Since this is the first entry, I suppose I should tell you about the first time I ever had sex.

First, I should mention the difference between sex and a sexual experience.  I’m in no way ashamed to say the first time I had actual penetrating sex was when I was twenty-three.  This is not, and by a very long shot, my first sexual encounter.  After all, I went to both art school and church camp.  I even had a very uncomfortable threesome with an engaged couple (totally didn’t go to their wedding); there simply wasn’t any penis-vagina action or even an orgasm on my part, so I don’t consider it actual sex.

Such was my upbringing, renting romance novels from the library and hiding them under my bed, watching the Oxygen Channel after dark, experimenting with boys at camp, yes, even watching porn in college–I felt well versed in the language of humping.  At 22,  I finally discovered what would actually  give me an orgasm.  It took years but holy shit, once I got it, I had it down.

My first actual sex encounter came two weeks after my first marriage proposal.  Do not leap to conclusions here.  Let me set the stage.

I took a weekend job at a Renaissance Fair.  Yes, a real horse-jousting, ale-drinking, wench-pinching, rigamarole of a Ren Fair.  I didn’t know a soul there, save my boss, and set about making friends.  How I did that is another story, but rest assured it involves a boy named Fritters, and my accusing him of stealing my tent.

I was sitting with Fritters and his family one Friday night when my cell phone rang.  It was Ilka, the Hungarian woman who used to be the house keeper for my boss when I lived in L.A.  We had formed a tentative friendship, both having to endure the same kind of crazy.  She made me sandwiches, I helped her pass her INS tests.  We had a good thing.

Ilka was calling to ask if maybe I marry her friend so he not get deported.  After all, I am a good girl with job and not crazy like most people and would not have to be sleeping with him.  I stopped laughing as soon as I realized she was dead serious.  I told her that I was honored she thought of me, but I would have to turn her (him?) down.  I never talked to the guy or even knew his name.

For the next few days, I thought about why Ilka had called me.  I wasn’t dating anyone, wasn’t likely to anytime soon, so maybe her phone call wasn’t as ludicrous as first thought.  It was a niggling thought in the back of my brain, never fully conscious, that she had called me because she believed I would never be married otherwise.  I grew slightly resentful of the idea and redoubled my dieting efforts without realizing why.

And that was my first marriage proposal.  But that is not the story I am telling here, merely the prequel.

Two weeks later, I was sitting on a hay bale one evening, waiting with the rest of the crowd to watch a documentary on the history of the Ren Fair.  I was already pretty drunk, as drinking at Fair begins whenever the hell you feel like it.  I had a six pack with me, and was just polishing off my second beer when Jake sat down next to me.

I vaguely remember meeting Jake the first night I was there.  I know we spoke, he made some terrible joke about how his friends called him Superman, but don’t really recall much else.

Anyway, he sits down, reintroduces himself and I offer him a beer.  We finish off the rest during the movie.

I completely blame that film for what came next.  (Don’t worry, I’m getting to the sex soon.)

It was an ok film, from what I remember, though it did instill me with a great sense of history, not of the actual Renaissance Period, but of the tradition of the Fair itself.  Of the fun, the frivolity, the freedom.

We left the film, stumbled into one of the legendary after-parties that had been talked about in said film, laughed about how the tradition was still going strong, then started making out.  When the party closed, we set out on a walk around the fair grounds.

We made out in front of the glass forge.  We made out by the rock climbing wall.  We made out on the hay bales at the Fool’s Stage.  Then, for a change of pace, we talked to a complete stranger in the pitch dark about the fair documentary.  Then we went and made out by the ale stand.

Stumbling quite a bit, we arrived back at my tent.  I did have a fleeting moment of hesitation, then said to fuck with it and pulled him inside.

Admittedly, I was nervous about being naked in front of him, but once his mouth was on my breast, I didn’t give a shit about anything other than feeling as good as I could.  I called upon every romance novel, every love scene, every porn film I could think of.  I knew there would be no blood, my years of horseback riding had seen to that, but I was determined to be as casually sensual as I could.  Quietly, of course.  There were perhaps twenty other tents within talking distance and some of them had kids, including Fritters and family.  A few people had spotted us going into the tent.  No sense it letting everyone know.

Boy howdy, was it hard to keep quiet.  Jake was taking his time, stroking my side, kissing lines down my belly, burying his fingers in my hair.  I could feel myself edging closer to a Real Good Time and, from the stream of strained and whispered nothings in my ear, he wasn’t doing so bad either.  He liked it when I took his boxers off with my toes.

I will not go in to vivid detail as most of those details are a bit hazy.  I know there was some very good kissing involving grapes, a very terrible Irish accent on my part, and at least four positions I can recall.  The alcohol was starting to wear off, but in a good way.  Details became clearer and lines sharpened.  My skin felt more alive, tingling with sensation.  I was no virgin being deflowered; I was a sex goddess being devoured.

