Blog Today. Gone Tomorrow.

Dear Blog,

As I approach my 100th post in 10 months (9 more to go!) I'm amazed...

At the crazy topics I've covered.

The things I've done in the name of "research".

The high consumption of booze.

The bad dates (too many).

The good dates (just enough).

The high consumption of booze.

I've come a long way from the no-dating-til-it's-all-done-list little Redhead-Next-Door. Now I'm in a normal well-adjusted albeit crazy-in-love relationship. And I have you to thank dear Blog [well that, and my fantastic bottom].

We had some great times Blog. We've laughed. We've cried. We've had pillow fights in our underwear.

But now, it's time to say goodbye. I know this isn't something that we've talked about, but we always knew one day we would go our seperate ways.

I will miss you Blog; you were my first.

xoxo, Erika

[Post Blog Post Note: Thanks to everyone for reading and commenting over the last 10 months. I love you all! I'll be starting up another blog soon. For anyone who'd like the link, send me an email at redhead-next-door@hotmail.com].

Zoom Zoom Zoom

I'm quickly learning that guys love tinkering and general fix-it's for a woman in need ["need" is often self-determined by said guy]. More than likely an automatic response that can be tracked back to caveman days when the cave dude was always trying to help a cute cave girl reach the cub off the top rock. Guys like to feel wanted and needed. It's not rocket science.

Liam offered to check out my stereo system because the sound in the right side speaker was dodgy. He peered around the component, and promptly asked for a flashlight so he could examine the wires and determine the problem. Ofcourse, I was assigned to be the pretty tech assistant/ flashlight holder. Liam was able to figure out after 2 seconds that my problem was "I need a man" for various things about the house. Ah huh. [I did get him back the next day while cooking lunch, he was unable to put saran wrap over a container of leftovers, so I told him he "needed a woman."]

In addition to gaget and electronic diagnosis, men also like taking on internet -based "research" for their girlfriend/ partner/ wife/ girl they're shagging. And no, I don't mean THAT kind of research. I'm talking safety ratings and fuel economy.

I'm in the market for a new car. While my current car is in relatively good condition considering it's age (think Demi Moore), I'm concerned about it's dependability (think Bruce Willis). With every thump, whirl and swish, I become more convinced that I should turn down the bass and stop listening to Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" and pay more attention to what's going on under the hood/ axel/ splash guard.

Liam was sweet enough to take me out for a test drive on Friday (the cars, not me). I had explained that I already knew which dealership I wanted to deal with (Toyota), and which car I wanted (Corolla Sport in impulse red). Naturally, being the man who's researched (and researched), he didn't want his careful hours of auto anaylsis to be wasted, so he pursuaded to get me to try a few others cars to get a feel for quality and performance.

The first dealership we went to had shoddy customer service. After our test drive, the saleman asked Liam what he thought of the car. Playing it "cool" Liam said that he really really liked it. I, on the other hand was not convinced and the salesman knew it. Silence sayd a lot.

Trying to work his salesman magic, the man offered that Liam's opinion didn't matter as I was the one with the decision making power. Well duh. Obviously he thought we were purchasing a vehicle together, and figured that women hold a lot of weight when it comes to making big ticket purchases. I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

The next dealership had over-the-top customer service. The salesman explained every single minor detail about the car - what every button did. The 400 pound salesman was leaning in from the driver's side door (I was sitting in the driver seat trying to remember which button gave the oil readout and which one pumped up the seat). He was two inches from my face the whole time, I was trying not to laugh, wondering whether I should smoke a cigarette afterwards.

We saved the best for last and Toyota did not disappoint. The moment Liam sat in the driver's seat and felt the leather bound steering wheel, he was hooked. I'll never forget his words, "You were so right, this car is THE ONE." We drove up to the Wal-Mart car park and I hopped into the driver's side, feeling a bit less nervous about driving a brand new car. I drove about 5 feet - the length of one parking space (just like in that car commercial) and said, "I like it!" Then we laughed hysterically.

Liam did show me how to measure performance and quality versus value for your money. Plus, he got to reve some engines and drive some cars. But sometimes you just need a woman ;)

Every Body

Once in a while, you just have to stop and ask yourself, "What the fuck?" Because there are some things in this world that just don't add up [Like the continuing popularity of Ron Jeremy].

