Mancation Couture

You may have been wondering what to wear during mancation... So was I, until I found the perfect dress. There are many mancation fashion options, such as wearing a garbage bag (to ensure the douchey dudes steer clear), a suit of armour (to protect oneself from an onslaught of bad boy bullsh*t) or a straight jacket (because if I have to endure any more dating drama I will have to be institutionalized).
When I came up on this dress, I was ecstatic. It has a fit and flare silhouette (feminine, sexy), is knee length (I like giving attention to my gams) and still screams "Stay The Hell Away From Me!". This dress is the perfect partner to the LBD (Little Black Dress) and will be known as the LMD (Little Mancation Dress). F*cking fabulous!

My Mancation

Welcome to my mancation. I will be on mancation for the entire month of March. And possibly beyond. What is mancation, you wonder? Well, let me define it for you:
Mancation (man-kay-shun) noun:
1. A period of suspension of all dating related activities, to be used for rest, relaxation and time to undue the psychological trauma brought on from the act of dating.
2. Freedom or release from the duty of trying to find a normal boyfriend.
3. A total lack of kissing, making out or sex. But due to the need for a mancation, you're probably not in the mood anyway.

Got it?! Since my latest relationship, with Big Daddy, bit the big one, I've decided that I need to take some time off. I've been working hard at dating and trying to find a nice, normal boyfriend, however my attempts continue to be thwarted by confusing and frustrating male behaviour. Do I still want to find a loving partner? Absolutely! This month? Not so much. I'm hoping that a brief interlude from the soul-sucking singles scene will provide me with a renewed perspective, perseverance and pain relief.
Lets break down the cost of my mancation: Therapy sessions to deal with my emotional drama: $110/hr. Self help books to try to understand his baby mama drama: $17.50 (plus shipping & handling). Australian shiraz to dull the pain: $19. The absence of bullsh*t bad boy behaviour: priceless!

... And Make It Snappy

One of the most exciting things about a new relationship is learning to communicate, am I right?!
Um, no, it's not the most fun but it certainly lays the groundwork. If you can get there. My newest boyfriend, who we'll call Big Daddy, and I had quite the communication clusterf*ck the other night. Oh yeah, you know, that night... Valentines Day night!
It started out so well. He showed up in a sexy suit with two dozen stunning red roses in hand. Perfection. We talked about our days, revelled in some romance and made out a bit... Then his phone rang. As he does a significant amount of business overseas, I allow the occasional work phone call. In order to receive decent reception in my condo, calls must be taken along the side of the living room and bedroom walls. Convenient, I know. He had his chat, which ended up taking some time. After a while, he got thirsty. I was in the kitchen arranging my fabulous flowers when I saw some motioning in the distance. Not sure if the grandiose arm gestures had to do with his work, I went back to being a florist. Then, I heard it. I didn't recognize it at first, as I haven't heard it in a while. What was it, you ask? It was snapping. He was snapping his fingers to get my attention and motioning for me to bring him his beer.
Incredible. Irritating. Insulting?! What was my reaction, you wonder? Do you think I would have ignored him? Given him the finger?? Broken his fingers??? Unbelievably and in spite of every ounce of feminist feeling in my system, I graciously grabbed his drink and pranced over to hand it to him. Since when did I respond to men like that?! Apparently, the two of us communicate like a familiar and well-oiled (well, that was later) master and servant. Would you like fries with this post?!

Review & Giveaway: Goddess of Vengeance by Jackie Collins

Jackie Collins, the goddess of girly literature and New York Times bestselling author, has scribed another sensational story. In this book, her famous character, Lucky Santangelo, is back. Lucky, the magnificent matriarch of the Santangelo clan, experiences adventures spanning from LA to Las Vegas in this provocative page-turner.
The story revolves around Lucky's introduction to Armand Jordan, the son of a Middle Eastern King and a mogul in North American business. Armand has his heart set on acquiring Lucky's heavenly hotel, The Keys, in Vegas. Lucky's not willing to sell and Armand is not willing to be rejected. Will he be able to put his drug and prosititute habits aside in Vegas long enough to cut a deal? Meanwhile, Lucky's daughter, the spirited Max, is turning 18 and decides it's time to lose her virginity. Will she give it up to sexy super star Billy Melina, who happens to be the ex-husband of Lucky's best friend? Back in Los Angeles, Lucky's son, Bobby, is struggling in his relationship with Denver, a brainy beauty. Will the night-club owner and Assistant District Attourney be able to overcome their considerable differences?
This is the perfect page-turner to cuddle up to in front of the fireplace. The drama and intrigue will have you flipping the pages faster than the characters can stir up drama. Well, not quite! Sex, drugs, movie stars and business barons combine to create a tantalizing tome. Will what happens in Vegas stay in Vegas, or will it haunt the characters back to Los Angeles and beyond?
The Giveaway: Visit my website for details www.carrieblogshaw.com

Breaking The Barrier

This post is dedicated to my new boyfriend and lover. Last night, we had steamy first-time sex. This morning, we luxuriated in a tangle of limbs in bed. This afternoon, he broke the barrier…

Brazilian Road Map

As I lay on the paper-covered table with my panties off and my legs in the air, I was struck by the relationship that I have formed with the girl who waxes my bikini line. The relationship I have with my aesthetician has outlasted any relationship I've ever had with a man. Being between relationships, I quickly came to realize that this girl knows my vagina better than anyone. As she stood over me with her head in my crotch, covering me with hot wax and telling me to brace myself because she was "going in", I was able to see that she and I have one of the closest relationships I've ever had. What a job.
She knows me better than I know myself. In fact, she knows me so well she could probably Google Map my vagina. In the absence of a proper boyfriend, she was spending more time with my prized pleasure center than anyone - myself included!
I dedicate this post to my long-suffering aesthetician (come on - even though I had laser hair removal, I'm still half Italian...) who always sticks her head in my crotch with enthusiasm, dedication and pluck. Ouch!

Today's Funny

Hot on the heels of ‘Shit Girls Say’ comes Shit Single Girls Say!

It’s silly. It’s funny. It’s the truth about being single.