Denver Bicycle Cafe

Mike, my bike, and tools...beautiful tools.

It’s been quite awhile since I’ve written so I figured the best way to jump back in the saddle is to write about some of the things I love: beer, bikes, and coffee. What better place to talk about than Denver Bicycle Cafe!

It’s become my new obsession. Seriously.

The concept is beautiful in it’s simplicity. Beer. Bicycles. Coffee. They’re open from 6am – 8pm except for Thursday through Saturday which is 6am – 9pm. Which means, on your way to work you can stop in for coffee and get your flat tire fixed so you can bike the rest of the way. OR on your way back from work, you can grab a beer and have the bike mechanic do that much needed tune up. For a classy broad like me, such service is paramount.

The beer: it’s all Colorado, baby! Oh yeah!! They have 6 taps that rotate, which means you never quite know when a different beer is going on. The other option is cans. Yep, cans. Colorado cans. Avery, Boulder Beer, New Belgium, Oskar Blues, Steamworks, Ska, Upslope, and Wynkoop. They are all here. It makes my beer nipples perk up with excitement! If beer isn’t your fancy, they have wine too.

The coffee and tea: If you haven’t guessed, it’s Colorado again! Pablo’s coffee beans and Wystone’s Tea. If you don’t know Pablo’s, then you are definitely missing out. Wystone’s is a new company to Denver but their teas smell so amazing. I know a thing or two about herbs…and these peeps are the real deal. The Earl Grey and chamomile make my knees weak.

The bicycles: besides the fact that you can get a tune up, ladies, the bike mechanic is pretty cute. I’m just saying! Mike is the Yoda of bikes. Guys, you can totally geek out with him on bikes of all kinds. Mike has been screwing around with bikes ever since he was a kid. He’s been a certified mechanic for 5 years now but has many more years of professionally working on bicycles. His favorite bike company: Surly.

The food: tasty and local. The pie (honestly, in the right mood it could be considered foreplay, at least for me…) and the burritos are mad tasty. There’s usually an assortment of bagels and tamales along with big pretzels for those beer drinkers. If all you want are some chips and salsa, they can fill that need too! None of that sounds good? Then you can order food from Pasquini’s and they’ll deliver it to you in the cafe.

The atmosphere: exposed brick, wood, metal and good lighting. You can sit at the bar, on the couches, at your own table, or at the community table. The employees are super friendly and the music isn’t annoyingly loud. You can actually have a conversation without yelling or feeling bad that you’re disturbing the people staring at their laptops. Right now, there’s seems to be alot of locals coming in but I have a feeling once the summer rolls around, this place is going to be packed with bicyclists of all sorts especially on the outdoor patio. It’s only a block away from the bike lane on 16th Avenue so it makes for a great pit stop.

Whether you’re hopping off the #20 east bound bus, riding your bicycle, walking by, or even driving, you need to check this place out.

Cheers!!