Or, like this binding is-it-a-diaper or-is-it-a-straight-jacket contraption (see right). No doubt, it was designed by a man because there's no way a sista would do this to another sista.

This tighty whitey body cast inspired undergarment is one of many similar lingerie warfare pieces pictured in North American department store catalogues.

Sheesh, remember when the bra and pantey section of the catalogue served to inspire moments of self-lovin' ? Ah, the good old days.

Since when are women expected to eradicate all traces of their curves in exchange for smooth silhouette lines you could bounce a quarter off? There is so much pressure on women to conform. Remember pre-Ben Afflect Jennifer Lopez? You don't? Um ok. How about ahhhhhh.....well, it's happening ok!

Surely men don't want to spend precious minutes (or hours depending on manual deterity) unwrapping a woman who's bound like an Egyptian style mummy. Could you picture a dude wearing one of these to feel better about how he looked in clothes? Exactly.

So women, embrace your curves - all of them. Being comfortable enough to breath is way sexier than elastic-y containment. For the first time ever in a relationship, I actually feel sexy without trying so hard or feeling the need to be perfect and failing that, covering up. Before, I'd always buy a new shirt to wear for a date or exercise like a leg-warmer-wearing maniac. But Liam makes me feel sexy without feeling like I need to have my ta-ta's flanked by low cut v-neck shirts all the time.

Ladies, you don't need to hide what God (or Haagen-Dazs ice cream) gave you. Men, am I right or am I right?

Blog Post Fact: I ate a second helping of cheesey mashed potatoes while writing this post.

[Post Blog Note: I'm not sure what brought on this tirade. Perhaps it's the Vex I'm drinking right now (note to self:Vex makes you an angry albeit literary gifted drunk).]

Not-So Mellow Yellow

When I first got my braces put on, I was given the option of picking the color of the bands that hold on the wire running across my upper jaw.

There was probably about 20 colors to chose from ranging from grey [too boring and/or robotic] to pink [too girlie] to orange [too raver] to blue [too boyish] to green [needs no further explanation]. This is to make braces wearing fun for the children and teenagers of the world, who account for 99.9% of the braces wearing population. The dentist that was doing my braces told me that pink and purple were the most popular colors for girls. Uh huh.

I had to choose wisely because the bands would be on for 4 weeks. Hmmm...let's be logical about this...what's going to match with most of my clothes and accesories. Being the smarty-thinking-ahead kind of gal that I am, I went with white (which for those of you in the "know" realize that white is not an actual color but I digress). My rational was that at least it would look natural, and minimize the visual effects of the grey metal against my teeth.

And it worked. From Wednesday to Saturday, I was told by coworkers, family and friends that you could barely notice I had braces at all. Naturally, I gave myself a hearty pat on the back.

That Saturday I went over to Liam's for supper, etc. Since my teeth were still very tender, he put careful thought into the menu, and what I was actually going to be able to tongue on the roof of my mouth and then swallow.

Liam is a fabulous cook. He likes things spicey - just like me. He decided to cook up a yummy curry, mushroom, pepper and potato dish. It was sooooooo delicious.

After supper I headed to the bathroom to brush/floss/mouthwash [repeat] the gobs of food stuck in my braces. Imagine my shock and horror when I looked in the mirror and noticed that my nice white bands were now a bright glowing neon curry-yellow color.

I brushed and brushed and brushed (all the while trying not to piss myself laughing). Still bright yellow. It reminded me of that episode on Friends when Ross whiten's his teeth and they glow in the dark. Now instead of looking like I had white teeth, I looked like I was a three pack a day smoker. My only consolation was knowing that at least they weren't green (or even much worse, brown).

When I went to the dentist for a quick check up the next week, I ran into the dentist that put on my braces and told her my funny story (of which I'm sure there will be lots over the course of the next two years). Without missing a beat, she said, "Oh didn't I tell you that? And, mustard is just as bad."

Alrighty then. Lesson learned.

Maybe next time I'll just get pink. Then at least I'll look like I have gum disease instead.

A Face Even A Mother Could Love

Once in a while (though you'd think I'd learn my lesson by now) I am persuaded by the relentless Peter DeWolf to try something new.

His most recent quest is to recruit people to join Facebook. I firmly believe he holds shares or some sort of stake in the Facebook corporation. Free questionable massages perhaps.

