Skin It

Before I met Mr. Misha, I dated a Sheriff's Deputy named Mark.  ER nurses have the "You'll never guess what my patient had stuck up his ass!" stories. Law enforcement people have good "You'll never guess what this bad guy had stuck up his ass" stories. He would tell me all sorts of stories. I thought I knew everywhere on a body where you could hide your dope.........I was wrong.


Mark was working "Intake" at the jail. This where the patrol cops would bring in people they arrested, where people turned themselves in, etc. So he has to do a strip search on this one bad guy. He takes him into the search room and has the guy get undressed, he tells the guy to squat and cough, bend over and cough, pull you butt cheeks apart and cough, etc. Then he tells this guy to pull back the foreskin on his penis, the guy does it.........and a little baggie of dope goes flying to the floor. The best part, the guy immediately yells; "That's not mine!"




Yet another argument against circumcision.......You can keep your weed in it!

We Interrupt Breast Cancer Awareness Month To Talk About Accidental Sex

I was chatting (well, not chatting, tweeting really) with Twammogram co-founder Laura tonight and the subject turned to "accidental sex". I told her I had a story about accidental sex, but it did not involve any actual sex. There was no way I could tell this story in 140 characters-so here I am on my blog, over-sharing, AGAIN.

Some of you already know, before Mr. Misha I was with a man named Mark. He was a wonderful guy but he died. And then later I met Mr. Misha, so it's all okay- so don't start giving me the widow treatment in the comments or on twitter, I'm already feeling kinda stabby tonight. You don't want to mess with me.

Anywho, so I was living with Mark. One night, while I was preparing for a trip to Mexico with The Hoz, Mark started talking about safety precautions I needed to take on the ship and in Mexico. I listened, because he was a cop and he took safety very seriously. Then his speech took a weird turn I wasn't prepared for:

Him: So, I know you guys are going to have a good time. I don't want you to feel like you can't party like you normally do with The Hoz just because we are together.


Me: I know. I have been on trips with them while we have been together before. Remember when we were in Vegas, I drunk dialed you all night and told you about all the bald men we were accosting? I'll get drunk. I'll get loud. I'll dance, sing and yell. But you know at the end of the night, I'll be back in the cabin with Melissa, as usual.


Him: Well, I just want you to know, well, um if you had a little too much to drink and well you made-out with a dude or accidentally had sex with him or something. I'd forgive you.


Me: What? How in the hell do you accidentally have sex with someone? Do you think that I am going to get so drunk that I'll fall down while simultaneously having my pants fall off and then- AT THAT EXACT MOMENT, some random dude, whose pants have also fallen off, will trip and fall and his penis will end up inside my vagina? Is that what you mean by accidental sex?


Him: Well, no. That's not what I meant.


Me: Number One: I don't have accidental sex. I have purposeful sex. Number Two: I am going on a trip with 5 women who love you to pieces and if they saw me anywhere near another man's penis they would beat me about the head and neck until I was unconscious and then drag me to the cabin, where they would restrain me for the rest of the cruise, occasionally berating me for even thinking about another man's nether regions. Number Three: Just because you'd forgive me for accidental sex does not give you a free pass on anything. We are monogamous. If you are not happy with that arrangement, speak up and we can end it. You have sex with anyone else, accidental or not, you will have to deal with the wrath of an angry redhead.


Him: Alright. I'm glad we got that cleared up.

You can pick your friends, you can’t pick your family...

So, yesterday I shared Mark's funeral story.  I bragged about how great my co-workers were and how wonderful my friends were.  Absent from that story....my family.  Don't get me wrong, my family is hysterical and loving too.  But they are not so helpful in a crisis.  Here are the comments made to me after Mark died:

From my Step-father (a Marine):

"Well, now that the funeral is over, you should get back to work. Be tough and strong and get back to your life."

From my Father (a Marine):

"Be strong.  You need to get back to work and on with your life. "

They must have had some sort of "what to say to your daughter when her boyfriend dies" class in the USMC Officer's Training School.
From my Mother:

"I know you are upset, but think how upset I am!  You are my daughter and seeing you so sad is very hard on me.  I wish you would understand that my pain is even worse than yours!"

and her other gem...

"Well, given your age and the fact that Mark is dead.  You are probably never going to get married and have children. You should go to midwifery school and get your Master's degree."

Someone please tell me that I am not the only one with parents like this! What completely insensitive or thoughtless things have your family ever said to you?

Until That Day, I Had Been The Sane One.

Before I met Mr. Misha, I was in a relationship with a man named Mark. We were together for almost 3 years when he was killed in a car accident. I was devastated. Not only had I lost someone who I loved, I had lost the future we had planned together. I don't know if I could have made it through without the love and care from my friends and co-workers.

