Errrgh...Another Fucking Jockey With An Accent...

Ok, before I get you up to speed on tricks, I must first confess to being party to such egregious excess last weekend, that I had no other choice but to place myself under indefinite house arrest, whereby (hopefully!) eliminating the possibility of plummeting even further into the depths of degradation and social disgrace...I clearly cannot be trusted to behave responsibly (which should not be confused with behaving maturely or appropriately - I don't give a shit about either of those)...but it seems that lately it's become somewhat force of habit for me to roll the dice with the fundamentals of decorum, and even worse - self-preservation - with little regard for the myriad potentially devastating repercussions...and I'm afraid that if I don't curtail my antics soon, something dreadful is bound to happen (if it hasn't already) Yes, my kids will be home with me this weekend, so I will be safe from faltering - simply by default. But even in a week when they're back with their dad, I fully intend to stay the course...No more fuckin' around!

I'm probably certifiable to even consider divulging the details of my step down yet another rung on the ladder of my decline, but out of fairness to all of the other people for whom I've spared no mercy, here on the pages of my Big Ugly Blog, I feel that I've gotta keep hypocrisy at bay, and come clean about my own questionable conduct. I thought about sweeping this shit under the rug to avoid further tarnishing my already soiled image (gulp)...huh uh…nope! Mama ain't gon' do dat. I need to be held accountable for my unscrupulousness, same way that I hold others to theirs. And who am I kidding anyway? After a close friend pulled a National Enquirer by immediately blabbing my personal business all over fucking creation, setting a veritable wildfire of gossip before I'd even had a chance to process the magnanimity of my actions (much less leak the story, OR NOT - at my own leisure!) - attempting to implement damage control at this point, would be moot. And while we're on the subject of this particularly hurtful betrayal by my good friend, let me just say that I still have yet to tell a single person about my whistle blower's own sketchy escapades, equally as appalling as anything that I've ever done...sometimes worse. Bottom line - I try to keep my friends' best interest at heart and to protect them, not exploit them. It was such a dagger to discover that this alleged friend of mine had hopped on that hampster wheel of hearsay, and then quantified it by saying that what he did was no more damaging than when I told someone that he and I had gone to the titty bars, the night before...say huh? From where I'm sitting, there is no comparison...at a strip club it is mandatory to keep one's clothes ON and to NOT touch anyone else...my story is bereft of both. I guess he opened his big fucking mouth to try and get even with me for having cast what he perceived to be an unfavorable light on his reputation (yeah right) I've got so much atrocious dirt on the guy - far worse than going to an innocuous strip club... maybe I should reciprocate by spreading THAT shit around, and see how he likes it.........K, I feel better now...

Anyway...enough about him - back to me. So why AM I doing this...why am I so hellbent on bolstering rather than diffusing this polluted self-image that I perpetuate...all I can say is that this time, I'm kinda thinking that vilifying myself here in the blog might effectively shame me into some sort of submission...let us hope...

And now, folks - without further ado...the news as I see fit to report it...

So, following my foray with the Mystery Man (and I promise not to flog this dead horse much beyond a paragraph or two...) I worried myself to death over the little condom slip-up (or slip-OFF, as it were) The more I thought about the (potentially major) mishap, the more it became my near undoing. I decided that it would be prudent of me to go get an s.t.d. screen...I mean, the way I saw it - Mystery Man travels to the ends of the earth - saving the world and all that stuff, right? And he's clearly not as morally fixated as I had erroneously assumed, so it's entirely possible that the guy keeps girls at every corner of the world...AND - if the condom slippage thing is a recurring theme in his sex life, well then...he could easily have been exposed to all kinds of icky stuff...and then so could have I.

I finally succumbed to my anxiety the following Saturday evening when I plunked myself down in line with the swine flu patients in their masks, the college kid with the limp, the single father with the four sick boys and the feeble old couple - there at my local Urgent Care.

After making it through the long wait, the mortifying process of apprehensively describing the reason for my visit to the doctor on call, then giving blood and being swabbed (fun) and lastly - enduring the agonizing 5 day waiting period til my test results were in...I am happy to report that I was bestowed with a glorious clean bill of health...Although, the nice lady who gave me the good news over the phone, did recommend that I get re-tested for HIV in 6 months (incubation period and all that)...GREAT...so at least I have THAT to fester over, for the next half a year...nonetheless, I was cautiously jubilant.

