You Are Beautiful

Fitting rooms are death.

As in, every time I enter a fitting room,

I die a little bit inside

when I look in the mirror.

This dress would look great!

If it wasn’t on me.

I think to myself.

It doesn’t seem to matter

that I flaunt a pair of plentiful breasts,

the sort of which many women would pay dearly for.

Or that my legs,

though considerably short,

are toned from hours and hours of

wearing heels,

or waiting on tables.

I climb out of the dress,

which is rather difficult

since I forced the zipper up

in hopes of making it fit.

I shake my head and vow

that I will not be undone by an

inanimate piece of fabric.

I dress in my own not-quite-so-fabulous attire;

I face myself once again in the mirror,

and repeat to the refection there

the words many men have proven to be true,

the words friends that only tell the truth have spoken,

the words I remind myself that I believe:

“You are beautiful.”

 

Sparkle -Exposed

No, there are no nudey pics or links to nudey pics on this post. Sorry, guys.

It has come to my attention that there are a few of my readers who think I possess a mysterious and sexy quality. I must admit that I haven’t the slightest idea why they think it. It’s true my busooms are of an ample enough nature to distract from any other physical flaws I may possess, but given the fact that my blog is not filled with pages of my unveiled melons, I assume my supposed sexiness has something more to do with my complete and utter disregard for secrecy. (For some reason, secrecy does not look as though its spelled correctly, but my computer is not telling me otherwise.) I could blather on about the lustful characteristics certain people may think I have, but I can go no longer feign such charisma; I must confess to you all the truth about myself.

I fart in bed.

OH GAWD, the horror of it! I can feel my shame eating me from the inside out (or is it from the outside in?) like the ebola virus! Such crudeness and boorish behavior should never be admitted! But I cannot live another day knowing even one person may find me practically perfect because they know not the unvarnished truth.
I promise, the emitting of noxious vapors is not an intentional act. (Unless I am alone, and even then, I feel contrite.) But you know that place between asleep and awake? That place where Peter Pan is supposed to be able to find Neverland and all your greatest dreams are on the edge of coming true? That is the place filled with the putrid stench of my inadvertent half-asleep butt fluffs.

I was always taught that a lady does not break wind where another soul may hear it. This seems to be an antiquated principle, for I have encountered many people of the female variety who do not balk even for a second after they’ve filled the silence around them with a juicy ripper. Or perhaps it is that I have not encountered many “ladies”. Whatever the rules are nowadays for things like this, I maintain that it’s best to deny, deny, deny.

Denying is not something you can do in the wee small hours of the morning before the birds awaken to sing hymns to the sun and your ass decides to have a mind of its own.

Perhaps it is the definite and uncontrollable aging of my body that makes it to be so, but in the last week, there have been at least TWO incidents of my unacceptable behavior. While my Rockstar has had the decency to not openly discuss the matter, his almost immediate vacancy of the bed after my Ass Music performance this morning was enough to want to bury my head under the covers and suffocate myself in my own detestable gasses.

Assurances of “everybody farts” are not comforting.

While I do not admit my undying attraction to my Rockstar when he rips ass, neither do I expect him to pronounce, “You’re so sexy right now, I’ve never wanted you more” when I fail to control my gluteal expressions. In fact, I feel he has every right to ban me to the couch forevermore.

Oh, just let me die.

 

A Drunken Letter To Sean Bean

My Dearest Most Sexy (Though slightly old and wrinkled) Sean Bean,

I am completely in love with you.

I realize this may come as a complete shock since I have never before even hinted of my surprising lust for you, but let me be frank- I have downed a half a bottle of whiskey, and my passion can no longer be contained.

You have starred in all my favorite films: Black Beauty, Don’t Say A Word, Troy, and let us not forget the first installment of Lord of the Rings. How I wished for you to long after me as you did the One Ring, or as Smeogel said it best “My Precious”.

I must admit I didn’t recognize you, my Shining Star, in Equilibrium (Because I was lusting after Christian Bale) and Ronin (because that lady with the alien eyes was distracting me.) But LISTEN! I have decided you are the only one for me. (Besides for Christopher Meloni.)

