A Halloween Sexy Time Vlog plus apology

I've always loved Halloween.  Not only is Halloween during my favorite season of the year, it's socially acceptable for you to dress up in any way your little heart desires.  Guys get to dress up as the super heroes they've idolized since they were boys and the women get to whore it up like the slutty little barbies we grew up with.  What a glorious time of year!  And yeah, you'll still be judged for it, but perhaps just a little less harshly than the rest of the year.  Perhaps not.

A few photos from Halloween's past to better explain my infatuation...

How do you say "classy" in vampire?

I don't remember exactly what was going on here but I remember it was a lot of fun.  And that's what Halloween is all about.  Well, not historically speaking but I think the pagans of long ago would really be proud to see what we've done with their religious celebration.

Rubber mouth?

Me and the Douche bag.

No.  Really.  I'm not being a jerk.  He dressed up as a douche bag.  Notice the fake tan.  The sculpted eyebrows.  The puka shell necklace.  The skin tight t-shirt.  The excessive tattoos.  Oh, wait.  Those were real.  Welp.  Whatever, it's Halloween.  Dress as you wish.  Just be prepared for the inevitable backlash.

You may recognize Candito from the previous dildo vlog.  She has no shame either. 

I still don't understand how I was so misunderstood this year.  Marie Antoinette?  The dead version?  Really people?  COME ON!

It was SO obvious!  Whatever.

So, I love Halloween and I love dressing up.  This year?  Not so much.  Know why?  Two words.  Angry birds.  I'll explain further and post pictures later as I'm heading out the door to go to Zions National Park on a mother hugging 9 mile hike and don't have time to do much more right now.  I'll set this to post on Halloween since we won't be around and just hope it actually posts.  Or be secretly glad if it doesn't.
Yeah.  Amazingly enough, after our last train wreck of a vlog, Eden Fantasys asked us to review another product.  No drink mixers this time.  Oh no.  We've moved on to sensual intimacy kits.  And oh yeah.  There's another professionally filmed and edited vlog to go with it.  Be excited.  Be very excited.  Orrrr hit the little red X in your top right hand corner of the screen now.  Really.  I won't blame you.  We didn't charge the camcorder enough so we had to use the laptop to record again.  Which means....yep.  It sucks.  But hey!  Now you know where to go to get sex toys that you can have delivered to your work place without suspicion.  And for THAT, you're welcome.

   

On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad is it to off a coworker?

I spend a lot of my life at work.  With the same people day in and day out.  This can be a very bad thing.  This can be a very bad thing if you work with people like Toph.  The same Toph, if you recall, who tried to murder me with this apple.  Sometimes he makes me laugh until I cry.  Most of the time, he makes me want to punch him in his face until his asshole bleeds.  If that is an actual physical possibility, I do not know.  But I'd be willing to volunteer Toph and participate in a study.  Purely for scientific purposes, naturally.

I had a question about an e-mail I received.  I called him for clarification.  He said he wasn't sure what I was talking about and said "I'll be right over".

Me: No.  You really don't need to come over here.  Just answer the question.

T: Oh, it's not a problem, I'll be right there.

Me: Don't come over here!  I don't want you in my space.

He'd already hung up and was making his way into my personal space.  I had woken up late this morning, thrown on wrinkled clothes that I found on the floor of the closet, brushed my teeth and went to work.  I did not brush my hair, hadn't bothered to apply so much as chapstick on my face, and hadn't even had a sip of coffee yet.  I pretty much spend the first half of every morning looking like I'm hungover, even when I'm not.

T: You look nice today.

Me: Shut the hell up and just answer the question.

T: You know, only if I were single, drunk, blind and dosed on Roofalin, would I be on that.  You know what you should do?  You know what I think would make you pretty?

Me: I don't give a shit what you think.

Toph: How have you not been snatched up?  I'm thinking of a word.  It starts with B and ends in itch.

Me: Okay, you're done.  You have 2 seconds before I stab you in the crotch with my heel.

Toph: You're so pretty when you're pissed off.

Me: You're a complete waste of space.

Toph:  Go fuck yourself.

As he turns to leave I say "That went well".  He replies with "Welcome to work".

Later on that day I accidentally nudged my keyboard out of it's usual position and noticed a white letter painted on my desk.  What the?  I pick up my keyboard to find the following message.

I simply can't imagine who put that there.

Dirty Girl

It's true.  I'm a dirty girl.  More often than not, my mind goes straight to the gutter when even the most innocent comments are uttered.  Heh.  Uttered.  Uddered.  Boobs.  *sigh*  Does this fall under the category of character flaw?  I suppose it's time I admit that immaturity and a love of sophomoric humor and fart jokes will always be my Achilles heel.  So be it.

Anyhoo, this post is about a more literal kind of dirty.  Last weekend I "ran" my first 5K.  And I LOVED it.  It was the Dirty Dash.  A 5K mud obstacle course race.  Months ago when I mentioned to E2 that I might do this he just laughed and said "Yeah, right.  You?  Run?" 

Asshole.

I told my parents about it.  My Dad thought the idea was great.  My Mom, with more than a hint of disdain in her voice said  "Oh.  So basically it's a wet t-shirt contest but with mud."

Huh?  What?  No Mom.  It's nothing like a wet t-shirt con...ya know, just..nevermind.

My coworker/friend Erin got a team together (Nor-folk-n-chance.  How awesome is that name?) and ordered us all matching, painfully bright, t-shirts.  Under normal circumstances say no to day-glow, but in this case it helped us keep track of each other.  At least for the first 5 minutes of the race, before it looked like we'd all been dipped in a toilet full of runny poo.

I want to post different pictures of the whole team, but I didn't ask anyone's permission and I'm pretty sure that's against the law or something and I don't wanna end up in jail.  I don't look good in orange and I don't typically befriend people with names like Big Bertha.  I'm kind of a snob like that.  So I'm just going to post a team picture of the end of the race where everyone is covered in mud and basically unidentifiable anyway and hope that doesn't count.  Except for Erin's dog Zero.  I'm posting a couple of him because he's a dog and we all know animals don't get or deserve any kind of animal rights or protection of any sort.  Am I right??

So, in typical narcissistic fashion, this post will be about me.  Let's get started.

Pristine and clean before the race.  Loved Zero's paw bands.

The cleanliness was short-lived.

This was the moment things went downhill fast.  I tried to take out Erin, slipped, and barely managed to keep my head above mud.  Her boyfriend and fellow teammate called it instant Karma.  Oh how I hate that bitch.  Karma, that is.  

So much better than any slip 'n slide.  However, a little tip you would assume to be self evident, keep your mouth closed.

I'm not British.  I just don't follow my own tips. 

Proof that there WAS some actual running involved.  My shoes felt like 5 pound bricks at this point.

Yes, that is a knee high mud pit.  Jealous yet? 

Nor-folk-n-chance in all our nasty glory at the finish line. 

I'm not gonna lie.  Cleanup was a bitch.  I'm still blowing mud out of my nose, I think my left ear is permanently clogged with mud and my shoes will never be the same.  I can't wait for next year!

I wonder if anyone could tell that I peed in the last mud hole?