Joy’s Rant List, Volume 52: I’m Glad I Got That Off My Chest

It’s funny that this rant is volume 52. That used to be the measurement around my upper chest. lol

Well, family, it has been almost 5 months since I had breast reduction surgery. And I told you all that once I was back to normal I would give an update. All I can say is…

I AM DELIVERT!!! I’m not a “J” no more!! I like cotton bras! COTTON COTTON COTTON COTTOSHALAHAMABRAYA!!!

(Side note – if you didn’t get that reference, you need to see this: I’m Not Gay No More)

In my last blog I gave you the rundown of what it was like living with 42-J breasts. It was … not fun. It had its perks but by and large I was suffering under the weight of having large boobs. Literally. They were about 15 pounds. But I had a GENIUS plastic surgeon. Dr. Arturo Armenta – aside from looking like he just left the set of Grey’s Anatomy – worked magic on me. He took out SEVEN POUNDS of breast tissue during the reduction. As a comparison, my godson Jacob was born the same day and he weighed seven pounds. I was literally carrying around the equivalent of twins in my shirt. Dr. Armenta took out HALF my chest – and I am still a DDD. And he was also able to keep the nerve endings alive in my nipples. That is a big deal. In a reduction this large, the surgeon normally can’t save the nipples and they end up just being lifeless decoration. Lifeless. Decoration. Can you imagine going through the next 30 to 40 years of your life with no nipple action?!?!  Dr. Armenta said that although I was not the biggest reduction he’d ever done, I was in the top 5. So here’s how the pre-surgery conversation went…

Me: Okay, look, doc. I really want to go down as small as I can – BUT – without losing feeling in my nipples. Can you do that?

Doc: No promises. I think I can, but it is a real concern. I’m thinking –

Me: Triple D? E?

Doc: (side-eyeing me) More like Double D.

Me: Okay, then let’s just say that I want to be as small as I can be while saving the nipple.

Doc: Um, okay –

Me: Let nipple-saving be the main priority during surgery.

Doc: …Look, I’m going to do what’s best for you. I think you will be happy. But I will do everything I can to save your nipples.

Me: Thank you, Dr. Armenta!! (whisper: wit’ yo’ fine self!)

I was gonna hook him up with my BFF but he’s married. Oh well. I still would recommend him to anyone in the Houston area looking for a good plastic surgeon.

So remember this dress from my “before” rant?

Look how my boob reaches my elbow... Ugh!

Look how my boob reaches my elbow… Ugh!

Well here is me, in the SAME dress, after my surgery.

First night out on the town (with no bra!) Freedom!

First night out on the town (with no bra!) Freedom!

I know right?!? So this is what has happened all through my wardrobe. It’s not that I have dramatically changed my height or weight, but that everything I own now fits the way it’s supposed to. This dress went from ‘sausage stuffing’ to ‘sexy’. My blazers now button, and I don’t rip out the inner linings. I can buy a two-piece suit off the rack. I DID drop 2 dress sizes – mostly because I formerly had to buy larger dresses to accommodate the boobs.

Here is a before and after bra shot.bras

See how the smaller new bra fits completely inside the older bra? Additionally, see how the new bra is PRETTY and the old bra is BLAH!! As soon as I am sure that everything is settled, I am going to go buy all new bras. I couldn’t resist and I bought a couple already.



So you may be wondering – how was surgery and recovery? Well let me break it down for you month by month.

Month One

Painkillers. Is it time yet to take the next painkiller? Well how much time? That long? Fix it Jesus! I was in pain for the entire month. I am SO thankful to my editor and one of my employees for coming to take care of me. And what’s funny is that before my editor left, she gave specific instructions to my employee like “Don’t talk to her – she will not go to sleep.” And “Don’t bring her anything salty to eat. Fresh fruit only.” Can I tell you I would have given my left ovary for some popcorn?!? LOL! I know it was for my own good though. I healed like a champ. And lost another 10 lbs on top of the surgery! Although, the loss of the giant boobs revealed the hidden gut that was under them. I’ll work that off later. Everything was either numb, or in pain. And my boobs were chunky squares. It was like having two boxes of animal crackers on your sternum. But it got better…

Month Two

The boobs are rounding out. They are more like square pillows now. But. Everything. Itches!!! OMG! All those healing stitches itch like the devil. And remember when I said I wanted to save the nerves in my nipples? Well – they were definitely alive. The left and right nipples were doing their own interpretive dances.

"Birds in the sky... You know how I feel..."

Left Nipple: “Birds in the sky… You know how I feel…”


Right Nipple: “TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?!!”

Every so often – like every 36 seconds – my nipples would erupt into interpretive dance and I would have to rub them to calm them down. Now I know why I was encouraged to take time off from work. I can imagine I would be fired if I showed up in a meeting, and every few minutes I did this:

Farmer Ted

Month Three

Whew! My skin is healing. Even though the itching has abated, now I have to work on controlling the scarring. So every morning and night I am rubbing shea butter into my skin. I was using cocoa butter, but all that did was make me greasy. On a lark, I tried my whipped shea butter by Nature by Design ( and it did in a few hours what store-bought Palmer’s cocoa butter couldn’t do for days. I really think it helped my skin heal faster. Although I continue to look like a pervert as I slap a glob of shea butter into my hands and then rub my boobs for 10 minutes. I look like a low-budget amateur porn star for 20 minutes a day.

In other news – I can work out again. Now I want to try to keep off this roughly 20 pounds that I’ve lost, and get this gut under control. Yoga is a snap now. No more suffocation (I am delivert!)

I went swimming for the first time and – just like the rest of my wardrobe – I now know how this swimsuit is supposed to fit. Apparently it is supposed to COVER my boobs. Who knew? I went from stretch marks on my swimsuit to having (gasp!) extra space up top! LOL! I also can swim easier and faster than I did before. But my stamina has taken a hit. My first day back in the pool, I could only do about 1/8 mile. 8 laps and I was winded. But it felt good to be back!

I also tried push-ups and discovered that I have been doing them wrong my whole life. No wonder I never had good definition in my arms! I wasn’t going all the way to the floor! With roughly 10 inches of breasts in front of me, I was only getting about half-way to the ground before my boobs hit and I would push back up. When I tried my first post-op push-up, my first thought was that if my life depended on my upper body strength, I was a dead woman. And crunches! Now I can reach my elbows to my knees! Boobs were in the way before. I really think I am going to be able to get my sexy back by summer time. I thought I could get it back by my birthday, but fried chicken and wine slowed me down.

The New Me – Finally!

Pssst. Hey. Over here. Guess what?… I’m outside without a bra on!!! For the first time since I was 10 years old, I went outside without a bra on. I’m free!! I can do things other girls take for granted! Special thanks to my ace Ericka Goodwin for my very first ladies’ tee – also known as a babydoll tee. I have never been able to squeeze into one of those – hence all the Hot Topic men’s tee shirts. But she sent me one in the mail and it fit! Praise the Lord, Saints!!

And speaking of clothing – true story: A couple years ago, I had bought these little maxi-dresses for lounging around the house. They are hideous, but they are just for lounging anyway. Well, I bought them because I was excited to finally find a maxi-dress that had room in the bodice for my gigantic 42-J boobs. Fast forward to my post-reduction self. I put my ugly little maxi-dress on and guess what? That was not a ‘bodice’. That elastic was the WAISTLINE. What used to gather right up under my breasts now goes down to my navel – like it was supposed to do in the first place. Who knew? LOL! When I tell you my whole torso was boobs – mannnnn…..

