Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Things to See and Do
Still can't send messages, so I've resorted to handing out my email address in a bulletin. Try me there. Maybe I'll actually be able to respond. Let's move on to some other things, shall we?
Yes! We shall! Fair warning for you: I'm in a completely shitty mood today. I cannot be trusted to do or say appropriate things to anyone at this moment. So, instead, I offer you some things for you to see and do.
My Christmas* "wish list" for those of you starting your shopping early:
I'd like to replace the light switch plate in my bedroom. I've been accused at times of being a bit of a tease, so I figured I'd need a man I can turn on and off at will:
I would like these to go with it, so that I can throw them at my husband when he complains about blue balls with a hearty "Oh, I'll give you blue balls alright!"
I would also like this "Welcome Mat" so that people get the impression that I actually clean house on occasion:
I'm a simple girl - those things will do just nicely, thanks.
And now, for your commenting pleasure, I thought I would give you all an inkblot test. Submit your answers for everyone to see. Just look at the picture and tell me what you think it is. Ready? Set! GO!
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
What do you see?
*Disclaimer: I celebrate "Christmas", not "The Holidays" - Pehaps "Santamas" would be a better description or "Giftmas" I dunno. It was pointed out to me that perhaps I loved O'Reilly - not so - in fact, totally opposite of that. I just love presents.
Bathing in a River of Chocolate - Sort Of
Sometimes, you're rolling along in life and something happens to give you pause. In that instant you see everything clearly, all of the jumble that is your life makes sense and you can see the forest for the trees. It's times like these that make me take a step back from my daily life and say...
What the fuck?!?!
For example, I once thought that it would be a great idea to take a bath in chocolate. I found this great website that sold all sorts of strange things. One of them happened to be bath chocolate. I ordered a bag. The day it came, I was so excited! I couldn't wait to get in the tub and soak in the chocolaty goodness. Imagine how good one would smell afterwards! So, I ran the water, measured the chocolate and dumped it in. Instantly, the water turned brown. Not a deep, rich brown like melted chocolate (which is what I envisioned) but sort of a muddy brown. Like I had rolled in mud, hopped in the tub and the water was stained with my filth. I thought to myself "well, it's mostly water, so what did you expect?" I got in. I sat there for a minute, wondering if I had put enough of the chocolate powder in, so I reached for the bag and read the directions. I was shocked to discover that not only could I bathe in this, I could put it in a coffee cup with some hot water and have hot chocolate! I was PISSED. I was ripped off. I could have just bought a box of Swiss Miss (WITH the tiny marshmellows).
Now, much like powdered hot chocolate mix, if the water isn't hot enough, all of the powder doesn't dissolve. And you're left with not only muddy looking bathwater, but also brown chunks of powder floating in the tub. From a distance, it probably looked like someone shat in the tub, ewwwww. Incidentally, little chunks of anything in a tub tend to find their way into nooks and crannies. Nothing like having powdery chocolate snatch for a day. Although it could make for some wildly tasty oral sex - whipped cream anyone?
Anyhow, I finished the bath and decided it would be best if I followed up with a shower. So, I let the water out of the tub. Now, if you've ever made powdered hot chocolate in coffee cup, you know the ring of chocolate crust that forms around the top of the cup? Picture it...got it? OK, now imagine that all over the fucking tub. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I had seen in a bathtub since the first time I stayed at Jerry's house when he was still a bachelor. Damn bathtubs in rented houses - not only do you get your scunge in there, you have a little piece of everyone who was there before you.
It took me about 35 minutes just to shower enough to feel like I had all of the chocolaty powder off of my body and about 2 hours of scrubbing to get the bathtub clean again. It was far too much work for something that was supposed to be luxurious!
Next time, I'm just buying a giant can of chocolate syrup, laying down on a slip N slide and have Jerry pour it all over me, then roll around. Maybe we could just cover the Slip N Slide with chocolate, I can take a running start and dive onto the syrupy goodness. I'm sure the neighbors would like that.
I leave you to ponder this scenario and examine your own life. What have you done that at the time seemed like a great idea and in retrospect made you say "What the fuck?"
And Meagan, if you're reading this - where did you find footie pajamas in an adult size? I must have some!
What the fuck?!?!
For example, I once thought that it would be a great idea to take a bath in chocolate. I found this great website that sold all sorts of strange things. One of them happened to be bath chocolate. I ordered a bag. The day it came, I was so excited! I couldn't wait to get in the tub and soak in the chocolaty goodness. Imagine how good one would smell afterwards! So, I ran the water, measured the chocolate and dumped it in. Instantly, the water turned brown. Not a deep, rich brown like melted chocolate (which is what I envisioned) but sort of a muddy brown. Like I had rolled in mud, hopped in the tub and the water was stained with my filth. I thought to myself "well, it's mostly water, so what did you expect?" I got in. I sat there for a minute, wondering if I had put enough of the chocolate powder in, so I reached for the bag and read the directions. I was shocked to discover that not only could I bathe in this, I could put it in a coffee cup with some hot water and have hot chocolate! I was PISSED. I was ripped off. I could have just bought a box of Swiss Miss (WITH the tiny marshmellows).
Now, much like powdered hot chocolate mix, if the water isn't hot enough, all of the powder doesn't dissolve. And you're left with not only muddy looking bathwater, but also brown chunks of powder floating in the tub. From a distance, it probably looked like someone shat in the tub, ewwwww. Incidentally, little chunks of anything in a tub tend to find their way into nooks and crannies. Nothing like having powdery chocolate snatch for a day. Although it could make for some wildly tasty oral sex - whipped cream anyone?