http://www.denverbicyclecafe.com

First Night in Prague

Disclaimer: I’m drinking a Budvar as I write this. It’s my 3rd beer and they cost about the same as a bus ticket except when it’s happy hour then they’re 20 kourna. You’ll get the reference in abit.
After a grueling 24 hours in airports and on airplanes, I finally made it to Prague! Since I’m savvy enough to navigate most mass transit, I hop the 119 bus into Prague. Only 32 kourna gets you where ever you need for a 90 minute period which was enough to arrive at The Czech Inn.
Note: The Czech Inn is an freaking awesome hostel. Very clean. Very safe. Decently priced. Right near the tram. The price for food and beer are super cheap in comparison to Mala Stana and Old Town. Highly recommended.
My first duty after long flights: shower. Amber finds me post-shower while I’m brushing my teeth (we ended up on different flights which separated us for about 10 hours) and fills me in on her day of walking around. I ask if she took mass transit to the host. Amber says she splurged on a cab but the driver was awesome. It was 1000 kourna (about $60). I say, “Really? I took mass transit for 32 ($1.90)…” WHAT?!?!? Yeppers. The rest of the night it was the butt of many, many jokes at her expense. To her credit, Amber did do something that I don’t do. She had made a Czech friend over Facebook that was going to meet us at the Inn.
Intro: Michel. Let me tell you, Amber so TOTALLY lucked out on him. Michel is one of the nicest, gentlemanly ball busters I’ve met in awhile. He teased her about never having seen the original Star Wars movies (which I do often). He touts liking sci-fi but is definitely no geek.
And I digress…so Amber and I are chugging a beer in the bar at the hostel when she squeals and hugs some guy that walks up to her.
Who the heck is this guy? Michel!
Amber does the intro and our Brazilian Czech friend takes us out for the night…
Our first stop is a beer garden. An honest, true blue, Czech beer garden. There’s a rock n roll band playing on a huge stage, tons of picnic tables, TONS of people, and stands that sell you grilled sausage of all kinds and beer. Beautiful Czech beer. We hang for a bit drink a beer, munch on klobasa, and get to know each other. Michel had said there was a film festival happening all week next to beer garden so we finish our beers and go walking. Not much more than half a block away is a big screen playing a documentary about Blanksy and street art. Afterward watching for about 15 minutes, Amber and Michel decide to go back to the garden and I stayed for the movie.
It was a beautiful night. The park had an amazing view of the castle and St Vitus. How could I not stay? Yes, I came to drink beer. But I also came to enjoy the culture. Watch movie…look at view…watch movie…look at view…what did you say?…sorry…neh Czechsky….yes, I do speak English. What? Yes, I have heard of tantric massage. You manage a spa that does that?
So that’s me, meeting Jan. He gives me his business card and says to stop by tomorrow and he’ll show me around the spa. I didn’t go…yet. I really need a massage so I’m tempted to schedule one there. We’ll see.
Movie over. I head back to the beer garden. I find Amber and Michel, we drink another beer, then we head to the fucking COOLEST bar evah. No, really. It’s all rebar and moving parts with awesome techno. Like beautiful house music. Music that makes anyone want to shake their ass.
Intro: Cross Club. Seriously. This place looks like it jumped out of Firefly (sci-fi tv show). If you haven’t seen the show, sorry, but you suck (at least from a geek perspective). It’s 4 floors of amazing. The only thing not amazing about it was the two drunk Czech guys hitting on me. I might be about sensuality, but if you grab my ass before I even know your name, you = looser. Homie does not play like that. The worst part was I actually had to ask Amber to save me. They just wouldn’t leave me alone! Hell, do I really look like a horny American woman who has no standards? Even with Amber discouraging them, they STILL would not leave me alone! Wtf?!?!? I would dance, see one and duck off the dance floor, hide in a booth with Amber and Michel, and when it looked safe I would hit the dance floor again. This was the drill for probably about an hour until one figured out where I was hiding. The one that was trying to grope me the most. Damn.
Amber’s quote of the night, “I was thinking about kissing you in hopes that he would think we were a pair but I really think that would just turn him on more and we’d be fucked.”
Agreed.
Quaintly drunk, we left the club.
My favorite part of the night: watching Amber and Michel suck face in the booth while I ate the fried camembert and french fries we were going to share. When they finally pulled away from each other, I started clapping and said, “Bravo! Bravo!” Scared the shit out of them. They had no clue I had sat there for 5 minutes, just watching.
Epic win.

Botanic Gardens, Two Bottles of Wine, and a First Date

This is on my brother's fridge. Apropos for my Saturday night.

As I sit on my couch and recount this tale, I will say this is a warning. Do NOT do this on a first date. I am a trained professional at making an ass of myself. With Gershwin and a cup of coffee I will retell my tale of laughter and accidental drunkeness with Hollywood (you know I don’t give names!).

“So…um…would you like to go out on a date with me sometime?”

It was just so endearing. He did the adult version of kicking the dirt with his feet. How could I possibly say no? I had been coming into the store where Hollywood worked for weeks in a row. I never really lead on that I thought he was handsome but perhaps it was stopping to have extended conversations with him that did it. Or maybe it was my comment in this particular meeting that I’m a pagan and well…I’m going on a camping trip and we get a bit crazy with Dionysus. Who knows? Either way, he got the balls up to ask.

