I had the pleasure…no…the opportunity…no.  I’m not sure what it was but I’m going to tell you people about it anyway.

I went to Loft 610 and left sweaty and happy that I’m married and not having to drag my ass through the bar scene (anymore).

I’m 5 foot 3 inches tall.  And I was one of the tallest people there.  I don’t like to tower over my men.  Tiny little men dancing around the bar.  I bet money that they have some sort of direct line from the land of Oompa Loompas to Loft 610.  They were over sprayed tan and short.  Have I mentioned short yet?  Is this really what Frisco has to offer our single ladies?

Cuz – we’re hot.  Not just hot, but HOT.  And you men look like you’ve been baking under the orange lights that Mi Cocina uses to keep their chips warm.  And you’re short.  And that type of stature generally leads to the dreaded Rare Thin Penis.  Rarely are short guys dangling something amazing between their legs.

Someone tell me where the cuties are.  The REAL men.  The ones that have less gel in their hair than me.  The ones that obviously use their hands for real work.  We deserve a man that will drink his beer from a bottle!  Or that can handle a double shot of Patron Silver – if I can out drink you, you are not a real man.

Not for me, ahem, of course you see, but for my single friends!  They deserve a place to go that’s clean (which totally knocks Down Under out of the running) and is spilling over with 5 foot 10 inch minimum men.

I was forced to hit on women while I was there.  Forced. To.  Thankfully none of them called my bluff and actually took me up on anything my drunk ass was proposing.  But nonetheless – the women were looking good.

Tell me fella’s – where the hell are you?

As we all know, being a Housewife is hard work. 

Thankfully this blog has allowed me a little slice of heaven where I could escape with my coffee and write (uncensored) about my life - good and bad. The other Housewives have been an amazing source of support, laughter and courage. 

Recently I have begun to take care of my grandfather and it is consuming more time than I ever imagined. I guess they say life really does come full-circle and I never really understood that until now. I haven’t been able to fully devote myself to this blog and to the wonderful women that write here. I have been feeling so stressed that I just need to pull back from my extracurricular activities, whether I want to or not.

So it is with regret that I say that this will be my last post as Stella. It kills me to think about all the crazy Housewife talk/fun/dinners that I am going to miss. Also to all our great readers, I appreciate all of your posts and will miss chatting with you.

Sabrina, Holly and Lulu, thank you from the bottom of my heart for including me and making me feel like part of the family! I remember how excited I was the day I found out that you guys picked me to be a Housewife! I wish you all the best and will be cheering from the sidelines (with a Collin Countini in hand, of course)!

This has been the hardest review for me to get started on.  Unlike purple vibrators and pink champagne, this woman has changed my life!  Pilates by Angela is amazing.  I’ve dropped 4 pant sizes in 6 weeks.  My body has completely changed.  I’m starting to get MAJOR definition in my abs and my boobs are returning to their natural resting place.

First there’s Angie – could there be a nicer personal trainer?  NO.  I cannot believe an hour has passed when she starts stretching me out.  She eased me into pilates, showing me each move and makes sure that I’m doing each move to get the best results.

Then there’s the workout.  I’ve not once done the same workout.  She really mixes it up and I end up with one leg in the air and my chin on my boobs and the other leg out to the side.

Her offer for a free class for all the Housewives changed my life.  I go Mondays and Fridays.  Even if I feel like shit, I go, and I get that “runners” high when I’m done.  9 times out of 10 my legs are so shaky it’s hard to drive home.

There aren’t enough Countini’s to give her.  Sabrina gives her 5 our of 5 and I know she’ll read this and so I also give her a hearty Thank You!

I had never done pilates before we were asked to review Pilates by Angela and, frankly, I was a little freaked out. I’m not exactly FLEXIBLE these days and I had never even seen those intimidating machines in real life. Only on Oprah when she showed how Gwyneth Paltrow has such killer legs. And abs. The bitch! Honestly I thought it seemed like a big load of crap that pilates could really make a difference in your body.

