Wow. My first shopping trip to Soap.com kind of blew my mind. I mean — where else can you pick up Tide, Charmin, and The Rabbit all under one umbrella? Though I actually haven’t officially ordered anything (honestly, there’s something that really creeps me out about a company that sells both Pampers and KY Jelly), I have checked out the new website since I got a coupon for 20% from them from their sister site, Diapers.com. For those of you that haven’t been to Diapers.com, it’s great. Instead of lugging home enormous boxes of diapers and baby wipes from the market, they will be shipped to your door — for way cheaper than you can buy them at most places.
Apparently, the founders of the site have had so much success with this concept, that they decided to start another website which sells other pain-in-the-ass grocery products like laundry soap and gigantic packages of toilet paper. But the only thing about this new site, Soap.com, is that as a first time shopper, I kind of got the feeling the founders actually wanted the site’s name to be Sex.com, but since it was taken, then figured, “Aw, screw it. Let’s just sell laundry detergent AND dildos.
I’m not kidding. After I placed some sunblock and Method hand soap into my cart, I curiously clicked on the site’s “Sexual Wellness” tab. I actually thought it was going to be stuff like herbal supplements or libido enhancing teas, but much to my surprise, Soap.com stocks and ships everything from pube hair dye to black satin covered handcuffs. I’m no prude, but this honestly shocked me. Nothing in their marketing campaign hinted about them selling kinky sex toys. Even the name — Soap.com — is pretty tame.
But, I mean, I guess the whole thing kind of makes sense. Eventually, if you’re having tons of sex, the odds are that you WILL pop out a kid or two. So maybe they figured, well, we sell Huggies, why not Trojans? I almost wonder if the company will find some crazy correlation to sales of diapers and condoms. Like, if someone all of a sudden is buying cases and cases of diapers, maybe they’ll also suddenly start buying massive amounts of condoms in order to prevent future diaper deliveries? Crazy stuff.
I couldn't make this up! This is a real screen capture I took from the site. Check out the "Frequently Bought Together" suggestions -- condoms, carseats, and baby strollers! HAHAHAHAHHA
I don’t even know where it came from. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t something I bought. But for some reason I own bondage tape. Now here’s the thing, I tend to use this bondage tape for craft projects. Did you hear me Martha Stewart? Bondage tape and craft projects are a marriage made in heaven! It works so well for stringing things up around the house because it’s super strong and while it sticks to itself, it doesn’t stick to anything else.
I imagine this non-stick factor is great for bondage, but it is also wonderful for stringing up wreaths at Christmas time. Extremely heavy juniper wreath got you down? Just look around for some bondage tape and your holiday is saved!
My particular role happens to be industrial sized. Not sure what this says about me, but it is. So I have learned to use the stuff like fishing wire, bonding together fragile items without gunking them up forever. It’s only a matter of time that you can buy the stuff at your local K-mart. They just might have to change the packaging.
Sometimes it’s fun to get biblical outside of the bedroom. And while I live alone in a home and don’t have pesky parents breathing down my teenage neck, it’s still fun to occasionally get frisky in an automobile. Luckily, Craig’s automobile has a rather big back seat, so one summer night after we threw a football around the Washington Monument, we decided the next sensible thing to do was take our sweaty bods and mash them together in the car.
In high school, my boyfriend and I spent a lot of time locking lips in his car while it was parked in his driveway. We would tell his parents that we were going out and well, I guess technically we were out, but we were really just outside in the quiet of the great American ride. It makes me wish there were still drive-ins.
While flexing my muscles in Craig’s back seat on that hot July night, I thought about all the headaches Toyota has had during the last year with the Prius and the Camry etc. But here I was enjoying the Camry in a very 1950s “I just got pinned and it’s homecoming,” kind of way. I thought the carmakers would feel rather proud.
The Camry may have gotten recalled, but the backseat remains fabulous.
This weekend definitely goes down as one of the most relaxing I have had in recent history. No booze, zero going out (except for a daytime outing to see the tweentastic movie, Eclipse), lots of sleep and a lot of housekeeping. What made the weekend even better was that I have a new mattress, courtesy of my wonderful colleague, Kelly.
Now we’re not talking any mattress here. This is one of those foam situations where the girl in the commercial jumps on it while a vat of red wine stays unmoving on the bed. Really, I’ve been sold since those commercials but wasn’t able to buy an affordable one until Kelly said adieu to hers. While I haven’t surrounded myself with large glasses of merlot and done the lambada on my bed yet, I do think I’m sleeping better.
