How I Reclaimed My Youth (AKA Got Busy With A Cowboy)

It’s clearly been awhile since I’ve posted, which is a combo of a few things:

  1. In the recent months as a babysitter, my target age range has been the under 7 year old set
  2. I work nights when most people go out and
  3. I guess I can be a little lame at times….
Yes, this exists. And I know a lot about it.

Yes, this exists. And I know a lot about it.

I mean, would you really want to hook up with a girl who knows all about Legos and Star Wars….actually, hmmmm. Maybe this might help my game a little. Although I do have definite thoughts on strollers (come on, seriously no cup holder or slot for my phone?!) which is kind of sad since I can’t even get men to look at me, let alone put a baby in my belly!

So, luckily over memorial day weekend, I had a nice little girls’ weekend in Palm Springs. Unfortunately what we forgot in planning the trip was that, while, yes there were single men, they also were looking for men. The only straight men at The Ace where guys whose balls were worn on the jewelry of their girlfriends that they were overly affectionate with in the pool. Yum! I bet there were some weird ass tan lines achieved that only make sense to them.

It's basically where faux hipster couples go to get married or take these awesome engagement photos, or gay men go to play chicken in the pool. But the drinks were good...

It’s basically where faux hipster couples go to get married or take these awesome engagement photos, or gay men go to play chicken in the pool. But the drinks were good…

Ok, we thought. That’s fine, it will get better with the parties at night! Until no, we walk over to the pool area to find hundreds of Coachella Valley townies waiting to pay their money to wear club clothes around a hotel pool….? Baffling. Most baffling was the group that included:

  1. The Lil’ Kim wanna be in the Orange sting bikini
  2. The slut who I guess forgot to wear her bikini to a pool, so her g-string and lace bra made do
  3. The obvious Meth addict
  4. The midget who came up to both girls boobs
  5. The other Meth Addict
  6. The other other meth addict
  7. The guy who thought throwing people in the pool was HILARIOUS (also a meth addict)

Don’t worry. My sister got them thrown out. (Did I forgot to mention that they clearly had not waited in the line of millions and snuck in? Well, Duh!) So regardless of the fact that there was nobody to waste our time on, we were all still having a grand ole time.

So after my friend and I took an excursion out to one of the mineral spas in Desert Hot Springs (and scored a phenom “couples deal” by pretending to be lesbians. Thanks Two Bunch Plams!), we came back to the hotel blissed out of our minds as if we had both just had the best sex of our life. It was the water.

The Grotto....I know I know, but it wasn't the playboy mansion.

The Grotto….I know I know, but it wasn’t the playboy mansion.

I promise. But a few of the girls were talking to some fairly cute guys. And this is where BBQ and Cowboy Joe enter the story.

Well, I guess the number one lesson to learn from this is never judge a guy fully until you have seen him stand. Without Shoes. As in up. As in, is he shorter than your friend that is already two inches shorter than you? Maybe there is a reason that cowboys wear boots…have you ever noticed that the have that kinda, sorta heel that is only ok on cowboy boots?

Yeah, that's a legit heel

Yeah, that’s a legit heel

But the question you are really asking is: Yo, SSG, what’s with the names (sorry about that yo…just got back home from philly!)? Well, Shorty Mcshorty earned the nickname BBQ for the basic reason that he is opening a BBQ restaurant in downtown LA this summer. Um, awesome! I may not eat your meat, but yes I want to know whats in your rub!

So luckily one of the fair ladies I was weekending with seemed to hit it off with Mr. BBQ and they exchanged numbers. (Sidenote: this lady will henceforth be known as Sea Monkey- her spirit animal. Because apparently I am very good at giving spirit animals and the desert is the place to give them. I’m an armadillo if you wanted to know)

Later that evening, after our group of ladies was kicked out of The Parker (not exactly kicked out, per se, rather “looked at” harshly) we made our way back to the pool for a nighttime swim, where Sea Monkey was joined by BBQ and his sidekick in the overalls. And after my hands begin to prune from WAY too much swimming, I joined in the convo. Shortly after the pool closed. As in most people went to bed. But Sea Monkey was into BBQ, and like any good wing woman, I was not leaving her alone with too strange men, no matter how short they were.

So we found a fire place and made magic….well not exactly. But BBQ and the Sea Monkey were totally getting along. It was kind of adorable (except for his height). So I stayed and chatted with Cowboy Joe and his magical accent that appears when he drinks. And we all kind of just sat there and talked. And Talked. And talked some more.

And soon we all looked up and saw that the sky was beginning to shift from dark to light. So the BBQ and Sea Monkey started going AT IT! SO picture this, all on one couch: a man and a woman making out, and then a man and a woman just sitting there. Awkwardly. Well, soon our conversation fell to silence and it got ruhllllllll awkward….like twiddling fingers awkward. So awkward, that we started holding hands. Yes, HAND HOLDING!


[and this is where you go the hell away if you don’t want to know….and you know what I mean by YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW]


But than Mr. Overalls started inching that hand up my thigh….and I started inching my hand up his. And then I went back to everyone else’s stories from high school of making out under the bleacher or having sex on the theater couch and I got fingered by a cowboy. And yet we still remained silent. It was oh so sexy teenage style- under the bathing suit, in public, while another couple makes out right next to you. Oh yeah. Because I’m classy like that. And just to be fair, and spread the knowledge, were you aware that overalls have button fly holes? They do. (shocking….I know).

So when the two macking on each other finally, FINALLY broke for air and realize that the sweet songs in the air were actually being made by the birds in the morning air, we all bid adieu and went our separate ways.

And somehow for once in my life, I really was that quiet…Sea Monkey had no idea what was going on our side of the couch. But believe me, I’m a firm believer for What Happens in Vegas Palm Springs, Stays in Palm Springs…or gets published on my blog….


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