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Posts Tagged ‘naked time’s the best time’

There are certain things that are frowned upon doing outside of your own home (or the home of your close friends or family). These things include (but are not limited to) walking around in your underwear (or less), burping so loud the walls shake, or hanging on to your own boobs (stay with me here).

There are ways, however, to sometimes get around the usual etiquette.

  • Maybe when you let out a burp that would embarrass your mother and make your father proud and you’re in the middle of a crowded Blockbuster, you can blame it on your younger brother. Because that’s what younger brothers are for.

But I’m still not sure on the boob hold.

Listen, before you think I’m too weird, it’s not like that. More often than not I’m just sitting there, unsure what to do with my hands if I’m not holding my iPhone or the remote (ha! just kidding – I never get the remote!), and that natural built-in ledge just seems like the perfect place to put them.

I realized it had gotten bad, though, when we were at a friend’s apartment and I did it out of habit while he gave me a quizzical look. BNF started looking at me, too, and it dawned on me: “I completely forgot I wasn’t at home,” I told them. “I forgot where I was.

RB didn’t really care – that’s how you can tell close friends – but I became hyper aware of this little tic.

The last thing I need is to be sitting in a staff meeting, holding my own chest.

On the one hand, this is a great excuse to take my iPhone everywhere I go.

On the other, I never want to have to explain that to El Jefe.

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I am now almost four months from my 26th birthday, and thus should be far more than halfway done my 25 list. I may not be quite there (I’m currently at 7/25, so, not even close), but in a couple weeks I’ll be able to check something else off.

25) …participate in an underwear run. I mean, I do run to look better naked, after all.

Cupid’s Undie Run will take place on February 12th, and will benefit the research of The Children’s Tumor Foundation. While this race admittedly caught my eye because of the lack of clothing, the cause is a good one and I encourage you to click on the links above. From the run’s official site:

The Children’s Tumor Foundation is the world’s largest non-government organization dedicated to ending Neurofibromatosis (NF) through research. NF is a genetic disorder that causes tumors to grow on nerves throughout the body, causing blindness, deafness, learning disabilities and severe chronic pain. Currently, there is no cure for NF and there are frighteningly few treatment options. The Children’s Tumor Foundation is a Charity Navigator 4-Star charity that prides itself on efficiency, spending 82.4% of its revenue on program expenses and less than 8% on administrative costs.

NF affects roughly 1:3,000 births in the U.S. and is in desperate need of new discovery, which is why 100% of funds raised through Cupid’s Undie Run go directly to the Children’s Tumor Foundation.

And if good causes and naked runners aren’t enough, there’s also the party at the Pour House that day from 2:30pm on! (The run starts at 2pm, if you do want to be on hand for the nakedness.)

Now, while the race is technically sold out, with the exception of 2 charity slots last time I checked, I still (unofficially) encourage you to come out, have a beer, and take your clothes off in solidarity.

After all, in the words of the Undie Run, it’s for the kids…let’s just hope they aren’t watching.

P.S. Even for good causes I strongly dislike asking for money, but, should you feel so inclined, the donation link is both on my gchat and my Facebook. Or feel free to email me – liebchen11@gmail.com. Every little bit helps!

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There’s nothing quite so disconcerting in the morning – as you’re walking around, getting ready – as seeing men outside your windows.

Especially when you live on the seventh floor.

Particularly when you tend to get ready in the buff. (I mean, that’s part of why I live on my own in the first place.)

The thing is, I’d seen the cables and window washer-esque things along the side of the building for a while now. But never any men. And management, up to this point, has always let us know when that kind of maintenance is going on. You know, so we can be dressed.

The caption for this photo said, "It’s not often I look up to see someone outside the window of our tenth floor apartment..." Exactly how I felt...

This time? Nothing. And if I’m being honest, it wasn’t just disconcerting, but a little scary, too. I live in a studio. There aren’t many places to hide, save the bathroom. And camping out there makes it extremely difficult to put my lunch together.

Once I realized, however, that whatever they were doing to my windows was resulting in dust and debris being blown inside my apartment, those feelings morphed into straight pissed off-ed-ness.

I may not dust or clean as often as I should, but I really don’t need any help making my apartment messier. And I don’t need you (yes, you, maintenance) breaking my window frames so that flies can get in and hang out. Or knocking out my window screens so that keeping the windows open isn’t a viable option when I’m not home.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the building and the management, and I’ve generally had a great experience. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done until now.

But please stop fucking up my windows.

And, while you’re at it, a little heads up would be nice next time. I pay good money to have my own apartment so that I can walk around naked as I please, and I’ll be damned if you take that away from me.

Just so we’re clear.

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Senior year of college, I had my first “real” Spring Break. I went to South Beach with Cla, BNB, Hansell, and Foodie. It had all the best elements of a vacation: drinks, sunny beaches and table dancing. And lots and lots of naked time.

table-dancing

Dancing on the table at the Greek restaurant. What? You didn't think you were getting naked time pictures, did you?

Now, me, I love me some naked time any time. In fact, it’s part of what I adore about living alone. But on this trip, naked time served a bit of a higher purpose.

You see, the first day of our trip, I got sunburned pretty bad (not that it stopped me from going to the beach for the rest of the week). Yes, I wore sunscreen, but to no avail. I had lovely pink streaks all down the front and backs of my legs, and they just emanated heat. Getting dressed after the beach was not high on the list of things I wanted to do. In fact, my first priority when getting back from the beach? Get someone to aloe me up. I would lie face down on the bed and Cla would lather it on, as I basked in the coolness of the gel.

Sweet, *sweet* relief. What would I do without you?

Sweet, *sweet* relief. What would I do without you?

One afternoon, I came back early from the beach and, finding it difficult to properly aloe myself, decided to just take a cool naked nap. I was kind – I left a note so the girls wouldn’t be startled, but everyone was pretty comfortable with naked. All except BNB.

When I woke up, I wasn’t sure if anyone was back yet, or not, but I still ventured out of the bedroom. I didn’t see any of the girls at first – until BNB opened the door of the other room.

She took one look at me, in all my full frontal glory, and shrieked. And promptly turned and ran back into the room.

leighscream

I’ve caused several reactions before, but that was my first scream and bolt.

Thanks, BNB.

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I really wish I had Fridays off. Or, that I was allowed to wear jeans. Or both.

But, let’s be honest, if I had Fridays off, I probably wouldn’t bother getting dressed.

Aaaanyway, here’s a little treat to get you through the day. Don’t say I’m not a giver.

If you can watch that and not at least chuckle a little bit, well, then I don’t know what to do with you.

Happy weekend!

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