Boy was I wrong! Have you seen Sabrina lately? I know *you* haven’t, but I have (aren’t you jealous??) She has been going since our initial visit and she is ROCKIN’ that body!

I digress.

Anyway, I showed up to Angela’s studio and was instantly put at ease. She is so sweet and warm and totally knows what she is talking about. She guided me in tons of stretches and movements on the equipment and I left feeling so great! You know when you get such a great workout that you feel like you are on top of the world? That was me.

I highly recommend it. It’s relaxing and soothing, yet challenging and a great workout at the same time. I’m dying to do it again!

Stella gives Pilates by Angela 5 out of 5 Collin Countinis

As it always happens, our comments usually end up talking about blowjobs.  Many men have surfaced asking us how to get more of them, do you spit? Swallow? Don’t get that far?

As a confirmed, trophy holding blowjobber I will give you these instructions:

1. It better be clean.  If it’s fuzzy or tastes even remotely like vinegar – that’s why she’s not going down on you.  This situation can be fixed by a shower, or if there’s no time, hit up TruExpressions online and order the Honeysuckle Kama Sutra dust.  Dust it on your penis and all around your ball sac with the feather wand that comes with the dust.
   
   
2. As I’ve stated before, if you have a The Scary and Rare Thin Penis…well it sucks to suck that and you should stop having sex altogether.  Get some pills or something.
   
   
3. Trim the hair.  Not necessary to shave the hair, but trim it down.  It will make your penis look longer and more yummy.  And while I’m talking about hair, you should keep ALL weird body hair trimmed – like your fucking nose hairs.  Little things like a stray snot rocket at noon will turn us off for 3 days.
   
   
4. Bring home some flowers from Tom Thumb.  Thank her for holding down the fort while you were at work.  Notice something stupid like – “Babe, the countertops are so shiny, did you clean them with something different this time?”  Or, even more popular, “Hi honey!  God I missed you today.”  Then grab her around the waist in a  very you-are-mine-and-I’m-going-to-prove-it-to-you-later-by-banging-you-so-hard-your-head-won’t-even-hit-the-pillow.  This lengthy move has to practiced, but it’s a showing of manhood that we like!
   
   
5. Buy her a vibrator.  If all the above fails.  Use the vibrator on her and then stick your penis near her face.  She’ll have no choice but to suck it.
   
   
6. And no matter what you think we DO NOT want to taste our own pusseta on your penis.  So clean us off of you before presenting it to our mouth.  It’s all about clean.
   
   
7. Also, most women that don’t like it done to them don’t like giving it either.  If she has said she doesn’t like oral sex – STOP DOING IT TO HER.  I have an overzealous husband in this area, so I know.
   
   

#1 is THE most important lesson.  Remember foreplay for us starts the moment we wake up.  Be nice, get your penis sucked.  Be a dick, end up being the 30(ish) husband that secretly jacks off in the bathroom before coming to bed.

And the trick to swallowing, spitting, or not getting that far is this:

Has she had an orgasm yet?

If the answer is no, she’s not going to let you cum anywhere, she wants to get hers on too!  And y’all usually fall flat after you’ve orgasmed…with the rare exception of a guy I used to know that had a Hammerhead Shark shaped penis.  Delish!

However, most of us, and I know this is unfortunate for you, swallow while dating and spit while married, if we let you get that far.  Just be thankful you have several orifices to poke it in and worry less about what we’re going to do with the mouthful of love we’ve just received.

Class is dismissed.  Now go try it on your wives and report back.

Our holiday was cruising along nicely until the phone rang.  First off you must know something about me – I hate the very existence of the phone.  The ringing causes my back to bristle up.  I. Do. Not. Like. To. Talk. On. The. Phone.  When I do talk on the phone I’m immediately trying to come up with a reason I have to go.  I’ll even make the fake scratching noise and say we must have a bad connection, totally PeeWee Herman style.

I hate it.

In all our holly jollyness of having my Mother In Law here and constantly reading my emails over my shoulder, what more could Christmas bring?

