Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Sex Ed 101
I am always shocked at what I'll write to elicit a good laugh. It's time once again for my monthly "Sex and the Suburbs" column in Creative Loafing. Let the embarrassment commence! Enjoy.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Medicine In All Its Forms
When the going gets tough, the tough go to Dairy Queen.
That is exactly what happened yesterday when I learned that a major NY publisher, after three months of reviewing Opening the Kimono, decided to reject my book for publication. While they loved my book, they could not support it at this time. Specifically, the publisher said:
"We have done our best to analyze whether we can publish your book successfully. After doing that analysis, we have come to the conclusion that based on the market as it is, it would be difficult to successfully publish it at this time. I know that this could be disappointing news and I want you to know that this is not a reflection of your work, but more of what's happening in the market and what has been selling successfully in this challenging market. "
That was little comfort. I felt like I had been repeatedly punched in the stomach by the World Boxing Association heavyweight champ. I had put so much of myself into the notion that this top publisher would accept my book and take it to the masses. Visions of Oprah danced in my head. How could they reject it? Everyone who reads it loves it! I know that celebrity memoirs, works from known bestsellers and diet books are practically the only things being published right now, but c'mon! Isn't there just a little bit of room for something new?
My husband/business partner was with me when I read the email. My tear-covered face clearly showed my disappointment more than any words could convey. He immediately swept me up into one of his classic bear hugs. He decided that the first-level of response needed to be some quality Michael Medicine. He took me into the bedroom and made delicious love to me, telling me how proud of me he was and that I was powerful, beautiful, and an amazingly talented woman. He nurtured me through the tears and brought me through the worst of the storm.
That was Step One.
The next step in my grieving process was to bury myself in the comfortable confines of our bed. I wanted to pull the covers over my head until the sting of the rejection ebbed to a manageable level. However, hubby broke into my existential malaise and declared that he wasn't going to allow me to wallow in bed all day long. It was time to re-enter the world. At my urging, we hopped into the car and proceeded to administer the second dose of medication: a Dairy Queen hot dog, fries, and Reese's Blizzard. I gotta admit, the tasty treats did start to make me feel a wee bit better. There is something therapeutic about chocolate and peanut butter...
That was Step Two.
Once we got home, I didn't want to do anything productive, and I certainly didn't want to get on that damn computer to do any more work. Every time I looked at MacDaddy, he taunted me with the firebomb contained within my Inbox. Instead, I pleaded with my beloved to join me in the basement for some sustained mind-numbing TV. We popped in the Blu-Ray disc of season one of "True Blood" and watched vampire shenanigans for several hours. Somehow watching hot vamps all day long made the pain of my disappointment further recede into the mist of my saddened heart.
That was Step Three.
Throughout the day, I received numerous calls and emails from family, friends, and fans who reminded me that I am, in fact, worthy of success, despite what the fancy-pants publisher may think. With each supportive comment, my confidence grew and ate away at my pathetic, "I suck" attitude. One comment in particular stood out in my mind. A woman who has read my book several times and listens to the audiobook in her car sent me a note: "I just want you to know, your words continue to transform my life on a daily basis." Her thoughtful comment prodded me to remember other things. I recalled that one woman who is currently going through rehab was allowed to bring only a very few items with her, and she chose her well-worn copy of Opening the Kimono to be one of them. I recalled one woman chasing me down at the International New Age Trade Show saying that she had to meet the woman who wrote the best book she ever read. I recalled the awards my book has won. In short, I remembered that I am still, regardless of the painful rejection I just received, The Shizit.
That was Step Four.
Collectively, all of these steps brought me back from the brink. After a reasonably good night's sleep (how much sleep can one get after snarfing down DQ and seven episodes of "True Blood"?), I woke up with a new attitude. I firmly believe that everything happens exactly as it should, and there are gifts contained in every seemingly horrible situation. I am grateful that I don't have to wait on pins and needles anymore, waiting to hear from the people for whom I (incorrectly) placed all of my hopes and dreams. I am grateful that I have so many wonderful people in my life who support and love me. I am grateful that I have written a book that makes people feel better about themselves. I am grateful for another day.
After our post-coital cuddle yesterday, Michael reminded me of the most important thing of all: "Let's allow the Powers That Be who create worlds to take your book where it needs to go. We don't have to do all of the work. It's up to us to just live joyfully and act upon the signs that Spirit gives us. It is in charge, not us."