One other thing before I go. I got my swagger back. Those of you who have known me for years know that I had a certain ‘walk’. I lost that walk when my boobs got so heavy that it took all my concentration just to keep my hips and knees in alignment. Now – with the lighter me – I am in ‘full swing’ again! I didn’t realize how much I missed my natural walk until I had it again. I strutted around downtown Houston for a good 20 minutes yesterday, just to see if it was real. And based on a couple of stares, yeah, it’s real. LOL. But the walk is only half physical. The other half is mental. And now that my physical body is able to walk without pain, my mind has re-released my strutting theme song. Yes, I have a real theme song that plays when I walk and it is “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees. I got my strut from John Travolta. It looks good on him but better on me. Ha!

Killing it.

Killing it.


So – new lease on my wardrobe, new outlook on going to the gym – 2015 is going to be awesome! And I now have what one of my friends dubbed “college titties” because they are lifted and firm again. You know what time it is? Time to STRUT!

Rant 52 done, and I’m out!




Joy’s Rant List, Volume 51: I Just Had to Get This off My Chest

Date of writing: September 23, 2014…
I can’t sleep. I’m so excited!! I am two days away from undergoing breast reduction surgery, and I just can’t wait. So since it’s 3:30 AM and I don’t have to be to work for hours yet, I decided to blog about what led me to this point.
This blog is about my gargantuan boobies, and how I had to get them literally off. my. chest.
For those of you who know me – you know that I have been the chairwoman of the Tig-Ol-Bitty Committee since its inception. No lie – I was wearing a C cup in elementary school. Now think about that for a minute. Think about all the running around that kids do. Think about how you, with your adult C cup (or your wife’s) may not like to jump up and down a lot without a bra on. Now imagine an 8-year old girl having to sit back and NOT jump rope with the other kids. Children are assholes and I just didn’t want to be the brunt of the bouncy jokes. Now you may say to your adult self that I should have been stronger. Or if you know me now you can never imagine that I would be too timid to do ANYTHING. Well, that’s Adult Joy. Child and Teenager Joy let her bra size rule her life. Here is a list of things that I DIDN’T do because I thought I was too heavy-chested:
Cheerleader. My friend Melita was a cheerleader in middle school and I was SO jealous. Not in a mean-spirited kind of way, but in a “gee, I wish I could do that” kind of way. But here’s the thing – I didn’t even try out. It never occurred to me that I might have been able to make the squad, because I had never seen a cheerleader with oversized boobs. I also didn’t try to run track, or play sports.
Dancer. I love dancing. I really do. But again – no dancers with giant boobs. A gym teacher actually said this to me in high school. He was very compassionate about it, by trying to tell me that my proportions were probably going to stop me from getting very far in dance, because my balance would be affected. So from that point on, I just gave up trying to be sporty. My last hurrah in dance was when I helped my friend Ayanay choreograph her tryout piece for the Mahogany in Motion dancers at Morehouse College. I helped her with the intro. It gave me immense pleasure to know that she made the team, and I helped a little bit. For me, it was like I made the team. That was a great feeling, even if it was mostly vicarious. LOL! I often wonder how my life might have been different if I had been a dancer, or a cheer leader, or ran track, or something.
The one thing I was good at (that was dance-adjacent) was stepping. That was my thing! I had one thing I could do and I wore it out! Shout out to Takasha and the rest of the D.O.A. crew from high school!! I went on to step with my college freshman dorm, and later with my sorority – at least until my knee crapped out on me for good. Then I coached. Now I just watch So You Think You Can Dance. LOL.
SN: I did like to ride my bike, but one day in the summer before 6th grade, I rode to a neighbor’s house and got bit by their dog. That was the last time my mom let me out. A couch potato was born. Hello, Atari. And I still play video games. Like, I’m probably doing that right now somewhere. Xbox is my competitive sport.
Sigh – I know I am painting a very sad picture, but I need people to understand exactly how this works. And if you have a female child who is developing fast, this might help you a little bit.
So let’s move beyond the high school drama and get deeper into college. It wasn’t until I got to college that I even began to realize that big boobs could be an asset. Aside from the male attention I was getting, I discovered that if I put on my one-and-only interview suit, and went to the liquor store at 6:00 pm, I didn’t get carded. Apparently nobody would think that a 5’7” woman with DD’s, in heels and a suit would be less than 21. I was 18. Ha! Take THAT America! I also got my share of free stuff – extra candy at the movies, maybe a free soda at the bar, or whatever. Perks. Gotta love ‘em. Back then I was a 38DD. Ah, the good old days.
Now, let’s move into Adult Joy – the Joy that most of you are familiar with. Hard-won self-esteem, great personality, seemingly fearless, you know – ME. And by the time I was out of college, I had fully embraced my giant knockers. By this time I was a 38DDD. Extra D means another inch to the boobs. I think they grew because I had tried birth control pills for a year to try to mitigate some uterine fibroid issues (and here’s a big MIDDLE FINGER to anyone who tries to deny birth control to women. It’s not about being a whore – it’s about migraines and anemia and 7 day-periods and a bunch of other shyt. So bite me!!)
Where was I? Oh yeah – so adult Joy is now a 38DDD and I’m cool with it. I can’t close a blazer or wear button-down shirts, but that’s okay. I look like this:

They're real, and they're fabulous!

They’re real, and they’re fabulous!

And I looked like this for TEN YEARS. I’m actually 32 or so in this picture. But then, hormones or body changes or something kicked in, and my boobs started to GROW. AGAIN!! (cue Psycho horror music)
The first thing I noticed was that my boobs were sticking out the tops of my bras. I had the quadraboob thing going on. Big-breasted girls know what I mean. My bras were too small. Since when? I’m thinking. Then I noticed that I was starting to get irritation under my arms from the underwires, and I developed other skin issues associated with large breasts. Ugh! Dammit! Why is this happening? I’m still not 100% sure what was going on, but just know that between 2003 and 2013, I jumped from a 38DDD to a 42-J. Yes, that is a J as in “Jesus! Those are some big tit-tays!” LOL
For those that are not sure what that means, here are a few ways to think about it.
1) Each additional letter beyond DDD is another inch in cup size (distance from rib cage to boob tip). DDD is already 8 inches. Count with me. E-F-G-H-I-J. That is ANOTHER 6 inches. I have the equivalent of twice as much boob as I did when I graduated from college. Or add another 6 inches to the picture above.
2) Pick up two newborn babies and strap them both to your rib cage. Walk around for a few years.
3) Try this. Sit in a chair, and put your hands on your upper thighs. At this point, my boobs touch my wrists. When I say my ENTIRE torso is covered in breasteses, I mean it. I mean – look at this nonsense…

Look how my boob reaches my elbow... Ugh!

Look how my boob reaches my elbow… Ugh!