Then Jake opened his big fat mouth.

We were getting down to business.  You know, the hard, insistent boning that often precedes a really good O?  I was in the home stretch, a spring about to snap, all but mentally reaching for it when I hear him.  And I quote-

“Oh, god it’s so good…not since I…engaged…no…sex…three years….oh fuck.”

And then my spring was a slinky, tumbling down the stairs instead of launching me to heaven.  I managed to keep my rhythm steady, but my mind was reeling.  Engaged?  He had been engaged?  Had he done the dumping?  Did he love her still?  Dear god, was he thinking of her?

I didn’t have time to react, so I shuttered and gasped, I clawed at his back and clenched around him.  I tossed my head and gritted my teeth.  I bit his shoulder and shook with all my might.  In short, I faked it, and did a pretty fucking good job of it if I do say so myself.

Afterwards, when he went back to his tent for pajamas, I had to check his wallet to remember his name.  I of course facebook stalked him as soon as I got home.  Found out he was a medical student.  With a farm.  In Hawaii.  Fuck yes.

We lasted three weekends.  Three weekends of really great sex, without any big orgasms on my part but still incredibly hot.  On the fourth, he handed me my blanket, gave me a hug, and sent me packing in front of all of my newly made friends.  I was so pissed off, I didn’t even notice how cold it was that night.

Didn’t find out until the next year the reason.  Apparently, whilst sleeping with me at night, by day he was courting another woman, and had decided she was the one he wanted to marry.  So out of the tent I go.

They’re already hitched by the time I learn this.  There is some great confusion on my part, owing to his aforementioned mid-coitus comment on his engagement. I was enraged at the thought he had cheated on his fiance with me, so the first time I speak to him at Fair, I’m all but screaming infidelities at him in front of a large group of people.  He tells me no, he had just met her when he had met me.  I apologize for yelling at him, then scurry off to asses how I feel about him meeting the two of us at the same time, sleeping with me and marrying her.

I decide to not think about it very much.  And that’s the first (through seventh) time I had sex.

Today we had the pleasure of meeting two wonderful people and photographing a very special event in their lives. It wasn’t our first time doing an aerial shoot, but it was our first experience with a hot air balloon and very memorable! This was planned as a surprise for the fiance to be. She was blindfolded upon leaving her house and remained blindfolded until we were all on site and getting the balloon set up. The proposal was done in flight and she said YES!

We did a time lapse of the balloon set up…(click on photo if you would live to view the time lapse!)

Getting ready for take off at the golf course on Morningside…

Within minutes of take off, it began pouring. Michael rode in the balloon to shoot the actual proposal and I remained on the ground to shoot from there. I rode in the chase car with the wife of the balloon pilot. We lost sight of the balloon when the weather got really bad and I had a little moment of panic when we couldn’t reach them by walkie talkie nor by cell phone! We drove for a few miles and finally saw them and talked to them and they said they were making a landing on a residential street…

What a sight we all created! This was at about 8:00 this morning but still brought out many of the residents of this street. Within minutes the Port St Lucie police also showed up and didn’t seem too pleased with the landing. Michael and I switched out cameras and they were on their way again!And then….she said YES!

 

Ted…the Pilot

Traditions was the original plan for landing, but the weather did not allow for that and they landed in the Bank of America parking lot in St Lucie West. Again, we drew a crowd of spectators which were quickly enlisted by the pilot to help get the balloon down…

Again, within minutes, not only 1 police car showed up….BUT 5!!! Did they think we were “discreetly” trying to rob the bank? In spite of all the ups and downs (no pun intended), this morning shoot was memorable to many people!Thanks to all the bystanders who assisted! And a special thanks and congratulations to Vanessa and Darren!

 

Since I’m on the theme of ROMANCE and traveling this week…. I’d like to share a story with you..

It’s a story of relaxation, romance, nerves and comedy.  A story that will show you that every-single-day, even in the midst of “romance”, there is laughter in our lives.

The year was 2003, the month was March, and we hopped on a plane for a tropical vacation in Jamaica to celebrate hubby’s b-day.

A little back story…

Hubby was still “in-training” at this point.  He still had boyfriend status but we were pretty serious. And, after we planned our getaway, there were some really odd, suspicious things leading up to our trip.

Let me highlight a few for you:

• I debated getting my nails done before the trip because I was tied up with a lot of last minute work but oddly enough my roommate at the time, insisted I should find the time to go.
• Hubby, who normally, could care less about my nails, expressed concern that I would not fit in a manicure…..(hmmmmmm??)…….

