Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Facts of Life Part II - Let me out of there!

I thought I had dodged a bullet with Joshy B and his questioning about how you make a baby. He seemed satisfied with my explanation of how babies were made. (See yesterday's blog for my explanation of the miracle of life)

Then he says to me, "Well how does the baby come out?"

"Well, the mom has really bad stomach aches and goes to the doctor and the doctor gets the baby out."

"Like a sliver or a thorn or a spiny pine?"

"Uh, yeah, sort of."

He was happy with that. When you have an inquisitive kid, one should always let sleeping dogs lie. One should also never fill in their day care provider on the happenings of the evening before if she's a ballsy kind of chick who likes to laugh and play practical jokes.

"Josh," Kathy said with a devilish tone. "HOW does the doctor get the baby out?"

Josh thought for a moment and then looked at me for the answer. "Well, Mom?"

"Uh, well..." I said, swallowing hard, attempting to rid myself of the lump that had formed in my throat.

"Sometimes, the doctor has to cut open the mom's tummy to get the baby out." *Maybe that'll distract him*

"Let me see where he put your tummy back together!"

"Oh, I didn't have to have my tummy cut open honey. I, uh...ummmmm...I just pushed you out. I don't really know a whole lot about the process because I had my eyes closed the whole time. And next thing I knew, there you were!"

He looked at me for a minute with a concerned look on his face. To a 5 year old, pushing is done with your hands and arms, so I'm sure he was trying to figure out how he got out of there, and then he says, "I've got it! I think babies come out of your mouth, and they're all wet and slimy, like I was in the picture. You know, like throw up. That's what I do when I have a tummy ache. But I don't go to the doctor. I just throw up. I throwed up chocolate milk last time. Remember that mom? And at Disney World, I throwed up. I remember one time, when I was 2, I throwed up that orange juice and I cried and cried and throwed up some more..."

And just like that, the subject of where babies come from and how they were born was closed, because to a five year old boy, talking about barfing is WAY more interesting.

I love being a mom.

Facts of Life Part 1 - Makin' Babies

It has happened. I have had to have the first, of what I am sure will be many, of the “uncomfortable” conversations with Joshy B.

He says to me, “Mom, why do all moms have babies?”

“Because babies make us Moms. Without a kid, we’re just ladies.”

“Well, how do you get to be a mom?”

“You have a baby.”

“How do you make a baby?”

OH SHIT. I wasn’t ready for this. He’s only 5. I thought I had a year or so of talking to my friends on MySpace and working out the world’s greatest story to tell the boy that contained just enough truth to make him sound like he knows what he’s talking about without having to tell him that his Daddy stuck his wanker in his Mommy’s cooch!

Quick thinking skills powers ACTIVATE! Form of – a con artist!

“Well honey, you take a little piece of a mom and a little piece of a dad. You smoosh them together and they grow in the mom’s tummy into a baby.”

Did you notice how that’s 100% true and yet I didn’t say anything uncomfortable? That’s the art of being the style of mom I am.

“But Mom…”

Oh fuck. Here it comes. Go ahead Joshy B. Ask your mom how the baby gets in there so that I can effectively scar you for life with thoughts and tales of your parents doing the horizontal bop.

“…if you gave me a part of you, where is that part missing from on you?”

WHEW. Dodged that one. “Well honey, it was an egg from inside of me, so I’m not really missing it.”

“How many eggs do you have?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’d imagine there are more in there, but I don’t know how many.”

“Well can you smoosh one with part of Daddy? I want a friend to play with.”


“No honey. Mom’s not having any more kids – you and Dakota are enough.”

Jerry thinks I should tell him, “We can’t. Daddy is only half a man since his vasectomy.”


In the interest of keeping this short, tomorrow I will tell you about the conversation we had involving HOW the baby gets out of the Mom’s tummy. You won’t want to miss this.

Friday, March 23, 2007

I'm an emotional wreck!