Anyhow, I finished the bath and decided it would be best if I followed up with a shower. So, I let the water out of the tub. Now, if you've ever made powdered hot chocolate in coffee cup, you know the ring of chocolate crust that forms around the top of the cup? Picture it...got it? OK, now imagine that all over the fucking tub. It was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I had seen in a bathtub since the first time I stayed at Jerry's house when he was still a bachelor. Damn bathtubs in rented houses - not only do you get your scunge in there, you have a little piece of everyone who was there before you.
It took me about 35 minutes just to shower enough to feel like I had all of the chocolaty powder off of my body and about 2 hours of scrubbing to get the bathtub clean again. It was far too much work for something that was supposed to be luxurious!
Next time, I'm just buying a giant can of chocolate syrup, laying down on a slip N slide and have Jerry pour it all over me, then roll around. Maybe we could just cover the Slip N Slide with chocolate, I can take a running start and dive onto the syrupy goodness. I'm sure the neighbors would like that.
I leave you to ponder this scenario and examine your own life. What have you done that at the time seemed like a great idea and in retrospect made you say "What the fuck?"
And Meagan, if you're reading this - where did you find footie pajamas in an adult size? I must have some!
Make a Difference - Sat, Oct. 28, 2006
I thought long and hard about how I was going to make a difference on "Make a Difference Day" (today, Saturday...hope you made a difference to at least one person!) With all that life has thrown me in the last couple of weeks, I'm pretty much home-bound, other than the couple days I've gone to work and the trips to the grocery store and pharmacy.
At first, I began to feel really terrible about not being able to go out and do something to make a difference in someone's life. And I wrote to Carol and expressed my regrets. And she sent me back one of the most beautiful responses I have ever read. If you're not familiar with Carol, you really should be. There's a lady who, I believe, emits so much happiness and joy that when you read something she's written, you can't help but smile. And she makes it possible to see the happiness and sunshine in your surroundings, even when a giant rain cloud is hanging over you. Here's what she said to me..
"Don't sell yourself short, Kim. What you are doing, consciously, for Make a Difference day is committing to your family above and beyond what most can find a way to do. Love is a gift...always. Even amongst our families. My bet is that you have a little extra love to give and you will feel something next Saturday that causes you to pause.
When you do have that pause, I offer you two words.
Have faith".
And in those words, she spoke more to me than anyone has in recent months. And it was then that I knew what I'd be doing on Make a Difference Day. First, a little background on me:
In 35 years of life, I've been put through the wringer. When I was 19, I had chest pains for about a week. Eventually, when I started having shortness of breath, I went to the doctor. They took a chest X-Ray. They said it was pneumonia. I went home and went to bed. I woke up the next day in horrendous pain. My left leg was black and about 3 times its normal size. I went off to the emergency room, and through a series of tests found out I had 24 blood clots in my left leg & 4 of them in my lung. I was convinced I was never going home. And I was scared. Nothing could comfort me and at night after visiting hours, I felt so very alone. I recovered. Between then and the time I turned 26, I'd been hospitalized 3 times with blood clots in my leg again.
On through life I went, with an abusive relationship and finally finding Mr. Right but needed to move 1,000 miles away from my family to be with him. I suffered through 2 miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy before I got my angel. It was through the ectopic pregnancy that I wound up with my first diagnosis of chronic illness ... FactorV Leiden. Basically, my blood clots. All the time. I will be on blood thinners for life. I have PCOS, needed fertility medicine to have a baby, and I had my miracle baby December of '03. In July of '04, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I didn't cry, I wasn't worried. I thought for sure they were going to tell me I had a brain tumor so the diagnosis was a welcome one.
So, here I am with FVL, PCOS and MS (lots of initials), living 1,000 miles away from my family. Just having a 3 year old child will tire anyone out. Add on to that the MS and your husband having back surgery and suddenly you have no help in caring for your family, and you've got a recipe for hopeless feelings, stress and exhaustion. And this is why I was upset that Make a Difference was happening now. Because there is no way I can do anything for someone else. I have to give all I have to my family. But Carol's words struck a chord in me. And I had a wonderful idea. THIS BLOG will be my way to make a difference. Here's how:
It is for everyone who, due to circumstances beyond their control, cannot fully participate by going to hand out blankets and food to the homeless, to spend the day with seniors or children, or one of the many other projects that people are doing today. The difference I will make will be for these people ... people just like me. Because if just one person who reads this finds a sense of peace, self-worth and acceptance of their situation, then I've done my part. Because you can be handed a platter of bad and still find a way to lead a semi-normal, happy life.
So, for those of you who wanted to participate but couldn't, those who feel they don't matter or feel like they don't have anything to give anyone, THIS is for you.
Somewhere, someone loves you.
You are the reason they rise in the morning.
Your smile lights up their world.
Without you, they would be lonely.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone is grateful for you.
They may not be able to tell you.
They may not know where you are.
Without you, they would be lost.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone adores you.
For your kind and gentle heart
For the way you look at them
Without you, they would be cold.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone needs you
For all you do for them, for all you have given
For all you will do in the future
Without you, they would not be whole.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
And if, by chance, you can think of no one who loves you, is grateful for you, adores you or needs you, know that you may just be over looking those closest to you. Sometimes, simply being in this world is all that is required of you to make a difference in someone's life. A smile on a street to a stranger, letting the single mom with 3 kids cut in line in front of you at the store, stopping in traffic to let another car into your lane, those things all make a difference to someone.