I now tenderly refer to Peter as my "dealer" and Facebook is my "drug" of the moment. I only joined tonight and spent a mind boggling two hours like that [snaps fingers] when I could have been typing up a really good blog post. Because after all, let's face it - you all deserve one after all the non-posting that's been going on around here.

So instead of thinking of something clever, I'm left scrambling to crank something out before Dancing With The Stars comes on.

There's a whole lot of stuff I had planned to do tonight. Heck, I was going to be (dare I say...) productive.

Here's just a few of the very important things I was going to tackle BFB (before Facebook):
- 5 loads of laundry
- 1 sink full of dirty dishes
- 2 unruley eyebrows
- 1 drawer of un-color coded knickers
- 2 unmade beds
- 1 ultra-funny blog post
- 1 Glamour magazine
- 3 car quotes
- 1 mini-pedicure
- 60 minutes of quality time with Billy Blanks
- 1 piece of chocolate chunk cheesecake

And here's what I've accomplished:
__________________________

Ok, so I DID eat the cheesecake. Oh well, I guess there's always tomorrow.

Eb and Flow

Yowza.

Hormones + full moon = one wacky girlfriend

Today it's Wednesday. The universe has returned to normal. Liam and I have returned to normal. He came over after work this morning. We talked, we laughed, we kissed (not necessarily in that order :)

Thank you for your advice, words of support and recommendations of mental health treatment facilities. It was appreciated.

Fighting Fair

After 6 weeks of passionate bliss Liam and I are having our first fight [or "row" as the English say]. At least I think that's what this is.

Although, I thought I remembered fights being two sided, back and forth, and then lots of making up. I guess we've had two mini-versions of those types of fights which lasted all of 30 seconds (the two sided back and forth part and not necessarily the making out...er, I mean making up part).

This is different. He needs a few days to think. I'm not sure what happened exactly but apparently "it" got him thinking following our phone conversation yesterday morning. I was [admitedly] cranky and appologized in advance for [any] potential attitude. But mostly I was quiet. I didn't want my crankiness to rub off on him. (Yes, I really am THAT thoughtful).

I knew something was up today when I didn't hear from him until mid-afternoon. But I was thinking more along the lines of heavily involved in home renovation project, was in car accident, got deported, or (my favorite) was busy planning something sweet to cheer me up. If only...

And now, I feel like a woman possessed.

Normally, something like this wouldn't bother me. And I've come to the cold hard realization it's because I've never cared this much about any guy. Ever. Period. I love him.

I'm sick to my stomach. I can barely see through the tears to type this. And don't even get me started about the snot dripping from my nose right now.

To top it off the radio is playing songs like "Mad About You" by Belinda Carlisle.

I called, once. I emailed - the first time to say I "understood" (no, no, I don't really) and he could take a few days to think, and the second time to pour my heart out because I can't wait any longer. I fear telling him too much, or worse, not telling him enough.

It would be easier if I knew what was on Liam's mind. After all, I was president of my high school debate club. Perhaps I'm over reacting.

I feel so vulnerable and open. So this is why I usually keep that wall up around me.

I guess I'll just keep refreshing my email screen to see if he's replied. (Nope).

Arg. This sucks.

[Post Blog Update: My soul-baring and email screen refreshing have paid off. Liam is coming over after work. ]

Waa-Waa Whaa-Whaa

Ever wonder what it would be like to talk like Charlie Brown's teacher for a day?

Me either.

Sadly, the fates have other plans for me.

Right about now it feels as though the thorny crown of Jesus (a la his crucifixition) has been shoved right into my mouth. Actually, more like a new-age thorny Jesus crown made of metal instead of wood. Same great gashes and tears, without the wooden aftertaste.

Perhaps the pain meds and booze are wearing off.

Perhaps this is the kind of pain men feel when they receive a quick sharp kick to the kajones. Except the pain is in my cheeks. Like a set of aching throbbing cheek kajones.

And the pain meds and booze are working again.

The Last Supper

Tomorrow morning I'm getting my braces on.

Tonight I wanted to go crazy for my "last supper" so I could enjoy all these foods I'm not going to be able to eat for a FEW YEARS! Like poutine...Mmmmm...