Damn straight. I will NOT hold on to my self-judgment and disappointment anymore. I will embrace this latest development as a gift, knowing that Spirit is driving me towards something phenomenal. Starting today, I am going to get back on the horse, share my words with as many people as possible, and sell the shit out of my little book of inspirational stories. The right publisher for the second edition WILL present themselves at the perfect moment, because Spirit is in the driver's seat.
And if/when I waver, Dairy Queen is just down the street.
**************************************************************
Please visit www.TheresaRose.net to take a peek inside Opening the Kimono!
**************************************************************
That is exactly what happened yesterday when I learned that a major NY publisher, after three months of reviewing Opening the Kimono, decided to reject my book for publication. While they loved my book, they could not support it at this time. Specifically, the publisher said:
"We have done our best to analyze whether we can publish your book successfully. After doing that analysis, we have come to the conclusion that based on the market as it is, it would be difficult to successfully publish it at this time. I know that this could be disappointing news and I want you to know that this is not a reflection of your work, but more of what's happening in the market and what has been selling successfully in this challenging market. "
That was little comfort. I felt like I had been repeatedly punched in the stomach by the World Boxing Association heavyweight champ. I had put so much of myself into the notion that this top publisher would accept my book and take it to the masses. Visions of Oprah danced in my head. How could they reject it? Everyone who reads it loves it! I know that celebrity memoirs, works from known bestsellers and diet books are practically the only things being published right now, but c'mon! Isn't there just a little bit of room for something new?
My husband/business partner was with me when I read the email. My tear-covered face clearly showed my disappointment more than any words could convey. He immediately swept me up into one of his classic bear hugs. He decided that the first-level of response needed to be some quality Michael Medicine. He took me into the bedroom and made delicious love to me, telling me how proud of me he was and that I was powerful, beautiful, and an amazingly talented woman. He nurtured me through the tears and brought me through the worst of the storm.
That was Step One.
The next step in my grieving process was to bury myself in the comfortable confines of our bed. I wanted to pull the covers over my head until the sting of the rejection ebbed to a manageable level. However, hubby broke into my existential malaise and declared that he wasn't going to allow me to wallow in bed all day long. It was time to re-enter the world. At my urging, we hopped into the car and proceeded to administer the second dose of medication: a Dairy Queen hot dog, fries, and Reese's Blizzard. I gotta admit, the tasty treats did start to make me feel a wee bit better. There is something therapeutic about chocolate and peanut butter...
That was Step Two.
Once we got home, I didn't want to do anything productive, and I certainly didn't want to get on that damn computer to do any more work. Every time I looked at MacDaddy, he taunted me with the firebomb contained within my Inbox. Instead, I pleaded with my beloved to join me in the basement for some sustained mind-numbing TV. We popped in the Blu-Ray disc of season one of "True Blood" and watched vampire shenanigans for several hours. Somehow watching hot vamps all day long made the pain of my disappointment further recede into the mist of my saddened heart.
That was Step Three.
Throughout the day, I received numerous calls and emails from family, friends, and fans who reminded me that I am, in fact, worthy of success, despite what the fancy-pants publisher may think. With each supportive comment, my confidence grew and ate away at my pathetic, "I suck" attitude. One comment in particular stood out in my mind. A woman who has read my book several times and listens to the audiobook in her car sent me a note: "I just want you to know, your words continue to transform my life on a daily basis." Her thoughtful comment prodded me to remember other things. I recalled that one woman who is currently going through rehab was allowed to bring only a very few items with her, and she chose her well-worn copy of Opening the Kimono to be one of them. I recalled one woman chasing me down at the International New Age Trade Show saying that she had to meet the woman who wrote the best book she ever read. I recalled the awards my book has won. In short, I remembered that I am still, regardless of the painful rejection I just received, The Shizit.
That was Step Four.
Collectively, all of these steps brought me back from the brink. After a reasonably good night's sleep (how much sleep can one get after snarfing down DQ and seven episodes of "True Blood"?), I woke up with a new attitude. I firmly believe that everything happens exactly as it should, and there are gifts contained in every seemingly horrible situation. I am grateful that I don't have to wait on pins and needles anymore, waiting to hear from the people for whom I (incorrectly) placed all of my hopes and dreams. I am grateful that I have so many wonderful people in my life who support and love me. I am grateful that I have written a book that makes people feel better about themselves. I am grateful for another day.
