenges.

Any interest?

That should probably upset me, but I'm too busy admiring my $700 boots and pouring myself a Ketel and soda (with lime) while wondering what super-sexy outfit I'm going to wear to tonight's socialite bar crawl.

Plus, now I want to sleep with him, so I have to say yes.

Wondering how to show that special someone you care?

A guy I'm hanging out with texted me last night to inform me that after an evening of hot tubbing and booze, he valiantly* turned down an offer of a threesome. Additionally, he let me know that this was the first time in his life he'd ever refused to have sex with a "bikini-clad girl."

I'm sharing this story so that the guys out there realize it's not always about chocolate and flowers and jewelry. Forget theatre tickets and weekend getaways and six-course candlelight dinners....

Now all you have to do to seduce a girl is turn down a hot tub threesome and then tell her all about it! If that doesn't make her swoon**, well... then, to be honest, you probably should've just gone ahead with the threesome.

So, now you know. And... You're welcome.

(*my addition)

(**in this instance "swoon" = "put out," but I think/hope you knew that)

Fortunately for Him (and Me, I Suppose), He's Hot

I'm getting ready in the bathroom this morning wearing a pair of white linen pants and a black bra when the boy I'm seeing says, "I like those pants."

I reply, "Really?" because thus far in the morning he's criticized my artwork (or lack thereof), my choice of soap (bar, and not fancy), and the absence of dowels (to hold up the window so he can smoke cigarettes at 8:45 a.m.)... all in a ten minute time frame.

"Yeah," he says. "I like them... Now I'm just waiting to see how you fuck them up with your top."

And people wonder why I drink.