When it seems there is no happiness in your life, when your days are full of dark clouds with no sunshine in sight, when things can't possibly get any worse, know that this too shall pass. And you'll find that inner strength to keep going, keep moving, keep fighting. Because chances are, there is someone you love, someone you're grateful for, someone you adore or someone you need. Today and every day, you should let them know. That's making a difference.
My message to those who were not able to participate in the more conventional way ... if you gave all you had to just get up and get through the day, that has made a difference to someone.
Incidentally, Carol was right ... I did find a little extra love today, and it made me pause. My beautiful angel threw his sippy cup at the big screen TV, and broke it. And while I was angry and disappointed in the behavior, something somewhere told my already frazzled self to take a deep breath, step back and look at it as "just one of those things." And while it sucks, it's not the end of the world. And after talking to my son about how serious of a situation this is (as best you can to an almost 3-year old boy), I hugged him. And it's been repaid to me today in more ways than I can count with his little voice calling from another room, "Mommy! I NEED you!" And wouldn't you know, what started out as a dreary, rainy day has changed right before my eyes. Because there in that exclamation of "I NEED you" from a little boy, MY little boy, is my sunshine.
At first, I began to feel really terrible about not being able to go out and do something to make a difference in someone's life. And I wrote to Carol and expressed my regrets. And she sent me back one of the most beautiful responses I have ever read. If you're not familiar with Carol, you really should be. There's a lady who, I believe, emits so much happiness and joy that when you read something she's written, you can't help but smile. And she makes it possible to see the happiness and sunshine in your surroundings, even when a giant rain cloud is hanging over you. Here's what she said to me..
"Don't sell yourself short, Kim. What you are doing, consciously, for Make a Difference day is committing to your family above and beyond what most can find a way to do. Love is a gift...always. Even amongst our families. My bet is that you have a little extra love to give and you will feel something next Saturday that causes you to pause.
When you do have that pause, I offer you two words.
Have faith".
And in those words, she spoke more to me than anyone has in recent months. And it was then that I knew what I'd be doing on Make a Difference Day. First, a little background on me:
In 35 years of life, I've been put through the wringer. When I was 19, I had chest pains for about a week. Eventually, when I started having shortness of breath, I went to the doctor. They took a chest X-Ray. They said it was pneumonia. I went home and went to bed. I woke up the next day in horrendous pain. My left leg was black and about 3 times its normal size. I went off to the emergency room, and through a series of tests found out I had 24 blood clots in my left leg & 4 of them in my lung. I was convinced I was never going home. And I was scared. Nothing could comfort me and at night after visiting hours, I felt so very alone. I recovered. Between then and the time I turned 26, I'd been hospitalized 3 times with blood clots in my leg again.
On through life I went, with an abusive relationship and finally finding Mr. Right but needed to move 1,000 miles away from my family to be with him. I suffered through 2 miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy before I got my angel. It was through the ectopic pregnancy that I wound up with my first diagnosis of chronic illness ... FactorV Leiden. Basically, my blood clots. All the time. I will be on blood thinners for life. I have PCOS, needed fertility medicine to have a baby, and I had my miracle baby December of '03. In July of '04, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I didn't cry, I wasn't worried. I thought for sure they were going to tell me I had a brain tumor so the diagnosis was a welcome one.
So, here I am with FVL, PCOS and MS (lots of initials), living 1,000 miles away from my family. Just having a 3 year old child will tire anyone out. Add on to that the MS and your husband having back surgery and suddenly you have no help in caring for your family, and you've got a recipe for hopeless feelings, stress and exhaustion. And this is why I was upset that Make a Difference was happening now. Because there is no way I can do anything for someone else. I have to give all I have to my family. But Carol's words struck a chord in me. And I had a wonderful idea. THIS BLOG will be my way to make a difference. Here's how:
It is for everyone who, due to circumstances beyond their control, cannot fully participate by going to hand out blankets and food to the homeless, to spend the day with seniors or children, or one of the many other projects that people are doing today. The difference I will make will be for these people ... people just like me. Because if just one person who reads this finds a sense of peace, self-worth and acceptance of their situation, then I've done my part. Because you can be handed a platter of bad and still find a way to lead a semi-normal, happy life.
So, for those of you who wanted to participate but couldn't, those who feel they don't matter or feel like they don't have anything to give anyone, THIS is for you.
Somewhere, someone loves you.
You are the reason they rise in the morning.
Your smile lights up their world.
Without you, they would be lonely.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone is grateful for you.
They may not be able to tell you.
They may not know where you are.
Without you, they would be lost.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone adores you.
For your kind and gentle heart
For the way you look at them
Without you, they would be cold.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
Somewhere, someone needs you
For all you do for them, for all you have given
For all you will do in the future
Without you, they would not be whole.
YOU make a difference in their lives.
And if, by chance, you can think of no one who loves you, is grateful for you, adores you or needs you, know that you may just be over looking those closest to you. Sometimes, simply being in this world is all that is required of you to make a difference in someone's life. A smile on a street to a stranger, letting the single mom with 3 kids cut in line in front of you at the store, stopping in traffic to let another car into your lane, those things all make a difference to someone.
