by Calico Rudasill, Sssh.com – Porn For Women
Honestly, I’ve never been big on making New Year’s resolutions, partly because I’m comfortable with who I am, but mostly because I’ve never been big on making promises I know I won’t keep, like the time I told my husband I’d always be cordial to his mother during family gatherings, even though I knew she privately referred to me as “that awful slut.”
This year, though, I’m going to break with my non-tradition and establish some real New Year’s resolutions, knowing full well that by February I’ll have broken them all.
Be Nicer To My Sister When We Debate Porn Issues
I have three sisters, all of whom I love and two of whom I get along with quite well. The third…. Well, let’s just say she has been plenty vocal over the years with her disapproval of my working in the adult industry, and I haven’t always been as diplomatic in my response as I’d like to have been, in retrospect. For example, the time she said only men who had no decency or respect for women watch porn, it probably wasn’t too cool to point out that her husband once went behind her back to ask me to collect autographs from his favorite porn stars at the annual Las Vegas trade shows – then expressed bitter disappointment when I wasn’t able to secure one from Jessica Drake.
This year, when my sister cites some bogus study which says watching porn is ruinously bad for people, instead of arguing with her, I’m just going to cite a fictional study which determined that little sisters get irritated when their older siblings lecture them on subjects of which the older sibling knows precisely jack shit.
Granted, this might not sound too ‘nice,’ but believe me, it’s better than telling her to take the big, gaudy cross she proudly hangs around her neck and try to jam it up her ass – with emphasis on “try,” because we all know she’s too uptight to actually complete the deed.
Start Working Before Noon (At Least Once A Week)
These days, I’m strictly a “self-employed independent contractor” – which is to say I make almost no money, have no set schedule and spend a lot of time sitting on my ass in front of the TV eating Doritos and binge-watching terrible old TV shows on Netflix.
Given what my husband politely refers to as my “open schedule,” I generally don’t roll out of bed and hit the ground running where work is concerned. In fact, it’s probably more accurate to say I roll over in bed many, many times before rolling out thereof, and my activity after initially making contact with the floor is better described as hitting the ground staggering.
In 2016, though, I’m going to do better. At least once a week, I’m going to make coffee by 9am, finish it by 9:30, and give serious consideration to starting work by 10. Or maybe 10:45. (Now that I’ve actually written it down, 10 seems a wee bit aggressive.)
No More Wearing Pajamas to the Grocery Store
A funny thing happened to me around my 40th birthday; I lost all sense of shame when it comes to the sort of attire in which I will leave the house.
Back in my 20’s, I don’t care if one of my internal organs was hanging out my side and the paramedics were my ride for the evening – I was going to get my makeup on right and I wasn’t leaving until my outfit was just right.
These days, unless there’s a dress code which would otherwise prevent me from entering a building in which I have some business to accomplish, I just wear whatever I already have on. This is why the people at the local Safeway can be excused if they think I’m a crazy person, albeit one with reliable access to laundry facilities at which to wash her Spongebob pajamas.
No More Jokes About My Husband (Maybe, If He’s Really Good This Year)
My final resolution is more of a favor, one I’ve been asked to perform for several years running: My husband would like for me to stop making fun of his lack of intelligence – as well as his lack of personal hygiene, familial pedigree, education, common sense, dignity, balls, ambition, judgment, character and reliable vehicle.
In my defense, I only make fun of my husband because he totally has it coming – and because he’s just so cute when the veins around his temples bulge and throb like soon-to-fail hoses in an aging truck engine.
Still, it’s not nice to push the old fella too hard, so maybe 2016 will be the year when I finally give him a break and stop making reference to his intellectual shortcomings, physical infirmities and rapidly eroding sex drive.
(Don’t get too comfy yet, dear; I did say maybe.)