Something that comes with this deep slumber are more vivid dreams. For instance, last night I dreamt that Apolo Ohno and I were best friends and that someone was trying to murder him. They just couldn’t kill him, until the end when they covered him in gun powder and then lit him on fire. This part was actually really traumatizing and I woke up sweating and panicked.
But not all my dreams have been that scary. Since getting my new mattress, I have had a lot more celebs in my dreams and have really remembered them in more detail. So either the tempur-pedic is made of LSD, or I’m just sleeping deeper and dreaming bigger!
Look at how darn happy this couple is on their firm foam bed! I think I will make Craig sleep in that position from now on, complete with huge grins on our faces.
While I am DYING to post my pictures of today’s ridiculous Americana-inspired activities (hoedown and sheep shearing all in one day?), I forgot to bring my camera cord to Pennsylvania and will have to save that post for tomorrow. So! I will instead thank the company that made the insanely huge jacuzzi that is sitting in my room in Amish country, PA. It’s about as Amish feeling as a microwave, but my urban self is loving it. It’s about the size of an Olympic swimming pool and is close enough to my bed that I can just slither on in between naps. And when filled with a pound of Mr. Bubble, it’s a bit like bathing on a cloud.
I love bathtubs. I could sit in a large tin can with a book for hours and be totally amused. As a child, I used to fill an empty bathtub with pillows, rest a few ham sandwiches on the edge and stay in there for hours reading tween-lit. Now, the tub in my room has jets, so it makes me think more about my high school boyfriend’s outdoor jacuzzi, where half of Northwest Washington went skinny dipping in their teenage years. Another not very Amish move.
Whatever shape it comes in, I’m happy to soak in a tub for hours. Add a glass of wine and I may stay in until my skin sloughs off like a rattlesnake.
Tomorrow, Craig and I are going horse and buggy chasing and then I may be inspired to renounce all possessions that require an electrical charge. But until then, I’ll be in the tub.
My jacuzzi was not at the foot of the Alps, but I think in the bedroom is almost as good. Plus, I kind of felt like I should be in a Hip-Hop video.
While I don’t watch a lot of TV because I sadly don’t have enough time (ggrrr journalism), one show that can really entertain me for hours is The Bachelorette. Since I also have a love for anything on Lifetime or chick flicks overflowing with estrogen, this doesn’t come as a huge surprise.
There is something that my feminist side really likes about the Bachelorette. I mean she has her own man harem. Isn’t that a lovely turn of events? The whole thing seems very girl power to me. What is more liberating and empowering than a dozen boys with nice pecks getting drunk and fighting over you?
This week Ali, this season’s bachelorette, and the gang were in Turkey and she found out that one of the contestants, Justin “Rated R” Rego, had not one but two girlfriends in his homeland of Canada. Gasp! Oh well, Ali has a zillion other guys to choose from. But even more fun than watching the show was talking about it at work today. Here are some of the choice tidbits of our conversation:
Washington Life Ali (not to be confused with the bachelorette of course): “You know people are calling her the ‘fat-chelorette.’ She’s gained a little weight being on the show. Course no surprise there, all they do is drink.”
Kevin: “Do they all have to get tested before going on the show?”
Ali: “On the new one they do. They don’t want any Hep B in the house.”
Kevin: “Ahhh, I suppose a hepatitis outbreak would be bad for the network. I hear 40 percent of Americans have that H disease.”
Ali: “Whatever, my favorite is Roberto.”
Me: “No! Chris L! The sensitive gardner who lost his mother.
Kevin: “What’s the name of that annoying one? You know, the weather midget.”
And all this joyful banter while we are on deadline. Only the Bachelorette could inspire us so!
Tis a tough life being the Bachelorette, always having to put your clothes back on and all.
Here is Ali with my favorite contestant, Chris L, a sensitive landscaper from Cape Cod.
On Saturday during the drive to West Virginia, Craig and I got into a very deep meaningful conversation about men’s underwear. That’s how we roll on the weekends – we discuss the meaning of life, nuclear disarmament and the intricacies of undies.
I can be rather picky when it comes to what’s going on in the underwear department, both for myself and for Craig. For him I like ‘em tight. Solid colored boxer briefs so snug I can barely take them off. Yes, he may have to sacrifice breathing or walking like a normal human being, but isn’t it worth it?
As we glided towards the Maryland/West Virginia border, Craig started laughing like a crazed country boy, remembering a story from his Leigh, Nebraska days. ”Are you sure you want to hear this,” he kept asking while cackling down the highway? “Are you really sure?” At this point I was frothing at the mouth, ready to drown myself in the Shenandoah River if he didn’t start talking.