• Hubby was, in general, just a wee bit off.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on why he was so odd, but let’s just say he was more odd than usual.
• Hubby is also very bad liar… he’s gets all jittery and you can tell that he’s hiding something (a great trait in a marriage by the way — since I can pretty much always tell when he’s not sharing the whole story!)

Ok, let’s jump back to the trip.

I’m suspicious… 

We had previously gone engagement ring shopping, everyone seemed oddly concerned about my nails, hubby-to-be was acting strange and we were headed on a very romantic all-inclusive vacation.  Could it be that he was about to propose??  I’m anxious and excited and pretty sure that I’m right BUT, I don’t share my suspicions with anyone.

We get to Jamaica and we have to take a bus ride to our hotel (it’s about an hour away).   At one point the bus stops at a rest area and, when we get off,  hubby leaves ALL his bags on the bus (even his carry on).  Now, I’m paying very close attention to his behavior, so I realize that not only has he left his bags, but I can clearly see that there are not odd bulges in hubby’s pants (hey, get your mind out of the gutter).  So it’s pretty obvious he’s not carrying a ring box.  I’m totally deflated and I’m shocked about how I’ve misread all these signs.  But, frozen cocktails here I come…. so, I’m certain I’ll survive!

Fast forward a bit.

We’ve checked into our hotel.  I’m tired (we’ve been traveling since very early morning).  I’m unshowered.  I’m wishing hubby had used this romantic trip to propose but I’m going to make the best of it.

The bell hop walks us to our room all the while pointing our great romantic spots around the hotel.  and then he takes his time walking us to the balcony in our room, showing us the mini bar, explaining the safe and hubby is all weird again.  He’s sort of pushing the guy out of our room, he’s all antsy and trying very hard to speed this guy up (who’s obviously on island time and not privy to Hubby’s agenda).

Finally the bell hop leaves… I walk in the bathroom for a moment and the next thing I know hubby’s calling me into the other room.
BAM!  The ring is out and he’s proposing!

Hubby went through all this trouble to take me to a tropical paradise, with sunsets, beautiful beaches, and fine dining  — endless romantic proposal opportunities — and he proposes to me in the hotel room about 2 minutes after we check in! 

NOW THAT’S ROMANCE!

Apparently he couldn’t contain his nerves anymore and since he was just busting at the seams he felt he had to do it RIGHT away!  How cute is he??!!

I later say to him.  “Hubby, I was suspicious but, after I saw you leave your bag on the bus I was convinced I was wrong”

Hubby replies:  “Yeah, that was to throw you off!”

Me:  “Really?  Well it sure worked.  I couldn’t see a box in your pocket and I was sure you wouldn’t leave it on the bus so I figured I’d misread everything”

Hubby:  “Oh boy…  OK, I’ll come clean… it wasn’t to throw you off at all.  I really did leave the ring in the bag on the bus, and I was freaking out the entire time worrying that it would be stolen when we got back on!”

Me: “Oh God, you really left it on the bus”

Hubby:  “Yeah, I’m a moron… but I’m your moron now!”

And that’s the story of my engagement and I’m now reminded of it every time we take a tropical vacation…. it just set the stage for all that was to come: Funny stories, laughter, comedy and a marriage filled with endless “romance”.

Love you baby!

Do you have a funny proposal story?  If so, I’d love to hear it!

Worst movie trailer ever! But…

I have known my fiance Tracey Wade for over 14 years and wanted to propose to her in a very unique way. Tracey thought we were just going to the movies on a Sunday afternoon. Little did she know, I had rented the entire theater and filled it with 160 of our friends and family. I made it seem as though we were showing up a little late to the movie and went in to the theater after the lights had gone down and the movie trailers were already playing. This was done to keep her from recognizing anyone in the theater. What I had done was make an entire movie trailer that had actors portraying both Tracey and I at different times in our lives, both present-day and in the future. After a few trailers played including one for Lord of the Rings the one I had made started. Tracey thought it was just another trailer for a movie soon to be released. Tracey was just perplexed as to how many different things had similarities to our relationship, she kept nudging me throughout the trailer. Tracey had no idea this was a marriage proposal until the last three seconds of the trailer.

Nine months earlier in September of 2006 I started by hiring a professional production team, securing two and a half million dollars (FOR FREE) worth of film equipment (THANK YOU PANAVISION, THEY DONATED THE EQUIPMENT FOR THE SHOOT), and writing a script that would show what would go through someone’s mind (Tracey’s) if they were about to die. It is said “moments before you die your life flashes right before your eyes”. JUST A NOTE: Ever since Tracey was a young girl, she has had a reoccurring dream that she was going to die in a plane crash. Actors were cast to portray both Tracey and I at different times in our lives (twenty years in the future as well as present-day)

I guess the best place to start this wedding blog is at the latest news.

