Naked Christmas Party

I feel like there's a common theme developing on Shit I Don't Tell Most People.
Beyond the obvious theme -that this really is shit I don't tell in polite company (polite 'company' excludes most of my friends, of course), there is another theme that keeps popping up.

And I think that theme is nudity. Or better yet, nakedness. Yes, that's it.

Nudity is very clinical. Something you need to wear while at your annual girl-parts exam or half of what you forced to be during childbirth. 

Nakedness, on the other hand, is dirty. Skeevy. 
Often it's sexy.

Often it is not.

And these are the times I seem to like to talk about the most. I cannot begin to imagine why.

But anyway, this all brings me to the story of: How Our Annual Christmas Party Became a Naked Christmas Party. 

(*I would now like the reader to imagine the voice of the Burl Ive's pedophilic-looking snowman from the old, stop-motion-animated, Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer television special)

The Founder of FKC

It began like any other Christmas party, many, many years ago....

Waay too much cake, candy, home-made hummus that tastes like watered-down cardboard and a "fun" gift exchange (the kind where you all take numbers then have the choice of opening a gift or stealing a gift that has already been opened by someone else) that went on for hours. 

No joke. Hours. Because the thing was, it was not a White Elephant gift exchange- for some reason, most of us at the party actually prided ourselves on bringing a cool gift. Everyone there actually wanted to have that gift that nobody could live without. The gift that kept getting stolen again and again.

But even though most of us scored cool gifts, the constant gift-swiping made the gift exchange go on too long and ultimately kill everyone's buzz.

So new rules were in order. One year the Tall Guy and I hosted the party and we made a list of rules that included that any coveted gift could only be stolen a total of three times. This helped tremendously but still, by this time, we'd been getting together with the same group of friends for  maybe five years, and the party was getting a bit stale. 

It was around 2001 and most of the couples in my group of friends had small kids as well as most of their irrational lifestyle choices, behaviors and drug use were well behind them. My theory is that within the boundaries of the hum-drum life of raising kids and paying mortgages, getting to bed early and taking our vitamins.

We all were well and truly bored with our happy, drama-free lives and so that's when things took an unexpected turn.

The annual Xmas Party became the XXX-Mas Party when new rules were created in order to prevent the gift exchange from going on too long. If someone tried to steal your gift, you could effectively "block" that steal by removing an article of clothing. And if the person that tried to steal the gift to begin with, still wanted the gift in question, he or she could take off a piece of their clothing in order to 'block' the initial 'block'.

And thus, the 'Strip-Off' was born.

The first person naked would get to keep the gift.

The Tall Guy and I missed the first time the nakedness happened because we happened to be living overseas at the time. However, soon after the new year we were blessed with blurred photographic evidence that arrived in a package at our apartment in South Korea. We had sent a gift package to be given away at the party with various Korean nicknaks, including a small, purple poloroid camera. Some of the 1 inch x 1 1/2 inch photos taken that night were included in the package (that also contained some other stuff that I've completely forgotten about). 

Several pictures showed one of numerous different (male) party-goers, each about to collapse in laughter, while wearing a sock.

One sock.
Not on his foot.

So it began twelve years ago as a few guys stripping down to one sock or in later years, proudly showing off a 'Man-gina' and has since evolved (de-volved??) to either gender stripping down to nothing at all. No more socks for the guys or standing coyly behind a towel used as a shield for some of the women. The "NO PHOTOS!!!" rule has turned into a "NO POSTING YOUR PHOTOS ON FACEBOOK" rule that everybody follows. 

It now known as The Naked Christmas party. Or the XXXmas Party, take your pick. 

Although I'm pretty modest, I think the premise and each and every Strip-Off is absolutely hilarious. I have tried to explain this to my non-Naked friends but they don't get it. And they usually look at me kinda funny. And when I think about it- I don't really get it either.

I'd like to say it's because it's a super-sexy turn-on, but it's not. Much of the time it's a hairy, forty-year old dude that is dropping trou'. And if you were unlucky enough to be sitting next to him before the Strip-Off began, there's an excellent chance you will have the worst seat in the house when that hairy guy bends down, pushing his boxers to his ankles. Please use your imagination to picture your view...

And even the Strip-Off's that may begin as sexy, usually wind up being silly- like the time a couple guys both got naked at the exact same moment. The 'Judge' (the party hostess, who has never taken off even a scarf) decided that a foot race in sub-freezing temperatures would be needed to determine the true winner.

A naked foot race.
Around to the end of the block and back.