When it seems there is no happiness in your life, when your days are full of dark clouds with no sunshine in sight, when things can't possibly get any worse, know that this too shall pass. And you'll find that inner strength to keep going, keep moving, keep fighting. Because chances are, there is someone you love, someone you're grateful for, someone you adore or someone you need. Today and every day, you should let them know. That's making a difference.
My message to those who were not able to participate in the more conventional way ... if you gave all you had to just get up and get through the day, that has made a difference to someone.
Incidentally, Carol was right ... I did find a little extra love today, and it made me pause. My beautiful angel threw his sippy cup at the big screen TV, and broke it. And while I was angry and disappointed in the behavior, something somewhere told my already frazzled self to take a deep breath, step back and look at it as "just one of those things." And while it sucks, it's not the end of the world. And after talking to my son about how serious of a situation this is (as best you can to an almost 3-year old boy), I hugged him. And it's been repaid to me today in more ways than I can count with his little voice calling from another room, "Mommy! I NEED you!" And wouldn't you know, what started out as a dreary, rainy day has changed right before my eyes. Because there in that exclamation of "I NEED you" from a little boy, MY little boy, is my sunshine.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Sexsomniacs and the Island of Sodor
As I sit here on Friday morning (my 2nd day of a 4 day weekend), drinking coffee, watching Thomas the Tank Engine** (please see footnote at the bottom of this post for commentary on what Thomas & Friends are teaching my child), I decided that I would actually go on a hunt for some interesting news on the internet. And lo and behold, I found it! Now, I'm not going to comment on the entire article in this blog post, just the points that are relevant to you and me. OK, more to me than you, but it'll be a fun story.
LONDON, Oct 25 (Reuters Life!) - Researchers are struggling to understand a rare medical condition where sufferers unknowingly demand, or actually have, sex while asleep, New Scientist magazine reported on Wednesday.
Have you ever noticed that all of the good research happens outside of the US? We spend our time and money trying to prove things like TV commercials make kids fat.
Research into sexsomnia -- making sexual advances toward another person while asleep -- has been hampered as sufferers are so embarrassed by the problem they tend not to own up to it, while doctors do not ask about it. As yet there is no cure for the condition, which often leads to difficulties in relationships."It really bothers me that I can't control it," Lisa Mahoney told the magazine. "It scares me because I don't think it has anything to do with the partner. I don't want this foolish condition to hurt us in the long run."
I’m curious how this condition could hurt a relationship. How many men would be bothered with their woman rolling over in the middle of the night for a little midnight action? Sure, you don’t want her to wander into your (or her) parent’s room in the middle of the night while you’re visiting and hook up with mom or dad, I get that.
Most researchers view sexsomnia as a variant of sleepwalking, where sufferers are stuck between sleep and wakefulness, though sexsomniacs tend to stay in bed rather than get up and walk about..
OK, so the mom/dad thing isn’t likely to happen. Tell me again why this is a problem – because if your partner is sleeping in a bed with someone other than you, you more than likely have other relationship issues you should explore.
"Sometimes they hate it," added Pressman of the reactions of sexsomniacs' partners. "Sometimes they tolerate it. On rare occasions you have stories of people liking it better than waking sex."
So, a sexsomniac’s partner hates that their significant other wants to have sex with them, not only when they’re awake, but also when they’re sleeping? Oh, the humanity! I’m willing to bet that I’d be able to tolerate it. I might actually enjoy it!
With no cure, addressing triggering factors -- stress or sleep deprivation -- can help, while Michael Mangan, a psychologist at the University of New Hampshire in the U.S. has set up a Web site, www.sleepsex.org, to help sufferers.
So go now, and find date for Friday night! If you get him/her to spend the night, you’ll probably get some!
Ahhhh, merry old England! Thank you for pointing this growing problem out to us. What would we do without you?
**Thomas the Tank Engine is another gift from England. It is teaching my son some interesting things! When the little English girls sing the songs with their English accent, JB copies them. He can’t always understand all of the words, because they don’t sound “normal” to him. An example, in the “Boo Song”, the kids sing “What’s that over in the corner, what’s that shadow on the wall?” Because of the accent, JB thinks they’re asking “What’s that over in the moona? What’s that shadow on the wool?” And he’ll correct you if you sing it any other way. It also has spawned phrases in our household such as “Bust my buffers!” But, like everything else, the US has “hijacked” Thomas, having the likes of George Carlin and Alec Baldwin “read” the stories. Whenever I hear one that Carlin is narrating, I keep waiting for him to add in some cuss words to make it more interesting to adults.
And another thing – I think that the majority of trains on the Island of Sodor are homosexual, or perhaps bi-sexual. The ONLY time I don’t get this impression is when Carlin is doing the voices. Baldwin does a spectacular homosexual voice when he makes Percy yell “Woooooah!” I think there’s a lot of buffer busting going on in Tidmouth Sheds.
There’s also some trans-gender issues as in one episode, “Rusty” is a female train and in another, she’s a male with a very low voice. There are also very few female trains on the Island, which makes me believe that “Emily” is probably a cross-dresser. And don’t even get me started on Diesel. That’s something you should talk to Nancy Drew about.
LONDON, Oct 25 (Reuters Life!) - Researchers are struggling to understand a rare medical condition where sufferers unknowingly demand, or actually have, sex while asleep, New Scientist magazine reported on Wednesday.