On Thursday, Nov. 5, I gave my dearest sweetie Elizabeth her much anticipated engagement ring.

Some of you may not know that I proposed to her without a ring on Aug. 28, while we were talking about our future in her apartment in Murray Hill. She said yes but at the time I could not afford a ring.

I found out later that proposing without a ring was common practice years ago. My parents and Elizabeth’s parents were engaged with outone. So I figured I was in good company.

Elizabeth had an idea what she had wanted and looked online but we didn’t start going to jewelry stores until a few weeks after the engagement, mostly because we went on vacation the following week.

The shopping began just as I would imagine it would for any other newly engaged couples… at Tiffany’s.

I was a little nervous about visiting the famous shop on 5th Avenue not because I was intimidated, but because I was there once before and was afraid that old memories would arise again.

Yes, I am divorced and Tiffany’s was a first stop then like it was now.

Once I got over that initial feeling of dejavu, the shopping experience was actually very insightful.

Learned that Elizabeth has very small, delicate hands and fingers.

She tried on a TON of rings from the low key, simple Tiffany’s classic engagement ring to the most gaudy, sparkly ring I’ve ever seen.

Elizabeth originally wanted a Princess cut but for some reason she didn’t like the way it looked on her finger.

I’ll be honest, I couldn’t tell the difference and was a little afraid this would be about as exciting as watching the Yankees win another World Series, boring and thinking, “God, why again?”

She then proceeded to look at the Tiffany trademark ring, the Lucida, which as far as I can figure out is a marketing term they created to make that ring seem more special than the rest.

The Lucida was nice but again, not for her.

Next up the Emerald. Very similar to the Lucida and one thing Elizabeth started noticing was that the two were not as “sparkly” as she wanted.

She shook her head vehemently when the sales lady mentioned pear shaped, heart shaped and Marquise.

Then all of the sudden when Elizabeth put the Round, Solitaire, Platinum Tiffany setting her eyes watered up with tears of joy.

Yup! That’s how I knew what she wanted… The only problem? The price tag ranged from $6,950 up to $7,700.

The caret size was not that big, thank god, since Elizabeth has such small fingers. She looked at .78 ct and .70ct.

In a little of a sticker shock we left and walked to Cartier and Elizabeth looked at the plain solitaire .62ct at $6,900, then the pave .70ct at $8,700.

I couldn’t grab my jacket fast enough to get out of that store… Note to sales people, if you offered wine, champagne to the men while looking it would be a lot easier to see the numbers, I’d still run while yelling, “run away, run away, run away” but at least it would feel like the store is making an error.

After getting back to her place, my place has become a no mans land and a waste of rent since I’m stuck in an un-cooperating co-op with my lease ending in January 2010, Elizabeth proceeded to look at rings online.

Looking online for rings is like looking for shoes online. You never know if they will fit and if they are indeed what you were looking for, its very similar to online dating… sometimes you just have to make that extra effort to meet in person to see if there is a match.

Two weeks after our initial look at rings we stopped back at Tiffany’s after meeting with a salesman for a wedding photographer, its crazy that some of these photographers don’t even meet with you in person unless you ask specifically for a face-to-face.

This time during our visit we got a salesman. I felt a little better having a saleswoman I guess because Elizabeth and her could talk “lady talk”. With a man I felt like I hadn’t spent the time doing my research and was slightly embarrassed.

Elizabeth picked two different versions of the same ring this time.

1: .67ct, G VVS1 at $7,350.

2: .74ct, D, VS1 at $9,800.

WHAT! $9,800 dollars, not pesos? We had were on vacation in Cancun the month before and my mind slipped into a cerveza, sun burned induced coma.

Okay enough of the looking around. I knew what she wanted and it was obviously time to research and possibly rely on the black market offering blood diamonds and a beautiful little gem called a Cubic Zirconia.

Luckily, during our first visit to Tiffany’s a few weeks earlier the saleswoman noticed the deer caught in headlights looks I had and offered me a little book they give out explaining all the differences and what to look for.

For the rest of the week this little titled, ” A Tiffany Diamond Ring: The Gemological Standards for Superlative Brilliance”

When I originally was handed this I thought, great more propaganda to make me think that spending most of my journalist pay check on a ring is going to change the world and bring me, yes ME, joy… What a crock.

I gave the little book a try though and read it daily while on the can, while waiting and riding the subway. I love living in this great city it gives me time to do things I wouldn’t normally had done while I was on the west coast.

The book really helped me understand the meaning of diamond clarity. It helped me decipher the strange color rating and helped me see the difference in carat weight.

After reading the hand out I felt like I stayed at a Holiday Inn ready for a diamond industry board examination.