Following that, I slogged through the last two epic blog entries and met my own personal deadline to post both (in tandem) before my turnaround trip to NYC...and by the time I clicked the "publish post" button for the last time, I had somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 (scattered) hours of writing time (for these two entries) under my belt, it was 2:00 a.m. and I was kaput...literally sapped - emotionally and physically...The trip to New York was my reward, and while I was there - I had the absolute most (clean) fun a person can have in 15 hours...Afterwards, my exhaustion was tenfold, but somehow I was strangely refreshed, and lovin' (more than ever) my new blond do and I was seriously considering the notion of taking back my bitchin' maiden name...it was feeling like this Autumn might be ushering in a dramatic change for the better...

The weekend after my whirlwind excursion to the Big Apple, my chilluns were to be staying with their dad, which meant that I would be flyin' solo...but there was nothing, and I mean NOTHING going on with me and any online guys. I had been talking to the 40-something, chiseled, enigmatic Hired Gun, for the last several weeks. His return to the United States from the Middle East was to coincide with my childless weekend, but for the last few days - every time that I tried to send him an email to ask his whereabouts, it would never leave my outbox...hmmm...I began to wonder if he'd run across the Big Ugly or something, and had decided to block me from contacting him anymore, not wanting to fall victim to my vampiric tendency to suck the dignity out of men in order to provide the lifeblood to a successfully scandalous blog post. So I gave up...for awhile...and switched gears. I now planned on a mellow weekend, spent tending to my neglected yard and catching up on housework like a good, little girl...Oh yeah...and I was to attend the Fall Point to Point Horse Races (almost forgot!) - always a guaranteed drunkfest smack dab in the middle of a Saturday - giddyfreakinup! I had spoken to a friend, earlier in the week, and after she mentioned that she would be working at the races, I jested that maybe she could introduce me to some jockeys or something (nudge, nudge)...what with the suspension in my online dating activity and all, it might behoove me to look a little closer to home for some new material about which to dish.

I worked a bit later than I usually do on Friday evening, which was fine since I had no plans to speak of, and as soon as I hopped into my cute, little car to head home, I answered a v.m. from Curlymoe. He'd asked what I was doing that night. I said, "Nada" and he replied, "Cool, you're going out with me, Big Tall Drink and (our other friend) Duster"...So much for a mellow night at home cleaning and putzing around on my trusty ole Mac, but Curlymoe's plan sounded far more enticing indeed.

Curlymoe, Big Tall, Duster and I had drinks at my house, and then hit the bars downtown - as is the norm. I found it oddly empowering when good ole Jimmy's current gf (a bartender at one of our favorite haunts) walked past me and my arid double old fashioned numerous times, then motioned to me while whispering something to her co-worker who responded to her with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a comforting glance (oh please...) He then relieved her of the nuisance of having to serve me...Huh?...What tha fudge?...That girl wouldn't wait on me...What the heck was her problem? I'd never done anything to her...well, other than having successfully escaped Jimmy's Hell, which ("Sucks to be YOU, bitch!") was now HER cross to bear...(I guess I'd be pretty bitter, too) And I mean I 'spose she could've overheard me bustin' on her horsey fuckin' teeth and referring to her as "mousy" as shit...and there was that little jab about how awful she looked in those jeans that she was wearing, but come on! Was she really so threatened by me or whatever, that she couldn't pull up her big girl pants and just bring me a fresh fucking cocktail? Honestly, her weakness did nothing but give me this sense of power...of intimidation...and I kinda liked it...

The boys and I bailed on the downtown scene and opted to finish out a typical night of retardedness at a "gentleman's club" in West Va.. I don't know what it is about that place, but I am all the freak over it. I just always have the best time whenever I go there, and that night - I found it terribly amusing that the dancers gave me more attention than they gave to the handsome, young men - squiring me about...

By the time we left the club, it was late as shit and I had been smoking like a fish and drinking like a chimney (or however the hell that goes)...all......night......long...ugh. Big Tall and I wiled away the long car ride home by engaging in a massive make-out scene...until I finally conked out in his lap....so that was fun.

The next morning, the four of us rolled our weary asses out of the various beds in my house where we had crashed (separately!)...and despite all of the smoking and drinking and lack of sleep the night before, I had no other option but to rally, since I was to be a volunteer at a fundraising tent at the races that day...*urp*

Once I arrived at my post, I lubricated myself with a couple of diet sodas before hesitantly accepting a "get-well" Bloody Mary from a thoughtful friend. By this time it was maybe 12 noon............"And they're off!"