This past Saturday night we met on the playing field of the first date. A Denver Botanic Gardens membership, bottle of red, bottle of white, a pack of smokes, and two strangers that have an attraction. GAME ON!

Many events happen at the Gardens on a summer Saturday night such as weddings, charity events, anniversary parties, you get the gist. I show up on my bike and am waiting only a few minutes when I see Hollywood. He navigates through the throng of wedding attendants, regular patrons and random passers-by to my perch on the bike rack wall. He hides the bottle of red I brought in his backpack. We make our way into the Gardens with the contraband wine, walk around a bit while he tells a tale of his grandfather (he invented Spring Break…hilarious!), and as it starts to rain on our 2 person parade, we find a cozy little spot that hides us in a bunch of pine trees.

Hollywood takes out the chilled bottle of white. A Gewürztraminer from the Willamette Valley in Oregon! Brownie points for him! Then 2 wine glasses follow. Actual glass. More brownie points for style. Good wine, interesting conversation, out in nature, and then he asks if I mind if he smokes. I only mind if you don’t give me one. Talk about bad kids breaking the rules! Bottle number one is down for the count and we start on bottle number two but not without an intermission, aka a potty break. Since we’re so far back in the Gardens, we have no clue where the nearest bathroom is so we do a little bushwacking to where Cheeseman Park butts up to the property line. I pop a squat and he’s looking at me, “AHEM! Be a gentleman and turn around!”. I think he was so stunned that I didn’t say we should try to find the bathrooms he forgot all his manners. Of course, that really didn’t matter to me. His job was to watch for any pedestrians coming our way, not watch me.

As the deed is done, we hear people coming our way so I do what I’ve been taught to do in the movies…pretend you’re making out to serve as a distraction and cover up. What can I say? It does actually work. Silly Americans and your adversity to public displays of affection.

We decide to walk the Gardens a bit more (flip flops off which was so nice to do) and end up, again, at the back in the Japanese  section on a very long bench. We continue drinking the red wine, having a wonderful conversation, feeling the moist earth under our feet as night time falls on us. The Gardens are becoming more quite as the Christmas lights in the trees become brighter. I love the Gardens at night. It makes me want to put my fairy wings on and go running around and climbing trees. I’m not really sure how it happened, but he kissed me. It started out as one of those passionately tender kisses, the kind that make you melt and rile up all those butterflies in your stomach. Then it became the kind of kiss that grabs you in the primal parts of your body and soul and nothing else exists except the two of you. I was aware that a few people started to walk the path where we were, then an ‘Oh!’ was heard and the steps went away.

I have no clue how long we were there kissing. It had been such a long time since I had felt such overwhelming passion and lust from just kissing, I didn’t care who saw us. Except when you realize there’s a flashlight on you and a guy saying, “The Gardens are closing. Make your way to the gate, please.”

Seriously, I felt like we were two teenagers making out minus the embarrassment of getting caught.

We make our way towards the main gate with a detour to the bathrooms. On the way, we walk through what looks like a separate event from the wedding that happened earlier. After our potty break, Hollywood gets the slim idea of seeing if they’d give us some wine. Man after my own heart….they give us two PINT glasses filled with white wine! Whoa! Hey, what’s over there? A big tent with soft lights on the lawn…perfect for dancing under. So of course we set the wine down and try our hand at the waltz. I’m laughing my ass off because we’re totally not doing the waltz (I’ve had dope training in waltz, foxtrot, and salsa), there’s no music, and we’re barefoot in the grass. As we’re laughing and dancing, the SAME GUY comes by and says EXACTLY the same thing. He’s apparently very into his job.

We finally make it to the main gate. My wine had taken a spill in the grass so my cup had maybe 3oz in it. Hollywood had about half a cup left. We drained our cups and made our way out onto the street. It was a beautiful night so we sat on the wall by my bike for a bit. We had started this date at 6pm and it was quite late now especially since we both had to work the next day. We started kissing again and the world went away. And then suddenly it came crashing back as we both tumbled about 2 feet off the wall into some pretty tough long grass. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t find my sunglasses! He helped me up, then bent over the wall and like magic they were in his hands. I decided that some water might be a good idea even though I was feeling pretty good, just a little dehydrated. I took a big sip. We kept kissing.