While studying up for my new board exam it seemed like everyone and anyone was recommending me to their fabulous, not to expensive, reliable, trustworthy jeweler.

I know you all meant well but I really wanted this to be from me and my family since it already felt like I had no say in anything that was being planned while I was slowly becoming an expert miner.

A few weeks went by and after relaying all the information back to home base, my mom and I were able to pull off one best kept secrets.

My mom and pop went to the same jeweler that my brother got his rings some 10 years ago.

With my expert descriptions and my mom and pops smarts we had the ring ordered, yes ordered. They had to make it, and at a fraction of the cost that we were looking at here in the city.

The ring arrived on Tuesday, Nov. 3 and just to keep the scent off I had it sent to work. Then after holding on to it for a couple days I decided to give the sparkly ring to Elizabeth in a re-do proposal since I didn’t have one during the first proposal.

Thursday, Nov. 5 after work was time for part two, the redux, the directors cut.

I called Elizabeth from work 10 minutes before I left and asked if she could meet me at Grand Central with the coupons for the special sale at Banana Republic.

She was a little annoyed that I was asking her to meet me but I had “left” the coupon on top of my laptop at her place.

As I was about to duck down into the stop across from Penn Station I called her again to tell her I should be there in about 15 minutes.

I was so nervous. I was scared that I was going to get mugged. That a bus was going to hit me. That some how a creepy person was going to know that I had a nice ring and was going to pull a Gulum and say, “PRECIOUS!”

Made it to Grand Central unscathed during a typical busy rush hour… I read too many novels and watch way too many movies.

When I got to the west side of the station where the stairs lead back out to street level all I could see was tourists and B&T crowd running for Metro North.

So I called Elizabeth and to my surprise she was still at home! Chicks! They don;t get it that sometimes us guys are trying to do something romantic.

To calm my nervous I called my pop and chatted with him about what I was planning. I mentioned that this was it, after this there is definitely no looking back.

He laughed and said that she is good and what do I want to do be single forever? “Brandon, age will catch up to you and one day the ladies will stop looking your way,” he said. Thanks pop but that’s kind of messed up, “Ha, I don’t think so. My genes are good.”

Right about then Elizabeth showed up. I quickly got off the phone with my own personal Yoda.

Elizabeth was wearing her purple hat that made her look like a throw back to Audrey Hepburn, well except for the blue jeans and vintage t-shirt.

As Elizabeth stepped closer to me I bent down to pick up my gym bag, only this time I got on one knee and held up the ring and said, “This is your last chance to change your mind. Will you marry me?”

Her mouth dropped, she quickly covered her mouth and nose in shock with both hands, all I could see was her eyes.

She then bent down and kissed me, grabbed the ring and put it on, que all the single ladies song.

Oh! Oh! Oh! If you love me you better put a ring on it!

Still in shock she stepped back looking happy for a good 5 minutes before passer byes started staring wondering what the heck I just did and if she was mad or happy.

We then ended up sitting at the Cipriani’s right next to the spot and had a glass of prosecco to celebrate.

To see her so happy and to think that it was because of me was something very special. I wish I could have frozen that moment in time for as long as we live.

Unusual way to ask someone to marry you,isn’t it? I’m actually thinking to make a top 10 most unusual ways to ask the big question heh.

marry me alicia. just follow your heart and do it.

oh yeah, this is the first single off alicia’s the element of freedom.

- panda keys

Until that day, my dreams untrue
Love came alive, when I met you
Those caring eyes saw through me
Touching fate that calmed life’s sea

Dreams unfolded before our eyes
With hope enough to touch the skies
Lost moments in a most tender kiss
Are memories, times I surely miss

Files in your mind are upside down
But I remember and, then I frown
You cannot recall our last vacation
Or the quick kiss in the train station

You don’t recall how you wore your hair
At our pictures, you just sit and stare
I pray for a key to reopen the door
Hope you’ll remember just once more

Touching fate that turned life’s sea
I sit and ask, “What do I do with me?”

Copyright 2009.  T.D. Mitchell for Wordlover Writing.  All rights reserved.

I have to get over feeling I shouldn’t exist.  It’s no way to live.  Why can’t I simply say, “what’s done is done, I’m alive, so I ought to make the most of it”?  Why can’t I stick to this decision?  I’m constantly changing my mind about whether I like or hate someone, except I waver this way only about myself.  I dreamt two nights ago that I couldn’t decide whether or not to marry someone.  I was in a fancy jewelry store and putting on one impossibly expensive ring after the other, not knowing if I wanted a simple band or one with diamonds shooting from every other stretch of gold like a burst of fireworks (how this aggressively ostentatious ring would not injure my other fingers was beyond me).  I had the odd thought process that, if only I could decide on which ring was right for me, I would know whether or not it was the right decision to marry the person or not.  I wonder if this is how some women feel in actuality.

