Fresh beginnings...

After a few hours of meaningless web surfing, I finally found a new blog template. I figure the refreshed availability of blog posting opportunity deserves a new design. And this one isn't nearly as dark as the old one and fits me much better. Pink diamonds? Hello? Yes! Plus, it looks sassy, and this is Sassy Pie after all.

This past week I had my first strip club experience. I know, right? I can't believe it took me until the age of 26 to hit a strip club either. I wanted to go much, much sooner, but Erf never wanted to go. I met a my friend Jilly out at a local Irish bar Tuesday night, and let me just say that apparently Irish bars are the places where hot guys hang out. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus, it was a veritable meat buffet in there. We decided to go to a local strip club that Jilly used to waitress at, and I was, of course, super excited. We walked in, and it was fairly tame. It was a Tuesday night, of course, so it was pretty much a bunch of regulars. We met a few of her guy friends there and hung out with them. They paid for our drinks, which, hello? Awesome!

Then I got to get a little dance from a cute stripper named Myth. She had a nice ass, a tight body and small tits. First she wrapped her leg around the back of my neck (hot!) and slapped my face with her thigh and ass. Then she got down on her knees and proceeded to praise my boobs... It was awesome. "Oh my god, these are Baywatch boobs! You could just see them running down a beach!" And then she snuggled into them, and told me they were so soft and comfortable she could just fall asleep on them. Yeah, that pretty much describes my rack. Next time I'll have to make sure I wear a really low cut shirt so I can have the stripper's face in my tits.

And holy mother lover, am I ever enjoying being single. It all began with the most interesting pickup line ever, and it's been nothing but fun (and sometimes awkward) times since then. From finding a talented friend with benefits to making out with a guy I've never met before, to getting free drinks at the bar, I've been loving every minute of it. I've always been a social creature, and during my years with Erf I became progressively introverted and someone who wasn't herself. It was like that chick from Titanic. I felt as if I was in the middle of a crowded room screaming, and no one even looked up. That feeling of being trapped inside someone who isn't you, it's terrifying. I'm returning more and more to myself, and a lot of that involves finding out new things I never knew. It's wonderful and scary, but necessary. I can't be someone I'm not.

Not anymore. :)

The little girl is growing up...

I've got big girl internet now! As in totally and completely mine, no one else can kype it. And I shall call my network, '404 Error'. I figure anyone in my apartment building that has any idea what it means will get a chuckle out of it.

And the sweet Southern technician was kind enough to give me the hookup of free basic cable. So now I also have 70 channels instead of the basic local channels. Which means I can freaking watch CAKE BOSS!!! Fuck yeah.

I have had a post in my head for quite some time now, the thoughts they have been bubbling and colliding and usually it just ends up with me getting a fucking headache. But now, my kittens, I can freaking post it!

This all began with a status update on Facebook. Something asking why, when people are asked what they would bring to a desert island, does no one ever respond with, 'a boat'? I proceeded to respond with a long rant about how stupid people can be. Because really? Why is it that people always respond to that question with something stupid like, 'OMGZ!!1 I can't live without my iPod!!!'

Honestly, a fucking mp3 player? For real? I mean I get that you want some form of entertainment, but how in the hell do you plan to recharge that iPod? You get to choose anything on the planet to bring with you, and you're choosing four or five hours of entertainment. And if you do manage to create some bastard child coconut invention that will recharge it, you're not ever going to have anything but your current playlist. Eventually you will be one of those crazy Castaway fuckers who is dancing about the island in a horribly assembled coconut bra and nothing else, dancing the 'Vogue'. And if by some chance you are encountered by rescuers, you'll probably run into the brush, curl up in the fetal position, and softly sing, 'Like A Prayer' to yourself in a soothing manner. Moral of the story? Life isn't a mystery. Pick something a little more realistic and sensible than temporary satisfaction.

The other people who entertain me are the ones who decide to bring their Chanel lipstick. Or whatever the fuck brand name crazy expensive tube of mashed up bug carcass they're attached to. Who the hell do you need to impress out there? The vultures who will surely be gnawing your rotting body? Because if you're going to be stupid enough to choose lipstick as your 'can't live without' item, you're definitely going to be dead within a month. Be practical and bring a water filtration system. Really.

Where are the practical people who choose things like water filtration systems, radios, boats, fat people to eat, solar charged vibrators, etc? I get that it's a metaphorical question, but why answer in a way that makes other people question your intelligence?