When Jules-Jewels contacted me to review their product, the first thing I did was check out their website.  She had cute, classy, perfectly placed rhinestone , everything.  Anything you could think of, she slapped a rhinestone on it, and she did it well.

Her website is easy to maneuver.  I wish she had more products to choose from, other than that, her website is set up well and I was able to find what I was looking for easily.

Then she sent us some products to try and see and touch.  And I have to tell you this is no Bedazzler.  She actually sews down some of the rhinestones!  If you’ve ever bought something with bling all over it, you know the bling falls off after a few washes, so I appreciate the stitching.  Overall I can easily give her products 5 out of 5 Countini’s. 

However, her sizing is an issue.  My perfect boobs didn’t fit in her Xlarge bikini top.  In fact, they barely covered my nipple.  So I had my 14 year old girl child try on one of the mediums and it fit her perfectly.

We Housewives are built in the boob department, we have plenty for ourselves and plenty to share, so I was disappointed in the fit of her products.  But the quality is there, just be careful of sizing.

Sabrina gives Jules-Jewels 3 out of 5 Countini’s.

I have to say that the folks at http://jules-jewels.com/home.html do a GREAT job. I got first dibs on the t-shirt they sent and I love it. The bling is gorgeous and makes my rack look absolutely amazing. And the swim suits are to die for. If I could fit my teets into one of them, I’d be a happy camper. That’s the only problem I see is that their sizes run really small, so be careful when ordering.

A sexy side note for you – there is a total hottie on the home page with this huge lollipop. I want to spank her tushie!!!!

Lulu gives Jules Jewels 3 out of 5 Countini’s.

I just love it when people who want a review actually send us something to review!  www.jules-jewels.com is a great site, with cute, unique items at really affordable prices.  My only problem was that the size XL string bikini that we received barely covered my nipples.  The suit itself was well made and I LOVED the pink one that looked like it had water drops on it!  It was a medium though, so I didn’t even attempt to cover these DDs with that little piece of material.  In short, I think the stuff is well-made, and fairly priced, but if you have big hooters that aren’t fake, you are probably going to be disappointed, at least in the bathing suit area!

Holly gives www.jules-jewels.com 3 out of 5 Collin Countinis

Ok, let me start by saying that I fear that my worst date isn’t nearly as illicit or exciting as the ones we’ve heard so far.  Before this contest, I thought I had some really shitty dates.   Since I can’t think of a bad sex story ( I must have blocked them out), I’m going to go with my original “worst date ever” story.  The one that first popped in my head when we discussed having this contest.  I apologize in advance if you nod off while reading!

I was 24 and had been living in the Dallas area for under a year.  Every woman I worked with was married and/or coupled in some way.  Every one of them made it their mission that year to get me paired up as well.  I’m not sure why I was still agreeing to go on these damn blind dates.   The audacity of hope, I guess.  (Name that author.) 

Anyway, sweet Roseanne, a sexy, sassy woman somewhere in her fifities told me she had the “perfect guy for me.”   He was the son of her best friend and just about the cutest, sweetest boy she had ever met.   Since my other option was to spend the next Friday night on the couch, snuggling the remote, I decided I had nothing to lose.

We planned to meet at Wizard’s off of 75, in Richardson.  At the bar.  (At least we could drink if it totally sucked.)  I walked in and immediately saw a guy sitting by himself, playing one of those trivia games.  I LOVE those trivia games.  And this guy was hot.  It had to be too good to be true.  But as I walked slowly, apprehensively, toward the bar, his eyes darted around as if he, too, was looking for someone.  I made eye contact and he shyly said “Holly?”  Sigh of relief.  Oh my God, one of my co-workers had finally gotten it right.  He was adorable, he liked the same beer as me and he was sitting at a bar, playing a sports trivia game.  He WAS perfect for me. 

Ok, so I didn’t know anything about him yet, but he made a great first impression.  We had no trouble finding things to talk about.  One thing sort of caught me off guard.  He was practicing Buddhism.  A bit strange for a small town, Oklahoma girl brought up in an extremely strict religion, but I was trying new things, branching out.  I could learn from this.

Then he mentioned his ex-wife.  Divorced?  Ew.  At the tender age of 24, I had a strict policy of no divorced men, and no men with kids.   Ok, I was definitely put off by this, but I had actually been engaged to Bubba and but for the grace of God, I would have been a divorcee too.  I could roll with this.