And it happened.

In no more than 2 minutes did my stomach protest the ingestion of something besides wine. The world started to spin and I said, “I don’t think the wine is mixing with the water very well…” and my brain said to my conscience, “Hey, I think we forgot to eat dinner before this date…” Whoops.

New guideline for living: Eat dinner before you meet a date for drinks. Yakking not fun on a first date.

Old guideline re-instated: Do not mix your drinks, i.e. white wine, then red wine, then champagne, then 2 shots of vodka…you get the idea. That was on a night about 4.5 years ago. Stick to what you start with.

We ended up laying down by the bike rack together, hidden from the sidewalk and road by a row of plants and a 2 foot wall. My head was on his chest, I could hear his heartbeat and feel him breathe. I love that. It’s just so relaxing for me to hear a heartbeat with the warmth of a chest under my cheek. Little to our knowledge, the Moonlight Ride was happening on the other side of the wall. We heard bells and peaked up over our man-made fox hole. Hundreds of bikers, young and old, passing by us and going into the parking garage. Great. I am Teresa’s sense of “Oh Shite, I hope no one recognizes me”.

Apparently Hollywood had dinner along with a better tolerance to wine (the tannins get me every freaking time) so he loaded up my bike in his car and drove me the 8 blocks home. Those were the 8 longest blocks in history. For all the fun it was, I was sure that this was going to be the first and last date. I fortified my senses, ready for the blow of “Yeah, I’ll call you later this week…” Translation: I am so totally not calling you ever again. Hollywood pulls up in front of my building, pulls my bike out, kisses me good night and asks if I would want to go on another date. What? For real?

Tonight: The Second Date

Wish me luck. We’re going for sushi.

Wine Mixing Traditions

Now that is cup for wine!

This was a workshop that my most awesome friend, Candice, and I put together. She and her husband own a winery/meadery in Colorado named Dithyramb Winery. Therefore the subject was one of interest. We found some interesting info on top of some tasty recipes. The ancient Romans and Greeks thought it was barbaric to drink wine undiluted. Candice found this piece written by Eubulus in his circa 375BC play Semele or Dionysus concerning the consumption of wine:

“Three bowls do I mix for the temperate: one to health, which they empty first, the second to love and pleasure, the third to sleep. When this bowl is drunk up, wise guests go home. The fourth bowl is ours no longer, but belongs to violence; the fifth to uproar, the sixth to drunken revel, the seventh to black eyes, the eight is the policeman’s, the ninth belong to biliousness, and the tenth to madness and hurling the furniture.”

This exert is what made the wheels in my mind spin with the thought of doing a workshop such as this:

WEDDING WINE

from Elizabeth Cunningham’s The Passion of Mary Magdalen

I don’t know exactly what was in the wine.
It tasted fiery and sweet.
I suspect it was red mead: Maeve Rhuad
Mead mixed with red wine.
An intimate joke, a pun made by the Bridegroom
that only the Bride would understand.
Its effect transcended any ingredient.
It was like drinking life itself:
new-turned earth, sun, wind scented with sea,
blossoms opening at first light, the ripe perfection of fruit—
the elements gathered on our tongues, lingering on our breath.
It was like drinking love itself,
the passion of the Bride and Bridegroom distilled,
shared among the guests,
flowing in all our veins, rivers from a single rise.
If we were drunk, we were divinely drunk.
We were in love. In Love. All of us.
None of us could bear to part that night.
The stars were so beautiful. We were so beautiful.
In the end, we all slept together,
no one alone, each one beloved. 

As we shared what we had learned, we passed clay cups (the Greeks used a kylix during symposiums which were “drinking parties” for general socializing) filled with the different concoctions to share with each other. We had fun exploring this alternate world of wine, so for all the peeps who attended the workshop this past week and all you on the inter-webs, here are the recipes:

The Ancient Greek/Roman Way – 3 parts water to 1 part red wine (I find a half n half mix is nice, not too diluted but helps chase off the potential headache in the morning)

Muslum – Mix honey in with red wine, to your taste.