I was heading over to my Nan's to help her with some chores and told her not to make supper, as I was bringing something delicious. She'd already had a pork chop dinner in the works. "But Nan, I wanted something good," I said.

Oops. I didn't mean it like that.

So then I felt guilty and agreed to eat the pork chops. That was my last supper. Of great substance anyway.

What bothers me the most is how girls keep telling me how braces will be a great way to lose weight. Uh huh. I don't want to lose weight. Any thinner and I'd make Nicole Ritchie look fat.

But seriously...I'm super stressed right now about my impending dental fusion with metal. I'll be ok after that initial mirror reveal, but until then, pray for me :)

Things That Make You Go Hmmmmm... #3

A certain blogger friend of mine who shall remain nameless rhymes with Heater is into tracking people who visit his blog.

I thought it would be interesting to see who was reading obsessively fixating on mine [yes, you like me, you really really like me]. Anyhoo on rhymes with Heater's recommendation I signed up for the handy dandy randy services of "My Blog Log".

One of said services is what I like to call a "web crumb". Much like Robert Downey and Britney dropped rehab bread crumbs to find their way back to Oz - a web crumb shows how readers found stumbled upon your site by complete accident, whether from a google search or via site link from another equally well endowed scripted blog.

And since I can't make **** like this up, I decided it was definately list worthy.

Things People Are Searching For With Google & My Blog Showed Up in the Results:
- redhead sparkly signs
- sluty figure skaters
- wedgie techniques
- hot lady next door
- angry ferret photos
- cute redhead at the office
- medicinal use of ketchup
- what would brian boitano do
- men answering door in bra
- sexy msn addys
- top 10 things to look forward to after 50th birthday
- strip scrabble
- office cubicle decorating
- sluty redheads
- sexy laryngitis voice
- erika with a k
- hungrey joes wives, and my personal favorite...
- big boobs jello wrestling

And to think, I'm the one common denominator in all this.

I'm baaack

After a brief (ok much too much, long hiatus) I'm desperately trying to play catch-up with my favorite blogs. It's exausting really. You've all been very busy while I was on cloud 9...you've been getting jiggy-with-it, growing old gracefully, manhandling wood, bra shopping and drinking some really weird **** posing as pop.

That's pop. Not poop.

The humor, the swearing...It's all coming back to me.

I've missed you.

Single Girl On A Saturday Morning: The Warm Up

It's official, it has been one month (yesterday) since Liam and I went on our first date.

Tonight, he's planned a 60's themed date [and now you're all thinking about make love not war jokes]. I'm not sure what our 60's date entails but I do know he's tracked down my favorite Beatles movie (Help) and has been compiling music for the occasion, including dusting off his personal collection of Pink Floyd. Liam feels a certain responsibility to make things semi-authentic since he was actually born in the 60's.

He's so creative and knows how to plan. I'm not sure men fully understand how much women appreciate planning and creativity. Or perhaps it's just me.

To get ready for this evening, I'll go through my usual "ritual" of pre-date activities. I'm not sure guys fully understand how much women go through to get ready for a date. Or perhaps it's just me.

Showing up looking "naturally beautiful" is hard work. Observe...

Top 10 Pre-Date Get Ready Activities Done By Women:
- Some sort of physical activity to rid the body of any retaining fluid (level of activity varies from woman to woman, i.e. go to the gym, walk around the block, get out of bed)
- The 3 S's...****, shower and shave
- Pluck random hairs from face, chest, etc
- Condition skin
- Paint nails in pretty color like "Blushed" or "Sheer Innocence"
- Concoct effortless and sexy looking hair do via sheer torture with heated metal appliances like a curling iron
- Forage around dresser drawers for suitable bra and knickers
- Spritz subtle perfume in key areas
- Pick out "knock his socks, etc off" outfit
- Apply layer of natural looking makeup

Wow, I'm tired just writing about it. :)

Sha La La La La La La

There seems to be a rather nasty case of the "blog-blocked" going around, and I'm definately not immune.

When I'm finding it hard to come up with something to write, I look to my fellow bloggers for ideas to pirate, er...I mean to provide inspiration. I'm routinely "inspired" by Amy and Peter. Today, it's Sean's turn.