I became aware of my burning passion for you when you so perfectly portrayed Eddard Stark in Game of Thrones. To choose honor, or your family, you so rightly chose family, even though your daughter was a little bitch and your aging wife had such homely qualities. (Such as wrinkles and a hint of that Joan Allen person I so despise.)

I must admit that I creeped on you a little bit, and found you on the Wikipedia. While your picture on there is not flattering in the least, I found hope for me, when I read of you personal life, and the fact that you have had many wives. (None of them simultaneaously). (Woo! I used big word when drunk!) Perhaps in your future, you will fall in complete and eternal love with a red head with excessive boobage?

I will be honest (because I drank Windsor) I’m not entirely sure what has drawn me to you, but be assured that my feelings are real. But I must tell you a secret- I know your real name. and it is NOT Sean Bean, But since your fake name carries Dr. Seuss qualities, I shall forgive you, and still offer a booby squish.

If you find it in your heart (or your pants) to provide me with the other-wordly love I desire from you, please let me know.

XOXO, Sparklebumps

 

Freaks: Part 2

Here’s the rest of what I wrote yesterday.

There were books. Everywhere. Casey’s apartment had the exact same lay-out as his own, yet it was almost completely unrecognizable. The only furniture in the room were two barstools placed at the breakfast bar. Those and, Greg counted quickly, nine bookshelves. Not only were all the shelves full, but there were stacks of books lying intermittantly on the floor. There was no couch, no TV, or anything else for that matter.

“Holy shit.” The words slipped out of his outh before he realized he’d said them out loud.

“Welcome to my humble abode. Take care not to disturb the reading material.” Casey joked as she ushered him in, and Greg felt a thrill as she placed her hand on his side to guide him forward.

He turned to her. “You’re a freak. What’s with all the books?” He was certain he still had a shocked expression on his face. “It looks like frickin’ Barnes and Noble in here.”

Casey put a hand on her hip. “It’s my thing, so shut up. They’re beautiful. You’re a freak too, but I don’t go around telling you so. Who the fuck orders shit that comes UPS four times a week?”

Her sassy attitude snapped him back to reality and the books were forgotten.She looked so damn cute standing there with a furrowed brow as she admonished him, he decided to dive on in.

He stepped toward her, and as he did so, he realized this was the closest he’d ever been to here. He was startled to realize that he towered over her. As she looked up at him in confusion, he noticed her nose was squarely at his chest. How had he never noticed how small she was?

When he stooped to kiss those perfectly pouting lips, he heard her suck in a breath of surprise. As his lips met hers, he put his hands on either side of her face to keep her from retreating. For an instant, he was afraid she’d resist, but then e felt her lean into his kiss, and that was all he needed.

The last weeks of sexual frustration she’d created all came out as his hands slid from her face and he wrapped his arms around her. He clung to her like a man drowning as his tongue parted her lips and his kiss deepened. Casey moaned softly in her throat at this slight intrusion, and the sound had an almost physical pull on his prick. He felt himself straining against the fly of his pants as he grabbed Casey’s ass two-handed with a little more force than he meant to.

She had her hands in his hair now, tugging as her tongue did a sensual dance with his. Every pull was like a direct hit to his groin, and he pushed himself against her belly with need. His hand on her ass slif around to the front of her, and he was amazed to find she was wet enough already that he could feel her desire through her pants. She sucked in another breath when he found her clit through her paper-thin pants, and her hand slid over his as she oushed against it to create more friction. He pulled away from the kiss and watched her eyelashes flutter and her face flush as he stroked the most intimate part of her. Just her reaction was enough to make his already hard cock throb. He took her hand and placed it on his chest so she could feel his racing heart before he slid his hand down the front of her pants and slipped his finger inside her. She groaned when he did so, and her hand went from his chest to his zipper.

“Fuck.” He whispered into her hair before he captured her lips with his once again. She was so unbelievably wet! Her hand stroked over his naked erection, and he stilled to relish the feel of it. He hand on his dick was more than he could take, and he pushed her pants off and then tore off his own. He lifter her by the ass clear off her feet and drove himself into her as he pinned her up against one of the many bookshelves.

Casey let out a cry of pleasure when he slid himslef into her. The feel of her tight around him was exquisite, and he stilled once more.