Maeve Rhuad – 1 part red wine to 1 part mead

Mulled Wine – well, I don’t really have a recipe, but I bought the spice mix from a quaint place called Savory. Check them out at www.savoryspiceshop.com. After passing this cup around we added some water and mead to the mix and it took alot of bite off.

Turk’s Blood – 3oz champagne, 2oz red wine

French Monkey – 2/3 glass red, 1/2 glass Orangina (I used San Pellegrino Orange)

Seaside Summerbliss – 2 parts red wine, 3 parts sweet apple cider

Red Wine Cooler – 4oz red wine, 2oz lemon/lime soda, 2oz ginger ale (it was mentioned that just ginger ale was better)

If anyone has any other wine mixing recipes/traditions, old world or modern, please feel free to post them!

Cheers!

Utica Club

Tonight is another Denver Cruiser Ride night. I am dressed in my finest white trash trailer park clothes with rollers, shower cap, and racially different babies in tow. If you didn’t guess, that’s the theme. Now that I’m out of work, I’m sitting at The Interstate Bar waiting for Phillip (aka the best partner in crime for me ever that is totally platonic) drinking a Utica Club and munching on deviled eggs and a pulled pork slider.

If you’ve never had a Utica Club, well…you’re not missing much. It’s a NY state thing that stays mostly upstate, aka Central New York (CNY). So to find it in Denver, almost 2000 miles away from the city (Utica) that had the 4th worst municipal water in the United States at one time, feels like a hug from a stranger in an elevator.

I’m drinking it mostly for the novelty tonight. It speaks to me of bonfires, trucks, and lots of laughter. It is brewed by The West End Brewing Company in Utica, NY. Their mascots are Schultz and Dooley, beer steins of a German and an Irishman thus showing the influence of these immigrants to the area. On the can it says, “First beer sold in the United States after prohibition”. From all my memory, I count this as true since the brewery survived that horrible period by making soda instead. Don’t trust me on that. I did the tour once when I was 5 years old and then at 25. This beer has been in my memory since day one. Even though its not exceptional by any means, it’s one I will drink with very fond memories.

Just a Shorty

It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve written. Life’s been a bit busy with a hurt shoulder, changing jobs temporarily, and phasing out of my current career slowly so my shoulder can heal thus letting me eventually get back to it. In the mean time, I have been drinking a nice assortment of 22s.

Argonaut Liquors has a very nice selection of bigger bottled beer aka the 22. The warmer weather of summer that has finally hit Denver has turned my stout drinking ways to lighter beers such as strong ales, wits, and (oddly) pilsners. These are the few lovelies that I shared with my friend, Phillip. The Chimay Triple and Unibroue Ephemere were snuck into the movie theatre and enjoyed while watching X-Men: First Class. The La Trappe Dubbel and Avery’s Reverend were drank as we both worked on projects late into the evening while watching Eddie Izzard.

I’ll just say, they were all tasty. The Ephemere is amazingly apple tasting and light but The Reverend brought me to my knees, it was my favorite.

Unfortunately, life is tearing me away on an errand, but have no fear…I shall return.

I *heart* 22s!

Until then, live fiercely!

The Rules of Good Living

The Sassy Beer Gypsy IS someone's conscience.

Some people may think I’m an alcoholic. Some people may think I’m promiscuous. And, well, some may think I’m a lesbian. Ok, so it was my mom who thought I was a lesbian because I was kinda pissy about her comment that I need to date a nice Catholic boy. I said in return, ” What if I don’t want to date a nice Catholic boy? What if I want to date women?” My mom went beyond gnashing her teeth and wailing. Every week during lent, she left me a message saying I needed to repent and give “something” up for lent. Ha. Ha! HAHAHAHA!

Contrary to my critics, I’d like to say I am none of the above.

I love beer. If beer had no alcohol, I’d still drink it.

I love sensuality. That doesn’t mean just sex. I love indulging my senses. My job requires alot of my senses, so they stay sharp. Sometimes I overwhelm them and at times I deprive them in order to make them sharper.