Sean threw down an invite to list "10 songs you HAVE to sing along to when they come on the radio/ipod/whatever. Those songs that you can't skip past, you can't turn the dial, you have to turn the volume up and sing along with." Sounds like just the thing I need to get inspired for more blogging :)

So...here's my list. Please keep in mind that I can't sing. I only sing when I'm alone (in the car, in the shower, in the photo booth at the carnival).

The Top 10 Songs I HAVE to Sing Along:

1. "Bootylicious" by Dentiny's Child
2. "Heterosexual Man" by Odds
3. "I Don't Feel Like Dancing" by Scissor Sisters
4. "Working For The Weekend" by Loverboy
5. "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top
6. "Love Fool" by the Cardigans
7. "Chotee" by Biff Naked
8. "Make Me Over" by Hole
9. "Love Will Keep Us Together" by the Captain and Tennile
10. "Addicted To Love" by Robert Palmer or "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer

It was quite hard to condense my list to only 10 - it's really missing some ABBA, Bee Gees and Bon Jovi. I make no apologies for my taste in music. Or my lack of singing talent :)

Thanks Sean, I'm feeling less blog-blocked already!

Memory Loss and The Joy of Dating

My current dating situation and "head up in the clouditis" is beginning to have a bit of an impact on... well, everything.

On Tuesday morning I was half way to work when I noticed that my son was still sitting in the back seat of the car. I'd completely forgotten to drop him off at school.

Well, it's not like I left him at home or anything...

Random Compliment, #4

Today I was at a "Crisis and Transition" seminar for work. During our morning break, a lady who works in my department and I were making idle chit chat. We see each other occasionally at the same meetings and training seminars but we don't work out of the same office.

She asked me whether I had any children. I replied yes, that I have one son. Naturally, her follow up question was, "how old is he?" I replied, "He's ten."

"Ten?" she asked (partly to me, partly to herself). I could see her trying to do the math in her head...

"I thought you were only 22," she said.

I was tempted to say, "Well, I was married very young." [Which is very true. Though I certainly wasn't 12]. But I didn't. I explained that I'm actually 30 (and 3/4's). She looked relieved.

And I thanked her for making my day.

But in actuality, it freaked me out. Because then I start to think about things like...he will be eligible to drive a motor vehicle in 6 years. And in 8 years he'll be off to university.

I will only be 38 when he goes to university. 38!

Hey, wait a minute...

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: Cloud #9

Will somebody please pinch me?

Ouch! What the hell did you do that for?

Oh right, I asked you to.

So, my Single Girl on A Saturday Night feature is a bit late. Ok, 3 days late. But it's so hard to write a blog post when your head is up in the clouds all swirly thoughts and stuff. And it's so hard to see to write a blog post when your eyes are all dreamy and stuff.

I went to Liam's on Saturday evening. We cooked supper (chicken curry stew). Yummy!

We drank white wine (Fish Eye). Intoxicating!

We watched the start of the lunar eclipse. Breathtaking! We forgot about the lunar eclipse. That's ok!

We played three rounds of Scrabble (with bets). Rewarding!

Toward the end of the evening he whispered something in my ear that was so sweet and sincere I almost cried. I've never experienced anything quite like this before; it's different. I'm not sure how. Just that it is.

If I am dreaming, I never want to wake up.

Except to pee. I can imagine urine soaked sheets are not a fun experience.

[Post Blog Note: We didn't actually get to eat dessert. But I left it at his house for him to enjoy. Solo ;) ]

The Quickest Way To A Man's Heart...

There's 6 days remaining until date #3 with the Englishman and it's hammer time. It's not close enough to panic over my end of the bargain, but this is a strategic move. One that must have some thought put into it. Like strategy in Battle Ship.

Only there'll be no maneuvering to launch a torpedo and take out a sub, or be boarded (well, ok maybe a bit of that). But really, I will find out if the old adage is correct...that the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

I sent an email to my coworkers Mary (aka Undercover Mother) and Rowan requesting their assistance with my dilemma. I asked Rowan to name the most delicious mouth watering sinful dessert he's ever tasted. I asked Mary to name the easiest dish she's ever made that yielded the greatest results, er, I mean compliments.

Rowan replied with a discription of a three layed cake his mum used to make (white, "pink" and chocolate with frosting on each layer). It sounded completely disgusting. And apparently she's never used a recipe in her life, she kept it all "up here". As I'm reading the email I can picture Rowan pointing to his head. I think he's trying to derail my dessert plans.

