The Over-Educated Nympho

Yeah yeah I know Valentine’s Day was two days ago and I didn’t blog anything. Well it just so happens that I was very busy on Valentine’s Day, aka National Singles Awareness Day. Those Girl Scout cookies don’t eat themselves, you know.

Today’s post is being done in the epistolary style of the lovely Miss Bridget Jones, which have previously been very popular here and here.

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Handsome Twosome called me last night to catch up. I haven’t heard from him or Pretty Twosome since our last night together. He told me he’s got a friend he wants me to meet.

–booty shake–

Handsome Twosome also said how much they’ve missed hanging out with me (even without the kinky Penthouse sex, we have a fantastic time together) and we should meet up for dinner sometime soon.

To top it off, he said he has a consulting job for me. A paid job. This would be my first on my own.

–booty shake raised to the power of HELLS YEAH–

This morning we received our end-of-the-year bonuses. I was barely able to speak for the rest of the day. I had been expecting a 30% increase from last year’s bonus, which was not exactly lunch money. Although I was hoping for a 50% increase, I wasn’t letting myself get excited over the thought.

When I opened the company holiday card with my bonus check inside, I damn near dropped the fucking thing. It was over three times last year’s bonus. NO FUCKING WAY.

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I am seeing Handsome and Pretty Twosome tonight. Out of the blue they called me up and asked me to come over tonight.

–booty shaking–

Karma is finally, FINALLY, putting out. That’s right, bitch–if you make me go this long without sex then when I finally get laid you are damn straight it’s going to take at least two people to satisfy me.

In other words, don’t wait up.

Everyone notice my pretty new avatar? I figured that since I write about sex (nevermind the inconvenient fact that I’m not getting any), it was time for a sexier avatar. I dig the girl with the sexy nerd glasses and thick book (and fantastic eyebrows, the bitch) but it’s time for her to graciously step down as queen of the right sidebar.

The new avatar is one that is actually of me, a close-up of this. It’s the tattoo I got almost exactly one year ago. The Latin says QUOD ME TORQUET ME NUTRIAT. There’s not a direct translation, but the closest is “what torments me, may it nourish me.” I love having that written below my abdomen, something I can see only when undressed. It’s a reminder I face every day that I should be proud of what I’ve been through to make me the person I am–antidepressants, bipolar accusations, A.D.D. and all.

No more hiding behind the book and glasses. Can I get a HELLS YEAH!

As of tonight there have been over 200,000* visitors** to the Over-Educated Nympho since the start of this blog, which was almost exactly two years ago. Note that I only hit 100,000 readers FOUR months ago. That means I doubled the number of visitors in four months that I’d had in the previous twenty months. Duuuude.

I should also mention that my two year blogiversary is next week. –insert booty-shake here–

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My site is working again! 404 the dirty whore got picked up and sent back to juvi!

–booty shaking–

Oooh, see that? The links work again! It’s a belated Festivus miracle! I don’t know about you, but the glass of six-dollar-a-bottle of wine I’m drinking right now tastes mighty fine.

Now for a tiny bit of an oh crap: I’m missing all the posts between May 23 and May 31. All I managed to save are the short ones I was able to find through Feedblitz. Help me, readers! Do any of you have the full posts saved in your RSS feeds? Portions saved in emails from the “email this post” option? Anything is helpful. If not, it’s no big deal. What’s one week of posts when there are currently 614 others?

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Thanks to the lovely Astryd for nominating me for the following Blogger’s Choice Awards:

But wait, there are more! Three more. I am sooo booty shaking right now. In my underwear. I’m stretching seductively too. And burping. Hey, I make burping sexy, asshole.

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The other day I received a surprise toy from Sex Exec of IntimateGifts.com, after I had told him I had another FMF threesome in the works. I tore open the box to find my very own strap-on! I squealed and did a little booty shake in the middle of my living room. A booty shake which may have included some pelvic thrusts.

As you may have guessed, I’ve always kinda fancied a strap-on. Not that I’ve ever used one. Not that I haven’t wanted to, but how the fuck do you tell someone, whether it’s a serious relationship or a fuck buddy or a one-night stand–”hey baby, you’re so hot I want to fuck you in the ass with a strap-on.” I mean, please. I’ve seen enough guys shirk away at the sight of a big pink dong lying on my shelf, let alone one that’s coming at them from a place that is only supposed to take it in, not dish it out.

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All day at work I kept anxiously checking my cell phone for missed calls, in case she called with what I hoped would be great news. Something along the lines of I CAN’T WAIT TO MAKE SWEET DIRTY LOVE TO YOUR NAKED BODY, COME OVER AND DO ME NOW.

Meanwhile I had a knot in my stomach and saw big penises and pussies everywhere I looked. The stapler on my desk. Penis. My travel coffee mug–pussy. The forsaken banana in the break room. Fucking sonovabitch, someone show me some mercy here. How the hell am I supposed to get any work done with things like that lying around the office?

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I picked up my box of sex toy goodies from my boys over at IntimateGifts.com.

Talk about a kid in a fucking candy store. I GOT LOADS OF STUFF. This is the photo I took when I first opened the box:

For those of you who have already expressed interest in the iBuzz, go here for more info until I post my own review.

This is going to be a very busy weekend full of nothing but “research.” It’s going to be exhausting, demanding, morally corrupt, and I may sprain something, possibly multiple times (is there any other way?). But that’s okay–I’m doing it for the sake of the blog. I must always think of the blog.

This is how much my beloved readers mean to me. I am willing to abuse my body all weekend long so I can bring you reviews of sex toys. That’s just the kind of person I am.

I NOW HAVE PAID ADVERTISERS.

Who’s cool? I AM SO COOL.

I placed two different dating ads on the posts How Not to Ask Someone Out and an older one, Online Dating?.

–commence the booty shake–

This doesn’t mean I can start calling myself a “paid writer”… (–sigh–) more like “kinda-semi-professional blogger” thanks to the deposit made into my Paypal account this afternoon.

But hey, no complaints here. One step, one advertisement, one tiny little accomplishment at a time. All those itty bitty steps do eventually lead you somewhere. Hopefully with a regular salaried column somewhere. AHEM to whom it may concern. AND I DO NOT MEAN YOU, MR. SPRING, TEXAS.

To those of you who think I’m a sell-out: shove it. If I put up an advertisement that says IS YOUR HUMMER BIGGER THAN YOUR NEIGHBOR’S HUMMER? or PENILE ENHANCEMENT DRUGS ONLY $9.99 or NEXT ON ONE TREE HILL, you can call me a lame-ass.

Meanwhile I’m keeping that boring day job so I don’t have to lower myself to ads for Paris Hilton perfume. Seriously, who the fuck needs to buy princess-scented STDs in a bottle? (Here’s a hint, sweetie: calling it parfum doesn’t class it up nearly enough to make us forget that photos of your girlie bits are all over the internet.)