So now that you understand exactly how big 42-J is, let me tell you all the funny things that happened to me in the last 6 months that made me decide to finally go through with the breast reduction.
Trauma #1: Vacation Dismay
I went to Puerto Vallarta for my 40th birthday this year, with my girlfriends. And I bought a new swimsuit for the trip. Now, I have been wearing standard one-piece suits my whole life. But I’m feeling fancy so I go buy a tank-top two piece. It’s a boy-short bottom with a little dress-type tank top that flares out from the ribs. Really cute. But I’m not going to even tell you how emotionally disturbing it is to know that you have to buy a size 26 swimsuit top. That’s the size I had to go up to in order for my boobs to fit in the bra part of the top. I was determined to get it though.
Day three of vacation – I take my new swimsuit to the public beach about ½ mile from our villa. That was the LONGEST WALK OF MY LIFE. I am not a gym rat, but I’m not THAT damn out of shape either. Yo, I couldn’t even WALK 0.5 miles down the beach! The tank top tied around my neck – something I had never tried before – and my boobs pulled SO HARD on my neck that it was pulling my whole torso forward and I was literally carrying my boobs in a sling down the beach. It was too much. True story – I had so much trouble walking in the sand with this dead weight on my neck that at one point I just gave my towel to my friends and jumped in the water and SWAM down the beach. It was easier to swim than to walk, because boobs float. I almost took my top OFF, it hurt so bad. (I didn’t. I ain’t crazy). And speaking of swimming…
Trauma #2: Pool Problems
After I got back from vacation I decided that I needed to focus on losing weight and maybe getting some relief from my lower back problems through swimming and stretching. Let’s address swimming first. I have been swimming for years. I actually swam a mile as my new record last year. I can swim. I know I can. But all of a sudden, my new Speedo swimsuit – exact same make and model as the previous version that died in the washing machine – it didn’t fit. The chest stretched so far as to make fuzzy stretch marks on the lycra. YES. MY SWIMSUIT HAD STRETCH MARKS. I wanted to swim though, so I figured I would go ahead and hit the pool, and worry about the suit later. Mistake. I start swimming and I slowly realize that my stroke feels strange. I am not coordinated like I used to be just last year. Only 6 months since I’d done my mile in the pool. Nobody forgets that fast. Then I realize – my boobs are messing with my stroke. They extend out under my arm and were totally screwing up my rhythm. I adjusted by torqueing my upper body more in order to clear my boob, when – surprise – my left breast decides to just jump out of my suit. So now I am trying to swim in a public pool with one toddler-sized titty hanging out of the top of my suit. And by the way – I am light-skinned and the suit is black, so you immediately could see that something was ‘off’ under the water. I had to stop every 4-5 strokes to put my boobs back together. Finally, after maybe three laps, I just got out. I gave up. It was like swimming with loose balloons tied to my neck. At least I know I will never drown.
Trauma #3: Yoga Death
This last example is the most ridiculous. I mentioned earlier that I was trying swimming AND stretching to relieve my lower back issues, and at the suggestion of my chiropractor I took a yoga class. Well, the first class went pretty well. I did about 80% of the poses and had improved by the end of the class. I felt good enough about it that I went back. And this time, I tried all of the poses including the one where you really stretch your lower back. I think it’s called ‘plow pose’. So here’s how you do this pose: you lie on your back and bring your legs up off the ground, straight into the air. Then you try to bring your toes down over the top of your head to touch the floor. So in essence you bend yourself in half, with your back on the ground. I could do this. I am very flexible. I bend over and touch my toes all the time. But what I didn’t plan for was gravity. I had to rock back and forth a couple of times to get my but high enough to fold over on myself, and when I did I got an unexpected surprise. Just as I am exhaling to put my toes over my head, here come the boobies, like an avalanche, headed straight for my face. And then this position forced them to be squished into my face. Yes, I motorboated myself. The only issue was that there was no room to move – or breathe. I had just exhaled and my boobs created a seal with my nose and mouth in between them. So I laid there, suffocating, trying to hold the pose for at least a few seconds. And then, in the middle of this quiet meditative room you hear “……..GASP!” Like Wesley and Buttercup coming up out of the sand pit in The Princess Bride.
That’s enough of the traumatization of having big boobs. Here are some other things that I have noticed that I do, that other people do not do:
1) I tend to sit leaning forward; trying to hide my boobs under the table, which in actuality only forces my cleavage forward into eyesight. Whoops. This also makes me seem like I am not taking whatever meeting I am in seriously, because I used to lean on one hand. I have modified this to look like I am totally engaged. But really I’m hiding my boobs.
2) I lean forward to eat because if I drop food, it doesn’t land in my lap. It lands 4 inches from my chin, on my boobs. And I look like a slob. This is why you hardly ever see me eat anything with sauce or gravy in public.
3) When nobody is around… I rest my boobs on the table in front of me to give my back a break.
4) I am constantly adjusting my bra. I thought everyone had issues with this, until someone pointed out to me that I was the only person doing that all the time. Like – all the time.
5) When I try to paint my toes myself, I have to move my boobs out of the way to reach my toes. What I usually do is put one boob on the outside of my thigh, and one on the inside, so I can lean down far enough to get to my toes. Normally, I just go get a pedicure. It’s easier.
6) We won’t even talk about how many showers I take in the summer to alleviate boob sweat.
Well, a month has passed since the day I wrote this. I had my reduction on Thursday September 25th. They removed a total of 7 POUNDS from my chest. I’M FREE!!!! And as soon as I come down off the painkillers, I might tell you how it’s going. So far – best decision I’ve made since I decided to go to Spelman. It’s THAT life-changing. More to come!
Rant 51 done, and I’m out!!!

Joy’s Rant List: Volume 48: Sex Packets, Part 3: Birthday Sex

A reminder before we begin…

Okay, I will tell you that I totally made this one up.  So if a piece of it sounds familiar then you REALLY need to be quiet because you absolutely don’t want people to think that “a hit dog hollers” applies to you!!!  Character names from “Brown Sugar” will be used because I am digging my own trend here. 





“I mean, c’mon, Dad!  How am I supposed to get over this?!  It was in my PHONE!!!” Trey’s voice was high-pitched and traumatized – because he was.  Andre had to try to help his ex-wife do some damage control here.

“Well, son, your mother is a grown woman, and you can’t fault her for trying to find a little happiness here and there.  Was it a dumb thing to do? Yes.  But you can’t continue to hold this against her.  It’s been a few weeks now, and she is so worried about you.  Cut her some slack.” Inside, he was still dying laughing over what had happened. Apparently, his ex-wife had done some ‘sexting’ and gotten caught by their son.  “It’s not like you and I haven’t done similar things.  Tell me you’ve never sent a dick shot to your girl.”

“That’s different!  Mom is… She’s… She’s OLD!!  And, she’s MY MOM!!!”  Trey continued to defend his outrage.

“Not hardly old, and you gotta admit… Your moms keeps it tight.  It ain’t like she’s hard to look at.” If there was one thing Andre would never deny about his ex-wife, it was that she was fine as hell.  Crazy! But fine.  “Hey, why don’t you show me those pics so I can see how bad it is for myself!” Andre burst out laughing.

“Not cool Dad.” Trey heaved another long-suffering sigh into the phone, the one that only angst-ridden teens can pull off.  “I guess I’ll call her –  later. Bye Dad.”  *click*  The call ended.

While Andre was musing over the antics of his ex-wife, his new wife was listening at the door to the bedroom.  Sidney wasn’t happy to hear that her husband still thought his ex “kept it tight.”  Why was he even thinking about her!?!  And then, to ask to see the pictures!  What!?!  She’d sent him pictures of herself just last month.  Was he starting to miss his ex?  Calm down, Syd, she warned herself.  You are overthinking it.  But still…

Sidney hurriedly found something else to be doing as Andre exited the bedroom.  “Oh hey, honey.  Is Trey alright?” She gave him her best ‘concerned step mom’ face. 

“Oh.  Yeah.  He’ll be fine.  He’s just been playing the victim for too long.” He stretched, cracked his neck, and rolled his shoulders – all signs of tension.

Syd moved behind him to rub his shoulders.  “You need to relax a little, Dre.  Why all the stress?” She continued to work out kinks in his neck.  He moaned in appreciation.

“It’s just a lot of stuff at work. You know.  The usual.   I really don’t need this nonsense with Nia and Trey right now.  Oh and hey, the guys are taking me out for my birthday on Friday.  So I’ll be home late.  I’m telling you now so you can’t get mad.”  Syd was crazy too, but at least it was a crazy he could deal with. 

“Sure.  Have a good time out.  And when you get home, I’ll have my own little surprise for you!” Sidney let her voice drop to a sultry whisper. 