“Fuck me. God, please fuck me.” Her fevered whisper was enough, and he pulled out and then drove himself into her again and again mercilessly.

Greg watched the flush on her Casey’s pale skin spread as he fucked her. Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back as he brought her closer to the peak. He was surprised at how easily she came when she squealed as he buried himself deep in her.

“Fuck!” Finally having her, and then listening to her come was enough to send him over the edge, and he pushed into her one final time while he shuddered in exstasy. Her arms were tight around him, and he secretly wished as the wave of pleasure subsided that she wouldn’t want to let go.

“It’s about time you got up the nerve to do that.” He grinned as she winked at him, because even a good fucking didn’t stop that smart mouth.

Freaks

The beginning…

“Gregory Eugene!”

Until recently, Greg had only been addressed so by his tyrant of a mother when he was a kid. The sound of his own name had always made him cringe, yet in the the past few weeks, he found himself grinning like a fool whenever he heard it. The fact that it was a girl almost half his age who was sexy as hell saying it may have had a little something to do with that.

“What trouble have you gotten into today?” Greg flirted with Casey as she sat in her regular spot on the landing. He felt a small stab of disappointment when he noticed she was wearing yago pants instead of her usual choice of skirt. There would be no panty viewing today.

“Sleaze.” He berated himself for the dirty thought, especially when Casey flashed her thousand-watt smile at his teasing.

“I took Arthur for a walk and ended up playing chess with a completely adorable old man in the park.”

Greg cringed inwardly at the mention of Casey’s part time job. She’d brought Arthur by on one of Greg’s days off, and he’d been appalled to find the mammoth beast of a mutt drooling at his door. He mentally shook his head to dispel the memory and focused on the conversation.

“So did you win?”

Casey raised and eyebrow at the question, which only made her too-young looking face more adorable.

“Of course, Silly. When have I ever lost at chess?”

“Well just because you can beat me…” Greg shrugged.

When Casey’d mentioined she played chess, Greg had only suggested a game so he could get her in his apartment. He’d never been very good, but he didn’t mind losing repeatedly to his new-found crush. He was only frustrated because she seemed completely oblivious to his self-conscious advances. Too, she was very affectionate, and she didn’t notice how he tensed in anticipation every time she touched him in passing.

“So I got home and UPS was here. I made them leave the box, but you’re gonna have to come get it, ’cause it’s too heavy for me.” Casey stood up abruptly, and opened her apartment door, waiting expectantly for him to follow.

Since the first day, when she’d offered to sign for his packages, Greg had spent ridiculous amounts of money ordering shit he didn’t need just to have an excuse to talk to Casey. His lameness was not lost on him, but for some reason,this angel with the body completely overwhelmed him. The only reason he knew anything about her was because she talked incessantly, but he noticed she asked more questions about him than she answered about herself.

As he walked up the stairs, he admired her ass in her yoga pants, no longer disappointed in her choice of wardrobe for the day. He realized he was insanely curious to see the inside of her apartment- how did this energetic little Aphrodite live? When he followed her inside, he blinked in disbelief.

Sorry! That’s all I have time to write today!

I Thought Summer Was Hot, But I Guess It’s Just Me

When I got terminated from my bookstore, one of my first thoughts actually was, “Hmm. I guess I will no longer be receiving excessive attentions from strange men that I don’t know.” When this occurred to me, I must admit that I was slightly distraught- not only does the attentions of weirdos make for interesting blog fodder, but despite the general creepiness of most advances I’ve received, they somehow still manage to satisfy my histrionic need for adoration.

It seems that my worries concerning this subject were pleonastic (Yes, I’ve been reading my thesaurus again.)

What I failed to realize at the time of my firing is that I had newly been hired as a Pizza Slut. That means- out of 17 employees, I work with exactly two other women. What do you think the reactions are of men (and boys) who get to work with my amazing self every flippin’ day?

Admit it. You’d be thrilled too.

Shall we go over just a few of the wanton and unbelievable comments I’ve received in the last 9 months? Here we go:

“You don’t understand. I’m completely falling in love with you. I don’t know what to do about my girlfriend.”