Another thought distracting me from the issue of which ring to choose and whether or not to accept the proposal was that in the dream, just like in a dream I’d had only a few days before, I had just gotten an abortion but learned I was pregnant again and was so frustrated with myself for making mistake after mistake.  No wonder, I doubted myself in choosing a ring or a partner when I didn’t even trust myself.  I believe, after buying and returning and buying again and returning various rings many times over, I decided not to marry in the end and gave my sizable store credit to a friend who happened to be with me.

I wish there were a way to make an unconditional commitment to myself.  Why does their being an escape option reassure me so much?  Don’t those in arranged marriages end up convincing themselves they’re happier thean those in so-called love marriages?  If I applied that to myself and swore off suicide, would that help me live better?

On a less morbid though perhaps sicker note, i dreamt earlier that week that I had to drink a very large beaker fulll of come (perhaps the equivalent of two pints).  I remember only tasting it and thinking it was like warm milk (which I do not like but can’t compare to the thought of an overwhelming quantity of random men’s semen ready for my consumption) before putting the glass down and wandering off, perhaps in the hopes I wouldn’t really have to drink it all: I am lactose intolerant, after all.  This dream has no reflection on the taste of Frank’s come, which like the best of come has no discernible taste, but then I’m not a chef and can’t extract various hints of flavor from what I taste (that apple cider would taste so much better with mulling spices . . . perfect).

It seems many have associated come to milk before . . . did I dream of a cliche?

Speaking of sexual dreams, which i have no shortage of despite my shortage of life-affirming logic, this one occurred about a month ago.  It was a grup activity in which we were cutting out silhouettes from exercise mats and arranging them in various designs for a competition.  The first challenge was to arrange a lay-out for your average apartment living room.  Simple enough.  The next was to recreate the placement and relatives sizes of buildings in my neighborhood, which was actually quite difficult (if one building was too large, it would take room from other buildings and force them to be too small relative to the neighboring buildings and we couldn’t simply extend the border of the Hudson to fit more buildings in).  The third was to design a scene with people, among them a woman sitting at a diner cunter eating a snack, a father carrying his small child to daycare . . . innocent enough, until you get to a woman lying on her stopmach waiting for another to go down on her.  The task involved the team members splitting into two groups, so half designed one side of the scene while the other half focused on the other side.  I wasn’t on the side that had placed the woman there to be gone down on.  but the twist in this game of cooperation was that, after one half of the team had designed their side, it was up to the other half of the team to create the other side’s design with the spongey material.  And somehow, it was placed on me to make the woman waiting to be gone down upon to rech orgasm, so I, as a cut-out myself, had to slip beneath her own rather two-dimensional figure to try to make her come.  Let me note, i didn’t enjoy this.  It was, in fact, more like a sick form of rape designed by the other team members as a sick joke.  Anyway, doing my best while not at all knowing what I was doing, i did make the rubber foam woman come and she even squirted on my rubber foam mouth, which was a relief because, even if it’s forced on you, the perfectionist in me don’t want to fail at the task imposed on me.  Anyway, it was all very twisted and makes me more wary than ever of being a team player.  No, I don’t work well in groups!

So my sexual experience, which used to pose boundaries to what I dreamt about (with one notable exception to my knowledge) seems not to prevent others from forcing me to do things I’ve never done before, in my nightmares, that is.  Hurray!

When Joe Sparano wanted to ask his girlfriend Kristin Kacerik to marry him he could have just gotten down on one knee. But that’s just not his style.

Instead he came up with an elaborate and really clever scheme in the guise of a “spontaneous” picnic celebrating their anniversary on July 18th, 2009.

Here’s Joe in his own words:

We were technically celebrating our dating anniversary, and since we regularly buy LEGO sets for each other, she didn’t suspect a thing. She didn’t know it at the time, but I had actually been planning the picnic (and all of its trappings) for months. It was a complicated scheme, but I couldn’t turn down the perfect opportunity to show her just how much she means to me.

Last September, after looking through a LEGO catalog together, it struck me just how perfectly LEGO represents our shared experience. Not only were we both huge LEGO geeks growing up, but neither of us really stopped (being geeks or growing up). Plus, we first met at a toy store (working at Toys R Us).

Over the next 6 months, I secretly assembled three custom LEGO sets. And on July 18th, I wrapped them up and gave them to her as “anniversary” gifts. The sets, the photography, and the boxes were assembled from the ground-up. The basic design was modeled after the 1980’s style, which is the era that she and I (separately) became life-long LEGO fans. All of the bricks were purchased new from Pick-a-Brick and BrickLink, and there were lots of amazing people online that helped me with my planning and research.

