Kinky Coffee

We have a little riff going on up here in Seattle.

Topless baristas.

First, it's too damn cold here (on June 4th!) to be topless. For anything. So, more power to them for braving the frigid temps. Maybe it's hot and steamy in those little coffee stands? Who knows.

And second, who cares if they want to serve coffee topless? If it offends someone, maybe someone should go to one of the other fifty gazillion coffee huts/drive thru espresso stands/Starbucks/Tully's/Mom-n-pop cafes.

I don't care for the checkers at the Walgreens on Market and 15th (they're really, really odd) so I choose to go to another drug store. Even though that Walgreens may be the most convenient place for me to stop at that time, I don't go there because it makes me uncomfortable. Thankfully, there are three other Walgreens (along with two Bartell's) in a two mile radius so if I REALLY need to go to a drug store, I have other options.

Now, I'm not getting on a soapbox about what's right and what's wrong, and I'm not telling those people who are complaining to "get over it". It's important to you. Okay fine. And if a topless baristas is worth all this energy you're using to complain, well, that's your decision. I ain't judgin'.

I'm just tired of hearing about this every day. There are so many other things to stress about it life. So a girl shows her boobies? Ack.

All this hubbub is just getting us ready for the nekkid bicyclists at the Fremont Solstice Parade. I keep saying, when I hit my goal weight of 98 lbs, I'm going ride in the parade.

Fo' shizzle.

Weekend Update

Friday night was movie night at Todd's. Although, I was the only guest, so it was really just hanging out. We walked down to Westwood Village beforehand so I could look for shoes and pick up something for a bridal shower on Saturday. Then I surrendered and watched Star Wars. For the first time. I think it's cult of somesorts. It was good, but I think I just missed the whole Star Wars curve, so a lot of it was lost on me. But I did it. I watched the whole thing.

Saturday morning, I drove allllll the way down to Covington for a bridal shower for one of the gals I have dinner with once a month. It was a small gathering with games and cupcakes and presents. Some people played it safe and got the bride a cheese grater or a waffle iron.

Oh, but not me. I am the raunchy comic relief of the group, so I have a reputation to maintain.

I got her The Art of Lap Dancing. Picked one up for myself, too.

After the bridal shower, I headed to West Seattle. Todd and I had plans to watch Hedwig and the Angry Inch (he'd never seen it!), but I needed to kill some time, so I hung out at Westwood Village, my new home away from home. And I might have accidentally bought a pair of goldish strappy heels. Oops.


They're good, right?

After the magical experience that is shoe shopping, I met up with Todd. He took me to din din at the Celtic Swell, down on Alki, then back to his house to watch Hedwig, which he just loved. And why shouldn't he? Movie dude that he is. I felt all superior pointing out the little behind the scenes things and quoting it under my breath:

"He loves me, mother. He's going to get me the hell outta here!"

And today, I have been muy unproductive. It was cold and overcast and I just couldn't seem to get out of my jammies. I did get the bathroom cleaned, since Jessica will be here tomorrow night, but that's about it. And that took two hours. I kept getting pulled back to the couch, where I would lay down and watch the Weather Channel. Love the Weather Channel.

Jamie came over around 5 and we walked down to the India Bistro for dinner. That was my big adventure for the day. I say, woohoo.

Now, I'm sleepy so I should go to bed. The freakin' birds woke me up at 6am and while I just love spring, I do not love all of the birds that were chirping at daybreak right outside my window. Don't they know some of us like to sleep in on Sundays? Ack.

Skip This Post, Mom. Trust Me.

I'm a young, hip woman who's pretty open minded about all things related to sex. Some would say that's a major understatement.

So, sex toys are not a taboo topic for me at all.

I remember years ago, my mom boxed up all my books that I had left behind when I moved here and shipped them to me. Because she's as neurotic as I am, she listed out each of the books in an email so I could let her know if there were any I didn't want, and therefore, she didn't need to ship.

An excerpt of the list looked something like this:

Maya Angelou, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
John Sandford, Eyes of Prey
Good Vibrations Guide To Sex - WHAT THE HELL IS THIS???
Good Vibrations Catalog, 1998 - WHY DO YOU NEED THIS???
Joy of Sex - WHERE DID YOU GET THIS???
Poppy Z Brite, Vampire Erotica - THIS IS DISGUSTING!!!
Stephen King, It - that's more like it

My poor mother.

Anyway, I'm not going to go any deeper into this particular topic (so you're safe), but I wanted to share a story with those of you who are genuinely interested.

There has always been the big question of how best to dispose of used toys. Let's face it - they wear out. You get bored with them. A bigger, better product has come along and you just don't have room in your toy box anymore. Throwing them away is wasteful, but you sure don't want to re-gift them. There are specific latex recycling plants, but they're normally not very convenient, if there's one near you at all. So Dan Savage, at Savage Love, has a suggestion.

If you're interested, and have often been in this position as well, read this.

Now, as my disclaimer, I don't necessarily agree or disagree with Dan. But, if you like being a pain in the ass and making a point, then it's a pretty good idea.

I May Never Drink Wine Again

Yeah, right.
But I may think twice about it after seeing this.

And I thought Target was a family friendly store......

The Infamous Spin Cycle

The one time I lean up against a washer during the spin cycle, the neighbors come home. And I look like an idiot.

You've heard about the Spin Cycle. All the vibrating, all the knockin' around......the gals seem to like it. I never knew what the big deal was, but apparently I just didn't have the right washing machine. I've never seen one thrash about enough to peak my interest.

Anyway, I still hadn't done laundry yet since I got back from Chicago, so I'm being all domestic this evening. I'm staying at Jessica's (no more Capitol Hill for me!) while she and her man are out of town until Sunday. I have the run of the place, but I don't know how long their washer and dryer takes. So I went out to check on the first load and the washer was just ramping up to the spin cycle.

Wow.

I thought the thing was going to explode. I just stood there and watched all 15 minutes of it. Fascinating. The things that were sitting on top of it looked like they were just going to bounce right off of the edge. I had images of the door on the front just shooting off and water and soap just spraying everywhere. Then it occurred to me - this must be the kind of washing machine that those kinky gals have.

So the washer finished, I switched out the clothes and came back in the house. I thought I gave the machines ample time to run their course before I went back out, but no. The dryer was cooling down, and the washer.....well, the washer was ramping up again. Taunting me. Since I knew it wasn't going to actually explode, I just sauntered over, turned around, and leaned my butt up against it.

Huh. I could see the appeal.

No sooner had I thought of turning around when the door to the little laundry room suddenly flew open and there was a very tall, very surprised woman, holding a bicycle. I must have been beet red, but I think I played it off well by standing straight up and saying "Hi! I'm Raechelle!" Following this very tall woman was her husband, whom I've met before and is aware that I'm staying here for a while. They said hi, passed through, put their bikes away then went into the apartment under Jessica's house.

The washer was still spinning, but I stayed on the other side of the room.
I've had enough excitement for one night.