As if having a sick toddler for 3 days and then getting sick yourself isn't enough, I have a crisis. And it is very real and very painful for me to face on my own, much less talk about. Please forgive me for turning the dial to "serious" for the day. I need to get real. I need to invite you into my personal life and spill my heart out on the floor for all to see. And maybe, just maybe someone will have some magic words that will act as a band-aid to my soul. If you don't want to read the serious, go now. I won't mind. This may get mushy. I may cry. You never can tell with these things.

It all started maybe 2 weeks ago. Things were sailing along just fine and I was doing my best to get my 3 a Day the Psycho Princess way. Most days, I achieved my goal. And then, things started to go down hill.

Jack wasn't performing well at all, so I decided that since I didn't feel like getting out of bed to get batteries, I'd give Venus a whirl. She hummed and purred momentarily, but the high setting wouldn't work – at all. Must be the batteries – but I'm already in bed and don't feel like trouncing to the kitchen. Let's see what happens with what we've got and some varying positions. My usual 5 minute max to a big happy O turned into about 20 minutes. Grrrrr Not what I want when I'm dead tired and ready for sleep.

SO, the next day I dutifully replaced the batteries in Jack, gave him a kiss and fired him up. Nothing. No excitement. 25 minutes to O. COME ON! This is supposed to be my chance for mind altering clitoral orgasms in less than 5 minutes. I don't have time for 25 minutes, not when sleep is so damn precious to me.

And because of this, the 3 a day rule turned into 1 a day, unless there was sweet loving from Big Daddy. And that fell off to none without the loving. Because it was taking too damn long, and now I cannot seem to have a clitoral orgasm during solo loving to save my life. It just isn't happening.

Maybe Jack and Venus have had it. Maybe they're pissed because I keep them in a drawer with panties. I thought they'd feel at home there. I have turned Jack on and examined all of his moving parts, and they all appear to be moving appropriately at the varying speeds according to how many times I push each button. Venus appears fine as well. So, I fear this is not a simple case of burnt out motors. At least not on the toys.

I believe that my clit is broken. Or maybe it has become desensitized from all the vibrating. *Shudder* Say it isn't so! Perhaps it has joined the witness relocation program or it is just in hiding or taking a siesta. Whatever the case, it is no longer doing what it is SUPPOSED to be doing. If your hoodie-covered love button isn't giving you pleasure, what is the point?

It is probably a good thing that I'm going to a sex toy party at the beginning of May, but what to do in the mean time? I'm at a loss for what to do. Should I see a doctor? Should I try something new? Is there any hope for me? Am I losing my mojo?

So many questions, so few orgasms these days. TGIF – TBIWHAOWJOV. Whatever.

Why me?

**Warning, I'm going to talk a little bit about bleeding – from areas you may not want to think about. And if you read this you'd better AT LEAST leave me some kudos (you can do that without commenting you know) because I deserve at least that for sharing this information with you, don't you think?

Here's how my day started. At 5:30 AM, I log on to MySpace to check in on some things and I get an email from a man (I'm guessing here) with no picture. I'll share it with you. Because that's how I roll.

From: Michael

Body:If I were a lesbian I would be sucking your pie hole until your head caved in.


First of all, isn't a pie hole your mouth, as in "Shut your pie hole!" ? I don't think I like the idea of someone sucking so hard on my MOUTH that my head caves in. I'd like to see a demonstration of that though, perhaps on a CPR doll?

Second: that's no way to speak to a lady, fucker.

Third: I'm not a lesbian. He OBVIOUSLY saw the word lesbian in the title of my blog and assumed that I was. See what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of yourself, live on MySpace. And I exploit it.

Moving on...

So, I'm talking to my friend about what we should order for lunch today. As I lean forward to look at the menu with her, I suddenly felt like my ass was cold and very visible. I reach back to see if maybe they just rode down a little lower than normal. What do you suppose I discovered when I put my hand back there? I'll tell you – at 10:07 AM, not even 3 hours into my work day, the zipper on the back of my black pants has split wide open. Broken. Busted. WIDE OPEN. Exposing my lovely blue lace up the sides boy short underwear from Frederick's for everyone to see. Excellent.

Note: While these are the panties I'm wearing today, this is not me in them. However, you should try to make me feel better by pretending it IS my body and fantasizing about me the rest of the day.