The answer:  One Redneck and three hoodlums.  My mom gave me a Redneck for Christmas.  And she bent me over and stuck it in my ass.  Totally on purpose.  My mother and I don’t speak, we haven’t for years.  Because she is such a bitch, that’s why.

I let the answering machine answer the phone.  And the voice leaving the message was loud and redneck.  You have to know one to really understand what I’m saying.  It was my cousin.  It was the day before Christmas.  The message was simply, “Sabrina!  If this is Sabrina get your big ass on the phone!  Well, I just called to wish you all happy holidays.”  And he used the term, “farting around” quite a bit.

This particular cousin has always had a fascination with the size of my ass.  At my grandmother’s funeral he yelled at me to get my big ass in his car so we could talk.  He actually addresses my ass as though it has it’s own identity.  And at the same funeral, his children were running from grave to grave changing around the flowers.

I call him back, thinking I’m merely going to wish him and his family a Merry little Christmas.  Oh, but no.  This is where my mother has set me up.  Redneck Cousin says, “Well, we was goin’ to go down and see your moms, but hell, she got some bullshit vacation from her boyfriend for $2000 and she’s heading to Vegas.  That dumbshit boyfriend of hers is off ruinin’ everybody’s Christmas.  So now the kids and I don’t have any place to go.  Now that their moms and I are the big D (divorced) I want to get them out of Carson County.  So, you got room for your ole cousin and his kids?  Maybe if you park your ass outside, huh? Hardeeharhar!”

Fuck.  And that’s when my skin fell off my body and my bones were all that was left standing there holding the phone.  That’s when my mouth started doing this, “buhdebuahgetit”  And somehow that in Redneck tongue means, “Hell yes!  You just bring your whole damn family down here, I’ve got plenty of food and space!  We’ll have a ball.  Whoop!”

I hung up and then they arrived.  In a Suburban.  They all piled out.  They came running and screaming into the house.  My cousin standing outside to finish his cigarette.  His youngest son, who could seriously go to Disneyland and not have to buy Mickey Mouse ears because his own ears are plenty, kept coming up to me asking me how much money we make.  And almost instantaneously his daughter started telling me that my son was a total hottie.  Maybe back where they come from 3^rd cousin dating is OK, but not here in Collin County.

I kept telling myself that it was only less than 24 hours and they would leave.  I was definitely going to survive this.  But Redneck Cousin kept us awake for most of those 24 hours talking about racing cars and how he picks up cars with his towing company and then gets the titles and then sells them.  And how it would be so cool for my kids to come up and spend a week with them because he could teach my son how to drive a stick.

It wasn’t until the next day that I noticed I picked all my eyebrow hairs out.  By hand.

I got a Redneck for Christmas and all I wanted was a Kitchen Aid Mixer.

We are famous, again! Did you read it, our article in The Dallas Morning News? Front page bitches, front page! And while it tickles me pink to get the attention, I feel people are hating before they are getting to know us. And really, who’s the shallow one now? But I wanted to shout out a big HELLO to all our new readers! We love you, whether you like us or not! In the spirit of this fresh corner we have turned, I’d like to introduce myself. 

I’m Lulu, The Housewives Resident Sex Goddess. At least half of my posts are about my sex life, and I’m pretty sure I have inspired at least one of our readers to suck her husband just a little longer - or to explore every inch of her body to find the good spots. I have NO shame in what I write! NONE!! Every sex story has been about my husband and me, or just me with me….whatever. And to all you uptight ninnies who want to stop reading but just can’t, why even have a husband if you don’t enjoy his body. Or better yet, your two bodies connected? If you are not humping your husband on a regular basis, he’s gonna find it elsewhere. So to all you tight asses, stick around, I could be a blessing for your marriage. 

Now, onto my body, it is 100% real, every lushes inch of it. I have huge boobs, and the ass and hips to go with it. I am not super tiny nor do I want to be. I am happy and comfortable in my own skin. I totally rock my natural, voluptuous status.  