After our post-coital cuddle yesterday, Michael reminded me of the most important thing of all: "Let's allow the Powers That Be who create worlds to take your book where it needs to go. We don't have to do all of the work. It's up to us to just live joyfully and act upon the signs that Spirit gives us. It is in charge, not us."
Damn straight. I will NOT hold on to my self-judgment and disappointment anymore. I will embrace this latest development as a gift, knowing that Spirit is driving me towards something phenomenal. Starting today, I am going to get back on the horse, share my words with as many people as possible, and sell the shit out of my little book of inspirational stories. The right publisher for the second edition WILL present themselves at the perfect moment, because Spirit is in the driver's seat.
And if/when I waver, Dairy Queen is just down the street.
**************************************************************
Please visit www.TheresaRose.net to take a peek inside Opening the Kimono!
**************************************************************
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Confessions of a Closet Cougar
I am back in the groove of my writing, and boy, oh boy, does it feel GOOOOOD! I just finished my latest "Sex and the Suburbs" column for Creative Loafing newspaper titled "Confessions of a Closet Cougar". I hope you enjoy reading it, and please share it with your friends on Facebook, Twitter, or any other way you stay connected to your peeps in this crazy, 21st Century world of ours.
As an aside, I must tell you how awkward it was to have my husband edit this month's "SaTS" column. I kept thinking, I wonder if he'll blow a gasket when he reads the line, "I almost splurted after peeking at his perfectly round tushie." (The aforementioned tushie not belonging to my beloved.) Being the confident and supportive hubby that he is, he merely smiled and told me how funny the piece was. Honestly, the man is a freak of nature. I think he is missing the jealousy gene.
To all you cougars out there, keep prowlin' and growlin'. There is so much delectable prey on which to feast!
As an aside, I must tell you how awkward it was to have my husband edit this month's "SaTS" column. I kept thinking, I wonder if he'll blow a gasket when he reads the line, "I almost splurted after peeking at his perfectly round tushie." (The aforementioned tushie not belonging to my beloved.) Being the confident and supportive hubby that he is, he merely smiled and told me how funny the piece was. Honestly, the man is a freak of nature. I think he is missing the jealousy gene.
To all you cougars out there, keep prowlin' and growlin'. There is so much delectable prey on which to feast!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Porn Free
I have been sick for over a week ever since returning from my trip to Denver for the International New Age Trade Show. (I never seem to learn the lesson that I need to rest just a teensy bit before diving back into life's craziness.) Today is the first day that I am starting to feel a little better, but I am still not quite ready to create brand new blog mats. However, I thought I'd share with you the latest installment of my monthly column called "Sex and the Suburbs" in Creative Loafing newspaper. If I think too much about what I write, I find myself blushing beet red from the embarrassment. Suffice it to say, this is one of those blush-worthy items. Enjoy!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Let It Flo!
I am going on a much-needed retreat and vacation with hubby starting next Friday, and there is only one thing on my mind right now: my friggin' period.
In order for me to properly participate in both activities, both on a spiritual and carnal level, I want to be menses-free. Historically, my monthly visitor Flo always seems to arrive at the most inopportune times; therefore, this week I am endeavoring to nudge her along so she'll be gone by the time I step on the first of many Delta airplanes.
Ever since I stopped taking The Pill, Flo's ETA is a crap-shoot. The near-absence of sugar and caffeine in my diet has made her stay a little more bearable, but it has not done much to predict her whereabouts. Two of the consistent indicators of her impending arrival are sore boobies and a bad f#@king attitude. I can attest to having both. (If you read my scathing rantblog yesterday called "Don't Let the Nutters Win", I'm sure you have an inkling of my mood du jour.)
I've been shown the two unpleasant warning signs; now it's time for me to kick it into high gear. Here are a few proactive steps I have taken to start riding the red pony...
1. I'm wearing white panties underneath white pants. This is the surest way I know of to taunt the menstruation goddesses into action.
2. I emptied the bathroom garbage. Only then will it be ready to receive the pile of nastiness associated with copious used plugs and pads.