“Well, when I was 15, 16 I used to wear leopard print briefs. You know, to impress the ladies. All the guys did!” All the guys did? Impress the ladies? My oh my what is going on under those overalls in small town America? “You mean Michelle?” I asked referring to his high school girlfriend. “And by all the guys, you mean the whole Leigh High School football team was roaming around in leopard print?” Craig laughed still zooming down the highway. “Well, Chad had a pair! So did Mark, but we called him Boog. And he was a bigger guy too.” By this point I’m laughing so hard I think I might asphyxiate myself from the hysterics. But Craig just keeps going. “This one night when I was 15, I got so drunk that I ended up on my front lawn in nothing but those leopards. And I could barely walk. I think I was crawling.”
As I reflect back on all the underwear I have owned in my life, I just don’t think I have anything to match the ridiculousness of Craig’s leopard briefs. But there is always next weekend.
This is kind of what I imagine Craig looked like in that underwear. Man oh man I wish he had pictures.
What a wonderful day. We are still in Naples and though it is 104 degrees, we’re in heaven. Our hotel is on the beach, we went for a really sweaty run in the sand, and we have taken on a “clothing optional” motto in life. We have also discovered a new love for disclosing embarrassing things about ourselves and playing top five ____ about you. Our first idea? Let’s pick the top five jobs you would suck at. Here is what Craig chose for me. 1) Night Watchman (I love to sleep) 2) Logger (I disagree. I think I would make a hell of a logger) 3) Whale Watcher (I never see animals. Like even at the zoo I miss them) 4) Parole officer (Everyone deserves a second chance!) 5) Person who does wake-up calls (I’m always late).
Following the “this is what you’re bad at” game, we decided to confess our embarrassing stories. One of Craig’s just happened to be that his sophomore year of college, he wanted to get a tattoo of a football with wings. Yes, WINGS. It was after he won the national football championship with Nebraska and wanted to remember that moment forever. And then to really class it up, he wanted to put a big red N underneath. Ah, my boyfriend could have a flying football on his arm. Would I still love him? Probably. Let’s be honest, if it was on his face, I would probably still adore him. Ahh, l’amour!
This could have been on Craig's arm. Oh, except the football would have had WINGS.
I have a ton of sand in my hair, I’ve already had two margaritas, and the sun is about to set. Ahhhh, the weekend. And not just the weekend, the weekend in Naples, Florida. Summer is our travel issue at Washington Life and I am lucky enough to get a lot of trips this month. And on this quick jaunt to Naples, I was able to take Craig.
Naples is very Palm Beachy so thank goodness I brought an abundance of pastel clothing and gaudy starfish earrings. With the oil spill, so much of the south is suffering, from Louisiana to Alabama. Not only fishermen and of course the eco-system, but tourism and the economy that is very reliant on tourism. So I am happy to throw on some Lilly Pulitzer and help spread the word that it’s A-okay down here in Florida. I just swam in the Gulf under the stars and it was perfect. The director of sales at our hotel told me that the phones have stopped ringing because people are scared that the oil has hit all of the south. But it’s more contained than many think. Oh, and it’s sea turtle season here. They’re everywhere and oil-free.
And now for a game of tonsil hockey under this amazing white canopy bed. Till tomorrow…
Just the words "Tiki Bar," bring me great joy. The one at La Playa makes me want to whip out the coconut bra and send in my two weeks notice. Ahhh, vacation.
So yesterday was our highest day of traffic ever on Naked Thanks, which of course thrilled Stacey and I. But what brought so many people to the site? Well, what brings the bulk of our readers every other day of course! Cougars. That’s right, c-o-u-g-a-r-s. The number one search term in Google to arrive at Naked Thanks is “cougar.” A whopping 53 percent of our traffic comes from that search.
Stacey, who I will now just call resident genius, had the foresight to thank her “cougar-friends” for a night on the town. Of course Stacey and her friends are still babes in the womb, but pish posh. This post was genius! There seems to be an amazing appetite out there for women of a certain age, and it’s bringing all these young randy lads to our site. Imagine just how disappointed they are when they see stationary and not too much flesh.
But I have to say, I kind of love that “cougar” is the gateway to Naked Thanks. I felt the same sense of pride when my friend told me that my name came up in Google when she searched “men’s underwear.” It’s not a Pulitzer, but it’s almost as good. And for Naked Thanks, it’s America’s men and their love for fine women of a certain age that bring ‘em to us. Rrrrrrrrr!
Courtney Cox, the starlet of Cougartown. Purrrr. If my boobs are even half that perky at age 45, I'll be thrilled.
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The Camry may have gotten recalled, but the backseat remains fabulous. 