“Oh really?” Andre turned around and pulled her into a quick kiss. “Well then I’ll be sure to be home in time to enjoy that!”  And with that, he turned to leave for the gym. 

Great…  So now Syd had to figure out exactly what she was going to do for him on Friday.  She was really just talking junk when she’d said it.  And considering that she had already sent him sexy pictures, AND that his EX was doing stuff like that now, she had to step up her game.  What could she do? Obviously he wanted some kind of mind-blowing birthday sex.  What to do, what to do… “To the internet!” She proclaimed, in her best batman voice.

After dozens of failed searches that all ended back at some website called “Pornhub”, Sidney finally found what she was looking for – an article titled “10 Daring Sex Moves to Surprise Your Man!”  This sounded promising. 

“Hmm.  Analingus… Hell no… Handcuffs… Did that… Pole Dancing… Too regular… Threesome… Hell no…” Sidney went down the list rejecting the suggestions one by one.  Finally, she got to one she thought had promise.  “Anal beads?  Maybe… “  She clicked on the link.

Lo and behold, there was an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to anal beads.  Sidney got all the information she needed.  The web entry detailed the differences in sizes, shapes, uses, care and maintenance.  Everything all in one spot.  Thanks Wikipedia!!  There was even information on how to make them.  Great!  A quick stop at Michaels craft store, and she would be set. 



“Man, I gots ta go!” Andre tried to leave for the second time.  His friends had stopped buying him drinks an hour ago, and he was getting tired.  Not that he was getting old or anything; this was only his 39th birthday.  He wasn’t the dreaded 4-0 yet.  “The wifey is waiting on me at home. And I love you guys, but I ain’t missing out on none of that for none of y’all!  Peace!”  And with that, Andre left his friends at the bar and headed to the crib. 

Upon entering the house he found soft music, dim lights, and candles all around. “Hello… Sidney?  Where you at baby?”  He called out to her.

“Right here, love.”   Sidney came out in a silk kimono-style robe.  She slid up behind him and helped him take his coat off.  “Did you have fun with the boys?”

“Yeah – but not as much fun as I’m about to have.  Come here, girl!” He grabbed her around the waist and started kissing her.  She kissed him back and things started getting heavy quickly.  Syd broke the kiss.

“Wait, baby, I’ve got something special planned for you.”  She gave him her best come-hither look and walked towards the bedroom.

“Aww yeah!” Andre started stripping in the hallway.  Shirt off, pants around his ankles, he shuffled up behind her to let his hands roam over her body.  She turned into his arms and started kissing down his chest, following the trail of sparse hairs to his waist.  Yes!! Do it! That was all he could think.  He noticed her hands behind her back and started to ask her about it, but then…  She did that thing with her tongue and “Oh yeah, baby.  I love it when you do that!”  He bent over to reach down and caress her breasts.  She reached around and gripped his hips, setting the rhythm she wanted.  Birthday blow job!  Yes!  He couldn’t be happier!  He loved it when she did this.  He would gladly turn 40 tomorrow if he got this again!  He reached back down to run his hands over her curves.  She was soooo good.  “Baby, I’m about to come.” He felt the orgasm reaching for him, and then –


“What the fuck?!?!?!” He just felt something… come OUT… of his ass. 

Andre jerked straight up and tried to feel behind him.  “What the hell was that?!?!” Sidney kept slapping his hands away.

“They’re anal beads.  Stop trying to pull them out – you’re going to hurt yourself.  Just relax and enjoy it, baby.”  Sidney was still on her knees in front of him, giving his shaft gentle licks.  “Trust me.”

How could he do anything but trust her at this point?  “When did you even put them in there?”  How in the hell had he not felt her putting beads in his butt?!? 

“The last time you bent over, I just slipped them in.” She gave his dick a long drawn out pull.  “Now just relax (lick) and let me do my thing (lick).”  She went back to the task at hand.  Andre tried to relax, but his muscles kept clinching.  Not too much later, though, her magic tongue had him back at the point of orgasm.  His legs started shaking… almost there…


Another bead came out!  And his orgasm was gone again?  How was she doing that?  Wait… so when he got ready to come, she pulled out a bead, and he could keep getting head? “Okay!  I see where this is going!  Do your thing, girl!” He relaxed a little more.  And sure enough a few minutes later, he started to tremble.  This time he was with it.  “Get ready to pull… oh… oh…”


And he was back in the zone.  Hot damn! As long as her jaw didn’t get tired, he was going to let her do this for as long as she wanted.  It was the blow job of a lifetime! He was loving it!  Sidney was working him out and getting him back to the point of orgasm for the fourth time.  Wow!  This was great! “Get ready to pull, baby…”  His orgasm built, but this time, she didn’t pull out a bead.  Her jaw must have been getting tired after all.  But still – “Yeahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!”  He came so hard his legs almost gave out on him, but somehow Syd kept him standing up.

“I’m sorry baby.  I tried to warn you.  You good?” He was more than good but the look on her face said something was wrong.  “What’s wrong, baby?”  He reached out to caress the frown from her forehead.

“Umm… Turn around…” Sidney gently turned him and started to probe his backside.  He was done with the ass play for now so he hustled back around to face her.

“What’s wrong? Tell me now.” Something had her worried.

“Well… um…”  She held up the string of anal beads.  There were three beads on a long length of thread.

“Those were the beads?” he asked.

“…Some of them.”  She gave him a sheepish look and dangled the long empty end of the string.  “I think the other four are still in there.”

WHAT?!?!” Andre chased his tail in a circle, like a puppy, trying to see into his own ass.  “Well get them OUT!”  He started to hyperventilate.

“What do you think I was doing?!” Sidney sounded anguished.  “I guess the knot I tied in the end came loose.”

“The knot you… you MADE these? With what?”  Andre was about to pass out from fright.

“I found instructions online and made them with plastic beads and thread I got from Michaels the other day. I tested them twice, and they didn’t come apart.  I followed the instructions perfectly.  You just kept clinching up.  I told you to relax.”  An accusatory note had snuck into Sidney’s tone.

“Call 911.  Get. These. Out!” Andre was furious!  All he had wanted was a little head and maybe some sex for his birthday, but instead he had four – FOUR – plastic beads up his behind.  Worst. Birthday. Ever.

“I’m not calling 911.  Let’s just think this through.  You can probably pass them pretty easily.  I mean they are right there at the end.”  Sidney’s analytical mind was coming to the forefront.  “Maybe I can run to the store and get you a laxative.”

“That will take hours.  I want these out right now.  I could be getting trauma to my rectum or something.  You and your crazy notions.”  Andre reached down into his pants and got out his cell, dialing 911 immediately. “Hello!  I have an emergency.  I need an ambulance…  Yes, I can hold.”…


The two ambulance techs entered the house.

“What exactly seems to be the problem ma’am.” Asked the first EMT guy.

“My husband has anal—“

“I’ve had a trauma situation happen to me.” Andre looked the EMT straight in his eyes.  “I need to go to the hospital and have… surgery.”

“Sir, you don’t seem to be in any imminent danger, so I need to know what has happened here” the EMT replied.  Andre stared at him in stone-faced silence. 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Dre!  They are professionals!  I’m sure they’ve had someone else get anal beads stuck before.”

The silence was deafening as the EMTs looked at Andre, and Andre just looked straight ahead at the wall. The first EMT broke the awkward silence.

“Sir, an ambulance ride is expensive. If that’s all, you could just drive to the hospital or try to take a laxative – “

“That’s what I told him!” interjected Sidney.

“You shut up!” Andre pointed a threatening finger at Sidney.  Then he turned it on the first tech. “And you.  Take me to the hospital.  NOW.”   Andre started waddling towards the door.  The second EMT blocked his path.  “Move!” Andre hissed back at him.

