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Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Sex and the Queen City / Happy Hump Day Victoria's Secret angels and a nun
Posted By Brittney Cason on Wed, Jul 27, 2011 at 10:49 AM
I ran into Victoria's Secret in Birkdale to meet the deadline for my free cotton panty coupon. For a moment, I thought I had taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Catholic church when I looked up to see a nun shopping in the store with me.
A nun ... in Victoria's Secret.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sex and the Queen City / Don't Do This Oh no, he didn’t!
Posted By Brittney Cason on Tue, Jul 26, 2011 at 1:55 PM
I was out on a date with this guy from the financial world, and we were having basic first date conversations.
Him: “What do you do for a living?”
Me: “I’m a writer.”
Him: “I know, but like, what do you do for a living?”
Me: "I am a writer.”
Him: “But like, how do you make money?”
Me: “I. Am. A. Writer.”
…is this guy stupid or just that corporate? I pondered on top of how I could end the date faster.
Him: “So how much do you make?”
Me: “Do you want to know how much I weigh, too?”
I told him, a mean estimate of my earnings as it varies month to month. His response …
Him: “That's it?! You could be making twice that if you worked in sales.”
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Sex and the Queen City / Random.com Liar liar pants on fire
Posted By Brittney Cason on Mon, Jul 25, 2011 at 12:16 PM
Have your pants ever been on fire? ... tell the truth.
I'll be honest: Though my pants have never actually been on fire, I have lied.
I was scheduled to work on a production for a show on USA filming here, starting early this Monday morning. But over the weekend, I was given an opportunity more important to me that would require me to quit this job, while the producer was traveling from L.A. to the East Coast. Not the most professional or polite thing to do, and normally I would have made up a lie to get out of it without looking bad or hindering this contact and connection.
But I figured it would be even more rude to lie, so I wrote him ...
Dear (dude from LA),
I want to tell you that I got some communicable disease, or that I need to get emergency surgery as that would be the only valid excuse for pulling out of the job last minute ... but that would be lying. Basically, I was offered a career and life-altering opportunity. But in order to actually attain it, I will have to leave town next week and thus not work on your job.
I am so, so sorry to do this to you, and I can only hope you can understand. I am as bummed about it as you are now inconvenienced.
He replied.
Thanks Brittney, congrats on the opportunity and I do appreciate your honesty. I don’t get enough of that in L.A.
And the truth shall set you free (and not make you feel like such a bad person)!
This got me thinking about how often people use lies to repair the truth in order to avoid disappointing other people. How many excuses have you made up to get yourself out of something? Lying to parents, teachers, employers and the people we date to tell them what they want to hear, trying to paint the truth white with a lie. Sometimes lies have left my mouth before even filtering it, before my eyes could even gaze up to the right side of my brain to process the lie from the truth, making my lies believable, to even me.
That’s because the person I have lied to the most is myself.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Sex and the Queen City / Random.com A booby trap
Posted By Brittney Cason on Thu, Jul 21, 2011 at 12:07 PM
"I am seriously considering getting a boob job. I am even saving up for one."
I originally said that as material in my stand-up act ... but I wasn't joking. Don't judge me — I don't want new boobs so I can impress guys. I merely want them so I don't scare them. You see, when you take my bullet-proof-airbag-padded bra off, Victoria's real Secret is revealed: they can turn an A cup into a C cup with their bras. And as a result, men think I am a witch with the magic ability to make my tits disappear. I even took off my bra at the Comedy Zone to display my little magic trick.
I used to be completely against remodeling God's work and being au-naturale, but that was before I became a Panthers cheerleader and they made me lose 10 pounds. The first place it left was my boobs. And so went my natural handful-C cups.
That is so not fair — when women lose weight, the first place it goes is their boobs. When men do, not only does their penis not shrink, but it appears larger.
When I stopped cheering and started eating again, my boobs grew a cup size, but left stretch marks.
That's right, I have an A cup with stretch marks on them. You see why I want to get a boob job?