I had made it through the funeral mass. It was a full law enforcement type funeral with Sheriff's Deputies in their dress blues, a color guard and bagpipes. I didn't want to ride in the family car to the cemetery, so I went in my friend Val's car. The funeral procession was long, we had a police escort and Val was only a few cars behind the hearse.

I kept thinking about Mark being in the back of that hearse. I kept thinking that he probably didn't like what he was wearing. I hoped he'd forgive me for burying him in a long sleeved shirt. I just kept thinking about everything and couldn't really focus. My mind was reeling.

When we arrived at the cemetery and went to the grave site, it started to hit me. Mark was going to be put in that hole in the ground. I started to feel strange and panicked. Once he was in the ground, that was it. I didn't like the finality of burial. Val could sense I wasn't thinking straight and walked me to my seat. I was seated between Mark's mother and his Aunt, who is a Nun.

The burial ceremony went as it was supposed to, I guess. I really wasn't paying attention. I just kept staring at the casket and the hole in the ground. In fact, I started to obsess about the casket and the hole. I really didn't want the casket to go in the hole. I started to think to myself, "Holy Hell Michele, you are going to be one of those crazy women that throws themselves on the casket." Then I would think, "If the casket doesn't go in the hole, then it is not over. I don't have to try and live my life with out him." I knew that this was crazy thinking, but it didn't matter.

If Mark was in the hole, I had to start living my life again. I didn't want to. If Mark wasn't going to be in my life, then I'd rather just live in the limbo I had been living in for the past 6 days; Someone fed me breakfast, then I took a shower. I sat around and cried, and then someone would give me lunch. I would cry some more maybe even take a phone call or two. Then someone would feed me dinner and give me some pills. Then I would go in OUR bedroom, lie in OUR bed and toss and turn all night. Then it would start all over again. I was never alone, I didn't have to make any decisions, I didn't have to talk or I could talk all I want.... ramble on and on, and some one would have to listen. Once he was buried, I would have to move on, and I didn't think I could do it.

I was gonna get in the hole with him. (I decided in my mind that I was going to do it. When I made the decision, my tears stopped. I had been sitting there with tears streaming down my face and suddenly with that decision, the faucet was turn off. But as the casket was descending into the ground, the priest announced that the Deputy Sheriffs Association had brought roses for everyone to throw in the hole (he didn't say it that way, but you know what I mean). I watched as hundreds of people stopped by the hole and threw in a rose and paid their final respects. It seemed to go on forever. I knew if I tried to jump in the hole while they were around, one of them would stop me. I started crying again, this time harder. I could feel Aunt/Sister Mary put her arm around me and squeeze. I just cried harder.

After what seemed like an hour, everyone except my girlfriends*, had flung their flower. I watched as my best friends went up to the hole. Sally looked pale as she said goodbye and threw her flower, then came Trixie. Then came Brittney, whose mother had died a mere 4 hours after Mark had passed away. Then Izzy went and finally, Roxie. Roxie threw her flower in the hole and started to turn around, her foot slipped on the soft ground surrounding the hole and SHE STARTED TO FALL INTO THE HOLE! Roxie reached out and grabbed Izzy's arm. Then they both started to slip into the hole. Izzy's husband grabbed onto her and started to pull them both away from the grave. (This was no easy feat, since he did this with one arm in a sling.) Then it hit me, "YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO THE HOLE!" I saw the awkward ballet going on between Roxie, Izzy and her husband and I burst into laughter. Sister Mary thought I had gone into a hysterical crying fit and wrapped both of her arms around me and started to pray. In mind I thought, "Oh great now I am going to hell. I am laughing at a funeral with a Nun's arms around me. I am going straight to hell!" My inappropriate laughing stopped and I started to cry again.

Eventually, Izzy and Roxie got away from the grave and I got control of my laughing/crying fits. The funeral goers started to disperse and someone told me it was time to leave. I got out of my chair and went a few steps towards a tree to gather my thoughts. I needed to get my shit together, I couldn't act like a crazy woman at the wake.... there were too many health care workers there, one of 'em would notice and get me admitted to some nut house.

As I stood by the tree, I started to calm down, I started to feel like I could deal with the rest of the afternoon. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and started to walk towards Val's car. Just then, Roxie came up to me and said; "Dude, I am so sorry that I did that." I replied to her; " Dude, you saved me! I was going to be one of those crazy chicks that jumps in the hole and throws herself on the coffin! When I saw the look of terror on your face, I realized that I didn't want to go there." She looked confused as she said "Really?". I reassured and told her "REALLY! I was gonna jump in the hole, you totally saved me." She just grinned and said, "Anyway I can help out...Dude, you know I am happy to do it!"