Or the year that one of the ladies had just gotten fake boobs installed and was eager to show them off. The men at the party were more than happy to enjoy, if not totally promote each and every possible Strip-Off opportunity by stealing gifts that they didn't even want (like a fondue set or nice serving dishes). It wasn't long before New Boobs was naked and then decided to goofily demonstrate a Shake Weight while topless. It is a vision that is now burned into my memory as it was probably more funny than sexy.

And now that Christmas is done and The Naked Christmas Party is over for another year, I am relieved once again.

Now I have eleven months to find a strip-worthy gift and worry a little bit less about cellulite or having matching bra and panties clean and folded in my dresser. I will not deny or confirm whether or not I've ever won a strip off, but I will say that I do own a very nice, over-sized matching tea cup set.

Sex, Zoos and Churros

It has come to my attention that since having kids, the sex the Tall Guy and I have is not like the sex I had when I was younger. 

I realized this when neither of us could remember when the last time we had sex was. In our lame-ass defense, the weeks without were due in large part to Tall Guy's business/travel schedule and my a-hem, biological schedule, if you know what I mean, ladies.

And to make matters worse a close friend needed some dating advice which reminded me how much has changed in the past four years. My friend was planning a date that included a picnic and a little hanky-panky in the great outdoors. Naturally, she immediately thought to call me for my expert opinion on the best way to plan sex in a place that is public, illegal and/or morally objectionable.

So I mentally tallied up the weirdest places I had sex before having children and provided it below for your perusal.

(*This may or may not be a totally complete list)
(**If you know me and know about another place I had sex, please feel free to mention it in the comments section below)
(***If I had sex with you, thank you, I'm sure I had a good time, please refer to above guidelines)

Weirdest Places I Had Sex Before Having Kids

Floor of a hairdresser's work station 
It was July, it was the only place my boyfriend and I could find that had a lock and no parents (it was his mom's business) and it had no air conditioner. It was so humid it was like having sex in a rain forest. A rain forest covered in hair. A hairy rain forest. 
When we were done we looked like Churros but covered in the hair of strangers, not delicious cinnamon sugar.

A Churro Threesome would be delicious
A hairy two-some, not so much

A Graveyard 
On Halloween night. Don't make me tell the underage-sex-in-a-graveyard story again. 

Oooooooooohhhh.....scaaaaarrry!
Or just plain creepy, anyway

I mean, who hasn't done this, right?

On top of a toolbox
My boyfriend was a mechanic and it was one of those big, Craftsman/Tim the Tool Man type red things on wheels. 

It looks much bigger in person...
 Yep, heard that one before, pal

Can't say why this happened or if it was fun. I can tell you that I got my TruCoat for no additional cost.

Thanks, Mr. Lundegaard!

On top of my 89 Jeep Wrangler while working for Fish and Wildlife
Right after college, the Tall Guy and I each worked as field biologists chasing big or slimey animals up mountains or through streams. We lived in the field, me in a cabin, he in a tent, hundreds of miles apart for weeks at a time. 
One weekend Tall Guy volunteered at my job and helped us capture bears in order to put satellite collars on them. The day he was leaving to go back to his job we realized (after having not seen each other for several weeks already) that our paths would not cross again for another six weeks. 
We made a hasty decision and worked quickly with belts and hiking boots and our Leathermans to get things done before my co-workers showed up at the trail head in their own vehicle. 

If only this multi-purpose tool could talk...

We made ample use of the roll bar.
Use your imagination.

Tuzigoot National Monument
Once again between field jobs, the Tall Guy and I made good use of a rendezvous in the middle of the desert.

I'd like to say that we did it in one of the hundred or so rooms in these amazing ruins but the museum was closed and so we were stuck utilizing the Jeep once again. The hood of it was delightfully frigid as the temperature dropped into the 40s. 

This multi-room pueblo was built by the Sinagua people. It is Spanish for, "without water"
 It was not built  for white people "without sex" but Jeeps most certainly were

Who knew the desert could get so cold at dusk? My ass, that's who knew. It may have been the quickest sex of my life.

In Front of an Exotic Bird Exhibit at a Zoo
Don't ask what zoo because I won't tell you.
I will tell you this, however, since I used to work at a zoo...I know things....
Lots of people have sex at the zoo.

"No" means "No", Smokey! No means No!

And I mean not just the drunk and horny zookeepers.

Upstairs from a Veterinary Office Somewhere in London
A disturbing trend has been discovered. 
Apparently I seek out sex in closed places of business where I am likely to become covered in hair or grease.
Luckily for me (and you, the nauseated reader) it all ended here. Or shall we say, it began?
Fast forward exactly 280 days from this day in London....

