Like the stockings? That's me on my deck drinking a coffee. I'm so Punky Brewster meets Beetlejuice, aren't I?

Okay, that's not actually me. But it could be me if I were outwardly funky and had nicer legs, which is why I chose it to be the new look for my blog.

Just felt like switching things up a little bit. And when The Maven wants something technical done, she looks no further than the office-turned-hobby-sound-studio where her husband sits in all his glory amongst instruments and editing equipment we probably can't afford.

He owes me big time. I feel no guilt dragging him over to my computer on a Saturday night because I've impulsively decided to change my blog's template. It's what he signed up for, being married to me and all. He knew what he was getting himself into.

However, someone who didn't know what she was getting herself into was me, when I wrote Thursday's post about getting naughty on the celly. Who knew so many people would take me up on the offer to sex me up wireless style?

After I admitted my complete and utter devastation over Pixie's poor reply to my very first dirty text message, I decided to go make myself buff by doing some pilates. Obviously if I'm not getting any sexting action it's because I'm not hot enough, right? Right. A few core exercises would give me the body I need to get the dysfunctional attention I so obviously crave. Right? Right.

It was then, in the middle of the third set of crunches, that I had my very first sizzling phone message from none other than AngelMama, my pregnant and obviously hormonal friend. What a sweetheart to do that. So very thoughtful! I was touched. Well, not actually touched because it was over the phone.

Emotionally fondled, if you will.

("Fondled" is probably not the word I should be using, as rumours could circulate as to my part in her pregnancy. I swear that, while I do have a large penis, I did not contribute in any way to her condition. We are strictly friends who occasionally - and by that I mean once - send each other dirty texts.)

At any rate, it was great. I got what I wanted while feeling both empowered and progressive. Go team Maven! I threw down the weights and switched from yoga pants to jammies. Being healthy is for suckers and people who aren't hot by default, anyway. I required no more validation than that little bleep on my phone. Cherry popped and mission completed. Back to being a dull suburban mom who justifies her monthly cell phone bill by getting bi-monthly emergency calls from the school.

Breakfast came at 9:30 yesterday morning. I sat with two of my friends who are known to be some of those people. You know, those people. I ranted about them in my last post: the ones who are only interested in your physical presence in between firing off and receiving text messages on their expensive gadget phones.

The conversation went something like this:

Them: Read your blog. Are we some of those people?

The Maven: Totally. I mean, I love you guys and everything, but not all of us live by our phones. Some of us just have them around in case the school calls or... *phone vibrates in my pocket*... Hang on a sec. What? She wants to do what with my... ? Oh my. That's really naughty! Anyway, what was I saying?

Them: Was that just a *gasp* text message?

The Maven: Actually that was a sext message, if you want to get technical, because someone felt bad for me. But whatever; it was only one. Not multiples, like you guys, who can't breathe outside without your *phone vibrates in my pocket*... Uh... Oh. Ohh. Heh heh! That's naughty.

Them: *Looking at latest text* Let me see... I get the first part, but what does 'towel time' mean?

The Maven: Uh, no clue, but I'm sure raunchy and that's all that matters. Just so you know, this never happens. I never get more than one text, like, a week, let alone in under two minutes. Heck, I don't even have my phone charged most of the time.

Them: Uh-huh.

The Maven: Seriously! That was a total fluke. Anyway, tell me about your *Phone vibrates in hand*... Yikes. You can't even read that one. I probably shouldn't have read it, either. *Phone vibrates again* ... Wow. I'm just going to leave this on the table, okay?

Ask, and ye shall receive. And receive. And receive.

I even got another couple tonight. XUP told me my blogging is hot. She must know that the way to my heart is through my writing... Or chocolate covered almonds.

I also have to mention that Pixie did redeem herself as one of the Friday morning sexters. She lost her chance to be my first, but I think we can still salvage our friendship. She might need to buy me a few coffees to heal the wounds of rejection, but we'll make it.

I have had the funniest couple of days thanks to stream of texts buzzing their way onto my phone. Thank you so much, you gutter crawling perverts. You've not only caused me to laugh at innapropriate times in innapropriate places, but you've upped my street cred with Geekster. He's now seeing me as the sext goddess I truly am.

Or can be.

Or basically begged to be in a blog post that sounded so desperate people felt bad and gave me pity sext.

Alright, so I'm not very sexty at all. I get it. I hijacked the train into The Land of Make Believe and I'd like to hide out here for a while, if that's okay.

In my real life I drive a minivan, you know.

Enough said.