Big Tall and Curlymoe opted out of another consecutive day of debauchery so I was instead accompanied by Duster, Panama Jack and Willow at the races.

It was an exceptionally gorgeous, early Fall day. I was recuperating from the shit show the night before - very nicely - and found myself in a festive, cheery mood the whole way around...that is until my heart leapt up to my throat when I got word of a Grey Ghost sighting. Now I've never really told you guys very much about the Grey Ghost, and I'm still not gonna - except to say that he is the cause of the "unmentionable chaos" from the "Pleading The Fifth On This One" entry...I will also tell you that knowing he was within close proximity to me, definitely gave me that pit in the ole tum tum...(which we all know can be as thrilling as it is nauseating...)

Knowing that Grey Ghost had to be somewhere close by, I pretended to innocently stroll the grounds, while actually searching the crowd for him from behind my dark Ray Bans...and after I finally located him, I nonchalantly planted myself (facing away from him) about 20 feet from where he was sitting and made like I gave a shit about the race which was underway...I was unsure if I should approach him or not. Grey Ghost was obviously the bigger man than I, cuz after maybe 5 minutes or so, he walked right up to me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the check...and so began our torturous rest of the afternoon, spent squirming and grimacing at each other over our inability to do all that we wanted to be able to do...together. For the remainder of the day, we either hovered around each other (our personal space overlapping slightly from time to time) or kept tabs on each other from a distance, behind our dark glasses. The chemistry between us is undeniably sick...seriously sick I tell you...and there ain't a goddamned thing that we can do about it...fuckin' sux...

K, so once the races had ended, Panama Jack, Duster, Willow and our absurdly young friend, Eva (I swear to god, if my friends get any younger, I'm gonna be hanging out with my 13 year old daughter's classmates...sheesh!) all met up with a few other buds at a local pub for Happy Hour. Panama Jack - a shameless flirt and wasted to boot - had this one waitress, Jaws (ewww?) all worked up. At some point, when I went to my car to get a sweater, Jaws met me out in front of the restaurant and asked if P.J. was serious about taking her out, like he'd indicated. In an attempt to try and dissuade her from taking him too seriously, I told her that it could probably happen if she wanted it to, but cautioned that if they did get together (knowing P.J.) it would most likely be nothing more than just for that night, "if you get my drift" which she did. Nevertheless, she immediately jotted down her name and number on an order ticket for me to hand to P.J.. I guess my plan to try and get her off his back by portraying him as a sleazy player kinda backfired (tee hee) There were definite oral hygiene issues with the girl, problems so profound that the rest of us teased P.J. that if he did hook up with her (a joke in and of itself) he might be wise to forgo the blowjob (should she offer)...God knows, those few black and jagged teeth of hers could wreak havoc on tender wiener flesh...*shudder*

Next, our jovial group was off to a party nearby, which wound up to be fun and all, but not nearly entertaining enough to warrant us staying there til well after 2 in the flipping morning (although I did take a $10 bet to give a 24 year old guy the first kiss of his life...so that was entertaining) Willow was the only smart one of the lot, cuz she managed to walk away unscathed when she called it a night right about 2...but the rest of us - oh my...well...let me just see here...

P.J. disappeared for awhile with the waitress and returned in time to interrupt a heated argument that I was having with this ridiculously snockered thinks-she-is over her bad refereeing of a stupid drinking game, only to reveal to me that he'd pshawed the group's sensible advice about the blowjob ("if you get my drift")...Evidently 2 a.m. was the witching hour, cuz not long after P.J. returned from his liaison with Jaws, Duster LEFT with her...yeah...it was like that......I was in the house, innocently finding my fun doing pull-ups on the door trim in the dining room, when I realized that I hadn't seen Eva in awhile...she and I were traveling together so I didn't want to totally lose track of her...and at that very moment, something truly bizarre transpired...I had taken a break from my pull-ups, to chat with an interesting young man about his musical genius, when someone beckoned for me to come meet some jockey (the Rough Rider) I whipped around and instantly my eyes met and locked on the eyes of a man my height or shorter...his face unique and interesting...unconventionally attractive. I looked into that unusual face and got stuck there for what felt like eons...When we finally broke our stare, the words, "Woah...what the hell was THAT?" literally fell outta my mouth. I gotta tell ya', in all of my horny, slutty life...I have never been so overpoweringly, immediately physically drawn to a man.