3. Speaking of products, I've moved all applicable sundries into the bathroom staging area. There are tampons of all sizes (junior, regular, super, superplus, and twin mattress), pads (supermaxiovernightican'tbelieveyouneedthatmuchprotectionwhileyou'reasleep), and the cute little pantyliners for the final, is-it-over-maybe-i-don't-think-so-not-yet day.
4. I scheduled a really huge TV interview for tomorrow. Having mere stage jitters is for pussies; I want to have a full-blown, nauseous cramp-fest in order to make the moment as memorable as possible.
There it is. I'm stepping into the driver's seat so I can have unrestricted time with Spirit on a mountaintop followed by unrestrained nookie with the Spousal Unit.
I'm ready for ya, Flo.
Your move...
********************************************************
For your comment and/or consideration:
What are the signals that Flo is about to arrive at your house?
********************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read a chapter of Opening the Kimono!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
In order for me to properly participate in both activities, both on a spiritual and carnal level, I want to be menses-free. Historically, my monthly visitor Flo always seems to arrive at the most inopportune times; therefore, this week I am endeavoring to nudge her along so she'll be gone by the time I step on the first of many Delta airplanes.
Ever since I stopped taking The Pill, Flo's ETA is a crap-shoot. The near-absence of sugar and caffeine in my diet has made her stay a little more bearable, but it has not done much to predict her whereabouts. Two of the consistent indicators of her impending arrival are sore boobies and a bad f#@king attitude. I can attest to having both. (If you read my scathing rantblog yesterday called "Don't Let the Nutters Win", I'm sure you have an inkling of my mood du jour.)
I've been shown the two unpleasant warning signs; now it's time for me to kick it into high gear. Here are a few proactive steps I have taken to start riding the red pony...
1. I'm wearing white panties underneath white pants. This is the surest way I know of to taunt the menstruation goddesses into action.
2. I emptied the bathroom garbage. Only then will it be ready to receive the pile of nastiness associated with copious used plugs and pads.
3. Speaking of products, I've moved all applicable sundries into the bathroom staging area. There are tampons of all sizes (junior, regular, super, superplus, and twin mattress), pads (supermaxiovernightican'tbelieveyouneedthatmuchprotectionwhileyou'reasleep), and the cute little pantyliners for the final, is-it-over-maybe-i-don't-think-so-not-yet day.
4. I scheduled a really huge TV interview for tomorrow. Having mere stage jitters is for pussies; I want to have a full-blown, nauseous cramp-fest in order to make the moment as memorable as possible.
There it is. I'm stepping into the driver's seat so I can have unrestricted time with Spirit on a mountaintop followed by unrestrained nookie with the Spousal Unit.
I'm ready for ya, Flo.
Your move...
********************************************************
For your comment and/or consideration:
What are the signals that Flo is about to arrive at your house?
********************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read a chapter of Opening the Kimono!-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, March 27, 2009
Typecasting
In another life, I would have wanted to be the next Meryl Streep. Alas, I chose to be a writer and speaker instead. However, whenever I am given the chance to act on stage, I jump at it. Even if I have to swallow a heaping dose of humble pie to do so.
I am blessed to live in Sarasota, Florida, which has established itself as quite a little film town. For eleven years, the Sarasota Film Festival has grown in clout, offerings, and celebrity sightings. (Last year, the unrequited love of my life, Edward Norton, was in town. Oh Edward, I love you so.) This year, the film festival is sponsoring YouthFest, a forum in which budding young filmmakers can hone their craft and get their work seen in public.
This is where I come in...
A few weeks ago, I got an email from Pam, the director of a theatre production I did last year called "Got a Minute". Pam told me she was directing the Youth Screenwriters Live performances for YouthFest and asked me if I would like to do a series of film script readings. Normally, I am not able to commit to doing a full-scale theatre production, as the time needed for rehearsals and performances is just too much for me right now. (I love spending time with Hub and the Bean more than I love being on stage. And that's A LOT.) However, Pam assured me that I'd only need a weekend for rehearsals, and the readings would take place on Sunday night in front of Whole Foods and Monday night at the Florida Studio Theatre.
I think it took me approximately 4 milliseconds before I replied "YES!!" and hit the Send button.