Having some basic guidelines for good living are important. I may be lighthearted and a hedonist, but I do NOT advocate true bad behavior (alcoholism, addiction, unprotected sex, idiocy…you  get the drift). These are some guidelines I live by:

1. KNOW your limits! I don’t get trashed every night or even have a beer every night. It’s not healthy to drink like that and I have only one liver. Also, alcohol poisoning is not fun and expensive if you end up in the ER.

2. Take RESPONSIBILITY. Like I once said, you can’t take back the stupid shite you did last night. Therefore, don’t get so schnockered you can’t remember or you make bad decisions. Blaming other people or things for your dumb ass is lame. Buck up and take responsibility for your actions!

3. NEVER drive if you’ve been drinking. That is just plain stupid. Besides your death, do you really want to be responsible for the death of innocent people? Don’t be a douche bag…get a taxi. AND if you’re biking, have a buddy who is sober because getting a DUI on a bike sucks ass.

4. SAFE SEX!!! Babies and STDs are expensive, not just financially expensive but on a Twin Towers sized spectrum of expensive. There are some bad choices that stay with you for life and there’s some that shorten your life. Not being safe can do both. Be respectful of yourself and others, use a condom!

5. Be an ELITIST. I am an advocate of being VERY picky when it comes to lovers. Sensuality and sex are sacred to me, so I’m not going to hook up with just anyone.

6. NEVER shag someone when you first meet them or on the first date. That’s just bad form. I usually wait until after the third date, IF there is a third date and it’s still not a guarantee. I’m an elitist.

7. The most important rule: Use (un)common sense. Even after a few beers, you can still use it, yet it seems like so few do. Common sense is pretty sexy.

These are just some of the more important points. I like having fun but not at the price of my health or the people I’m with. That’s just rude.

Have fun out there and remember to be responsible!

Avant Peche by Odell Brewery

It’s been a crazy busy 2 weeks for me. Besides working (yes, I do have a steady job that affords me odd times of the day where I’m doing nothing) I have been on quite the roll of socialite behaviour. Plays, baseball games, concerts, opera, tutu gatherings, cruiser nights, and general mischief with friends has kept me from my laptop and you, the reader.

As I sit and write to you, I’m drinking Avant Peche by Odell Brewery.  I’ve had some fruity beers, but this one is mighty interesting. Peaches were added, it was aged in oak barrels, then aged in oak barrels WITH peaches. Which gives it a very peachy head and true peach flavor. Not a canned-peaches-way-too-sweet flavor. It’s 9.5%, so it’s on the hefty side yet doesn’t give you the feeling, when you taste, it that it’s high on ABV. The roasted chocolate malt flavor of porters is a side note to the peach, though others may say the peach is. It’s kinda light, so if you like the darker beers but feel like you kinda want a Hefe, this is a good middle man. It’s $16 of dark summer love in 750ml. Personally, I think it’s mad tasty, so give it shot, grab your brown bag, and drink it in the park!

Na Zdrowie!

If I were Polish, I'd say smaczny!

Beer, Sex, and Travel: Part Three

My travel companion: Amber

Part Two would have been posted much sooner if wasn’t shagging this handsome young man who will be moving next week to Wisconsin. I’m taking a night off from ripping his clothes off so you get more of me! Besides, all this sex-ercise is giving me the abdominal workout of the year (at least for 2011). I’m fit, but being 7 years older than him is giving me a run for my money. It’s still way fun and I am enjoying every minute!

Anyhoots, onwards and upwards…into the wild blue yonder!

Traveling has been in my blood for probably my whole life if not longer. My parents met during the Vietnam War, were married, and suddenly the stork dropped off my elder brothers and I. Before mom gave birth to me, my family went to Thailand (my mom is Thai, my dad was stationed there). My parents were always taking us somewhere even if it was just to the Adirondacks to camp for the weekend. If you read the About page, then you know my love for NYC at the age of 12. I’ve always been a wandering soul.

