Monday, October 31, 2005

12 Months and a Day

I’m late for everything! I’m even late in posting my retrospective on our blog-o-rific 1st year in the blogoshere. Mostly, it’s been a blast. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve become a better writer. I can type faster. And best of all, I’ve met some fantastic people. My "real life" has also changed dramatically, to some extent due to my experiences here.

Blog Motivation:
At this same time last year, I’d been living with Lu and Steve for about a month because I needed a break from my home life. During that time, my partner encouraged me to start a blog as a creative outlet. I wasn’t sold on the idea until I realized it could be a way to develop alliances among women with the concept of Hot Chiks. It also gave me a place to organize the multitude of stories and ideas that had been floating around in my head for years. I asked Lu to do it with me because everything’s better with Lu around.

When we started, Lu posted fairly often. Most often she provided great exposure and education about the reality of living with Bipolar Disorder. Living with and accepting the reality of mental illness is something that is important to both of us. After a while, Lu’s Depression symptoms became too overwhelming for her to be able to actively participate. I still talk with her about the blog, and occasionally she offers input and ideas. Perhaps one day she’ll return to posting again.

Expectations and Happy Surprises:
I expected this to be a blog for women. I thought I'd write about positive sexuality and challenging traditional sex roles. I've written about those things, but I've found myself expanding to other topics as well, particularly the topic of Love.

I didn’t expect to attract numerous exceptionally wonderful men who seem to genuinely Love women. I suspect that some of them arrived here because they saw the name "2 Hot Chiks" and were intrigued by the idea. Others wandered over on a day when I’ve posted something about what I Love about men, or about 2005, the Year of Cunnilingus. Perhaps some have their own uniquely personal motivations.

I expected to get bored with this blog after a couple months. I’m still not bored. However, sometimes it does seem like work. It seems like the kind of job I’d Love to have. Writing is difficult for me. It takes time and effort. But when I finally produce something I’m happy with, it’s well worth the effort. It also makes me happy when I get positive feedback from generous friends like all'y’all.

I never expected to meet so many wonderful people.

New Friends:
A variety of people have come around this blog over the last year. A couple of them have been around for almost a year (Opaco and Ed). Kayten and Chick have been around the longest. They also attended the Valentine’s Day Hot Chik Fantasy Date in New York with Tiger, Red Naked Woman and Cricket.

Other people have stopped blogging this year. I miss them, but I understand that circumstances change. The former blogger I miss the most is John Q. Public, formerly known as Average Joe. We were good friends. I even had an opportunity to meet him in June. Even though he thought it was really funny to trap me in a revolving door at Water Tower place, we had the BEST time! (and no, he wasn't inside the revolving door with me. That would have been a much better idea).

I’ve made some damn good friends from blogging, four of which I’ve met face-to-face. I had lunch with the first, laughed my ass off with the second, fell in Love with number three (Wow, didn’t expect that!!!), and drank very good beer with the last. I’m hoping to meet three more fellow bloggers next month while I’m in California and another in December here in Iowa City.

I’ve developed a few strong relationships via email because of this blog. I value these relationships as much as I do the friends I have the fortune of being with in my non-electronic life. One of these friends is so very dear to me that I need to mention him specifically. I feel very lucky to have met Larry. He’s been one of the best friends I’ve ever known. Not only is he smart and talented, he’s also sweet, compassionate and wise. He calls himself a curmudgeon, but somehow he reserves a special form of gentleness for his friends.

I plan to continue this blogging adventure. And, even though it seems like it’s more like One Hot Chik lately, perhaps Lu will join us again soon.

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Hot Chik Motivations

The concept of Hot Chiks was born from my subtly disturbing experiences working as a peon at a large corporation. Prior to this job, I’d been a Social Worker for 15 years. Although I wasn’t completely naïve or unaware of workplace politicking, I never had the opportunity to observe and think about the interactions of my co-workers the way I do at my current job.

I was concerned about the strange/normal/ordinary (you choose) competitiveness amongst women in my workplace. They criticized one another for things they never would think to criticize a man for doing. These criticisms and comparisons weren't made directly. They happened in hushed voices. They were slipped in to conversations with receptive others. They were said with righteous justifications and concerns.

