Pain and Pleasure

Pain is a way our bodies tell us there is a stimulus affecting us.

Pleasure is another way our bodies tell us there is a stimulus affecting us.

Sometimes the lines between these get blurred and we get to choose an outcome. Pain or pleasure? Why not both? Can pain cause pleasure and vice versa?

Yes.

When one stimulus overrides another, we tend to feel the stronger. Yet, what if you were to train your mind to be able to switch that stronger stimulus into something else? How cool would that be? It would be like having a super power! Which, I’m already a super heroine so here’s my spiel:

When a little child falls down, they’re on the brink of tears. They feel pain. Child looks at you for confirmation of pain and permission to cry therefore getting attention. Some of us do the “shake it off…you’re ok” which can work pretty well. Even using it on an adult works really well. This weekend, I was the subject of such an event.

Denver Cruisers is an event where people go cruising around the town en masse on their bicycles stopping at designated bars and the ever fun Circle of Death. Oh yes! It’s high speed bicycling fun in a large circle and people try to cross it to get to the action in the middle. It’s like a tornado of bikes. Rides happen on Wednesdays and Sundays. Wednesdays are the themed nights where you can dress up and this week’s is cops and robbers. Sundays are more mellow and more focused on longer rides. This past Sunday was my first time attending the Sunday ride. Little did I know what awaited me.

Which just so happened to be a speed skater who knocked me off my bike.

As I started to fall, I knew it was going to hurt. Falling always hurts, no matter what speed you’re going. My left shoulder and knee took the brunt of it and my hands got scrapped up but not too bad (I was going to buy biking gloves that day but decided to not. Doh!). The 50 other Cruisers stopped and asked if I was ok. Shocked and bleeding, I moved my ankles and arms, felt my body a bit and decided there was nothing broken. Score! The skater was a man in his 50’s. He pushed his way through the crowd and said, ” Are you ok? You should look behind you when you bike…” and then walked away. Wow…what a butt wipe.

My only thoughts were:

• “Ouch, my body hurts…”
• “What a douche! He’s lucky I wasn’t one of the millions of little kids playing in this park.”
• “Shake it off, T.”

Which I did shake it off, get on my bike, and ride with everyone else to our last destination. Everyone at the ride was super nice and supportive, getting the confirmation that I’m a true Denver Cruiser now because I spilled some of my blood on the ride. I could still feel aches settling in and after an hour of hanging out I decided to head home for a hot shower and the impending pain of cleaning wounds.

I won’t bore you with details, but I did end up doing something quite naughty before hitting the shower. Let me just say, when you can’t be with the one you lust, you can still do it over video chat on Skype! It was just what the doctor should have ordered. As things got more heated, the more I didn’t notice the pain. Even afterwards, as I jumped in the shower, warm water burning my abrasions with a rainbow of pain, I chose to feel the ecstasy of an orgasm come and gone. Even though I wanted to yell in pain, I wanted to moan in pleasure more, so I did neither (at midnight, I don’t think my neighbor would have appreciated it). I chose pleasure over pain and the pain just heightened the pleasure.

I let go.

I'm such a bad ass in a plaid bra!

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!

Prague and Paris: The Saga Continues

Spooky, right?

On August 23rd, Amber and I will be boarding a plane for Prague. We will stay there for a week, then jet off to Paris for a week before we make the sad trip home. Since you have no reference to where this all started, let me fill in the blanks.

October 2010: After realizing that I had been baby crazy for years with no success, I broke down crying on my couch before I was supposed to be out on the town. A question came to my mind: “If I don’t have kids, what am I going to do with my life?” The answer was simple: TRAVEL. That was the night I decided I wanted to see Prague and it was going to happen in a year. I was pretty sure I would go alone, since most of my friends are committed and/or have kids.

Amber and I had been thinking of going to Mexico for our birthdays (she is Feb 20, I’m Feb 24) so I asked her if she would be interested in going to Prague in September instead of Mexico. Her response was an overwhelming YES!!!

So…we’ve been planning. Planning over mahjong games, tea, devil fries, beer and pizza, and cute guys (there’s a cute waiter at the Atomic Cowboy where we were getting beer and pizza and he was giving us ideas on where to go). At first we were going to Prague and Vienna but people kept telling us we would be bored with Vienna in a few days. Sad.

As we were planning at the Atomic Cowboy one night, we started looking at flights from Prague to other European countries. We found a round trip flight to Paris for $90. Score! We have our winner!

Recently, I helped organize a twilight tutu traipse through one of parks here in Denver. Of course we had to extend our mischief to the surrounding neighborhood. Amber and I went our own way to create our own special brand of fun, traipsing through the Tattered Cover and along Colfax (the longest main street in America), to our last destination for the evening: The Thin Man. It was here that a very nice man at the bar informed us of a place I had heard about.

A church made of skeletons on the outskirts of Prague. Yep. Made of skeletons. It is located in Kutna Hora. Apparently the church became such a popular place to be buried due to sand from the holy land being sprinkled around it back in 13th century that by the 17th century there was just no more room. So they exhumed the older remains and started decoration the inside of the church.

Crazy right? We are so totally going to see this!!

If you have interesting sights (or relaxing sites) that you’ve been to in either of these regions, let me know.

The Pain of Being a Gypsy

As much as I may wander, no matter where you fit in  my life…

I will miss you.

There is something beautiful about you that has brought us together. I see the person you can be and I hope you become that and more.

I wish for you all that life can offer. Everything that is beautiful. Everything that can be painful. Only until we know our depths can we feel what is true.

I will miss you for all the lessons you have taught me.

I will miss you for the love you gave me and I to you.

And I hope you find what you are looking for.

I hope you find the love you need. The love that fits you.

And you will always be in my heart.