Unfortunately, up until a few years ago, most of my wandering has been only in the US and parts of Canada (yipee! Canada!). Long story short: September 2007 I was married in Greece (marriage + me = bad idea). I LOVED Greece!!! I had a 6 hour layover in London and saw everything I possibly could. February 2008 I was in the rainforest of Belize. March 2009 I was in Belize again then hopped over to Costa Rica. The worst year ever was 2010 because I didn’t leave the country. In October 2010 was the decision that my big butt was making it out of the country for 2011 and every year after that. Heck, I have a passport and it is nowhere close to being filled.

Where am I going in 2011? Ah! Good of you to ask. Prague for a week, then Paris for a week starting at the end of August. My traveling partner: Amber. Her goal is to get shagged in a castle while we’re there and see everything Mozart. Everyone has to have goals in life.

My goals: drink good beer, see as much of the cities as I can and blend in, and maybe get shagged….but those are my goals for almost every trip I go on. Except for the trips that are specifically booty calls but those are stories for another day.

Traveling is like breathing. I have to do it or else I will die (or become a raging bitch, which no one wants to see).

Welcome to my journey and hopefully you get some good laughs from the stories if nothing else!

Beer, Sex and Travel: Part Two

Copyright Victor Sanchez Studios

“…’cause I’ve been with alot of bitches.”

As quoted from Pez, a gentleman I met at the Ginger Man in Northern Dallas while drinking a wonderful bourbon cask aged stout with Stuart, who I had high designs on shagging that night. Stuart was amazed by my knowledge of beer. I was amazed by his beautifully curly dirty blonde hair and his blue eyes.

I’m a sucker for blondes with blue eyes. Especially if they have curly hair. There is nothing like waking up in the morning, after shagging all night, to perfectly soft, curly hair to nuzzle in. It still puts a smile on my face, months later.

You might be wondering how I’m going to be writing about the taboo subject of sex without it turning into porn or dating advice. So am I!

I can tell you this: My idea is to write about sensuality. Sensuality is defined as the enjoyment, expression, or pursuit of physical, especially sexual, pleasure. Therefore, I shall write about pleasing my senses which at points will entail some stories of a more sexual nature. So if you can’t handle it, then don’t read those stories but be warned they usually get interlaced with the drinking of beer and the excitement of travel. They all go hand in hand.

I recently read The Passion of Mary Magdalen. As I read the last words, I realized that this was my ‘bible’. My sacred book. It described concepts I had lived most of my life and still do. It sings of much older days, when there were priestesses and temples that healed through sensuality. They helped create culture where there was none. They were leaders of commerce since caravans would stop at the temples and trade before they moved on to another destination. When women owned land and passed it down to their children with no help of a man. If you served in the temples for a short time before being married off, then you were a highly prized woman. It was a matriarchal society and it worked.

Of course the term used for such a woman is “sacred whore” or “sacred prostitute”. Unfortunately, I don’t have a temple, but I do think that I am a modern shadow of what these women were. If you were ever one of my lovers, you might just agree.

I have never shagged or even cuddled with someone that didn’t have a hidden god. By the term ‘hidden god’, I mean a man that has no clue how awesome he is. For some reason he just hasn’t reached his potential yet and by knowing him, even in the biblical sense, I feel I help to direct him to the man he could be. There is something beautiful (physically and mentally) about all of us. I like to think that one of my gifts is to see the beauty of each person. Of course, I don’t open my door to each person, just the ones that seem to oddly recognize what I am. Not sure what I’m talking about?

Have you ever met someone and had no clue why you needed to know them, you just did? There was just something about them, a twinkle in their eye, something they said, the way they walked into the room, that caught your attention and kept it?

That is the first transaction between sacred whore and hidden god. These roles are not specifically male or female. Sometimes the roles switch throughout the relationship. In any case, usually both parties learn a new lesson and walk away ‘healed’ in some way. Sometimes it takes time to see it, but it’s always there.

Sensuality, sex, shagging, spooning, sucking face in bathrooms…we’re all animals looking for a bit of attention, some good ‘ole positive touch that makes us feel like we’re not alone. That maybe, just maybe, we are lovable and wanted.

And some of us animals travel across the world to find it…