One woman was criticized for being too proud of the way she looked; another for not seeming to care at all. How a woman managed her home and work life was often in question, especially if she had children. Are men put under the same microscope and measured by the same criteria? I don't think so. Likewise, women would forgive a man’s indiscretions because he was a good worker, but if a woman was guilty of the same behavior, she was a no-good-SLUT! When men observed this criticizing, they sometimes participated. They rarely started it, at least not while I was around. I never heard a single person interrupt or defend a victim.

This phenomenon has no good guys and no bad guys. Every woman seems to be participating, either actively or passively, and every woman is a potential victim. The problem is that it keeps women separated from one another. We can’t create real solid alliances with one another in our professional lives.

That’s how a dialog first began. Ruth, Carrie and I started talking about what it would be like if we acted differently with one another and with other women at work. After that, Lu and I wrote the Hot Chik’s Code. A while later, we started the blog . . . a year ago today.


For some girls and women being a Hot Chik comes naturally. For others, it's a process of unlearning a lot of crap that society has taught her about herself and other women. If you wish to claim your place in the world as a Hot Chik, please refer to the Code below.

  1. Hot Chiks are Proud, Strong and Brave.
  2. Hot Chiks cooperate with their sisters and never compete unfairly. A Hot Chik would never think of competing for the attention of a man.
  3. Hot Chiks are proud of their sisters’ accomplishments.
  4. Hot Chiks watch each other’s backs.
  5. Hot Chiks realize that doing the right thing sometimes means you have to break the rules.
  6. Hot Chiks are gorgeous regardless of the current trends or narrowly defined standards of beauty.
  7. Hot Chiks realize it’s a privilege to be a woman and are compassionate toward men, the unfortunate and weaker sex.
  8. Hot Chiks love men who love and respect women. (optional)
  9. Hot Chiks are proud and comfortable with their sexuality. We don’t succumb to society’s double standard that good girls don’t, and we aren’t necessarily good girls.

My Pledge: "I, _________________________________________, do solemnly swear to follow the Hot Chiks’ Code to the best of my ability from this day forward. I will spread the Hot Chiks’ Code to those who are receptive, and I will protect the Code from those who would use it to exploit and/or damage any or all Hot Chiks."

_______ ______________________________________________

Date / Signature

8/19/04, Theresa K., Lu M., (Hot Chik's Code Co-Authors)


Recommended Reading: Catfight by Leora Tanenbaum

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

... it Only Works When it's Open

Other than the one day in 1974 when I thought we were Black, I was raised by white working class parents in a white, middle class, medium sized city in the mid-west. My parents had opinions about race, ethnicity, gender roles, sexual orientation, ability, and social class, all of which they’ve changed over the years. You see, they learned these opinions from their limited experiences, and when they gained new experiences, they modified their opinions to be more fitting. I believe its called being open-minded.

When I was a young teenager, my Mom had a talk with me. She told me that it would really bother my father if I ever dated a black boy. When I argued with her, she told me to think of the children. After I figured out what the hell she was talking about, I argued with her some more because I didn’t know I couldn't change her mind that way. That was soon followed by tears and yelling and doors slamming. Eventually, it was forgotten and we found something else to argue about, like how much she hated my hair, or why I skipped my chores to hang out with my girlfriends. Ironically, the first Black man I ever dated was someone my Dad introduced me to.

My mother was nurtured into racial bigotry by many of the people around her. She grew up on a farm with her parents and three brothers in northern Wisconsin. When I was little, we would spend a few weeks there every summer. During meals and other gatherings, I’d hear words that I never heard at home. Some of them I didn’t understand, but I knew they weren’t good. I knew that it was bad to be a Spic, a Chink, a Jap, a Queer, a Libber and a Pinko Commie. I also heard my uncles say the word nigger even though that was a really bad word. And, I got confused about why they didn’t like Jews because in Sunday School we read stories about Jesus. If Jesus, his Mom and Dad (Joe), and all his friends were Jews, how could it be bad to be Jewish? I also learned that Catholics were bad because they were practically cannibals (The whole body and blood communion thing . . . you had to ask!). Mostly, I ignored the adults at these times. However, when my Grandpa talked, you couldn’t ignore him.