On my dying bed, I will remember you. No matter how short our time was.

You will be with me always.

And I will always love you, with no judgement, no constraint.

I will celebrate you everyday with the dawn.

I will shed tears for you with the dusk and run through the twilight with you on my wings.

I will always love you, even if you don’t know it.

You are always in my heart.

The Blake Street Vault And Bad Behavior

Perhaps a bad choice after a night of drinking?

Friday evening was meant to be a relaxed night. Go to The Blake Street Vault, have a few drinks and snacks, some good conversation, and maybe I’d luck out and get shagged by Wisconsin (that will be the name of my current f-buddy who is moving to Wisconsin soon. Like I’d give you actual names…ha!). I’ve never been to this place but since it’s in Lodo (lower downtown in Denver) I didn’t have too many expectations. Lodo is not my favorite area on a weekend to go drinking because it gets stupid down there and I have a low tolerance for idiots.

After a brisk ride on Wisconsin’s scooter, we belly up to the bar at the Vault. After looking at the beer menu, which is not impressive but has some good craft beers, I decide to give the Moscow Mule a try. Never had one but it looked interesting enough (served in a copper cup) and I do like vodka and ginger beer very much. I should have taken the advice on the menu “Our Mules will kick your ass! We are not responsible for your actions”. Wisconsin has a Full Sail IPA and gets through it before I can get even halfway through my mule. This is the point where our arteries harden: on the food menu is bacon wrapped corn dogs. Oh yes! We couldn’t resist the bacon, so we ordered them.

Note: They need more bacon. The hot dog and corn covering overwhelm the taste of bacon. I’ll cover the beer in my next post. I promise. 😉

My face starts to get quite warm as I take the last sip of my first Moscow Mule. Good sign that I have a definite buzz on. So what would Dionysus do? Order a Mama’s Little Yella Pils! Wisconsin decides to jump into the fray and orders the Irish Mule. We might just be needing a cab later. His two friends show up and we get more beers and shots for the gents. The place is getting packed so we decide to bar hop.

A beer at Double Daughters, shots (apparently jello and tequila)  at the place underneath Double Daughters (I don’t remember the name), and then to Corridor 44 for more shots and some drinks served in champagne glasses. Fancy, right?

Note: I didn’t drink shots. I’m 130 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal and my ass had to work at 10am the next morning. Remember kids, drink responsibly so you don’t fuck up your life because you can’t take last night’s mistakes back.

As the house lights come on, indicating the end of another night of drink slinging, we stumble out onto the street to find one of our party missing yet we gained a pair of sunglasses. The last any of us had seen him, he slugged back a tequila shot and wandered outside (we found out he had caught a cab home and woke up half naked on the living room floor with a half eaten Slim Jim in hand). Our party was now only three and the vote was to go to the meat slinger cart on the corner for food. Another first in my life: gyro meat in grilled cheese. Brilliant!

If you’ve never been in Lodo after the bars let out on the weekends, you should. It’s when human idiocy reaches a peak and those who are cynical, sarcastic and not schnockered beyond belief can laugh at the hundreds of drunkards stumbling towards home. After our 2am snack, we part ways with our last comrade and hop in a cab for home. I’m not going to tell you what happened once we got back to my apartment. But I will leave you with the best quote of 2011 so far:

“I have two things to tell you. One: I’m pretty drunk so I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I’ll take care of that in the morning. Two: I might snore alot and fart.”

Well played, Wisconsin.

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…

Beer, Sex and Travel: Part One

How on earth do these three topics go together?

In my life, I tend to find that these subjects are always talked about on numerous levels and sometimes all at the same time. Besides being hot topics, they are the resounding themes in my life (besides some strange form of enlightenment and making people do absurd activities). So instead of holding this wealth of knowledge all to myself I plan on sharing it with anyone who is willing to read.

I’d like to take moment to go a little more in-depth on each topic because it’s not just as simple as three little words (though anything defined by 3 words is usually way more complex due to the fact that we are humans and as a race like to make the simple pleasures/concepts way too drama filled).

Beer: I love beer. It wasn’t always this way. I grew up going to parties out in the woods and fields of upstate New York. Pickup tricks, bonfires, and cases of the Beast(Old Milwaukee’s Best). Remember buying it at Rite-Aid for $6? The cardboard case was the  “bomb shelter” of beer cases and doubled as almost indestructible seating for a night of drunkenness.

Yes, I drank beer under the age of 21 but that’s a posting for another day. Besides, there was nothing else to do. When you’re surrounded by farms and cows and the most exciting thing to do on a Saturday night was either:

• Go to the movies.
• Play mini-golf or go sledding.
• IF you had a driver’s license AND a car, go cruise up and down Gennesee St. and stop at Carmella’s or Cavallo’s.

Sitting by a bonfire getting poop faced and having a good laugh at the other idiots you’re drinking with seemed like such a better idea. It’s when I chalked my license so I could drink at the bars (not necessary for many of them in 1994) that I started to drink better beers like Killian’s and Labatt’s (horray Canada!).

Beer at first was just a means to an end. Look at what I was drinking! Now we will fast forward to 2001, the year I was introduced to micro-brews. It changed everything. My friend, Steve, and I started drinking beer at Empire Brewing in Syracuse, NY. We had decided to move to Denver. One fateful night while drinking beers we noticed plaques on the walls. This brewery had won medals at an event called The Great American Beer Fest in Denver. WHAT?! This was to be a warning: once you enter the land of micro brewery heaven, forever will it change your destiny.

Beer…you may get reviews of breweries and beers, beer halls and bars, and other news involving beer. Or you may get a story that is absurd because the circumstances were caused by consumption of large quantities of beer by me. All 130 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal. Which leads me to the next topic…