Have you ever noticed that all of the good research happens outside of the US? We spend our time and money trying to prove things like TV commercials make kids fat.
Research into sexsomnia -- making sexual advances toward another person while asleep -- has been hampered as sufferers are so embarrassed by the problem they tend not to own up to it, while doctors do not ask about it. As yet there is no cure for the condition, which often leads to difficulties in relationships."It really bothers me that I can't control it," Lisa Mahoney told the magazine. "It scares me because I don't think it has anything to do with the partner. I don't want this foolish condition to hurt us in the long run."
I’m curious how this condition could hurt a relationship. How many men would be bothered with their woman rolling over in the middle of the night for a little midnight action? Sure, you don’t want her to wander into your (or her) parent’s room in the middle of the night while you’re visiting and hook up with mom or dad, I get that.
Most researchers view sexsomnia as a variant of sleepwalking, where sufferers are stuck between sleep and wakefulness, though sexsomniacs tend to stay in bed rather than get up and walk about..
OK, so the mom/dad thing isn’t likely to happen. Tell me again why this is a problem – because if your partner is sleeping in a bed with someone other than you, you more than likely have other relationship issues you should explore.
"Sometimes they hate it," added Pressman of the reactions of sexsomniacs' partners. "Sometimes they tolerate it. On rare occasions you have stories of people liking it better than waking sex."
So, a sexsomniac’s partner hates that their significant other wants to have sex with them, not only when they’re awake, but also when they’re sleeping? Oh, the humanity! I’m willing to bet that I’d be able to tolerate it. I might actually enjoy it!
With no cure, addressing triggering factors -- stress or sleep deprivation -- can help, while Michael Mangan, a psychologist at the University of New Hampshire in the U.S. has set up a Web site, www.sleepsex.org, to help sufferers.
So go now, and find date for Friday night! If you get him/her to spend the night, you’ll probably get some!
Ahhhh, merry old England! Thank you for pointing this growing problem out to us. What would we do without you?
**Thomas the Tank Engine is another gift from England. It is teaching my son some interesting things! When the little English girls sing the songs with their English accent, JB copies them. He can’t always understand all of the words, because they don’t sound “normal” to him. An example, in the “Boo Song”, the kids sing “What’s that over in the corner, what’s that shadow on the wall?” Because of the accent, JB thinks they’re asking “What’s that over in the moona? What’s that shadow on the wool?” And he’ll correct you if you sing it any other way. It also has spawned phrases in our household such as “Bust my buffers!” But, like everything else, the US has “hijacked” Thomas, having the likes of George Carlin and Alec Baldwin “read” the stories. Whenever I hear one that Carlin is narrating, I keep waiting for him to add in some cuss words to make it more interesting to adults.
And another thing – I think that the majority of trains on the Island of Sodor are homosexual, or perhaps bi-sexual. The ONLY time I don’t get this impression is when Carlin is doing the voices. Baldwin does a spectacular homosexual voice when he makes Percy yell “Woooooah!” I think there’s a lot of buffer busting going on in Tidmouth Sheds.
There’s also some trans-gender issues as in one episode, “Rusty” is a female train and in another, she’s a male with a very low voice. There are also very few female trains on the Island, which makes me believe that “Emily” is probably a cross-dresser. And don’t even get me started on Diesel. That’s something you should talk to Nancy Drew about.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Seriously now...
I've been having such a blast writing silly things, but I need to take one day to share some of *me* with you. I really don't care to talk much about myself, as I don't think I'm anything super special or spectacular. I'm just a chick who likes to have a good time. But all of the seriousness around me has made me think that I really needed to examine some stuff about myself, including how I define myself and what makes me, well ME!
I may have MS, but I don't really want that to define me. I don't want to garner pity from anyone because of it either. I don't want to be treated special or have exceptions made for me, because for the most part, I'm just like everyone else at this point, well, except for my innards, but hey, no one is perfect!
I worry that if I were to die today, those who know me would characterize me as loyal, caring, fun-loving, intelligent yet a bit goofy at times and "oh yeah, she had MS." And let me tell you how much that would fucking suck. I get tired of hearing people use it as an excuse for not asking me to participate in something - "Well, I thought you'd be too tired and not be up for it." Or "I thought it'd be too much for you." Since when did having an illness of any kind make it ok for other people to judge what I can and can't do, what I'm up for, or what I feel like? And it pisses me off because last I checked, I'm still capable of making my own decisions.
I don't make friends very easily, because I'm still a shy, awkward girl from the Midwest who wound up here in VA. I have a couple of close friends, and that's it. And I'm ok with that. I'm not much of a phone person, so I find it difficult to maintain friendships with those who require a certain amount of time on the phone. Plus, I don't fit in with the typical "southern woman" who is prim and proper and likes shopping, shoes and fashion. Shit, I just bought me a pair of jeans the other day - first time I've bought jeans in about 5 or 6 years. I'd rather hang out with a bunch of guys. It's always been like that, and probably always will be.
I'm a huge flirt, always have been. I'm not very good at it, but that's ok because I have what I need in the love department and I just find flirting to be fun and amusing. There's nothing better than being all flirty with a guy, watching him walk away, then turning to your friends or co-workers and announcing, "He wants me."
I was always sick as a kid, then went through a period where I was as healthy as can be, but went back to the sickness thing, but instead of bronchitis and strep throat all the time, I've gained chronic conditions. That sounds better than illnesses or disorders.