She and I decided awhile ago that we wanted the proposal to be a surprise, so I created a LEGO ring and box to stand in for the real thing.

Joe was able to capture the exact moment when Kristin realized that these were not just anniversary gifts.

The three gifts were opened in succession (#7181 Kristin & Joe, #7182 Our Favorite Things, and #7183 Engagement Picnic). She gasped in surprise as soon as she unwrapped the last set. At that moment, I proposed with the LEGO ring, and she said yes! It’s absolutely wonderful!

Here’s the real Joe and Kristen.

This is one of the best marriage proposal stories I’ve ever heard and the fact that it centers around LEGO makes it extra special in my book. Go check out Joe’s Flickr photostream to see even more pictures. Not to detract from the story itself, but Joe used some pretty clever building in his sets as well. You can see just how he made the Minifig scale ring too.

Congratulations to the happy couple!

I wonder if we’ll be seeing a “Wedding Day” set from Joe in the future.

Because

I care for you more deeply
Than one heart can conceive
This feeling of affinity
Seems like make-believe

My heart has found surrender
My life a new emprise
In beaming stars of fireflies
Dancing in your eyes

Now love lights upon my heart
Flitters like a butterfly
I’m asking you to be my wife
And smiling in reply

You say, “yes!”

Copyright © 2002 by Jake Olden Shy

Marriage is a sacred, life long commitment. It takes two mature adults to willingly accept and overlook one another’s imperfections. This man has come up with a unique way to handle his marriage proposal, along a major road in Bigola Australia.

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I’m sorry did I say proposal? I mean to handle his break up. You’re a sucker Jennifer!

Everyone is talking about Jennifer in the town in Bigola, NSW, Australia after a series of large signs were posted overnight on telegraph poles running alongside the busiest road in the area

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Guide To Popping The Question Review

Visit Guide To Popping The Question Website

Let’s face it, one of the biggest problems you face, when planning to pop the question, is finding a unique, creative and romantic way to do it.

So does “The Romantic’s Guide To Popping The Question” really provide you with quality stories, ideas and inspiration for an unforgettable marriage proposal?

First of all, the book contains 101 stories in total, and after reading just the first fifteen stories, I knew this is exactly what men need to make their proposal exceptional. I found myself leaning back in my chair, saying, “wow,” after reading many of the stories.

In fact, every time I thought they couldn’t get any more creative and imaginative, they did! Just wait till you read what everyone did with their cars and bodies in story #13­­it was incredible! And the creative way a guy proposed in the cinema! And the horseback proposal “with a twist” that will totally blow you away!

Not to mention, this book also has the 25 WORST marriage proposals that will have you laughing your guts out! These were so enjoyable that I’ve been sharing them with friends ever since.

Now, the only problem I have with the book is that it makes other proposal stories (even half-decent ones) look terrible! I mean these stories are unheard of anywhere else. If you’re thinking of proposing or know someone who’s about to, then tell him or her about this book right now!

You can learn more about the book and to claim your discount, click on link below:

Visit Guide To Popping The Question Website

Visit Guide To Popping The Question Website

Female, 24, Midtown Manhattan, working in corporate finance.  Just a note: I include “waking up” and “getting dressed” as part of my work day, because if I were unemployed, I would do neither of these things.  Well, I might wake up, but definitely not at 7:30 AM.

7:30 AM - Fired Up to Start the Day. This morning, I awake to a marriage proposal on the radio.  This is pretty much how it went:

Man: “Will you marry me?”

Woman (matter-of-factly): “Yes.” (Silence)…

Radio show hosts: “What?!?” and then proceed to berate the woman for her lack of emotion.

“I just woke up,” she insists, saying “I’m excited…” with all the conviction of a death row inmate heading to the chair.

But girlfriend, I’m with you.  If my hypothetical boyfriend asked me to marry him on a radio show, I would say “Yes” as icily as possible, if at all.  A marriage proposal by radio is almost as insulting as proposal by email or proposal by ballpark jumbotron.

8:15 AM - I Definitely Have to Do Laundry Tonight. I’m down to my last pair of underwear.  (Sorry if this is TMI.)  I briefly consider buying underwear just to delay the laundry…  However, I immediately scrap that idea, since there are no clothing stores on my direct route to work.  (I must admit I contemplated going to Duane Reade.)  I still have swimsuit bottoms though, so I might make it to the weekend.

9:35 AM - First Thought of the Day on Leaving Finance. My co-worker sends me a WSJ article about a Wall Street trader-turned-waiter.  He and I talk about career issues all the time… We’re like third-graders: “How cool would it be if people could fly?? How cool would it be if people actually liked their jobs??”