You may be surprised at this one, since I have not before this mentioned anything about an overly-amorous being at work.  Let us just say his job title rhymed with “moss”, and he no longer works with me. (I promise, I had nothing to do with that.)

“You’re gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And your personality is awesome. I only have one question. Will you be my secret lover?”

Incidentally, this was the fourth sentence out of a new employees mouth after having met me. It left me wondering what it is about me that makes people think they can say these blatant things to a fellow employee….

“You are and amazing and powerful woman, Sparklebumps. That scares me.”

Oh yes. I am sooooo scary. BOO! MWAHAHAHHAA

“You’re totally awesome. I love working with you.”

I must admit, every employee I have has said this to me at some point, even the ones who don’t lust after me. It’s because, well… I’m awesome. I don’t mean to sound cocky, but it seems to be true.

“I find you to be very pretty. ”

Seems very sweet right? That comment was followed with- “And you have a really hot ass.”

“You’re gorgeous. I want to squeeze your butt, but I didn’t want to get fired. But I think you’re really beautiful.”

No, I didn’t let him squeeze my butt, just in case any of you wondered about my boundaries…

While I find it incredible that these comments are truthfully flung my way so frequently, I must admit that it’s quite good for my ego. It’s also a bit humorous that my allure seems to have no age limits. You would think a 20 year old would have a slightly different inclination than a 52 year old. But who am I to judge?

A Belated Valentine To Angelina

My Most Beautiful Angelina,

I realize this Valentine letter comes a day late. Forgive me. Let that in no way be a reflection of my deep and amourous feelings for you.

I am supposing that you are quite busy with your brood of multi-colored children at this point, as well as a less-than-tidily groomed Brad Pitt. I hear also that you have had adventures of directing as of late- I am sorry to say that I was unwilling to drive 100 miles to the nearest theatre that was exclusively showing  the fruits of your directorial debut. That too mustn’t be a reflection of the affection I harbor in my heart for you.

I was just wondering, if you could find the time in your busy amazing life, if you would consider being my Valentine? I would find it most exciting to sit next to you on my couch and perhaps hold your veiny man-like hand, even for a moment. If you prefer, I would be willing to cook you some Kraft macaroni-n-cheese while wearing heels and an apron. (Although that seems to have the opposite effect that I intend, so maybe we will forego that)

I have long found you breathtakingly beautiful. I would like to point out that I adored you long before the rest of the world- before the multiple marriages to the revolting Billy Bob and before the make-out incident with you brother made people believe you were nuts, (I believe you were just suffering from temporary insanity; either that or you acquired some REALLY GOOD drugs) I was there. I spent hours watching your movies Hackers and Playing By Heart, though I must admit that I couldn’t make it the entire length of your clearly mis-chosen Cyborg 2. Also, your portrayal of Gia was heartbreaking and stellar- despite the fact that I was slightly disturbed that they had such an unattractive blonde playing your girlfriend.

I admire you greatly for all the work you do in countries that you are not from. Also, what a great influence you have been on Brad. (Regardless of the influence you’ve been on his looks.) I have no doubt that if he was still with Jennifer, they would be floating around Hollywood in their own self-absorbed bubble. Instead, you have gotten Brad to think of someone other than his formerly-beautiful self. For that, you deserve a kiss. I would be more than willing to administer said kiss, if you are unable to find a more worthy Kiss Donor.

Despite the fact that in recent years you have become increasingly gaunt, I still find you attractive. For some reason, the men in Minnesota seem to find you scary and unalluring- which I find strange considering the fact that men in Hollywood OBVIOUSLY find you as appealing as I do. The fact that you portrayed my favorite gaming heroine Lara Croft may have a little something to do with my fixation for you.

I well understand your need for  numerous children, as I have had the same need for many years. Sadly, I have not yet reached Sexual Icon Status as you have, so I lack the funds to provide the proper number of nannies required for such a family. Perhaps you could just share yours? I don’t see why another mom for your children wouldn’t be an idea you would relish. The more the merrier, right?

It is my greatest wish, (aside from giving Chris Meloni a booby squish and maybe more) to have you as my Valentine this year.  If you would be willing to let go of Brad for the day, (or forever) I would gladly take his place. (And look better doing it)

XOXO,

Sparklebumps