“Sir, if you want us to take you, you have to ride on the stretcher.  That’s the rule” said the second EMT.  Andre stopped and tried to stare him down.  The EMT waited with a blank facial expression. 

Then, with as much dignity as a man with beads stuck in his anus could muster, he stretched out face down on the stretcher.  “Let’s go, and you better put on lights and sirens to get me there IMMEDIATELY!” 

Flashing red lights and a stretcher cause a commotion in any neighborhood, and all of their neighbors had come out to see what happened. 

“Is he alright?”

“What happened?”

“Did he have a heart attack?”

“Why is he face-down?”

Sidney ignored all the questions and entered the back of the vehicle with the second EMT while the first one drove off.  She placed her hand on Andre’s shoulders.  “It will be alright, baby –“

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Andre turned his head away from her and the EMT.  “All of this is your fault.”

“Well if you had quit choking up and just relaxed like I told you –“

“If YOU had just let me get some regular head and bust one out, I would have been perfectly happy! But no!  Now I have homemade beads up my ass!  And now I have to go to the hospital!”  Andre fumed.

“You didn’t have to go to the hospital!” reasoned Sidney. “We could have gotten those beads out with an enema or something –“

“NO!  I need surgery!”  Andre had passed over from rational land to crazy town.

They argued all the way to the hospital.

“You were loving it until the end!” screamed Sidney

“I never asked you to put anything in my butt, woman!” Andre yelled back as the stretcher was unloaded. “We will NEVER speak of this.  Do you hear me?  NEVER!”  Andre continued to rant and rave at Sidney as the stretcher was pushed into the hospital by the first EMT…



…The second EMT reached for the camera phone he had quietly positioned in back of the ambulance and directed it to himself.  He yelled out “WORLD STAR!!!”  before pushing the send button…


Stay tuned for Part 4: Sex, Lies and Videotape.



Joy’s Rant List, Volume 47: Sex Packets Part 2: “Sex Selfies”

You know, I’m really starting to feel this whole ‘short story’ angle.  Maybe I’ll make these into a book, finally…

A reminder before we begin…

All of these events happened, to SOMEBODY, and NOT ME.  So, if a piece of it sounds familiar, “a hit dog hollers” – remember that.  This time, celebrity names from Love Jones will be used to protect the stupid innocent.

Sex Selfies

“So there I was, on the curb, no panties on, waiting on the damn Uber car to show up, people all looking out the windows.  I felt like such a whore!!”  Monica wailed in her sister’s ear.  (Read part 1 for the full story)

That’s because you were being a whore, stupid… Nia made a face at the phone, thinking that her baby sister was never going to grow up.  Who tries a one-night stand in their mid-thirties?!  It seemed like every couple of months, Monica, who was 8 years her junior, was into something else regrettable.  One week it was some new church cult.  Next week, it was pole dancing for “exercise”, and now it’s being a freak in the club?  And she didn’t even get any?  Stoo-pid!!!

At 44, with a kid in college, Nia had long since learned her lesson about these types of antics.  She was so over the club scene and would never even think of going home with a stranger.  She had no pity for her sister, who clearly knew better.  They were raised in the same house.  And although Nia was now divorced, and they were both in the same ‘single’ boat again, there were just some lines you didn’t cross.  “You could have been murdered, fool!”

“I know!” cried Monica. “What if I see some of those people again?  How am I supposed to walk around town, knowing what people think of me?”

“The same way the other whores walk around town…”  This cracked Nia up and she started a deep belly laugh and had to put the phone down.  When she picked it up, it was to hear stony silence on the other end.  “Hello? Monica?”

“I hate you.” And then the line went dead.  Sigh.  Whatever.  Nia had better things to do than to heal her crazy sister’s damaged psyche.  Still, it was her baby sister.  She felt bad and started to call her back – but then came a text:


Nia’s heart skipped a beat.  It was Darius – the tall, dark and mysterious dude from!  She got a little excited.  He was reaching out to her again!!


She didn’t want to seem overeager.  But she was so glad he’d contacted her!  After going through the steps on the matching website, they’d had a couple of good conversations.  Then all of a sudden, she didn’t hear from Darius for 6 days.  Not that she was counting or anything…


She smiled secretly to herself.  He was such a sweet man.



Oh, this man was definitely a charmer.  She was crafting a flirty text back when the phone rang.  It was Monica again.

“Hello.”  She sooooo did not want to engage Monica right now.

“How come you didn’t call me back!?” Monica sounded both victimized and confused.  See, this was the problem with passive aggressive behavior.  Both people had to participate for it to work.  And as of this moment, Nia wasn’t having it anymore.

“Girl, I had another call come in.  Do you still want to talk or what?”

“I just don’t know what to do! What if I go out and I see Morris there again?!” Monica was starting to freak out.  Her voice had gone up an octave.

“You will probably never see him again.  Just don’t go to that club.”  Nia tried to be the voice of reason.


Darius was texting again!


Wait – that might make him think she was busy and he might go away.  She quickly typed:


That was a little flirty.  Yes!  Perfect!  Not too aggressive, but definitely showing interest.


“—even know whose penis that was!  How am I supposed to face myself in the mirror—“ Monica was still yammering on about her own stupidity.

“Mmmhmm.  I feel you girl…” Monica did the standard responses, while focusing on her text conversation.


What was she wearing?  Oh, he wanted to play a little bit!  Well – it was kind of a shock but she was definitely not a prude.  And it wasn’t like she was about to have a threesome like her stupid sister.  But honestly, she was wearing old sweatpants and an over-sized t-shirt that said “My son is a freshman at Hillman College”.  Not exactly sexy…


That sounded believable right?  Without being too nasty?  That could be sexy and innocent, yeah?



A picture?  He wanted a picture?!  Shit!  She didn’t even really own any boy shorts.  What to do?



…Who was she to disabuse his notions?

YES. A LITTLE INDECENT.  CAN’T SEND PICTURES.  Her good girl was coming to the forefront.  She wasn’t the type to send pictures anyway.


Well… seems like everyone else in the world was doing it.  What could it hurt?  She would just snap a quick picture, not showing anything.


She went to the bathroom, slapped on a little lipstick and shook out her hair, and then pulled off the sweatpants, leaving just the t-shirt.  She took the pic and hit “Send”. Then she waited…


Well that was nice of him.



NO!  Okay, he was going too far.  No way was she taking a naked picture of herself and sending it to him.




Yeah right.  Thirty minutes and she would be the latest feature on








There was a long silence from his end.  Did he decide to stop texting her?  Well hell, if that’s all he was interested in, then good riddance!  She didn’t need a man that bad anyway to be sending nekkid body shots through the internet and –


There was an attachment in the text.  Nia opened it and –gasp! – He had sent her a picture of himself from the neck down.  Totally. NAKED.  Wow.  He had a great body!  Ev-er-y-where!!  Caramel brown and flawless!  Now she was a little self-conscious about her own figure.


She tried to laugh it off, hoping he would let it go.


Could she?  It was crazy!  She had just talked about her sister like a dog for crazy behavior.  But, you only live once, right?  Before she could think too much about it, Nia hiked up her t-shirt and took a quick picture of herself in the mirror.  Oh God!  Did she really just do that?  “Send”.


Okay, this man was too much!



Aw hell.  He wanted totally naked? She wasn’t ready for that.  She hadn’t shaved in months! (Why bother? Who’s looking?)  She looked back at his picture.  Did he shave?  Dammit, he did!


She ran into the bathroom and did a quick grooming job.  Quick shave and … missed a spot and… damn missed another spot… Wow, how freaking long HAD it been?!  Finally, she was smooth enough to take the picture (from a distance, anyway).  Then she jumped back into the mirror and snapped it, being careful to keep her face out of the picture.  No for her!!