After a brief group discussion and comparison of male nipples (please tell me that I didn't show mine too) the Rough Rider and I slithered away from the crowd that was assembled there in the dining room. I willingly followed him, spellbound by that insane magnetism that held me prisoner within his orbit. We wasted no time getting familiar - first on the steps, and then on the couch in a room where someone was trying to sleep...and finally we ended up out at my cute, little car...At some point during our rapacious tangle, I broke stride and tried to talk to him a bit (perhaps feeling guilty about giving so much over to a man of whom I knew almost nothing) I asked him how old he was and he whispered in his velvety Welsh accent, "Thuh-tee tooo"...I practically dissolved...you know like when Morticia Adams speaks French to Gomez, hahaha! I dunno...something like that...In a nutshell - with those words...in that dialect - the Rough Rider had the power to do whatever he wanted with me...I repeatedly implored him to "Say thirty-two"..."Thuhtee-tee tooo" (oh shiiiitttt...) "Say it again"...

When Rough Rider and I returned to the party, Eva greeted me by sheepishly admitting to having just gotten busy with some guy out in the field and I was like, "What the fuck is going on here?!" First P.J. and Duster both mixing it up with that skanky waitress, and now Eva and me simultaneously messing around with random guys at a party at 2 in the morning? What the hell kind of phase was the moon in that night for four outta the five of us friends to behave like such miscreants? Something was definitely in the air...or something...

P.J. skeedaddled and so now it was only me and Eva left to mill around the dwindling party, with guilty looks on our faces like, "What? Who me?" We decided to split, and on the way out to my car I noticed that the Rough Rider was following us. I seriously do not recall making a plan for him to come back to my house, but it seemed he was intent upon doing just that...and I wasn't the slightest bit bummed...

I reached my cute, little car a few seconds before Eva and was horror-stricken to find a spent condom laying deflated - on the roof. Jesus! I must have been more shitfaced than I'd known cuz I had definitely blocked out anything involving a condom. I did however, clearly remember pulling a rawther noteworthy "Jaws" maneuver on the Rough Rider...heh heh heh...

I pulled into my garage and the Rough Rider parked in the driveway. Yup...looked like he would be stayin'. I directed Eva to her sleeping quarters and then the Rough Rider and I geared up for round two. I told him that I needed to go down to my car to get condoms and he whispered, "I'm clean" and I said, "So am I...just got negative test results back a few days ago" and so...like a complete dumbass...I went for it..."raw dog" (as Curlymoe phrases it)...not too cool, eh?

On a bright note though, the sex was insane! The Rough Rider was absolutely the most physically aggressive man with whom I have ever gotten cozy, bar none. His power was particularly impressive considering his diminutive stature. At one point, he bit my lip so hard that it immediately swelled up like I'd been punched in the face. Not long after that, I was absolutely certain that he had bitten my nipple all the way OFF! I wondered (before making sure that it was still intact) if a nipple can regenerate...or is it a body part that if removed, would need to be stitched back on...

When the whole thing was over (and I am NOT exaggerating here) it felt like not only the jockey, but also his mount had had his way with me...holy fucking FUCK! My shit was utterly wrecked...

It was 4:30 in the morning when the Rough Rider and I finally passed out. I awoke at around 6 a.m., to catch a final glimpse of him as he pulled my bedroom door closed behind him...I didn't even know the guy's name...

The next morning, the boys met me and Eva back at my place to swill coffee on my porch and to commiserate over the night's kooky string of events. We considered all of the evidence, and tried to determine who had committed the worst faux pas...but being a diplomatic bunch, we decided that it was pretty much a toss-up...

By Monday morning, I was feeling fairly confident that I in fact, had nabbed the prize in the "Who was the Stupidest One at the Party?" contest, for a multitude of affronts...but by Tuesday, my victory was unquestionably sealed. I picked up a call from P.J. who had found out that - the eponymous Rough Rider...'deed has a steady girlfriend...and that the girlfriend...had been at the party that fateful night...and as it turns out...I know her...whoops!

You know, the strangest thing about all of this, is that no matter how offensive every single little aspect of my acute delinquency, the thing that bothers me the most is the fact that I had sex without a condom. That part really messes with my head. The other stuff, I can almost live with...But now I get to look forward to an(other) uncomfortable visit with my gyno in a few days, get the whole s.t.d. thing done all over again and hope that I haven't used up all of my "get out of jail free" cards.

The funny part is, that in a self-fulfilling prophesy kinda way - I did get my wish...to dish about a jockey…