We had a few more drinks as we found out more about each other.  I decided to delicately broach the subject of his ex-wife.  After all, his thoughts on why his marriage didn’t work could be very telling.  As he began to talk, his nose flared.  His cheeks turned bright red.  Uh oh.  Touchy subject.   “How long have you been divorced,” I asked him?  “About a month,” he says.  A month? What in the fuck was Roseanne thinking?  ” Wow, that’s pretty fresh.”    “Yeah, she is a crazy bitch.”  “Wow, I’m so sorry,” I offer.  He responds with, “Not half as sorry as I am.  You hit someone one time and they file for divorce.  Crazy bitch.”

I excused myself to go to the bathroom, ran out the side door, in the cold, practically sprinting in my high-heeled boots around to my car.  I reached the car, breathing hard, eyes darting around for the wife-beating Buddhist.  

I made it home.  I curled up in the fetal position on the couch that night, never more thankful for my cozy, albeit sometimes, lonely, one bedroom apartment.  There would be several more frogs before I found my Prince Charming.  A handsome divorcee from – you guessed it – a small town in Oklahoma. 

How’s that for boring?  Not a Blow Pop or statutory rape situation anywhere!  Stay with us…tomorrow is Lulu’s big day!   

I was a horny 19 year old living on my own, well with a roommate (female).  We partied hard and lived hard and loved life!

Her old neighbor’s son came over one night to party with us.  He was sexy as hell!  He was on the diving team and swimming team and really enjoyed telling us he had 17% body fat.  Oh my God, if I could’ve made a statue out of him I would’ve!  We drank and laughed.  I put on my black g-string and did a little strip tease for the party, but mainly for him.  He was climbing the wall by the time I finished.

Then he suddenly had to leave and my roommate took him home.  I didn’t think I’d ever see him and his hotness again.

Til the phone rang a couple of weeks later and he asked if I’d like to party with him again.  Of course I jumped at the chance!  And totally planned on having sex with him that night.  And we did.

We had sex on the kitchen counter, kitchen table, hallway, bed, floor, living room chairs.  All. Night. Long.  In between one of our sexcapades he asked to use my phone.  I took the opportunity to pee.  After his phone call we hit it again and again and again.  He was throwing me around and I’d never felt so sexual and hot before!  And I was 19 with plenty of notches in my bedpost.

As the sun came up, he went back to talking about his body fat and complained that he needed to stop smoking Marlboro Red’s.  And how he would be leaving soon to join the Navy.  Then suddenly he needed to leave and asked if I could take him home.

So I did.  But he asked me to drop him off a block away from his house.  Ahem.  OK.

My roommate had spent the night with her boyfriend so she wasn’t around for all the sex I was having.  I couldn’t wait to tell my roommate the night I had with her neighbor.

Funny thing.  When I told my roommate about it , she laughed her ass off.  She laughed so hard I felt like I should smack her.  Finally she says to me, “You know he’s 15, right?”

And she was all, “What diving team did you think he was on??”  And she had a good hearty laugh about it.

Uh , NO!!  The phone call he made that night had been to his mom, where he lied and said he was spending the night with Steve.  And the mom told him he needed to be home by 11am the next day.  Good Lord I’d had sex with someone that had a CURFEW!

He called me several times after that, wanting me to marry him and wait for him and such.  And I just buried my head in my pillow wanting to die!

DON’T FORGET TO SUBMIT YOUR BAD DATE/BAD SEX STORIES TO US!!  YOU WANT TO WIN SOME LOOT, RIGHT?

Want to win some LOOT!  Some crazy awesome Housewives loot?

TruXpressions has generously offered a $100 gift certificate to the winner of our game.  Of course there’s a game!  You think we’re just going to give you something that cool?  What?  Just for being here.

Hells to the no!

We’re going to make you earn it.  And here’s how:

1. Write a blog entry about the worst date you’ve ever been on.  Or your worst sexual encounter.
2. Email it to Sabrina@therealsuburbanhousewives.com DO NOT post your story on this thread.
3. Make sure it’s a Word document.
4. And don’t rattle on and on, that will take off points.
5. The Housewives will narrow it down to the top 3.  You will be rated on hilarity, sincerity, and whatever else we’re feeling like that day.
6. We will post the top 3 and our readers will get to vote.
7. However, there’s a loophole , because I own this bitch, if I disagree with the readers, it’ll just be my choice.
   
   This week we’ll be sharing our worst/weirdest dates with you all.
   

We want to hear all your worst date stories, so get to writing and get them in!  The deadline for entries is Friday, January 30, 2009.