On another, somewhat related note, the check engine light in my BMW comes on just for looking at it funny. Don't be fooled by the label: A Beamer is like buying a shirt from Neiman Marcus — it's brand name, but it unravels in the wash just like a cheap shirt from Forever 21. Just because their parts cost more does not make it a better vehicle; it's just a lemon in nice clothing.
And while men's penises don't shrink, they also only have to worry about replacing car parts rather than parts of their bodies. We don't expect them to get a penis implant or a ball tuck.
So why do I feel so insecure to want a boob job to feel good naked?
Though my fancy lemon with a check engine light is much like my body, getting old and breaking down, unlike my car, my body still runs perfectly without the extra parts. But it is nice to know that they can just lift my hood and replace my insecurities ... physically.
I wish NAPA knew how to make body parts in addition to car parts. But I must commend their store employees: They didn't say anything perverted when I marched in there and requested "studs for my rear" ... axle.
As for my boobs, while I can't really rationalize spurgling on new parts because I had to buy car parts, I will be taking itty bitty tit tips. I certainly can't put them on layaway.
But seriously, what do you all think? Are boob jobs a bad idea?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Shit Brittney Says Daddy's Little Girl
Posted By Brittney Cason on Wed, Jul 20, 2011 at 11:20 AM
She got it from her mama, and I meanwhile, got it from my daddy ... the random, unfiltered shit I say, that is.
While I was in town for the wedding in which I was nearly arrested for pedophilia (not really) after "catching" the bouquet and a 5-year-old caught the garter, I did some bonding time with my old man. As in my dad, not one of my older boyfriends. And here are some of the things he said — Sh!t My Dad Says (I wish I thought to start a Twitter page and then have a book based off it, and then a TV show — but I'm not that smart):
While walking through Costco:
"Why is it when black guys walk by you, they say, 'God bless your daddy?' I'm not sneezing ... and I sure as hell didn't give you that big butt."
"Brittney, wake up! I know you're tired and hungover, but I have bad news for you — J-Lo and Mark Anthony are getting divorced."
"You lived with some hot football player and then went on a book tour with that dude famous for being an asshole. Maybe that's why you're single. You know you're not screwing 'em, I know you're not screwing 'em, but people can put the ass in assumption. Screw 'em."
After seeing an ad on TV for the new show Cyberbully:
"Cyberbullying? Who the hell cares? Just turn off your computer and be done with those shit heads."
"I don't know know what all this hoopla is about you and your sister's birthdays. All you did was be born, your mom deserves all the credit."
My phone vibrates loudly at midnight from a junk e-mail from Harris Teeter Vic card rewards I signed up for to get $10 off my groceries a week.
"Who the hell is calling you at midnight? ... a grocery store? You came up with better lies than that when you were a teenager."
And that is why I will always be daddy's little girl — that's where I derive all my relationship advice.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Dating and Mating Duck, the bouquet is coming!
Posted By Brittney Cason on Tue, Jul 19, 2011 at 10:20 AM
I caught the bouquet at the wedding I attended this past weekend. Let me rephrase that, I was personally handed the bouquet that went over all the bridesmaids heads and onto one of the tables in the back of the reception tent. The bride has a good arm.
And look who caught the garter belt ... he's 5. He looks more horrified than my boyfriends when they take off my bra and my boobs disappear. Talk about awkward. Typically I prefer older men.
Is this all that's left for single women in their 30s?
Friday, July 15, 2011
Random.com / Don't Quote Me The new law allowing gays to marry = your gay friends getting married before you
Posted By Brittney Cason on Fri, Jul 15, 2011 at 12:02 PM
In celebration of New York passing the bill that allows gays to marry, and get divorced, one of my sisters sent me the following card:
So I sent her this one in return:
Sisterly love. But congrats to NYC, I am gay as in happy for them.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Dating and Mating Warning: A foot rub may cause you to get pregnant
Posted By Brittney Cason on Thu, Jul 14, 2011 at 1:41 PM
Getting a foot rub is perhaps the greatest organic aphrodisiac. I pay people to do reflexology just so I can get a foot rub.