11:12 AM – Clock-Watching. Today is just crawling.  Our internet is down, so I take my allotted “online browsing” time to doodle and to eavesdrop on my co-workers’ conversations instead.  Oftentimes I fear that I am picking up the accents of my neighbors.  There is one woman who has a voice that becomes more and more unbearable as the day goes on.  I feel like I’m slowly turning into a nasally muppet from Long Island.

1:30 PM – I’m Thinking About Weight Watchers. I meet the President of Ad Sales at a diversity fair, which I attend because there is free food.  I shake his hand while trying to balance my heaping plate of pizza, pasta, salad, and fudge brownies.  I hope that my firm handshake will distract him from my pile of brownies, inadvertently drizzled with Caesar dressing.

2:07 PM – We’re No Longer Friends… One of my best friends sends me a message over Gchat: “Something for you to write about that annoys me: co-workers responding to e-mails and ending them with ellipses. WTF.”  I realize I do this all the time…

 4:46 PM – Not a Fan of Office Baptism. Maybe it’s just me, but I always feel really awkward when someone I don’t know brings a baby into the office.  Showing off a baby at the office has become a sacred ritual.  Everyone gathers around the baby, as if it’s the second (or third?) coming of Jesus.  They all coo over the baby, and tell the parent how beautiful the baby is, even if it looks like a wrinkly prune.

Today, one of the salesmen brings in his baby.  I hear the festivities in the hall, with the usual “Oh my God!  He’s so big!” comments.  But since I don’t know the proud papa, I feel strange about joining the crowd.  At the same time, it seems sacrilegious to avoid baby Jesus.

So, I play it by the same rule that I employ when I meet people at bars: if he doesn’t come over to me, then he doesn’t exist.  As the baby never made his way over to my desk today, he didn’t get the pleasure of my company.  Take that, baby.  (I’m going to end up old and alone, with cats, aren’t I?)

6:36 – I May Be Out of a Job Soon.

Right before I’m about to head out, my redheaded Irish co-worker pings me on our company instant messaging system:

JM: this will be your child [he sends over a link to this picture]

Me: thanks honey

Me: but won’t my baby have red hair?

 

And with that, I sign off.  I love sexually harassing co-workers at the end of the day.

TOTALS: Two non-encounters with babies (one imagined, one real), three Facebook Scrabble games finished, four brownies guiltily consumed, two inappropriate messages to co-workers, one possible case of sexual harassment, and the omnipresent gnawing feeling that I’m going to end up old and alone with cats, unless I say “yes” to marriage on the radio.

Guys from Cake Group made video proposal. Very romantic!

Patent attorney Ryan Grace made marriage proposal using patent application “Method and instrument for proposing marriage to an individual”. Abstract of application:

The purpose of this invention is to provide an improved method of proposing marriage to an individual. The method of proposing to an individual generally comprising the steps of meeting the individual; exchanging names with the individual; dating the individual (not necessary); drafting a government document having a proposal to marry the individual incorporated therein; and showing the government document to the individual. The government document may be a patent application. The patent application may claim the method by which the proposor will make a marriage proposal to the individual. The proposor could then use the method claimed in the patent application to propose to the individual. The patent application could be the actual marriage proposal.

And as follows from claim [0045] she said yes:

In the ideal situation where Ellie accepts the diamond ring, Ryan should sign the patent application and deposit the patent application with the United States Postal Service. Preferably, the United States Patent and Trademark Office receives the patent application and, upon examination, issues a patent on the same.

I wondering, will he perepare patent application about  making weird patents?

Congratulations to my brother and his fiance, Heidi! They were engaged last weekend in Chicago.  They took the train into the heart of the city and while they ascended in a hot air balloon for a panoramic view of the cityscape and navy pier, Troy got down on his knees, opened up a little box and popped the question somewhere next to cloud nine .  They finished their magical day with dinner and a U2 concert at Soldier Field.  A lucky man and a lucky lady found each other. 

The Conwy Suite at St Georges

Sunday 27th September 2009 will see one of the regions best wedding fayres, open from 12pm – 5pm and it is free to attend.

Quite simply you could organise your whole wedding in just one day, visit a wide range of exhibitors including Aspire Health and Beauty, Majestic Wedding Cars, Fresh Contemporary Photography Ltd and many, many more.

You will also be able to pick up our new 2010/11 wedding packages and enjoy a full showround of all the suites and facilities of St Georges Hotel.

For more information please contact Nicky Fare on 01492 877544 or e-mail nicky.fare@stgeorgeswales.co.uk

We look forward to seeing you at the Fayre

When we attended last years wedding fayre we not only booked St Georges as the venue but we managed to sort out the flowers, cars and photography for our wedding – thank you.