Ciao!/Sabrina

ETA:  YOUR STORY CAN BE ABOUT THE WORST SEX YOU’VE HAD, TOO.

When Gwen first contacted us I knew we were in for a ride!  And I was super excited about it.  I was the first to arrive, and when Gwen opened the door I immediately wanted an outfit just like hers.  By the end of the class I totally wanted to be her.

She calls the pole “Bad Boy”.  And she grabs it like it’s a bad boy!  And she can hang and flip and roll and has the sexiest sex face, unlike my Zoolander.

I think we were all nervous that we would look stupid or fall on our ass, or yank the pole right out of her ceiling and then have to call our insurance company.  But none of that happened.  By the end of the class we were spinning around the pole while she was talking to us , like we owned that Bad Boy!  Lulu and I did a double spin, the three of us ended up in a luscious puddle of Housewives on the floor.  And Madame Diva Gwen was like , just another day at the office.

I wondered how much exercise we were really getting out of it.  Thankfully Holly has a watch thing and it said, after 58 minutes we had burned 350+ calories!  So we were working out and having FUN!  So much fun that we all 3 signed up for 8 more lessons.  And I’m going to buy a pole for the house! 

The only drawback in my mind is her location.  It’s a tad farther than I would like to drive.  But she’s planning on opening several locations, so hopefully one will be closer to me!

Sabrina gives Poledance Experience 4 out of 5 Countini’s (only because of location).

Honestly, I did not want to go to pole dancing class. The whole Lulu/exercise thing is not a good match. But hubs said, “Uh, get off your ass, you’re going!” So off I went, expecting it to suck my ass hole. But I rang the doorbell and this dark, sexy, yum yum of a woman opened the door and gave me the sweetest hug. I was immediately comforted. Then the music starts and she has our abs rolling and hips swaying and I am told to mirror her. At that moment, I wanted to nibble on her neck. Lulu loves her some Madame Diva. MmmmmmM!

Then we start spinning around the pole and it is love at first spin. It is SO much fun, and I felt graceful and sexy. I could not stay off the pole! And let me tell you, there is no way you can be a good pole dancer without upper body strength. The classes are going to shape your arms and make them super strong. I can’t wait to see my guns after 8 weeks of lessons. In fact, my whole body was sore for 2 days after. I got a great workout and didn’t even know it!

Lulu gives pole dancing classes with Gwen 5 out of 5 Countini’s. And if she makes out with me I’ll give her 7.

Just in case you missed all the comments on the stripper post Wednesday, I’m here to gush about Miss Diva Gwen’s Poledance Experience.   You have got to check this out.  Seriously, I was a bit nervous at first.  As some of you already know, I’ve kind of lost my sexy side after a few years of marriage and kids.  I’ve only been to one class, but signed up for 8 more because I know that, if anyone can help me find my sexy, it’s Miss Gwen.  Besides being a fun, sexy way to take time out for yourself as a woman, it’s a great workout.  Trust me, your arms will be aching after a few trips around that pole.   Don’t wait one more second, give Miss Diva Gwen a call.  She’s delightful, beautiful and most importantly, she loves what she does!  

Holly gives the Poledance Experience an enthusiastic 5 out of 5 Collin Countinis 

To get in touch with Madame Diva Gwen herself you can contact her 2 ways:  972-636-8844

or by email poledanceexperience@yahoo.com

Get your ass on the pole!

Ok, readers!  We’re supposed to put together a CD of our favorite stripper music.  I’ve come up with all I can think of, so help me. 

Post here what songs you think would be fun to strip to!

ETA: This is what we have so far:

American Woman

You Can Leave Your Hat On

I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself

Let’s Get It on

Cherry Pie

Dirrty

Candy Shop (which I totally am gyrating in my chair already to this one!)

Ciao!/Sabrina

I don’t know about you all, but I loved Sabrina’s post yesterday…it has my thoughts racing.   These thoughts have inspired about 40 different posts…I can’t write them all and I won’t bore you with one long, novella of a post, but I will share the thoughts that resonated most.  It broke my heart when I read about the men saying their wives aren’t interested in sex.  I’m interested in sex.  Mostly, I’m interested in being sexy.  Feeling sexy.  My husband says if I feel sexy, he’ll think I’m sexy.  I say if he makes me feel sexy, I’ll feel sexy.  Who will give in first?  Why is it a power play?   When did he and I stop being US?

I think I know.  I think we all know.  We stopped being US when we started being Parents.  Mommy and Daddy.