My Grandpa would get tired of listening to my uncles rant about all the people they hated. He’d tell them to shut the hell up. Then he’d say what the real problem was. It was the government and those goddamn politicians. He said the word goddamn better than anyone else in the whole world. The thing that made my Grandpa worth listening to, was that, in between the goddamns and the cocksuckers and the goddamn cocksuckers, there was a bit of logic and reason. He didn’t seem to feel threatened by people who were different. At least he didn’t talk about it. He did however feel threatened by people who threatened him, like the . . . "goddamn cocksuckers in Washington trying to take everything away from the people and make themselves rich."

My Mom isn’t like the people she came from, except maybe her Dad (although she doesn’t cuss quite as much). By the time I left for college, I saw changes in my parents, especially my Mom. They had traveled and met new and different people. They met and worked with different people in their community. They read more and looked at things differently. By the time I graduated from college, I saw even more changes in their view of the world. However, they weren’t done yet. Eventually they’d have to think of the children.

When their first Black grandson was born in 1994, there was a whole new level of change. Then, grandsons number two and three followed. My nephews are the most beautiful, talented, smart boys I’ve ever met. Since their father took our name when he married my sister, they even share my parent’s name. This is particularly relevant because my Dad was an orphan. We, and our children, are the legacy of his survival.

You should see my parents with their Grandchildren. They’d do anything to make the world exactly perfect for all of them. When Grandparents fall in Love the way my folks did with these kids, it’s something amazing to see.
They aren't done dealing with their -isms, and neither am I, but things are a whole lot different now than when I was a kid.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Goodbye Rosa Parks. You were an inspiration to all Hot Chiks!

Tuesday, October 25, 2005


I have a talent for finding and attracting talented and creative people. Most of my Lovers have been highly intelligent people. Those I’ve fallen in Love with have awed me with their brilliance. My friends tend to be articulate, well-read, and clever. Although I consider myself to be above average, I don’t even try to keep up with most of them. I’m generally content with the privilege of their company. Even if I were particularly talented in any one area, it’s useless to make a go of it because I’m too easily distracted to be successful. This is okay with me.

(And please, this is NOT and invitation to leave comments about how you think I’m smart or talented . . . this means you too, Zoooom).

In general, I think of myself as an ordinary middle-aged Hot Chik. I’m an average citizen; one of many, a part of the great mass. In movies, when there is a terrible apocalyptic event, like a plague or an alien invasion, I identify with the 95% that perish, not the 5% that survive to carry on the human race. I’m perfectly fine with the notion that I’m a member of the audience and not the main attraction (most of the time).

I’m actually really good in a crisis, and I don’t get stage fright. At the same time, I don’t have to be right, sit in the spotlight, or have the power in order to feel alright (most of the time). Someone has to follow orders, hoist the sail, and sit in the rows to clap and cheer. Someone has to appreciate the people who are especially good at things. That’s ME!

I’ve been an appreciative audience for many fellow bloggers. One of them has really captured my interest lately, so much so, that I want to mention him specifically. I’ve avoided doing blog reviews, but I can’t keep quiet about how frequently I’m awed by the writing of Stephen Earley Jordan, II (Bougie Black Boy).

Stephen writes about his own experiences. He writes about what he sees in others. He challenges the way we look at the world. Some of the things he writes about may make you squirm a bit. His words will get right up in your face and make you think. It’s not always pretty, but you'll find his poetry and prose to be striking, vivid and impactful. He has a gift for writing with grace, as well as maturity beyond his 28 years. Do yourselves a favor and go read his blog. Read the whole thing. You’ll be glad you did.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

A Public Service Announcement From Jane Russell's Vagina

I was thinking about sex today, because that's what I'm apt to do on days when I breathe air, and it occurred to me that Jane Russell would want me to write something about responsible sexual behavior. Although I know nothing about Jane Russell, I discovered this picture of her looking like a Hot Chik Cowgirl and concluded that she probably thought about ridin’ wild stallions a lot. I imagine she was also a stand-up gal, so she would have thought about the consequences before she mounted her stud for long satisfying ride.

