Drunken rambling about my optimistic clitoris

I’m three-quarters drunk so why not talk about my boobs for a minute. And the overall state of my body. And beacons of light.

Wait, I have to digress for one moment. My husband just got a friend request on Facebook. Ah, yes, the friend request. A coveted thing in some circles. This one came from an old friend from middle school with a name that got chosen by his parents upon throwing a single dart at a dartboard full of names. While navigating Facebook on his iPhone to accept the request he passes through a few status updates. “That’s all they ever talk about is their kids,” he says. He is referring to many of his female Facebook friends. Apparently he is bothered by the fact that they are defining so much of themselves in terms of their children.

And this is where I say, “Hello! I have a blog. About motherhood. Hello! I talk about the kids. And about your penis. I talk about your penis a lot!”

Dan says: “No you don’t!”

I say: “How would you know?”

He says: “Because I’ve read your blog.”

I say: “You’re right. I don’t. Should I start?”

Hmm. This is only the second reference he’s made to reading the blog. Point taken. Maybe I should start talking about his penis. I’ll take that into consideration.

Now, moving on. My boobs. They are sad. And why is it that I am finally at a point in my life where I am able to appreciate them and they can do nothing for me? They are deflated and sad. Sad, sad, sad. They have only recently perked up since I took out a second mortgage on the house and bought a secret bra from Vicki. But even still, in their homemade state they are depressed. No amount of Prozac will help, thankyouverymuch, and I know you know exactly what I am talking about. See, drunk or not I can still make sense. So there!

The thing with boobs though, is that whether they are 18 or 31, they can still be found. Whether they are the size of a camel’s hump or identified only by their pretty nipples, they can be found by your partner. They are right where they are supposed to be. But the same can’t be said about other areas of the female anatomy. Specifically, the clitoris.

Enter, once again, my foolish husband. He’s a rather  innovative man, if I do say so myself. But also the type of man that likes to take credit for his innovations. Thus I am required to mention his existence in this post. He has a fondness for LED lights. (Bear with me. He’s a technical guy and it can get very boring to listen to him drone on about graphics cards and network adapters, but LED lights I can usually do, so you can too.)

A few nights ago we were in bed. Ah, bed. A dreaded and yet coveted place. A place I am fond of on Sunday mornings and days when I’ve had a workout. Yes, exercise has a direct correlation to my sex drive, but that’s a topic for another time. Let me just quickly say that you should go run a few laps around the neighborhood if you are sitting around complaining that you have no sex drive. Wait, I think I will too.

Okay, I’m good. Sex drive back. Let’s proceed.

Where were we? LED lights. Right. So, Dan really loves LED lights. Do you know what an LED light is? Google it. It’s just a light. From the horse’s mouth (that’s the Huz) they last ten times as long as your regular light bulb, they produce no heat, and use a tenth of the energy. You can totally control the spectrum of light that comes from an LED without having to coat it with any color. Yeah, that last line came from him too and YES, he’s sitting right next to me on the couch while NBC is paused and both of them are waiting for me to finish. So let’s get on with it.

That other night, when we were in bed, Dan proposed the Beacon of Light. A clitoral focal point for your lover made from the finest stuff on Earth, the LED light. Let’s look at those attributes again. shall we? The Beacon of Light will provide you with orgasms lasting ten times as long as usual orgasms? Perfect. always welcome. Will produce no heat? Good, I’m heated up enough with all the cocooning I like to do during sex. (Shit, did I just say that?) Can control the “spectrum” without having to coat it with anything? A girl does like control. And for things to be au naturelle.

I’m game. I think I’ll go ahead and ask him to make a prototype. If all goes well we’ll have it on the market by 2012. There will be lots of testing. In the dark. While cocooning. Foreplay optional. Aren’t you excited for me? I’m excited for me.

Wait, I have to go run a few more laps.

Good. All set. Let’s’ get testing.