The other day, I got to read the scripts that I'll be performing with the other local actors involved. These scenes were written by high school kids, and they are really impressive. These young'uns have talent, but more importantly, they have guts. They courageously wrote personal stories of pain, emotional trauma, and growth (something I know a little bit about). I'm proud to be associated with this program and am looking forward to another opportunity to be on stage. Then I thought, what sort of juicy roles do I get to read?
Here's my list of characters:
Mrs. Bloom (the obnoxious, trauma-inducing teacher)
Julia's Mom
Dexy's Mom
Emma's Mom (hey, I know how to do that!)
Mom
Dr. Roxanne Shelly (the affable principal)
So, what did I glean from this list of characters I'll be playing this weekend? I've been typecast! I'm the mom. I'm the teacher. I'm the supporting role.
Oh jeez. Can you imagine how friggin' ANCIENT I felt when I read this? It's as if all of my sexy sass was instantaneously sucked from my body and replaced with a hand-knit cardigan sweater with jewel-toned appliques. Ugh. It made me want to put on my halter top, jam Justin, and break out the hoop. I can't be THAT friggin' frumpy, can I?
Then I remembered. I'm an actress, dammit! I can PLAY the curmudgeonly teacher, the wimpy mom, and the sweet little principal. I'll give it my all, Meryl-style. Those kids deserve to see their stories come to life the way they saw them in their heads when they wrote those first tentative words.
But, mark my words: when the performances are over, I'll do my husband better and badder than ever before. There may even be some extra-special treats in store for Mr. Rose on Monday night.
Suck on that, Mrs. Bloom.
************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
If you were in a show, what would you be typecast as?
************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I am blessed to live in Sarasota, Florida, which has established itself as quite a little film town. For eleven years, the Sarasota Film Festival has grown in clout, offerings, and celebrity sightings. (Last year, the unrequited love of my life, Edward Norton, was in town. Oh Edward, I love you so.) This year, the film festival is sponsoring YouthFest, a forum in which budding young filmmakers can hone their craft and get their work seen in public.
This is where I come in...
A few weeks ago, I got an email from Pam, the director of a theatre production I did last year called "Got a Minute". Pam told me she was directing the Youth Screenwriters Live performances for YouthFest and asked me if I would like to do a series of film script readings. Normally, I am not able to commit to doing a full-scale theatre production, as the time needed for rehearsals and performances is just too much for me right now. (I love spending time with Hub and the Bean more than I love being on stage. And that's A LOT.) However, Pam assured me that I'd only need a weekend for rehearsals, and the readings would take place on Sunday night in front of Whole Foods and Monday night at the Florida Studio Theatre.
I think it took me approximately 4 milliseconds before I replied "YES!!" and hit the Send button.
The other day, I got to read the scripts that I'll be performing with the other local actors involved. These scenes were written by high school kids, and they are really impressive. These young'uns have talent, but more importantly, they have guts. They courageously wrote personal stories of pain, emotional trauma, and growth (something I know a little bit about). I'm proud to be associated with this program and am looking forward to another opportunity to be on stage. Then I thought, what sort of juicy roles do I get to read?
Here's my list of characters:
Mrs. Bloom (the obnoxious, trauma-inducing teacher)
Julia's Mom
Dexy's Mom
Emma's Mom (hey, I know how to do that!)
Mom
Dr. Roxanne Shelly (the affable principal)
So, what did I glean from this list of characters I'll be playing this weekend? I've been typecast! I'm the mom. I'm the teacher. I'm the supporting role.
Oh jeez. Can you imagine how friggin' ANCIENT I felt when I read this? It's as if all of my sexy sass was instantaneously sucked from my body and replaced with a hand-knit cardigan sweater with jewel-toned appliques. Ugh. It made me want to put on my halter top, jam Justin, and break out the hoop. I can't be THAT friggin' frumpy, can I?
Then I remembered. I'm an actress, dammit! I can PLAY the curmudgeonly teacher, the wimpy mom, and the sweet little principal. I'll give it my all, Meryl-style. Those kids deserve to see their stories come to life the way they saw them in their heads when they wrote those first tentative words.
But, mark my words: when the performances are over, I'll do my husband better and badder than ever before. There may even be some extra-special treats in store for Mr. Rose on Monday night.
Suck on that, Mrs. Bloom.
************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
If you were in a show, what would you be typecast as?
************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to receive your Daily Dose of Mojo!
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