I used to be quite the good Christian girl, but find myself more and more not finding comfort in those things any longer, which is both sad and enlightening. That's not to say I don't believe in a higher power. Sometimes I wish I could find that again, but my faith in God and man has truly gone south and I'm unsure that I'll ever get back there again.
I like football and hockey. I love cooking. I used to love doing cross stitch but my hands are permanently asleep and I'd poke myself with the needle too often. Mix that with my blood thinners and a fun little winter scene becomes Silent Night, Deadly Night. I tried crochet, but it takes too long to look like something and I have zero patience when it comes to that stuff.
I used to be in therapy, but I couldn't stand the therapist's hair. I found myself staring at it the entire 45 minutes. Besides, what she would tell me was the exact same things that my friends told me for free.
My mom is my hero, still lives in Wisconsin where her whole family is. I love her dearly and am so proud of her for all she's been through. From her, I got my common sense, my morals and values and my nose. My dad - well, he's my dad. Not a very active part in my life, as I'm sure you've all read in the past. He lives in King Cove, Alaska with my Step-Mother. From him, I got my natural curls, my sense of humor and my eyes.
To sum it up: Who am I? I'm the fucking President of PEST dammit! Have you NOT been paying attention to anything?
Bald is beautiful baby! Go bald for the day and you too can be on my top friends list. Because tomorrow, I'm going back to random people in random places and if anyone wants to bitch about it, I can always delete you.
See? I think I've lost my ability to make it through a blog being 100% serious. It just isn't for me, I'm sorry. It must be the brain leisions - or perhaps the ones on my spinal cord.
Join PEST today
It's a cold, cold Tuesday, but my spirits are high. Why, you ask? Because, I say, PETA is right across the street! With their signs and their bus...I sense that no good can come of this. I'm having a hamburger for lunch today.
With the cold comes the inevitable hard-nipples, cold hands and the need for something to warm us from within. With Big Daddy out of commission, I'll need to rely on Jack! He's always there for me, he never lets me down.
So, I got to thinking. I was going to tell you the story of the scar on my inner thigh that is shaped like Scotland, but that will have to wait. As I watch the people from PETA out there, I realize that I don't belong to a cause. I dislike most "causes" that people generally protest because they're too far out there and the ideals behind most of them, while fundamentally sound, are pretty damn wacko. I just can't get behind any of them. So, I think I need to start my own movement. I will call it PEST (People Embracing Sex Toys). Instead of holding up signs, everyone can bring their vibrators, dildos, cock rings, butt plugs and the like. We'll sit in the park and have a giant masturbation-in. And we'll explain that sex makes people happy & happy people are less likely to commit a violent crime. Our theory will be that everyone should find a toy they enjoy and use it to the fullest extent. And if you're a guy and don't have the Jenna Jameson Realistic Vagina, and cockrings or butt plugs aren't you're thing, you can support a woman by holding her vibrator when she's too overcome by the ecstasy to wield it herself. We will not rest until there is a dildo or vibrator in every hole - I mean home.
We'll have bumper stickers that say "In case of rapture, this car will be occupied by a satisfied person". And we can all have banners to put up on our MySpace profiles. We'll need a graphic designer for this - and I do mean graphic!
I have so many great ideas for this! A forum where everyone can come together (LITERALLY!). And it will be good. Hey, even if it never catches on, we'll all be smiling & content.
I can see it now, the news crews all around while we're "protesting" outside of the Richmond General Assembly. When they ask us what we're protesting, we can say "Lack of clitoral simulation for the women of the world!" Or "Lack of sex toys for men!"
When MySpace deletes one of us for "offensive content" we'll create our new account and all of our friends for their profile picture will use a picture of their favorite sex toy (we'll be able to find each other because of Blogger Backup!)
We could travel around the country in a bus shaped like a giant penis, "painted" by our male members using only their johnsons. We'll go from town to town, encouraging people to meet for one day in mutual masturbation. Of course, no children will be allowed; we'll need bouncers to card onlookers and participants.
Come on now, see the big picture! Think outside the box! You know you want to!
I'm taking volunteers for the movement "officials". We'll need a secretary, a treasurer, marketing person, PR, graphic designer, and numerous product testers. I'm sure there's more, but we'll get to that as we gain momentum. We also need a catchy slogan. I suck with slogans. Help me out here, won't you?
With liberty and multiple orgasms for all-
Psycho Princess
With the cold comes the inevitable hard-nipples, cold hands and the need for something to warm us from within. With Big Daddy out of commission, I'll need to rely on Jack! He's always there for me, he never lets me down.
So, I got to thinking. I was going to tell you the story of the scar on my inner thigh that is shaped like Scotland, but that will have to wait. As I watch the people from PETA out there, I realize that I don't belong to a cause. I dislike most "causes" that people generally protest because they're too far out there and the ideals behind most of them, while fundamentally sound, are pretty damn wacko. I just can't get behind any of them. So, I think I need to start my own movement. I will call it PEST (People Embracing Sex Toys). Instead of holding up signs, everyone can bring their vibrators, dildos, cock rings, butt plugs and the like. We'll sit in the park and have a giant masturbation-in. And we'll explain that sex makes people happy & happy people are less likely to commit a violent crime. Our theory will be that everyone should find a toy they enjoy and use it to the fullest extent. And if you're a guy and don't have the Jenna Jameson Realistic Vagina, and cockrings or butt plugs aren't you're thing, you can support a woman by holding her vibrator when she's too overcome by the ecstasy to wield it herself. We will not rest until there is a dildo or vibrator in every hole - I mean home.