 Being a mother is my greatest accomplishment.  My children fill my heart with so much joy and love that sometimes, I honestly feel like my heart can’t handle it.  But sometimes, my children drive me crazy.  They shit everywhere.  They cry.  A LOT.  They whine even more.  And I am home, in this house with them, all day long.  I also have a few extras on most days because I’m trying to help supplement my husband’s income so he’s not bearing the financial burden all by himself.  I don’t mind doing that.  I get to feel like I’m helping him and I get to be home with my babies.  Most days, I feel very blessed.  Most days, however, I don’t feel sexy.  Most days,  I’m lucky to get a shower and brush my teeth.  

Some days, I am able to remind myself that, no matter how much laundry I’ve folded, no matter how many poopy diapers I’ve changed and no matter how many little people have pulled on me needing, wanting, demanding, that above all else, I am a woman.  A wife.  A LOVER.  On those days, I put the kids down for a nap and instead of thawing meat for dinner and erasing the lunch shrapnel from the floor and table, I go to my bathroom.  I take a long, hot shower, remembering to  use the perfume-scented soap that he likes.  I take all the necessary steps to remove any unwanted hair from my body, including the pubes.  Especially the pubes.   I layer the perfume-scented lotion after the shower and put on my prettiest bra and panties.  I put on a slight amount of makeup, just enough to cover the dark circles and make myself look less haggard.  Dry the hair…I’ll straighten and style later.  Put on tight yoga pants and a fitted top so that he can view the benefits of all of my boot camp sessions that he has paid for.  I look pretty good.  I feel pretty good.  I can almost see me again. 

Then the kids are awake and all the needing, wanting, demanding starts all over again.  Someone spits up on my yoga pants.  They smell like Nutrimigen formula.  That shit stinks, y’all.  I Febreze myself, overpowering the perfume I’ve so carefully layered and applied in all the right places.  The babies are leaving as the older kids are home from school now, bitching about the sucky, generic snacks I’ve started buying since the stock market went to shit.  I’m trying not to let the lover inside of me slip away.  I pour a glass of wine, and get out a Dinner Station meal.  Chicken spaghetti.  Bread and salad to go with it?  Check.   I notice that, despite the fact that I vacuum every single morning before the extra kids get here, the floor is disgusting.  Crackers, Pop Tarts and grass everywhere.  I can either vacuum or change clothes and finish fixing my hair before Husband gets home.  I choose to vacuum because even though he couldn’t care less if the house is a pig sty, it’s hard for me to relax when it’s this messy.  I’m responsible for the home, after all.  It’s my job.  If it’s a mess, I haven’t done my job.   Vacuuming done.  Notice the still-untouched glass of wine on the counter.  I’ll get to it in a second.  Need to read with older child so we can have Family Fun Time after dinner.

Husband comes home.  He’s a bit late.  Traffic sucked.  He doesn’t say anything to anyone because he’s grumpy.  Totally understandable.  The kids run to him, needing, demanding, wanting his attention.  He picks up the baby, then puts him down.  Goes to the closet to change from his work clothes.  Want to give him space because he’s had a long day at work.  Try not to pressure him to notice me.  Don’t want to join the kids in the wanting, needing, demanding.  He walks through, saying “Hi, Momma.”  Momma.  Lover is almost unrecognizable. 

He escapes to the computer room until dinner.  I call him and the kids to dinner.  Kids hate the look of the Chicken Spaghetti.  Dad gripes at them about Momma cooking and how they should be grateful.  He’s less grumpy from the drive home, but the kids have already annoyed him too many times.   He takes a bite of the spaghetti.  I can tell he doesn’t like it.  I don’t either, but for some reason, it irritates me that he doesn’t.  He’ll say he appreciates dinner, but I know he would have rather I just ordered pizza.  I also know that he’d rather I had changed clothes, applied more perfume and fixed my hair instead of vacuuming the living room.  He’d rather I ran to him, kissing him and acting like he’s just come home from war instead of bustling about in the kitchen, answering kids and putting dinner together.  I gulp the wine.  Wine knows how to find the Lover.

Fast forward past bath time (He helps a lot.  He is a wonderful father) and the screaming, whining drama that is bedtime.  Finally, we can have some alone time.  He is trying to find something on the TV, a movie, something.  I want more.  I don’t care about a movie.  Or TV.  I want him to look at me.  Say “I love how you bite your lip when you are thinking.  I love how your hair falls across your eyes when you haven’t fixed it.  It amazes me how you remember everything the older child needs for school each day.  You fascinate me.  I am lucky.”   He doesn’t.  I don’t either.