It seems to me, most of us think we're mature and thoughtful about our sexual activity. However, that assumption doesn’t take into consideration the slew of myths & misconceptions, personal denial and fear, or even dumbass impulsiveness. Sometimes people get a thought in their head, and despite evidence to the contrary, they stick with it because the new information is scary, they have to admit that they’re wrong, or they have to make uncomfortable changes. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t slow down and wait for us to catch up, and we can’t bury our heads in the sand like a silly flock of flightless birds.

Unless you have a serious allergy, latex is your friend. Get used to it. Play with it. Make it a part of your sexy, sassy, erotic experiences.

I once knew a non-monogamous woman who said she didn’t want her Lovers to use condoms because she wouldn’t sleep with someone she didn’t trust. Fuck that! Those nasty STD germies don’t give a flying rat’s ass about trust, bonding or Love. They don’t care if your feelings will be hurt by an infection. They just want to move about and populate as much human flesh as possible.

Even if you’re in a long-term, monogamous relationship, you shouldn’t ride the range bareback until you’ve both been tested. Some of our sturdy steeds, no matter how sweet and loyal, may have something nasty lurking about from months or years ago. Likewise, you could have something unknown and harmful. You should take care to protect yourself and your handsome new pony. Most people who pass along STDs don’t know they're infected. Very few of us purposely hurt one another, and those who do are sick and need serious help.

HIV is the big scary germ most of us think of when STDs are mentioned. Unfortunately, too many people still think it’s a virus mostly concentrated amongst gay men and drug users. NEWS FLASH: For many years, HIV and other STDs have been spread amongst young hetero teens and adults. WHY? Because they are more likely to have several partners over the course of their dating years. They are also more likely to behave impulsively, especially if drugs and alcohol are involved.

Condoms aren’t just for pregnancy prevention. They can save your health and your life. Unfortunately, I’ve had to turn away a couple promising Lovers because they didn’t accept this truth. They told me they didn’t like the feeling of condoms and wouldn’t agree to use them. It’s one of the few absolute deal-breakers on this Hot Chik’s ranch. I don’t care if you’re George, Denzel and Brad all delivered on a beautiful Man-Combo platter . . .

*Whew* . . .

I need a minute to think . . .

. . . and it doesn’t matter if you have a dozen roses and the keys to my new Jag, you also better be packing a Trojan . . . or two . . . or three . . . or . . .

Where was I? (It's hard to concentrate on what I'm writing when Denzel is looking at me like that . . . but I don't want him to stop)

Oh! Don’t forget to get tested regularly:
Unless you’re in a long-term monogamous relationship, this is really important. What you don’t know CAN hurt you. Some STDs can be easily treated and cured. Others, like HIV, don’t have a cure, but they have treatments. When started early, these treatments can improve the quality of one’s life indefinitely.
(testing applies to George, Denzel and Brad too)

So take it from me, and Jane . . . and probably George, Denzel and Brad
(you don’t think they’re a bunch of dumbasses do you?)



And while you’re at it, don’t lie or say mean things to one another, either.


For more information on STDs and preventing the spread of STDs, go HERE and HERE (HIV/AIDS specific)

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Love More, Fear Less

The amusement park in Hersey, Pennsylvania hosts a Halloween party every year around this time. Families come toting little ones disguised as ghouls, fairies and witches; teenagers flirt and cling to one another on the enticing thrill rides; and park staff summon the last of their false enthusiasm to appease the throng of impatient park-goers before they close their gates for the season. It was the perfect place to celebrate the birth of two exceptional 6-year olds.

I held the small hand of a Pink Power Ranger while her Red Power Ranger brother ran ahead of us. He shouted over his shoulder, announcing the amazing things we’d soon see. They both oozed a sweet, intoxicating innocence. A perfect opal moon above seemed drunk with it; such a warm contrast to the biting October wind that reminded us of our lost summer.