Mary, on the other hand, replied with four little words... "Sex In A Pan."

At first, I though she was just being funny - mostly about my [in]ability to cook, but more importantly that it doesn't matter what I make. It can be a simple dish, but tempting and as hot as hell.

As it turns out, Sex In A Pan is an actual dish. But Mary didn't know the recipe. Luckily, my coworker Mandy has it memorized (no, I didn't ask questions). So now I too have the recipe.

If only I knew what to wear...Pants? Skirt? Dress?

Hmmm...I might have to poll the men on this one.

Single Girl On A Saturday Night: A Whole Lot of This And That

List of things to do Saturday night:

- go to supper with dear friend Nan
- enjoy glass of wine
- clean very dirty house
- magically make piles (and piles) of laundry disappear
- watch movies (Marie Antionette and Running with Scissors)
- do taxes
- take down outside Christmas decorations

Apparently I'm less efficient than previously thought.

Especially after two glasses of wine.

The Arm Not Taken

The rain has stopped and here comes the sun. I've narrowed down my dating prospects from 3 to 1 in as many weeks. The last man standing is the charming Englishman, let's call him Liam.

Yesterday, we had our second date at a local cafe. Liam now refers to it as "our cafe". [sigh]

Part of the reason I like him is because he finds my awkward dating blunders endearing and not a sign to run for the nearest exit.

Example #1: During a bit of a lull in the conversation, I asked him "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" After a thoughtful pause, Liam explained he had once purchased a $150,000 car. Naturally, he threw the question back to me (I really should have my own answer prepared before asking that sort of thing). I inappropriately blurted out that I once played a game of strip poker. Curious, Liam asked if I still played. Again, I blurted, "No, I'm not very good a poker." He found this quite amusing. But I didn't stop there...I went on to say that perhaps I should stick to something I'd be better at, like strip Scrabble. He asked for clarification ofcourse about whether it was the stripping or the Scrabble I was good at while trying to keep a straight face. Then we just sat there for a moment. He admitted that he was still thinking about Scrabble and perhaps we should change the subject, so I proceeded to ask him about his favorite color. [It's blue].

Example #2: After our lunch we were enjoying our beverages, coffee (Liam) and tea (me). I asked the waitress for a glass of water, and then went on to explain that my facialist advised me to drink 2 glasses of water for every cup of tea or coffee I consumed. I hadn't realized I was so thristy and began really sipping the water back through my straw. I paused to take a breath and my straw flew up out of my glass, flinging water on my face and arm. I laughed, and then said that obviously, the water is absorbed much quicker into the body if you apply it directly to the skin instead of drinking it.

Example #3: Being the perfect gentleman, Liam walked me to my car after we left the cafe. He pointed out some ice off to right on the sidewalk (this was my cue to take his arm because I was wearing heels and he didn't want me to fall. He did the same thing on our first date and then informed me that any arm taking would have consequences, like a kiss on the cheek). I neglected to take his arm. When we reached my car, I being the graceful singelton that I am, muttered "So I assume somebody will be in touch?" Liam smiled and said that somebody would be in touch.

Back at work I was retelling my dating awkwardness for the benefit of my coworkers who are smug marrieds and have to "live vicariously through me". Within a half an hour there was an email in my inbox from Liam asking if he could cook me supper next weekend.

I offered to bring dessert and my Scrabble board (for a regular game ofcourse).

Undiscovered Dating Techniques #4: Ass-traction

Undercover Mother and I were chatting away at work yesterday, discussing her daughter Bridget's most recent object of malefection (i.e. male eye-candy). Let's call him Ted.

Bridget is using a rarely used but powerful technique to get Ted's attention...she's using the laws of ass-traction. Much like the laws of attraction, ass-traction specifically uses the hypnotic powers of the gluteus maximus, much like the effect of a tractor beam on Star Trek, men (and aliens alike) are defenseless.

This technique is especially useful during spinning class, as long as your bike is within ass-traction range.

Employed and enjoyed by men and women, the ass-traction should not be attempted by amateurs. You must be willing to put your money where your ass is (via a few trips to the gym to first make sure you're in prime ass-traction condition). Coordination and tight fitting shorts are a must.

Use at your own discretion.