The phone rang.  It was Monica again.  Dammit!  “Ignore”




The phone rang again.  It was Monica – again.  “Ignore”





Yeah – she’d played it cool.  And he was excited to see her!  Yes!  She might finally get herself some good good –

The phone rang again.  This time she picked up.  “WHAT, Monica?!  What do you want now!?”


Then… “I just wanted to tell you that I know what you’ve been doing while you’ve ignored my calls.”

“I told you I had another call coming in –“

“Remember when you went to Germany last year, and you set up your phone to automatically upload all your pictures to the cloud so I could see them?  You never changed that…  Whore.” The level of smugness in Monica’s voice was unparalleled.

Nia stood frozen in silence.  What!?!  What had Monica seen?  “What are you talking about?” she asked, with fear in her voice.

“Umm, all those naked shots you just took?  Yeah, they’re in the cloud.  Some things you can’t un-see.  And if you had answered the damn phone, I would have told you sooner. What the hell are you doing?”

Nia hung up on Monica and quickly went through and deleted all of the bad pictures from her phone.  Then she called back. “Can you still see them now?”

“Let me see…yep.  Still there.”  She could hear the laughter bubbling up from her sister. Karma was, indeed, a bitch.

“How do I get these off the cloud?”

“I don’t know.  Why don’t you ask – gasp! – Trey!  Oh my God, Nia – Trey’s phone is on the cloud too!”

Shock spread through Nia’s body like lightning.  The thought that her SON may have seen those pictures!?!… Complete and utter disaster.  How could a young man recover from that?  Would she have ruined his image of all women – warped his young mind and poisoned all his future dealings with women?  If your own mother is taking sex selfies, then what does that say for all women?  But she was overreacting.  Maybe it wasn’t too late.  “Girl, bye!  I gotta do damage control!!”  She hung up on her sister’s snickering and called her son.


“Hey baby, it’s your mother.”

“Hey.”  He didn’t sound traumatized.  But he didn’t sound happy to hear from her either.

“I just wanted to tell you”  — THINK Nia — “That your aunt Monica called and said our cloud account got hacked, and that I need to go fix it.”

“Uh huh.” He sounded skeptical.  Oh no! What if he had seen the pictures??? Stick to the story…

“So, yeah, we got hacked.  And I need to get some crazy pictures or something off our cloud account…  How do I do that?”

“You can’t.  I’ll fix it when I come home next weekend.” Trey sounded irritated.  “I gotta go mom.”

“Okay darling.  I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think it was your aunt.”  She hated to throw her baby sister under the bus, but whatever.

“Yeah.  Seeing as those pictures are from your bathroom…”


“Look, Trey, I don’t know what you think you saw because I haven’t seen them yet but I –“

Mom.” He expelled a world-weary sigh. “I gotta go mom.  I’ll see you next weekend.” He hung up.

“Oh. My. God.”


Rant #47 done – Stay Tuned for Part 3: Birthday Sex!!

Joy’s Rant List, Volume 46: Sex Packets, Part 1 – “Throw’d Off Threesome”

A note before we begin…

1.       Hey folks!  It’s been a LONG time since I wrote anything on this blog, and here’s why:  I was tired…  Tired of fighting the good fight…  Tired of trying to combat irrationality with logic…  Tired of trying to put out an opinion and get an open dialogue…  I’ve actually written three different entries that will probably never see the light of day. Why? Because they are either too polarizing which changes nothing (i.e. wasted effort), or they are something everyone agrees, on so why just repeat popular opinion (i.e. waste of YOUR time).  I wrote something about Trayvon Martin.  I wrote something about race relations in America.  I even wrote something about sexism in corporate America, and then I realized that none of it would matter because we are in the new dark ages…  Everyone is too stupid for decent discourse, and all of my die hard supporters are just as tired of these go-nowhere conversations as I am.  So, I’m going back to my roots – Things that make you laugh at work and get you fired!

2.       EDITOR’s COMMENT:  ALL I do is edit!!  I ain’t ask for this porn to come across my desk.  However, I’ve learned to just trust Joy’s writing instincts.  Still…  Don’t read this at work!!!  Now excuse me while I go repent for Joy’s writing sins…  SMH…

And, now…  On to the fun!!!

This first installment is the story of a ‘good girl’ who tried to walk on the other side of the line.  (Almost) All of these events happened although I have taken some creative ‘mash-up’ license.  Just because it happened to someone doesn’t mean it happened to me.  LET ME SPELL IT OUT…  This is NOT ME.  As a matter of fact, it might be YOU, at which point you should really shut up.  A hit dog hollers!  Remember that, okay?  Lastly, celebrity names from “The Best Man” movie will be used, to protect the stupid innocent.

“Throw’d Off Threesome”

Monica was having the time of her life!  She was in a city where she didn’t know anyone, and she was single and ready to mingle.  At 36, she had decided it was time to start getting some of that “good good” she had only heard about or seen on HBO.  For years, she had been a ‘good girl’.  Church every Sunday…  No sex without a commitment, and then only in missionary position because her mother always said that “Doggie style is for dogs”.   Well, after years of being good and still being single, she decided to set out on a quest to answer one question:   “Was she too old to start hoeing?”

12 AM she was at the club…

There she is, out at the edge of the dance floor, looking like a soccer mom, trying too hard to blend in with the other girls.  They are twerking it for all they are worth (about $2.11) and dropping it to the floor like every man in there needed change.  Monica took in the booty gyrations and tried to imitate what she thought was happening.  Of course, having never done it before, she ended up doing something closer to the squats she had planned to do earlier at the gym.  However, she managed not to spill the Moscato in her ringless left hand – which was all Morris needed to see…

1 AM he was checking her out…

Monica searched the crowd to find a new dance move to copy and locked eyes with a FINE chocolate brother coming towards her!  All smiles, pretty white teeth, and the eyes of a wolf on the prowl.  Aha!  Just what she dreamed of catching…  Tonight she was going to find a ‘playa who knew how to play’! He stepped up behind her and leaned into her body…

“You are driving me crazy wit yo’ fine self and I just had to come over here and get close enough to touch you.  What’s your name?” He whispered to her with his lips close enough for her to feel his heat.  Her heart fluttered and she almost fell forward, but his grip on her hips stopped her before she embarrassed herself.  “Uhh…  Muh-Muh-Monica.  My name is Monica.”  She pulled herself together and attempted a flirty look over her shoulder.  “Nice to meet you” as she batted her eyes up at him.

“You too, gorgeous.” Morris began to undulate against her in time with the music.  He leaned down into her neck and inhaled. “Mmmm – Damn you smell good.  Who you here with, bae?”

“Nobody.  I mean –” She squared her shoulders and gathered her confidence.  “I’m grown.  I came here alone…”  Okay, here was the moment of truth! “…But I don’t plan to leave alone.”

OMG!  Did she just say that?  Was she insane? Who knew what type of crazy person he really was?!?  But he was OH SO fine, and she was determined to be a freak, just once in her life.  She followed up her bold statement by turning into him and grinding on his thigh.  Except she really looked crazy because she wasn’t touching him anywhere else.  Her hands were by her sides so her pelvis looked like it had been possessed by Miley Cyrus. (Poor little tink tink)…  Then again – Do you remember how you used to try to make Barbie and Ken hump when you were little, but they were too stiff to do it right?  So, you ended up just bending them forwards and backwards at the waist?  That’s what she really looked like she was doing.