We'll have bumper stickers that say "In case of rapture, this car will be occupied by a satisfied person". And we can all have banners to put up on our MySpace profiles. We'll need a graphic designer for this - and I do mean graphic!
I have so many great ideas for this! A forum where everyone can come together (LITERALLY!). And it will be good. Hey, even if it never catches on, we'll all be smiling & content.
I can see it now, the news crews all around while we're "protesting" outside of the Richmond General Assembly. When they ask us what we're protesting, we can say "Lack of clitoral simulation for the women of the world!" Or "Lack of sex toys for men!"
When MySpace deletes one of us for "offensive content" we'll create our new account and all of our friends for their profile picture will use a picture of their favorite sex toy (we'll be able to find each other because of Blogger Backup!)
We could travel around the country in a bus shaped like a giant penis, "painted" by our male members using only their johnsons. We'll go from town to town, encouraging people to meet for one day in mutual masturbation. Of course, no children will be allowed; we'll need bouncers to card onlookers and participants.
Come on now, see the big picture! Think outside the box! You know you want to!
I'm taking volunteers for the movement "officials". We'll need a secretary, a treasurer, marketing person, PR, graphic designer, and numerous product testers. I'm sure there's more, but we'll get to that as we gain momentum. We also need a catchy slogan. I suck with slogans. Help me out here, won't you?
With liberty and multiple orgasms for all-
Psycho Princess
Junk & Stupid Fuckers
Mondays suck. I got to work today and had to do an orientation that I did not want to do, as I was feeling a bit disoriented myself. I've been a bit off-kilter since BD's surgery on Thursday, and then JB got sick. I don't feel like I'm myself. Just a couple things to throw out to you, get your opinions and reactions on and then, I'm gone, hoping for a better day tomorrow.
Here goes:
Women: Do you find you have a more intense orgasm with clitoral stimulation or with vaginal stimulation? My answer: clitoral, hands down. Without that, it's not worth my effort. Probably why I wasn't overly impressed with my Sparkling Vibrating Egg. $6.95 - and that's about what it was worth. Perhaps the most disconcerting piece of that little number was that there was a wire sticking out of my snatch. And if you tugged on the control a little bit, out pops the Egg - unless you're not totally relaxed. And shouldn't you be relaxed when getting a little?
The Cone, on the other hand, has to wait. Nearly $100 and then paying for overseas shipping for something I'm not sure of. I'll wait until it's out in the states and the price comes down. Until then, I'll remain faithful to Jack and I may give the Egg one more chance.
Men: Do you like having your nipples stimulated? I think you just might!
Other questions I'm currently pondering:
How did the Go-Go's get so popular in the 80's? And Huey Lewis too! Did they ever do a duet together? They should have, as I hate their music equally.
Why is it that the only times I run into a traffic jam is when I'm already late for something?
And now, my little tiny rant before I go off on my merry little way:
I recently received an email from a friend (notice I didn't say "my friend", which would imply that I only have 1 friend and that he/she has no other friends either). In it were photos of a child who was suffering, and that may not be a strong enough word for it. The point of the email was to tell a story, via pictures, of an atrocity that happened to this child due to the laws/beliefs of someone in their culture. Like a dumb ass, I looked at the pictures, even though the text insinuated what I was going to see - you see, I kept waiting for the punch line. I was outraged that anyone would hurt a child, but even more bothered that some fucker found it necessary to put this in an email from, exploiting this poor child even further. The photos turned my stomach and, dare I say it, made me cry. And while I know the person who sent it to me was just trying to say "look at these horrible things" I was still pissed that she sent it. Because no one should pass that on. It's not the kind of thing you should pass on - not the pictures anyway. Pass on the story, but be sure you're not generalizing an entire culture because of the acts of some asshole. And don't add the graphics. When I saw that, I didn't get the message that the original author probably intended - or perhaps I did, which is a much scarier thought. What I took away from it was that the original author was a sadistic prick who thought people wanted to see children suffering & is trying to further some misguided agenda by erroneously characterizing an entire culture as cruel to children.
My favorite part was that someone said how this email literally made them sick to their stomach & made them cry - and STILL passed it on. Perhaps it's the theory that if they are miserable, they're going to take everyone they know with them. I dunno, but they pissed me off. It's like the people who smell something nasty and hold it up to you and say "oh my god, smell this." Ummm...if it's making you gag, why the fuck do you want ME to smell it too? Thanks, but no. Above all, perhaps I'm the fucking idiot for actually reading it, even though by the third picture, I knew I didn't want to see any more. Why, oh why do we do these kinds of things?
And so, you see - I truly am not myself today. I'm going for more coffee. Too much is never enough.
Crappy Sunday
It's Sunday. Whoop-do-freaking-do!
My husband is in pain, made worse from the fact that while flipping over in bed, I rammed my ass into his back.
My son is sick - coughing, hacking, fever.
I'm starting to not feel all that great. Lovely. And its Sunday, which means back to work tomorrow, as long as JB's fever is gone. Can't exactly take him to day care if he's sick. I'm not one of those moms who take their kids when they're sick. Those people piss me off. Nothing like not being willing to stay home with your kids - just sending them to day care anyhow - making all of the other kids sick. Selfish bastards. I hate those people! Can't even leave JB home with Big Daddy. I can see it now - a call from the fire department that the house burned down because JB learned how to turn on the stove and the pot holders caught fire. That would be just my luck. BUT, the good news is...oh wait, there isn't any.