We played with the children for a while and then separated to go on several of the bigger roller coasters. Eventually, we made our way to the one everyone claimed was the best. Its riders were strapped into seats that hung from a single rail. The limber metal soared, twisted and looped, and the coaster’s floorless design added a sense of vulnerability. Its popularity was evidenced by a long line of excited adventurers.

As we approached the front of the line, I was reprimanded by my companions for having worn a light cotton dress and slip-on shoes. They predicted that I’d freeze when I had to temporarily discard my shoes and hike up my skirt to accommodate the coaster chair. Admittedly, I was already shivering despite the comfort of my favorite old jacket. However, once the ride began I was sure I’d forget about the cold and appreciate the sensation of wind across my bare legs and feet.

I Love roller coasters, and this was my first opportunity to ride so many at night. The darkness and cold seemed to intensify the experience. Chilly wind fingers made goose bumps rise on my skin. The piercing bright moon in her bed of blue-black sky created a giddy sense of uncertainty. I was eager to ride when the peach fuzz park staff finally motioned to the next in line.

I tossed my shoes aside and quickly mounted the hanging apparatus. It swayed a bit as I hoisted my skirt and pulled the belt tight between my legs, clipping it into the shoulder straps. A slight jerk announced the beginning. I watched my feet dangle below as my personal hanging throne moved forward with its 31 counterparts. Before we cleared the enclosure, the moonlight flashed on my freshly painted toenails. In response, I looked up to smile at the night sky and caught sight of the first hill ahead. I stiffened at it’s sharpness, and for a moment I was surprised by an unexpected feeling of fear.

Although I was a voluntary participant in this 120-second voyage, I suddenly wanted to abort and feel the immediate and steady earth beneath me. It was too scary. I didn’t have enough information or experience. It was a rash decision that I wasn’t ready for. However, the shrinking pavement below reminded me that it was too late to turn back. I was already in it and there were only two choices. I could nurture my fear, or I could let it go and enjoy the ride.

I looked around and remembered that I was one of many. Others had come before me and more would follow. I was immediately comforted with the realization that I’m never really alone. As our caravan crested the first hill, I breathed in the twinkling landscape below and let the night breeze carry my fear away. And then we fell. And then we looped. And then we soared and spun and looped again. At some point I started laughing for the relief, the release, and the fun of it. As always, it was over too soon. That’s always the way it is with roller coasters. Thankfully, as long as we have the stomach for it, we can go again and again.

As we exited the roller coaster ramp, high on adrenaline, our young Power Rangers ran to meet us. They shouted with happiness, seeming breathless and struggling to find words for their enthusiasm. The Red Power Ranger was bouncing and motioning with his arms, "Auntie T! Auntie T! We went on a reeeeal roller coaster! It was awesome. We’re gonna go again."

His Pink sister interrupted, grabbing my arm as she insisted, "I want you to sit with me this time. If you get scared, you can hold my hand."

My face melted into their happy exuberance and I felt a wave of joy sweep over me. With one on each side, they led us back to their great new accomplishment.

As we walked together I thought to myself,
Oh, I hope your lives are filled with many awesome roller coasters. And may you always have a hand to reach for when you’re afraid.

Wished You Were There

When I left last Saturday, I was exhausted, overwhelmed and nursing another broken heart. However, a few days away has helped clear my head and heal my soul. It’s amazing what an environment of unconditional Love can do for one’s state of mind.

It was the best kind of vacation. The weather was divine; a perfect clear and breezy 75-degrees every day. I ate well, got 8 hours of sleep every night and took in some exercise. No one demanded anything of me other than the pleasure of my company. I spent my days playing with two delightful 6-year olds, a funny puppy, and friends and family that I don’t get to see often enough. I lingered in bookstores, coffee shops and charming boutiques. I even allowed myself a few indulgences, including the cutest little green wool skirt and a well-preserved 1901 edition of Tale of Two Cities.

The broken heart will take a little more time to mend, but at least I feel better prepared to handle the rest of my life. Who needs expensive spa vacations in the South of France when they have loving relatives in a quaint bungalow in Central Pennsylvania?

. . . although I think I'd have had more sex in France!