Now Morris was that dude who could spot easy prey from a block away.  He’d seen her come in looking like Bambi on ice over an hour ago.  He’d spent his time wisely, checking her out to see how best to get her home with him.  He decided to go for the direct approach and see how far he could push it before he got slapped.  He started with a caress to the backside… which earned him a smile.  How about a brush against her breast?  She backed off, but then came back in and moved his hand across her breast and down to the small of her back…  Apparently, little honey had something to prove!  Perfect!  Morris went in for the kill.  He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, bent her over and banged his hips into her, nearly knocking her off balance.  Now, any woman who put up with that blatant disrespect on the dance floor clearly was looking to get ‘got’.  What would Monica do?  He backed up a couple of paces just, in case she turned around swinging.  But she didn’t!  She just stood there waiting for him.  Damn – innocent AND obedient?  This was going to be a good night!

After another 20 minutes of awkward dancing and over-the-top suggestive pelvic thrusting, Morris decided to close the deal.  He led her to the bar to buy her another Moscato before whispering seductively in her ear, “Come home with me.  You’re too sexy not to be made love to until your toes curl, gurl.” He stepped into her space, dominating her with his presence.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked hungrily into his eyes. He gave her the soulful sleepy eyes that got ‘em every time.  “Monica, I gotta have you.”  She hesitated for a minute and then nodded…

2 AM they were at his house…

Monica couldn’t believe this was happening. He was so perfect! And man, could he kiss!  His hands were everywhere and before she knew what was happening, her bra was on the floor.  Wait? How did he get her top off?  When did that happen?  Where did her skirt go? Morris walked her backwards until she bumped against the bed.  She fell onto it, and he fell on top of her.  He continued kissing and rubbing her in all the right places.  Then he started licking a trail from her breast to her navel and lower…and lower… Oh Lord!  No!  No!  She hadn’t had a shower!  And she’d been dancing all night!  No, he couldn’t – but he did!!  A gasp of terror and delight left her lips, and he used her distraction to wrap his arms around her thighs and settle in for a late night snack.  By this time, her eyes were closed, and she was thrashing back and forth in his bed. She could feel his tongue doing sinful things down there to her.  His hands were kneading her behind, and his teeth were teasing her nipple… Wait a minute.  Tongue down there… Teeth… up here…


3 AM he was freaking her out…

Monica opened her eyes to see another man standing over her, sucking her nipple and stroking himself.  Who the hell was he!?!  She started screaming!

Morris jumped up and covered her mouth.  “Shh.  Shh, it’s okay bae.  This is Terrence, and he just wants to make you feel good too.  Right, T?”  He turned to give his buddy a lascivious grin.

“Oh yeah, two heads are better than one, baby girl.” Terrence stepped closer to her and attempted to grab her breast.  She slapped his hand away.

“Get the fuck away from me!  I don’t even know you!”  Monica tried to muster up some righteous indignation, while sitting on this stranger’s bed butt nekkid.

Morris moved his hand between her legs and began stroking her clit again. “T’s cool.  It’s all cool girl.  You said you wanted to be crazy for one night. Well, why not go all the way?” It felt too good to stop him.  “Why have a regular one night stand when you can have a one night threesome? It will blow your mind.  Are you sure you want to stop?”  Morris kept up the assault on her senses.  He started kissing her again and pressed her back into the bed.  Terrence was standing there, watching.  Monica had a moment of indecision…  Should she just ‘roll with it’? Is this what everybody was doing?  Terrence approached the bed, and then the sensation of having both of her nipples sucked at the same time was more than she could resist.  Maybe this is what they were talking about in that Fifty Shades book.  She closed her eyes and let it happen.  A palm cupping her behind…  A tongue licking her navel…  Teeth grazing her hip…  Gentle suction on her clit…

A penis poking at her mouth…

“Uh-uh. Hell no!”  Monica started wind milling her arms and flailing her legs in an effort to beat both men back away from her.  “I’m out of here!!!” She jumped up and grabbed her skirt and heels.  She could hear Morris calling “Monica, wait!”  Where was her bra?  To hell with it!  She grabbed her top and purse, and sprinted for the front door.  She slammed it shut just as Morris and Terrence caught up to her.

4 AM she was outta the house…

She tried to dress while searching for the way back to the elevator.  Morris came into the hallway and tried to coax her back inside his apartment.  “Come back bae.  Let’s finish what we started.”  She’d made it to the elevator and franticaly pushed the button.  As she buttoned up her top, she turned to yell at him, “I don’t even know whose penis that was!”  The elevator doors started to close as she backed into it – only an arm came out of nowhere to hold them open.  It was then that she realized that an older couple was waiting to get past her so they could get out.  The wife gave her a disparaging look as she passed.  She heard the holier-than-thou “hmph” from her as she passed.  The same sound she used to make as she passed judgment on other hussies.  She slumped down against the wall in shame…

Standing outside of his building and looking up at his floor while waiting for a cab, she thought she saw a couple of shadows behind the curtains from other apartments.  She could only imagine what they were thinking.  Apparently, her commotion had awakened half of his floor.  They were probably laughing at her and saying “Look at THAT HOE OVER THERE (THOT) that Morris had tonight!”   Great, just what Monica needed – to be labeled a whore with nothing to show for her whoring efforts.  She hobbled down the street to a corner and prayed the Uber guy really was only 2 minutes away!

Question answered:  YES.  Yes, you are too old to start hoeing.

Joy’s Rant Volume 46 done, and I’m out!

Stay Tuned for Sex Packets, Part 2: Sex Selfies

Joy’s Rant List Volume 45: I Do What I Want!!

Honestly, I originally wrote this blog for my company, for the Women’s Interactive Network. But seeing as how all of 11 people read it, I felt like I could repost it here and actually reach MORE people. I wrote it for women, but in this “remix” I am addressing everyone. You know why? Because I have heard about too many people dropping like flies before the age of 40. And since most of my friends are hovering near 40, this seemed … timely.  And of course, the pictures were not in the original… LOL

I Do What I Want!


That is my stress-relieving mantra. There are times when we as working adults become so overwhelmed in doing for others – kids, spouse, friends, family, not to mention our jobs! – that we forget to take care of ourselves. And sometimes, even in taking care of ourselves, we stress ourselves out. We know that we need to eat better, exercise more, take real vacation days, etc. But we seldom enjoy it. Have you ever come back off vacation, and NEEDED a vacation? It isn’t really a vacation if you have to work through it or be responsible for 2 to 5 other people. Sometimes, to really de-stress, you need to Do What You Want!

We all know that stress is the silent killer. It exacerbates other health issues, like diabetes and high blood pressure. Here are some statistics for you*:

• Stroke is the No. 3 cause of death in the U.S., behind heart disease (with which it is closely linked) and cancer.

• People with uncontrolled high blood pressure are seven times more likely to have a stroke than people with controlled high blood pressure.

• Women account for approximately 43 percent of strokes that occur each year, but they account for 61 percent of stroke deaths.

• Brain aneurysms can occur in people of all ages, but are most commonly detected in those ages 35 – 60.

• Women are more likely to get a brain aneurysm than men, with a ratio of 3:2.

I’m sure there are stats for men and minorities, but I’m not doing additional research.

Stress word cloud

Suffice it to say: stress = stroke.

I had an epiphany about 10 years ago when I decided that I wasn’t going to drop dead in the living room from stress, trying to be what everyone wanted me to be. I was trying to be Wonder Woman (minus the outfit) and satisfy everyone’s needs. I was even taking days off for myself that were ultimately spent running errands, doing favors and cleaning the house…. I hate cleaning the house.    I decided that I would do something just for me, that I loved, that made me happy. I scheduled a day off, left my cell phone at home and went to Universal Studios by myself and rode all the roller-coasters. Multiple times. I then treated myself to dinner and a movie, and went to bed early. The next day, I felt like I had come back from an extended weekend! I try to do something like this at least every few months now.