I was actually getting reflexology the other day at Massage Envy in Huntersville when I asked her to massage my ovaries via the nerve ending in my feet, to offset the inevitable incoming period cramps. She said she had to be careful around my feet because certain trigger points on your feet can make you fertile.
I yanked my feet away dramatically.
"How in the hell can you make me get pregnant by rubbing my feet?" I asked her frightened, and curious.
Turns out there is an actual fertility massage.
"That's OK ... scratch that. How about a lower back and glute massage instead?" I would rather endure the most painful of massage treatments rather than increase my chances of getting pregnant. But that's just me. There are a lot of women who, unlike me, are good candidates for reproducing, and are trying to.
So they should call Julie Snow at Massage Envy Huntersville.
She uses accu-pressure points like reflexology on your ovaries around the ankle bones and fallopian tubes around the top surface of the foot. "Massaging those stimulates those organs and their functions," Julie educated me. "It helps women ovulate."
She also uses primrose oil on the feet and a Castrol oil pack on the stomach and pelvic bones that "get the ovaries working harder," as she put it.
Based on success rate of her clients, two to three sessions will knock you up. She's like the baby-making witch doctor — she’s been practicing and knocking people up for 14 years.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Happy Hump Day A horror story: The first time I ever saw a penis
Posted By Brittney Cason on Wed, Jul 13, 2011 at 10:27 AM
It was my 13th birthday party.
My mom got two connecting hotel rooms at my hometown’s five star equivalent, The Sheraton. One for me and my friends to have a slumber party, the other for her to act as chaperone. A chaperone who went to bed right after cake and ice cream. So we put on our PJs and pretended that the slumber portion of the party was commencing.
I just officially became a teenager, so naturally my friends and I snuck out of the hotel room and went running around the hotel, chasing each other through the halls and up and down the elevator and into the closed indoor pool to get into the hot tub in our training bras.
We heard something outside the giant sunroom the pool was in. We assumed it was a hotel employee who would catch us and rat us out to my mom. So we jumped out, got dressed, and ran into the first floor hallway. When we got into the hallway we slowed down, so we could tiptoe back into our room.
That’s when we heard someone knock on the door at the end of the hallway located in the back corner side of the hotel. That back door of a hotel that remains locked and requires a room key to enter.
Said door was no more than 15 feet from the door to our room.
As we inched closer to our room, we got a better view of the door, and noticed a guy standing there without his shirt on. Note, my birthday is in January, and I grew up in the mountains, where there’s a ski resort. It was below freezing outside and the door was even steamed over from the freezing winter air.
My first thought was that he must be homeless and freezing, which made me want to let him in. As I inched closer to the door my friends grabbed me, knowing my tendency to pick up stray animals, including humans.
“Don’t let him in, Britt. Pretty sure we’re still not allowed to talk to strangers,” my friend Jillian advised me.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Shit Brittney Says Sh!t Brittney Says, takes the comedy stage
Posted By Brittney Cason on Mon, Jul 11, 2011 at 10:37 AM
My friends and I keep a quote book to document the funny things we say, and the random shit that comes out of my unfiltered mouth. So here's a glimpse into my private quote book in regards to my conversations about mating and dating, and another installment of Sh!t Brittney says:
On the surprising Daytona NASCAR wins: "The Daytona race is as unpredictable as my period."
Dating advice to my 15-year-old nephew: "Try not to date girls who are dramatic on Facebook and don't keep their vagina in their dress. And keep your penis in your pocket until you're in a serious relationship. Nice talk."
"Screw the cow and the free milk — I'm lactose intolerant, more like, why buy the bull when you can get the shit for free?"
Friend: "Brittney lives on BST: Brittney Standard Time. She is going to be late to her own wedding."
Me: "That is if I even show up. I may even wear tennis shoes under my dress."
And, on doing laundry: "Separating whites and colors ... it just feels kinda racist."
You can witness my random ramblings first hand, live at The Comedy Zone that just opened in the NC Music Factory as I'm opening up for Jon Reep Wednesday, July 13 and Thursday, July 14. Come and laugh at my jokes, please, so someone will. If all else fails, you can laugh at me. Buy tickets here.