 We sit for an hour, watching TV, maybe talking, maybe not.  I feel exhausted.  Mentally and physically.  I know I have boot camp at 5:30 in the morning.  I decide to take a bath and get in bed.  He comes to bed after me, saying relatively little.  We’ve air-kissed once tonight.  That is the only touching we have done all day.  I lay in bed, feeling like a failure.  Not because he makes me feel that way.  I want him to help me find the Lover again.  He won’t.  He’s tired too.  He works hard too.  He needs a break too.  It’s not his fault.  It’s not my fault.  It just is.  The Lover is gone. 

Most men worry about their wives cheating in a sexual, well, physical sense.  I’m here to tell you that you need to worry about the emotional cheat more.  A sexual affair is easy for us.  If we want dick, we can get dick.  And dicks come and go like seasons.  And you men worry about your wife being taken in that way, so you go crazy in bed making sure she’s pleased, hoping she won’t stray.  Knowing she took the vow to forsake all others seriously.

But the emotional cheat is worse and should be harder on you.  Why?  Because it means you dropped the ball.

You took the pass in the hallway for granted.

You stopped seeing her as a human being and more as a fixture around the house.

You took her for granted.

You knew she’d be around forever.

You get in a rut and it’s day in and day out insignificance resonates throughout the house.  You stopped trying to get her and you stopped realizing you were lucky to get her in the first place.  And this one is important because most men are with a woman that is always a grade higher than themselves.

So in walks Mr. Coworker, Mr. Old Boyfriend touching base through Facebook.  Mr. I’m going to be there for her.

He takes her calls instead of putting her through to voicemail.  He listens to her and responds with interest.  He’s not buying her things or having sex with her.  He’s fulfilling that human need for emotional connection.  He’s filling in where you dropped the ball.  She’s sick, he calls and checks on her.  He knows what he’s trying to get.  He wants what you got in the first place.  What you have started taking for granted.  And he’ll play it like Lionel Ritchie, All Night Long.  And she’ll fall for it because there is an aching need to feel wanted.  Not sexually, but wanted to be around.

Most importantly, he finds her fascinating and tells her that with his eyes.  He makes her want to do more with her life.  He makes her believe she can do anything.  And it’s painful for her.  Because she’s begged for such attention for months, possibly years from you.  But you just keep passing her in the hallway, instead of grabbing her and putting her against the wall, kissing her, and telling her you love to share that hall with her.

And, believe me men, there’s always someone waiting to be her Mr. Right.  And she may have sex with him.  But the sex won’t be because she wanted to.  She’ll feel dirty.  But women look at sex differently.  She would look at it as a payback for giving her back that light in her soul that you have sucked dry.

But ladies, you have to pretend to be having an affair everyday.  Even though you’re not.  But if you were you would make sure your cooter hair was not a huge Power Muff.  You would keep it tidy.  You would fix your hair.  You would prepare yourself and not let yourself go.  You can’t expect your husband to slam you against the hallway if you’re constantly in sweats, Power Muffing it, and Ugg slippers.  It’s a two way street – that hallway.

My bad review of Dr. Kaff was based on his senseless man actions.  Not offering Holly and I something to drink, yet getting himself something.  Handing me paper towels to wipe my own feet when he should’ve done it.

The greatest advice I can give to men:  Find your wife fascinating.  Stop.  Think about that word for a minute.  Fascinating.  Take the time before someone else does.

Today we’re going to play “The Person Under Me”.  Here’s how it goes:

I’ll start by saying something like, the person under me is wearing socks.

The next poster will say, I’m wearing socks.  Then say, the person under me is insert whatever you want here.

And the next poster will follow the same.

You can play as many times as you want.  Have fun!

Ciao!/Sabrina

TOP 5 Gifts for Women by Sabrina:

1.  If you’re going to send roses, send roses with BLING!

2.  Valentine’s Day Giant Fortune Cookie

3.  Conversation Hearts pajamas from Pajamagram.com

4.  Be Mine Rubber Duck Bath Basket

5.  Rent her a car from Platinum Motorcars and schedule her a spa day

TOP 5 Gifts for Men by Sabrina:

1.  A Fly-A-Sim gift certificate

2.  Buy a fondue set and have the chocolate and strawberries ready

3.  Take a bottle of champagne and fly over Dallas; planes take off at Addison Airport

4.  Send him a pair of panties with a teaser note through pantygram.com

5.  If you’ve been together long enough, my husband loved this one, Your Memory Lane.