Everyone can afford to self-indulge from time to time. This does NOT mean you can just walk out in the middle of dinner with your family. It does not mean that you lose it in the middle of a meeting:

This meeting is now over!

This meeting is now over!

But how about starting a ‘Me Day’ Fund, and put $50 a month into it? Every quarter, you could afford to do something nice for yourself – something YOU want. This could be simply paying the baby-sitter to watch your kids, and getting a hotel room for the night, just so you can take an uninterrupted hot bath. And don’t take your husband – let him find his own stress relief! Besides – couples who take breaks from each other stay together longer.  So be selfish! Go get a massage – Massage Envy is a great club to join (but Robert is mine – *see previous rant). Take Friday off, and go to the mall alone. Men – lock yourself in your room and play Xbox for a designated “don’t come in here” amount of time.  Madden Therapy is real.  If you like the outdoors, go fishing, go hunting, or just go to the garage and pretend to work on stuff.  These are all things my dad used to do.  And by the way, my parents stayed married til death.  And my dad died at 76 and he looked damned good to the very end.  Try reading a book – and not a work-related, motivational or personal growth book either. Read a trashy romance novel, or a murder mystery, or the last Harry Potter book. Escape is the name of the game. So go have a pina colada and get caught in the rain. Eat, drink and be merry! You’ll live longer.

Rant 45 done, and I’m out.  Hey, there were no curse words in this one.  I think that’s a first.  LOL

*statistics found at

Joy’s Rant List Volume 44: Fifty Shades of Joy

For my male friends, you may want to skip this one, although I will say that it’s worth reading to the end.

For my female friends – you’re welcome.  🙂

(No pictures, this time!!!  LOL!)

It’s late afternoon.  Nobody knows where I am right now.  The room is dark, with the scent of lavender on the air.  Some kind of low music is playing in the front room.  I hear him walk in.  I’m already laying there, waiting.  Jeans and t-shirt in a ball on the floor.  He comes towards me.  He’s built like a linebacker, with long locks down his back.  Caramel skin, green eyes.  So sexy!  He speaks to me in that deep baritone voice…

“Are you ready?”
“Yes” I reply.  I look at his hands – big, strong, huge, even.  And I can tell this is going to hurt just a little bit.  But it will be worth it.
He comes towards me and begins to rub my back in small circles, relaxing me.  I close my eyes.  “Mmmm, that feels good.”

He doesn’t respond.  At this point, I’m not sure what he is going to do next.  I’m focused on the warm strength of his hands, traveling from my neck to the small of my back, over my hips.  I hear him adjusting his position.  Then that pressure, that delicious weight, begins.
He slides his hand up the back of my thigh, and it tickles a little bit.  I giggle.  He pauses and asks me “Is this too much for you?”
No.”  God, no! I’m loving every minute so far.  He continues the rhythm of his hands, running them up and down my thigh.  He grips my hips and I shudder.  He starts to push down.  He speaks again and it sounds like his voice is reverberating through my chest.

“Let me know if this hurts you, okay?”
“Okay”, I say, now feeling a bit shy.  I’m completely at his mercy, and I know I can trust him – I have before – but today he wanted to try something new and now…  I’m not so sure.  But I’m willing.

He arches over me.  My ankle is on his shoulder and his huge warm palm is wrapped around my knee.  He stares into my eyes.  Maybe he is not so sure about this either.

“Take a deep breath for me.” He commands.

I obey and immediately things change.  He begins to push and the pressure is more than I thought it would be.  I start to resist, but instead I bite my lip and turn my head.  He pushes more, his grip on me getting harder.  “C’mon.  It’ll be okay.  Just a little more?”  He seeks my permission to continue.  The pain and the pleasure are so intertwined that all I can do is nod my head in acquiescence.  I start to pant.  He makes a quick grunt in the back of his throat.  “Wow, you are really tight.”


“Yes.”  I smile at him and he smiles back.  We laugh a bit, to shake off the awkwardness.  But still, that lovely pain-pleasure-pressure continues.  I grip the sheets and struggle not to cry out.  A moan escapes me.  He pries one hand loose from the sheets and laces his fingers through mine.
“Just hold on for me.”  I hear him draw and release his own deep breath.  And then he puts his head down and really starts to work me out.

I’m about to lose it.  I’m not sure how much longer he will go on.  It seems like it’s been hours already.  He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a break.  Just changes positions and begins his attack on my body with endless stamina.  He slides his palm up the small of my back and cups my neck.  His other hand is holding me still while he pushes again and again.  And again.  He hits that tender spot.

“Ooh.  Yeah, right there, right there, right there.”  I chant it over and over again.  The feeling is indescribable.  Hot, heavy, hard, unrelenting, deep, riding that thin line between “stop” and “don’t stop”.
Finally, with my leg caught between us, we both feel the tension build and build and then –

He looks at me and draws away.  “How do you feel?”
“Amazing,” I say, immediately.  “Thank you so much!”
“I’ll let you get dressed.  Be back in a bit.”
I humbly reach for my clothes and throw them on.  I turn and head for the door, walking significantly different than I was when I entered.  As I try to leave, he’s there, smiling at me.
“I brought you some water.”
“Be sure to stay hydrated.  And go ahead and make your next appointment for no more than two weeks out.  I think we are making great progress on that knee.”

I wink at him.  “Oh, I will definitely be back!”

O_o (What the Huck?…)

This was my experience with Robert at Massage Envy in Pearland, TX.  I know what some of you thought was going on.  And let me say – this is as close as I have gotten in longer than I care to admit.  And I take FULL advantage of it every chance I get!  He is the bomb!!  But I am sure that he has no idea what this experience is like for me.  Every time I go there, he treats me very professionally.  I’m sure his version of our “interlude” would go something more like this…….

Saturday, 1:30 PM.  Andrea Stephens.  Advanced degenerative arthritis in the left knee.  Deep tissue massage.

Here she comes.  She always smiles at me like I gave her a present or something.  She’s weird.  Good tipper, but weird.  Oh, well.  I’ll step out and let her get undressed.  I come back in.

“Are you ready?”  I ask.  She says yes.  Good.  Don’t want to walk in on her early – you get fired for that.  Okay, let’s get this party started.  Begin with the back rub.

“Mmm, that feels good” she says.  Great!  I hope that she refers other people to me; I need to build up my business.  Time to move to the hamstrings.  Heavy pressure, and… why is she giggling?  Is she okay? Let me check…

“Is this too much for you?”  Maybe I’m hurting her.  No?  She says she’s good.  “Let me know if I hurt you, okay?”  Okay, let’s do this.  “Take a deep breath for me.”  Don’t want her to freak out about this new technique.

And…apply pressure to adjust the hips…  Deep knee massage…check range of motion…  Work on quadriceps… “Wow, you’re really tight.”


“Yes.”  She’s laughing like that’s funny.  But she needs to stretch more at home.  Then she wouldn’t have these knots in her quads.  Okay…work on the hip flexors…  Heavy on the calves… Time to go deep on the scar tissue in this knee… Uh-oh… She’s starting to reach her limit.  I’m almost done though.  Let me get her through this part.  I’ll grab her hand to give her somewhere to focus, cuz this is going to hurt. “Just hold on for me.”

Got to get through this last tense piece of knee fascia…and…snap!


“Hmmm!”  Got it!  That should give her knee more motion until the next session.  Let her get dressed, bring her some water.  Remind her about the next appointment.

“Oh, I will definitely be back.”  She winked at me.  What was that about?  Whatever.  Time for my 3:00 PM appointment.

SO WHAT if it is all in my mind?!?!  It still relieves my stress!!

Rant 44 done, and I’m headed BACK for another massage.  DON’T JUDGE ME!!