On the Eve of My First Born's Due Date
We threw a, "We're Having a Kid Tomorrow So Please Trash Our House for the Last Time for a Long Time Party". I'd like to say that I had been drinking something besides water that night but of course, I hadn't been. I don't remember if the Tall Guy had been but I imagine he needed to be wasted to have sex with me by that point in the pregnancy.

The next morning after I showered I woke the Guy up and we drove to the hospital.
And nothing's been the same since :)


Weirdest Places I Had Sex Since Having Kids

On Top
This was my go-to gig before I was busting-at-the-seams pregnant. I'd kinda forgotten about the fabled, On Top oft spoken about by ladies with fewer years and labial folds until recently. 

So I've been busting this one out a bit lately and the reviews are good. 
It's not just Two Thumb's up I'm getting, if you know what I mean...

Still not in the mood after having kids but hubby's nagging you?
Show him this image immediately
You're welcome.

Now go on- go have sex in a weird place or better yet...

Where is the weirdest place you've had sex (and don't say, the City of Mesa)???

                                                                         *****

Don't forget about Theme Thursday!
Check out the link below to see what other blogger's have to say about Sex since Kids....
 http://cloudywithachanceofwine.com/1397-2/)

Sex and Two Vaginas and the City

Sometimes on special nights the Tall Guy and I let our daughters have what we call, with much enthusiasm  "Picnic Dinner!". 

For the kids, Picnic Dinner! means a complete dinner made up of food that are both palatable and easy to eat for little hands (think fish sticks, chicken strips, green beans, knuckle bones, etc). They get to have their Picnic Dinner! while sitting on a blanket in front of the tv watching a movie of their choice.

For the adults, Picnic Dinner! means dinner with few interruptions. In other words, we get to relax in silence (this is where people who do not have children would normally converse).

Tonight I was particularly grumpy due to a hunger-induced migraine and painful knees and was bitching and moaning about how much I hate Winnie the Pooh. 

Born in the 1920s, Pooh may have been the first
to wear a Baby Doll Tee  

I hate his voice, his stupidity, his friends and especially his stupid, too-small shirt. 

It should come as no surprise that Scotty J.,
 both the intellectual and physical equal of Pooh,
was a fan of  ill-fitting  shirts

I usually ignore what little tv my kid's watch because I find it unbelievably annoying 

(see previous post about that nitwit, Franklin) but as we sat and ate dinner I could not ignore the 250 inch television in the living room. And then it suddenly hit me- 

Winnie the Pooh is a children's version of Sex and the City!

Not nearly as glamorous or artfully filmed, Hundred Acre Wood is like a co-star to Winnie the Pooh just as NYC is to Sarah Jessica Parker. And instead of being obsessed with boozing it up, Pooh and his friends are typically gathered at the end of each show around a gigantic vat of honey instead of Appletini's or Cosmo's or gay male friends.

Still not convinced that Darren Star and Alan Milne were kindred spirits?
Read on...

Pooh vs. Carrie
Ok, both are obviously the protagonist and in need of help of some kind. Neither are complete without the rest of their weird gang of friends. Both are obsessed with their midriffs. 

Apparently even outside of the Hundred Acre Wood it
is difficult to find shirts that will cover the 'rumbly in your tumbly'

Eeyore vs. Miranda
Both tend to be the stick in the mud (or honey) and neither knows how to accessorize  That bow on Eeyore's ass does not count.

Don't like empowered women like Miranda Hobbes??
Well, FORK YOU!

And neither do those earrings.

Piglet vs. Charlotte
Always cheerful and upbeat, both these feminine and perky people prefer pink.

"I just want to be a wife and a Mother", said  Charlotte

"I just want to be a husband and somebody's 'other' Dad", said Piglet 

The Kangaroo (Kanga) vs. Samantha
Kangaroo's have a bicornuate uterus which is practically like having two vaginas. 
Enough said.

What do you mean, she gets TWO vaginas?? 

.*Spoiler alert*
We won't be forced to get to see another Sex and the City movie sequel until Kim Cattrall finagles a second vagina written into her contract.

Rats!

Getting Freaky in a Graveyard

This is going to sound really bad. 

I had sex in a graveyard.

Once.

When I was 17.

It sounds a lot worse than it really was. The idea of it, that is, not the sex itself. The sex was not bad, I'd say mediocre, at best.

To begin with, the act was performed with a boy that I was in love with and who had been my boyfriend for over a year. We had a mutually respectful relationship and we were looking for another way to connect. 
And also, new places to screw and not get caught by our parents.

