Tricky Sticky Treats on and off the Record

At least one night a year, many of us scorn our sensible shoes, drag out the Wicked Wanda wig, and trowel on enough make up to force Pamela Anderson to cringe. It isn’t so much “To be or not to be”, but what to be? Leaving Shakespeare in the verbose dust bowl, Las Vegas may have hit upon the saying of a century, “What happens here stays here". Oh baby, and how “Scary Movie” is that! So boys and girls, what exactly does your “off the record” night reveal about you? And I mean all of us, since costumes nicely saunter right across the gender playing field. I know how risqué you gents get behind your “Jason” masks and diva tiaras! Not to mention the ease of asking Lois Lane to dance if you are wearing red tights for the night. If you don’t play dress up, believe me, there are plenty of other “Don’t ask don’t tell” plans available from www.noaccountabiitylovelife.com.

How dare you, I hear you say. Well cupcake, how about that 2 week stint in Costa Rica? Are you blushing? Thought so. That naughty moment or two at your best friend's wedding with the best man? One too many “Lemon Drops” on the 3rd Friday during a new moon? It seems there is someone inside us, begging to be let out a bit more often. Right now we are pulling double duty as both the Witch and Rapunzel. And the stone tower has become travel size for our inconvenience.

If the memories we make, a heightened sense of living life, and fulfillment is there, then why is it that we ration our play dates? Are serious dates so much better? Is the real you the gold lamé draped harem girl or the one who goes to work in a Chenille sweater and below the knee skirt? I am not suggesting that gold lamé is a good career move at the copier come Monday morning, but couldn’t we assimilate a bit more of our secret self into the grown up we need to be? Why does adventure have to live at the back of the garage with the Holiday ornaments? Maybe it would take away some of the magic if we had lights up all year long, but couldn’t we do it a bit more often without justification?

The real lure of naughtiness is that it is a needed ritual. It allows the part of us that is not quite sure what’s safe and what’s not a place to grow. I am taking an extended leave of absence from my tower, so, boys and girls, grab your empty trick or treat bags and let’s fill them up. Let’s see just how much you really want, what you’ll do to get it, and what it takes to make you smile without any guilt or souvenirs from the regret boutique. And save a fun size Snickers for me. Nope, make that a big one.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty

Warp Speed, Not Warped Relationship

We fly so fast we forget to breathe.  Maybe there isn’t quality air to take in when you are so high above the clouds of reality.  Yes, that could be it; lack of oxygen makes our heads just a bit too woozy to really decide when the next step is, or should there even be a next step.  These days it’s an express elevator.  Floor 27 please, instant intimacy. The fingers can swoop so easily on a keyboard and they think faster than our soul does.  The soul likes to sit with tea, and if not sympathy, a splash of wisdom now and then.  Oh, those clever fingers, they can type out a semi-sweet and tawdry message in a matter of seconds and whoosh, the missive has gone forth in less time than it even takes to say, “I am interested…” Dangerous times when the psyche can’t begin to keep pace with the pinball wizard of the cyber dating world.  True intimacy (not the kind in a box at Smart and Final) is a lesson in patience and truth seeking self awareness.  How can we put in the emotional sweat equity when such a cornucopia of possibilities is only twelve inches away from your vision? 


Love can be deaf, dumb and blind. Does internet dating mean that we need to add even more handicaps?   Or is it a leg up on the ancient, tried and not so true system of, “Hey, baby, can I buy you a drink”?  Yes, it is nice to know the basics right out in front. He’s a Catholic vegetarian who smokes, with three kids who live at home sometimes. She 5’6”, married four times and has enough baggage to sink the Titanic, when the only ice around is the clinking little bergs in a cocktail glass. We can read between the lines and know the vital stats right out of the gate, but doesn’t that make us microwave popcorn?  Ready to eat in under 2 minutes?  Maybe it is better to slow dance, alone in a crock pot until you are really ready, instead of trying to BBQ peas.

The only net you may be using when dating is thigh-high fishnets.  Other than that you are high up, all alone and able to fall.  Your trapeze is your style, your choices, your inherent sense of who you are and what you need the rules to be. With the ink of experience, tattoo your personal ten best relationship secrets right there on your heart, where your psyche can read them at all times.  Remember, your fingers can type, but they can’t read.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty

Welcome to Kitty in the City!

Love, Like Life, is Full of Choices

Welcome to ”Kitty in the City”, your local insight into the big wide world of intimacy and romance in the Big Avocado. We will explore everything that seems to be on the minds of the single, married, married and could be single, single and thinking about married, married since 1492, etc.  Are you getting the picture?   It would be nice to think we are more than trained seals that swim around and around in crystal blue pools of DNA when our bodies have decided what to do with us.  Do we have more true choices standing in line at a deli ordering a sandwich?  Or perhaps the menu has gotten out of control, and since when do we make smart choices for ourselves when out to eat?  It is usual to be seduced by what sounds good over what is good for you.  Tiramisu isn’t exactly the stuff of life, but it is tall, dark and handsome. 

Look how many places in our life we let others do the choosing for us.  We take tests that other people have created to find out the best possible career for us.  Of course the beach isn’t really a career and a little guidance is a good thing.  Other people (not counting your 10 year old daughter or Jessica Simpson) can usually dress you better than you can.  Maybe other people could order up a dish that would sustain you for an excellent duration of romantic contentment.  “He is smart, handsome and savvy.  Well read and easy to read.  Truthful and mindful. Humor goes a long way, as long as he has progressed beyond Chevy Chase.  He is comfortable being gazed upon with the sparkling eyes of lust, love or the classic combination plate of both.  Looks good in a towel”.   Alright, I added the last part. Not the peanut gallery who I have voted to do a better job, because they know that even though I don’t like yellow, wear it well. People, the TOWEL part counts!  Like extra sour cream with your enchilada. I need it.

When hunting the pure joy of lasting love it seems the very chase cancels out what is rational, written with a Sharpie in fact, so it won’t be denied on the must do list of life.  Is it such pure and decadent luxury to revel in the possibilities?  Is it an insane hunger, the need itself that is the hunt?   We try to make peace with the wait, of now, of every moment, and for a short duration we can convince ourselves that it is part of what we seek.  Forget it baby, the persistent call of desire quenches the small and pathetic smoldering fire of carefully orchestrated calm.  It is DNA soup and therefore we all get to stand in line and order and reorder until we get it right. I plan to be up all night now, so I’ll have the Tiramisu and a double espresso please. And bring it in a towel.

Have a naughty day!

~Miss Kitty