As if it’s any of your business, I have to tell you about my economic status because of all the ridiculous comments under our article. And really, can you fucking read? The article clearly states that one of us lives check to check. Heellllllo, that was me. I am not nor have I ever been rich. I came from a super low class family and married into an average middle class one. My house is more on the small side, but it is lovely. Mainly because I have excellent taste. Yes, we have lush gardens because my husband, not a gardener, has a passion for gardening. So, how about THAT. We DO NOT represent all that is fake, rich and plastic. 

I am a real housewife. I clean my own home, cook almost every night, chauffer my children around and help them with homework. I do not wear designer clothing because I can’t afford it. Yes, I could go back to work, but I made the choice to be at home with my children and gave up all the “finer” things in life. I don’t even care. I’m happy with my life, secure in it. I have the most amazing husband who showers me with affection and two gorgeous kids. I wouldn’t change a thing about it. 

So that’s me in a tiny little nutshell. I just skimmed the surface of Lulu, and there is so much more. But if you want to get to know me better then you will have to look beyond the first page. DO IT you lazy asses. Get to know us! I dare you!

Darling Readers,

We ring in the New Year by being on the front page of The Dallas Morning News.  Go.  Enjoy the article.  And help put the haters in their place!

Happy 2009 people!  Thanks for stickin’ around.

Ciao/Sabrina

I was tooting around on my computer and ran across a great site full of fabulous jewelry: http://www.lusterforever.com/. They have it all: rings, leather bracelets, charm bracelets, earrings and silver. Lots and lot of SILVER. I LOVE SILVER! 

I got lost inside http://www.lusterforever.com/, and quickly found a few favorites. I love the silver charm bracelet with fleur de lis: http://www.lusterforever.com/product/silver-7-dangling-sterling-silver-charm-bracelet-1194.cfm. And the Silver Ferroni Shaped Earrings http://www.lusterforever.com/product/silver-ferroni-shape-double-marquise-dangling-earrings-1258.cfm are to die for. I am certain there is something perfect for everyone on this site.

They stand by their product. If for any reason you don’t like your purchase, you can send it back within 30 days for a full refund. And all their products have a 90 day Defect Warranty, so they’ll fix it for you if it breaks. Plus, if you spend $70, it’s free shipping baby! Their stuff is gorgeous and they really do take care of their customers. Really, check it out: http://www.lusterforever.com/. DO IT!! You can thank me later. J 

I like to stay at home on New Year’s Eve.  I find this night, above most other nights, to be “amateur night.”  That is, those people who rarely drink decide to get wasted by 9:30 and then ruin everyone else’s night.  These are the people who attract the bouncers and cops, therefore putting the rest of us at risk.  And dont get me started on all the drunks on the road.  So I’m staying at home.  I’ll go out and get drunk when the amateurs are at home, thank you very much.

I have plans to hit the grocery store for mountains of junk food and beer, then come home and make some of the best nachos this side of the Mississippi (No idea what that means, but I like to say it).  In the meantime, I’m making my list of New Year’s Resolutions.  They will last about a week.  Some of them won’t last through tomorrow.  But hell, at least I’m trying.

1.  Be sweeter to the husband.  If, however, he forgets to make “be less annoying” one of his resolutions, thereby irritating the piss out of me and making my resolution impossible, I will at least give more blow jobs to make up for asshole attitude that is, technically, his fault in the first place.

2.  Work “taint” into regular, every day conversation.  Not necessarily in a naughty way.  Example:  I feel that the new Illinois Senator has the TAINT of negativity because he was appointed by the governor.   See?  Sounds smart, but I get to say taint.  Save this type of comment for appropriate situations:  Damn, can y’all excuse me for a second?  My taint itches.”

3.  Have more sex.  With or without husband.  (Note to self:  Must stock up on AA batteries before tomorrow!)

4.  Drink less, but more often.  No more binge drinking.  Not as much binge drinking.  Binge drink only twice a month. 

5.  Eat less sugar.   Drink it instead.

6.  Be the hottest, happiest Housewife this side of the Mississippi.  (?)

Cheers and Happy 2009!

Holly