On the seventh day…

It was a fun-filled week here at Eve-101, chock full of our favorite things..sex, love, relationships, scandals, sluts and more sex.

Rather than make you work on this day of rest we’ve put together a handy Week in Review guide just for you, our loyal readers.

Although the ghosts and goblins may be gone, this party isn’t over. So grab the Tootsie Rolls and Twizzlers, skim, click, read and enjoy Eve-101…

Fetish-tastic:

The fact that there are people out there that get all jolly in their junk watching balloons pop or getting peed on, well, it makes me feel less self conscious about my occasional desire for a firm (ehm) hand.

Falling Off The Pedestal:

Unfortunately, all too often we become so preoccupied with what we perceive to be the deficiencies of others that we negate to take responsibility for our own thoughts and actions.

Theeeeey’rrrrre baaaack!:

I am an 80’s girl.  I grew up dancing around the living room to Cyndi Lauper and Duran Duran records in my legwarmers and acid washed jeans, clinging tight to my rainbow bright doll. Happiness was a warm crimping iron.  I had jellies in 8 different colors. It is a decade that will always have a special place in my heart.

Now Serving: Mommy’s Sloppy Seconds:

Dear Eve,

Last spring my Mom was killed in a car accident.  I came home from college at the end of the semester to help my Step-Dad pack up her things and we spent a lot of time talking about my Mom. One night we decided to open a bottle of her favorite wine to toast her memory, and before I knew it my Step-Dad and I were making love on the living room floor.

Trick-or-tart?:

When exactly did Girls Gone Wild become the official sponsor for Halloween? Because it’s just asinine, and really ladies…it’s beneath us to accept it.

Too Much Information:

In particular, there are three topics of conversation I would kindly ask you keep to yourself.  Not about censorship here, I just don’t want to have to process it while I am in line for an iced coffee.

From our family to yours, may your day of rest be…well, restful. While you’re here, why don’t you take a moment and tell us how we’re doing. Is Eve helping you attain your daily requirement of useful (and sometimes trivial) information? Are we bringing you enough peace, joy and mentally disturbing images? What can we do for YOU? Nudity and bestiality excluded, you sickos!

Trick-or-tart?

Tell me dear friends, when exactly Halloween stopped being about the treats…

And started being all about looking like a trick?

Back in my day we didn’t have a whole lot of options, but that was okay. Mom could glue some black triangles of felt to a headband, paint some whiskers on my face, pin a tail on my butt and bam! A happy little kitty skipped off to roam the neighborhood in search of candy.

But the simplistic homemade costumes of yesteryear don’t fly anymore; my boys want to be something scary, high-tech and sophisticated, and alas,  I am not able to create masterpieces for them. I lack the time and more importantly, the Susie homemaker gene. Yes, my complete lack of artistic craftiness sent us out to search the world– and more specifically a building that is vacant 10 months out of the year– for some spooky-ookie costume goodness.

That’s right, we turned to the professionals: the seasonal Halloween store. I was expecting ghouls, monsters, aliens, vampires - in other words, I was expecting some options for a couple of hyper-active little boys. I mean, isn’t that a rather large consumer demographic for this particular festivity? Apparently not. I came to a revelation as I stood there, mouth agape, in the doorway of the inappropriately named “Halloween Town.”

Halloween Town has become Slut City.

When exactly did Girls Gone Wild become the official sponsor for Halloween? Because it’s just asinine, and really ladies…it’s beneath us to accept it.

What I found within the store was 35 assorted hooker suits for every 1 traditional child costume. Elaborate and extensive collections of glorified underwear for women, who otherwise wouldn’t be caught dead out and about without their pants on, any other day of the week. Ohhhhh… but this one night a year, it’s whores galore, kids, whores galore! The women’s’ attire (stripperwear) looked lush and expensive, the ONE row of kids costumes were cheap and infantile.

Two choices folks, dress like a baby or a girl that’s going to make one if she’s not careful

Next year I might just have to bribe one of my craftier friends to help me. We’ll macrame some costumes…do people still macrame? No probably not, but we’ll make the damn things somehow.  Because the retail stores aren’t doing me any favors.