Thursday, October 13, 2005

I Miss You All

A few things in my non-blog life have prevented me from joining you here as often as I’d like. I miss sharing my thoughts with you almost as much as I miss visiting your blogs. My new job is demanding my time and energy. I want to learn as much as possible before they set me loose on my own. I’ve also spent a weekend away and another entertaining guests.

Likewise, my emotional life is a mess. I told my dearest friend something that hurt and disappointed him. I’m torn up with grief and guilt, yet I can’t deny that my words were true. On the heels of that heartbreaking struggle, someone I Love told me something I didn’t want to hear. It hurts to live with his decision, yet its some small comfort to know he never meant me any harm.

By now I should be an expert on how to handle a broken heart. I’ve had plenty of practice. I could write a book and make a million dollars. However, I don’t think folks want to follow the advice of a silly woman who wears her heart on her sleeve.

The end of this month is our blog’s first birthday. Although I’m going away for almost a week, when I return I’ll feel more like myself, and I’ll be happy to recognize and celebrate our wonderful year in blogland. My life has forever been changed because of this place. Contrary to the self-indulgent pity party I posted below, I’m better, smarter and stronger because of you.

Thursday, October 06, 2005

For the Boys

Even though we’re still in the midst of celebrating 2005, Year of Cunnilingus, I thought I'd offer some tips about another form of oral pleasure. For a little variety, I have a few thoughts on felatio.

A good blowjob is a thing of beauty. Obviously, receiving this amorous gift of affection is a good thing, but giving can also be a tremendous turn-on. However, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, can be a total mood-buster. These are things a guy should never say to a woman when she’s going down on him:

  1. Could you pass me my beer?
  2. When I call you "Hoover", I mean it in a good way.
  3. When was the last time you had your roots done?
  4. My last girlfriend could deep-throat.
  5. I’ll give you 20 bucks for 5 more minutes.
  6. Do you mind if I change the channel?
  7. You look a little like your mom from this angle.
  8. That’s new. Where did you learn how to do that?
  9. What do you think of the Sox this season?
  10. I wonder what it would be like if you didn’t have any teeth.
  11. You kinda suck.

Remember, if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Or better yet, just relax and make a yummy sound.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

the spirit blooms

the world is not
respectable; it is mortal,
tormented, confused,
deluded forever; but it is
shot through with beauty,
with Love, with glints of
courage and laughter;
and in these, the spirit

- george santayana

~ ~ ~

(I wish I had said that. I'm really glad George did.)

Saturday, October 01, 2005

A Public Service Announcement From My Vagina (Part 2)

We highly recommend that you avoid putting limes in your vagina. Likewise, if someone else says "Do you mind if I put a lime in your vagina?", we suggest that you politely say "No thank you". While limes and other citrus fruits are colorful and create an interesting aesthetic, they seem better suited for seafood garnishes and cocktails.

Admittedly, we have not systematically studied the long and short-term effects of lime insertion in vaginas. However, we’ve decided to go out on a limb with a few unproven warnings anyway. (If we’re wrong, we promise to make a public apology.)

  1. Germies: If not thoroughly washed, the lime could contaminate your vagina with who-knows-what-from-who-knows-where-it’s-been.
  2. Stuckage: That looks like a pretty tight fit. Do you want to risk a visit to the Emergency Room to answer the inevitable "So what seems to be the problem?"
  3. Ouchies: If the lime is scratched or punctured in any way, the juice could sting your tender bits.
  4. Stinkage: If you don’t change your lime regularly, it could develop a foul odor.
  5. Grief, loss & humiliation: If you leave the lime in there too long, your vagina may eventually suffocate and fall off. You don’t want your pussy to fall off do you? My luck, it would happen while I was standing in line at the super market. And, I don’t think my medical insurance covers reattachment.

We suggest you stick to the basics when it comes to putting things in your vagina. Fingers, tongues, dildos, vibrators, tampons, lube, diaphragms . . . hmmm, what am I forgetting? Oh, and beautiful engorged latex covered penises!

With Love
And tongue

In cheek,

Your faithful & adoring Love Goddess and her happy & healthy vagina.