6 hours left to go and then I still have to walk the mile to my car. THIS is so what I did not need on a day when I'm bleeding fully and completely from my girlie bits.

It's not like the pants are tight – in fact they are a little bit baggy, at least while I'm standing. Maybe they are just a little old? Maybe my ass spreads out more than I like to think it does when I sit down and lean forward? So, my friend and I giggle about the situation and I know that I have to safety pin them somehow to get through the day and hope that my sweater is long enough to cover it. So, off to the bathroom I go, yank the pants down and begin pinning. At least I pinned from the inside so that if my sweater does not cover the great divide, you won't see the shiny tell-tale safety pins. Which is good, or everyone walking behind me would know what color my panties are.

Back to my desk to order our lunch. I sit down and "DAMN IT! That shit hurt! Yes, a safety pin must not have been closed properly and it poked me in my ass. SO, I stand up, reach my hand down the back of my pants because I have to get it out of my ass and – one of the doctors up here walks past my office. "Ummm. Are you ok?" he asks. "Safety pin!" I snapped, unable to say anything else. He shuffled away rather quickly, possibly not wanting to have to look at me any longer. "I'll wash my hands when I'm done!" I yell after him. He probably thinks I was doing something naughty.

I remove the rogue pin and feel to be certain it's not really a necessary pin to seal the gap, get out my trusty antibacterial hand sanitizer, and sit back down to put my shoes back on (I generally flip them off when I'm sitting at my desk. I so hate shoes!) "FUCK!" This time, I swear it missed my butthole by about 1cm. And this one is not just poking me, it's fully inserted into the skin on my right buttock and the shit hurts! SO, I waddled off to the ladies room, past the front reception desk.. I'm walking with stiff legs, bowed out at the knees, as if I had just dropped a load in my pants. And the entire time, I'm pulling my sweater down in the back so as not to give a goody view to the entire waiting room which is unusually FULL of people.

I fix all the pins and start to clean up. If I've never mentioned it before, I'm on blood thinners for life due to a clotting disorder. So when I start to bleed, sometimes it's hard to make it stop. So I stick little bits of TP on the two bloody spots that the pins have made, like a guy would stick on his face if he cuts himself shaving. Satisfied that all the blood spots are covered, and the pins are arranged and closed, I head back to my office. I heard the snickering. "WHAT?!?!" I snapped.

"You missed a spot" she says sweetly. "Your underwear are a pretty color blue."

"It's Frederick's of Hollywood Alluring Blue if you must know. 4 for $20 right now. Get your own if you want to look at them some more." And with that, I walked into my office and shut the door where I dropped 'em and rearranged the pins yet again.

So far, so good. I have decided that I'm not getting up from my desk until it's time to go home and perhaps I will eat while working in order to leave early. I'll tell them it's a pants emergency.

So there you have it. I'm not only bleeding from my snatch, but also from parts of my ass. And it's not even 11:00 AM. How is YOUR Thursday going?

The big birthday party!!

First, I have to say I had a BLAST last night. Thanks to everyone who came out for the hoo-ha. I don't have photos of most of you, but you know who you are. The camera didn't make it out until the end of the evening, my apologies. There are some photos in my pictures section (at least the ones that were appropriate for public viewing). There are others that will never see the light of day, other than for the people in them. You ladies know what I'm talking about!

I'm hoping to see Shannon's picture of the crazy 80's hair lady that sat behind us that everyone was giggling at. All I can say is it was giant, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was smuggling something up in her do!

I finally got to meet Shannon in Real Space! Shannon was my one of my first three friends ever on MySpace. And let me tell you people - she is so freakin' adorable in person. Photos do not do her justice. But, I shall try:

Now, the drinks were flowing and the lovely Shannon gave me some ice cube trays that will allow me to put penises in the drinks of my guests. They are kind of frightening though, because on the balls are bumps. BIG bumps. Genital wart ice cubes ROCK!

Throughout the evening, Shannon decided to add to my birthday loot with various items from the table. Jerry dug out MOST of it, but missed a couple of things:

I only hope that knife was the one that had been on her tongue earlier!