If only my little boys wanted to be pirate wenches for Halloween, things would be so much easier… I already have eye liner and tube tops and I could easily fashion the top of one of my bathing suits into matching eye patches….the costume would practically take care of itself. Of course grandpa may not be so thrilled about taking the salty lil’ sea dogs trick or treating this year…but I digress.

C’mon, costumes are supposed to be for the kids, not the kinks. When did we trade in bags of candy for eye candy? If you want to dress up like a naughty nurse…do what grown-ups do…and do it on a Tuesday! Do it when the sex has gotten a little blah. Do it because you already get paid to be a nurse and there’s a really hot prospect in the critical care ward that you’re trying to cozy up to.  Halloween is suppose to be tootsie rolls and candy corn…not titties hos and hand jobs. Good grief.

But apparently Halloween has become for the sexually repressed what St Patrick’s Day is for lightweight drinkers…amateur night. And the Halloween Town’s of the world are reaping the benefits. Girls are willing to drop 70 bucks a pop for a glittery piece of dental floss, some sequins and a butt ruffle, why wouldn’t the retailers take advantage?

But me, I just don’t understand this one night a year excuse to dress like a street-walking witch in search of a halfhearted broom ride. I’m comfortable dressing like a libidinous librarian any night of the week. I don’t need a stinkin’ CHILDREN’S holiday to tell me when I can and cannot let my inner-slut shine through. Don’t wait for the calendar to tell you when you can be sexually adventurous. Own your inner freak. Own it!

And let the kids have their flipping holiday back.

Thank you.

and Adieu

Happy Halloween, ladies and gents!  What do you think about my rant up there?  Did I go too far, or are you as annoyed by the take over as I am?  What was Halloween like when you were a kid? Do you think kids have it better or worse than we did?  And what are you doing tonight?!

PS: there is a riCOCKulous response to this at pointlessbanter.net Go read, you know, if you have nothing better to do.

BOO!

Hidden indiscretions…we all have them. Overstuffed envelopes containing love letters of yesteryear, a little locked box with pixilated images and of course the ever popular, naughty drawer. Memories and alter egos, stashed and hoarded away with the notion that our eyes are the only one’s that will ever peer into our unmentionables. And then the day comes…dun, du, du, dun, duuuuun….when others are inadvertently made privy to the fact that not all of our dirty little secrets are taken to the proverbial grave.

Personally, I’m an emotional packrat. I save everything from movie stubs to post-it notes and champagne corks. I suppose this trend begins in the hopes that each new encounter will ultimately become the relationship that lasts through my golden years. I revel in the idea that someday I’d be able to fondly remember the play off series or the trip to the amusement park on our summer vacation. Each tangible item in the “memory box” would evoke an emotional response. My heart would swoon as a smile crosses my lips while aimlessly rocking on the porch sipping lemonade. What? A girl can dream, can’t she?

Okay, Okay, so in theory, having a sentimental treasure trove has warm and fuzzy written all over it. In reality…not so much. Imagine for a moment, your purest, gawdliest friend or family member. Now, imagine the shock and awe you might endure if you were to unexpectedly discover that they secretly fancy zoophilia, numerous sexual partners, cross-dressing or if you’ve struck the mother load…all three simultaneously. WHOA! Suddenly your impressions have been shattered into tiny bits of convoluted irrational thoughts leaving you with nothing more than unanswered questions.

In the event of my permanent absence there are very few people I could fathom sorting through my life and discovering some of my, shall we say…questionable activities. Although I’m not generally one to keep secrets that certainly does not mean that I would ever want my survivors to see my bits in high def or read about my summer vacation to Mexico when I was a not-so-innocent barely legal teen on the verge of a starring role in Girls Gone Wild.

Here’s a little food for thought…if others would be horrified by your possessions of X-rated paraphernalia, years of memoirs or that you still harbor a crush on Scott Baio, I highly suggest you invest in a paper shredder and schedule a bonfire in your near future! No one needs that kind of unsolicited information floating around in their grey matter distorting their untainted opinions and memories. If you’ve got skeletons in your closet…for the love all that’s unholy, get rid of them! Spare the damage to your children’s psyches when they discover that you’ve used their kindergarten paper mache piñata to store your nipple clamps and whatnots!

It’s time to give up the goods…what secrets are you hiding? Are you an emotional pack rat or do you binge and purge? And, how would you feel if you came face-to-face with current lovah’s past conquests?