And in my defense, it was a pet cemetery.

Even as a child, I had always loved the scare you could get watching a good horror movie. I was only five  when my parents took me to see a double feature that included Jaws and The Omen. I was wearing my pajamas and clutching a stuffed animal as I watched a giant, fake shark terrorize a New England beach from the back seat of our fake-wood paneled station wagon. 

To this day I cannot imagine why my parents thought it was a good idea to take me to see two of the scariest movies ever made. Strangely, it didn't freak me out, rather, it just made me really like horror movies. And surprisingly, there is no long-term psychological or emotional damage to me in spite of this early trauma (that we know of). That said, it was probably not the best parenting decision my folks made prior to their divorce a few years later.

By the time I'd reached high school, as far as I was concerned, there were no more good scary movies being made. They were too unrealistic, lacked imagination and the plots and dialog were always too stupid to believe. I was in need of a good scare and decided that my friends and I should visit a graveyard not too far from where we lived. Reluctantly, they agreed.

Maybe to insure that at least one person wouldn't back out at the last minute, I told my boyfriend that I wanted to 'do it' while we were there. Because that would be reeeally fucking weird scary.

He enthusiastically agreed. Not so much because he wanted to get laid in a cemetery- he just wanted to get laid. Anywhere.

It was around ten o'clock when the six of us arrived and parked behind the middle school across the street. We killed a couple of hours drinking, smoking and telling ghost stories before we all had the courage to leave the bleachers and head in the direction of the pet cemetery. We crossed the street and climbed over a short, chain-link fence that surrounded the cemetery. Out of fear all six of us walked in a tight cluster holding hands. We covered our mouths between muffled giggles and whispering, "BOO!"to each other, in hopes that the living neighbors whose houses surrounded the yard, wouldn't hear us.

It was nearly midnight and the slight breeze made it chillier than usual. The graveyard was small- maybe two acres and it was not maintained at all. The ground was hard-packed, desert dirt with occasional ground squirrel holes and dried up weeds littering the property. Most of the pet plots had nothing but crooked wooden crosses, the sun having baked off much of their white paint. There were no names that we could see on the first few grave markers we came across.

Real picture of our Spooky Neighborhood Graveyard in the daylight
(add your own creepy soundtrack here- I suggest wind whistling
or the sound of your kids opening up the squeaky cabinet
where you keep your home-made porn collection)

Under the guise of playing hide-and-go-seek, I grabbed my boyfriend's hand and we shuffled off giggling, knowing what we were about to do would be both silly and scary. We found a small area of concrete where there stood a tall flagpole at the back of the cemetery. We argued briefly about who would be on the bottom and thus, be forced to lay bare-bottomed on the cold concrete. Although it was dark and we knew our friends couldn't see us from across the cemetery, we also knew we would be unable to see any one of them approaching if they happened to come looking for us. 

We fumbled with belts and buttons and zippers and were in the middle of (fill in the blank with an illegal, underage activity of your preference ) _________ when we heard one of our friends call out. 

We were dressed and on our feet quickly, running in the direction of the cry. We found everyone  motionless and staring at one of the few, non-wooden headstones.

And it was not a dog.
Or cat.
Or bird.

It was a person. And though I cannot remember the name or the dates, I remember it was a young person, a kid. A kid that had died and was buried there nearly 100 years earlier. And we looked at the headstone next to it, and the one next to that one and the one next to that one. It was an entire family.

We were literally stunned into silence and I was mortified by my earlier actions. How disrespectful we had been. And how embarrassed I was for my behavior. And for having sex in front of ghosts. We thought we were screwing in front of labradoodles.

What a Zombie Labradoodle would look if he watched me have sex and
he also happened to be dressed up as a  Siberian Husky
( Zombie dogs always dress up on Halloween )

Ghosts saw me naked.

Someone wisely suggested we "get the hell out of here" and so we did.

Artist rendering of what our exit may have looked like the night we got freaky in a graveyard 

We spent the rest of the night hanging out behind the middle school and reliving the evening we spent among ghosts. 

I have not thought about that night in many years, I guess because it wasn't as scary or significant as I had hoped it was going to be. 

But just to be safe, my daughters will never be taken to a horror movie double-feature before the age of six and instead will be brought up on a steady diet of Disney, Pixar and Dreamworks. 

************************************************************************************************************
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Something Clever 2.0  

Cloudy With a Chance of Wine 

The Next Step 

a calibama state of mind 

Your Life Tour Guide 

Each week you'll have the opportunity to see what the same five whackos have to say about the same subject. Believe me, it will explain a lot.

Enjoy!