Sheryl was there as well. You may know her as Key Westie, I'm proud to call her friend! Not to be outdone by the Princess doing a blow job in public, she too performed felatio on a shot glass. SEE?

She gave me an assortment of naughty things. Some of my favorites are pictured below, although the basket of oils and lubes contained quite a bit more than what I'm showing here.

And of course, the pussy panties:

Also got a bottle of wine, some money and a coupon for hair color/highlight and style from Kathy. But most importantly, I have the memories of a birthday get together that I'm not likely to soon forget. I don't think Shannon or Sheryl will forget it either. And I KNOW that Jerry will probably NEVER forget - that's all I'm saying!

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Slap it, Spank it, Spit on it!

*I am sick. My ass is on fire. I cannot be held responsible for the content of this blog nor the content of the comments which may or may not be left.

I considered telling you the story of the first and only time I had anal sex. However, that would be getting way too personal, you know TMI. And you all know how I carefully guard my secrets. I thought if I opened that can of worms, I'd also have to describe the asshole – no wait, wrong term – the dick face I dated at the time and I don't especially want to go there. Because he was a jackhole who I thought I could turn into a respectable human. Silly 18 year old girl dreams & aspirations all shot to hell.

No, I will not revisit the tale of the Hershey highway because is too painful, or more correctly, WAS too painful. Instead, I would like to share with you my thoughts on spanking.

In order to share with you, I will need to give you my opinion on it. I think it's a good thing when done properly at the right time. It should never leave a mark nor be just a knee jerk reaction. It has to be measured and timed and delivered like you mean it. Now, to all of you who are considering calling social services on me, let me assure you that I am over the age of 18. Let me also assure you that I kind of like it. And you thought I was talking about spanking as a form of punishment for a child, didn't you? Well, if you did, you don't know me very well.

Now I don't like the spanking for pain that could be involved. In fact, if he smacks my ass too hard, I'm likely to scream "OW!" and lock him in a ninja death grip with my stunning labia and va-gi-gi muscles. And it wouldn't be pleasant. I do LOTS of kegels and those muscles are quite strong – capable of crushing a penis if you're not careful.

So, the spank for me should always be open handed, right on my ass. And it better not feel like he's tapping it just to get my attention. It should not be so hard that it leaves a welt on my tender buttock – that skin is very sensitive you know. And you should always rub after a spank, especially if you're going to spank it again.

For me, the spank works best when doing it doggie style. The angles are all just right for maximum enjoyment. Plus, it's easy to just drop down and turn around and knee him in the groin if he does it too hard.

I'm not sure why I like it, I just do. Is it the sound? Could be – I like the slapping sound. Of course, I prefer the slapping to be his thighs against my ass, but I'll take the hand. Maybe it's the rhythm. That was always my favorite part of going to a concert – feeling the bass pounding through the sound system so that it made vibrations through your whole body. Whatever it is, I like a spanking while getting down and dirty.

And speaking of spanking, I'm curious about something. When you're watching porn, you often see a person slapping the twat of a woman while either performing oral or just fingering her. What's that about? Is it similar to spanking her ass – the sound and the rhythm? Or is there a purpose to it? Like if you spank the bean, does it sends waves of pleasure rushing through her? I don't think this has ever been done to me. If it has, it obviously wasn't memorable. I tried it once during a marathon self-pleasuring session, and it didn't do anything for me. Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Maybe it's something done for a camera and that's it. I don't know. Will someone tell me?

And while you're at it – is it sexy for a woman to spit on a man's dick while giving him head? I mean, they do it in the movies – giant gobs of spit being shot out of a woman's mouth onto his unit. I see people spitting on women's cooters too. I mean, I thought spitting on someone was an insult. Are they saying "your nether region is not suitable for me – it's offensive. However, I'm being paid a shit ton of money to lick and suck on it, so I will belittle it the only way I know how." I think it would be more useful and sensational if we just blew raspberries on each other's naughty bits.

Happy Thursday? I think not. It took me 3 bathroom trips to finish typing this. Aren't you glad you know that? Yeah, that's what I thought.