Thought I would take a minute to let you ponder the possibilities of this little creation, The Cone.
Be sure to look around the site before reading further, or this really will not make sense to you.
Now, the first thing I think when I look at it is OWWW. That sucker is huge. That has got to be painful. And then I look around the site a bit.
I notice that there is a cool video insinuating that even your granny would appreciate the Cone vibrator. And it's so benign looking that you could use it at a centerpiece at your table and no one will know what pleasure the Cone can instill in you.
This has SO many possibilities, that I think I need to order one. Among the claims made on the website, some people say use of the Cone actually tightens the hole you're using it in.
And they have some fantastic ideas for using this hands-free vibrating pleasure cone!
Use it to massage your hoodie covered lima bean, AKA your clit!
Use it while finishing up getting ready for a night on the town!
Do the Bed Wiggle!
Use the wall!
The lunge position!
The Lotus - ah yes, yoga and good times!
The Recliner.
And guys - it can even be used by YOU!
Now, I didn't come up with all the cutsie names like "The Bed Wiggle" - that's all the makers of the Cone. I didn't even "find" the Cone, that would be Big Daddy's doing. But here's what I can tell you. I'm going to get one. In my eternal search for the for the ultimate pleasure machine, this is naturally next.
While I'm completely satisfied with Jack and I now have the Sparkling Egg to try out, I'm really interested in something I can do while sitting at the kitchen table having dinner with the family. Or, while reading, doing yoga or just lounging against a wall somewhere. And if it tightens the old Vagigi (pronounce the i's like the word eye), I'm all for it.
I've only looked at a couple places to purchase it - mostly the UK, so I have to convert pounds to dollars and back again to send the right amount. But it's my mission now to get one. The idea of being able to curl my hair while being pleasured when no one else is around to do it for me is so delicious!
If I get one, you know I'll blog about it. HEY! There's another use for it! Use it for clit stimulation while laying on your stomach blogging. If I suddenly start coming out with 4 or 5 blogs a day, you'll know why!
And if I just suddenly start coming, you'll know about that too.
My husband is in pain, made worse from the fact that while flipping over in bed, I rammed my ass into his back.
My son is sick - coughing, hacking, fever.
I'm starting to not feel all that great. Lovely. And its Sunday, which means back to work tomorrow, as long as JB's fever is gone. Can't exactly take him to day care if he's sick. I'm not one of those moms who take their kids when they're sick. Those people piss me off. Nothing like not being willing to stay home with your kids - just sending them to day care anyhow - making all of the other kids sick. Selfish bastards. I hate those people! Can't even leave JB home with Big Daddy. I can see it now - a call from the fire department that the house burned down because JB learned how to turn on the stove and the pot holders caught fire. That would be just my luck. BUT, the good news is...oh wait, there isn't any.
Thought I would take a minute to let you ponder the possibilities of this little creation, The Cone.
Be sure to look around the site before reading further, or this really will not make sense to you.
Now, the first thing I think when I look at it is OWWW. That sucker is huge. That has got to be painful. And then I look around the site a bit.
I notice that there is a cool video insinuating that even your granny would appreciate the Cone vibrator. And it's so benign looking that you could use it at a centerpiece at your table and no one will know what pleasure the Cone can instill in you.
This has SO many possibilities, that I think I need to order one. Among the claims made on the website, some people say use of the Cone actually tightens the hole you're using it in.
And they have some fantastic ideas for using this hands-free vibrating pleasure cone!
Use it to massage your hoodie covered lima bean, AKA your clit!Use it while finishing up getting ready for a night on the town! Do the Bed Wiggle! Use the wall!The lunge position!The Lotus - ah yes, yoga and good times!The Recliner. And guys - it can even be used by YOU!
Now, I didn't come up with all the cutsie names like "The Bed Wiggle" - that's all the makers of the Cone. I didn't even "find" the Cone, that would be Big Daddy's doing. But here's what I can tell you. I'm going to get one. In my eternal search for the for the ultimate pleasure machine, this is naturally next.
While I'm completely satisfied with Jack and I now have the Sparkling Egg to try out, I'm really interested in something I can do while sitting at the kitchen table having dinner with the family. Or, while reading, doing yoga or just lounging against a wall somewhere. And if it tightens the old Vagigi (pronounce the i's like the word eye), I'm all for it.
I've only looked at a couple places to purchase it - mostly the UK, so I have to convert pounds to dollars and back again to send the right amount. But it's my mission now to get one. The idea of being able to curl my hair while being pleasured when no one else is around to do it for me is so delicious!
If I get one, you know I'll blog about it. HEY! There's another use for it! Use it for clit stimulation while laying on your stomach blogging. If I suddenly start coming out with 4 or 5 blogs a day, you'll know why!
And if I just suddenly start coming, you'll know about that too.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Breaking News!
Just to update those of you who have recently asked if there has been any development on the Cartoon Character Porn Show where I work.
Things have been busy down at the free show on the corner! As you can see, the pimp stays close to his stars, though they have decreased in number.
I attempted several different angles to show you what was really going on today, but only one of them showed the horror of the cartoon character porn show. Superman is giving it to Dora from behind.
I originally didn't think Sponge Bob had a clue what is really going on, but upon looking at the photos again, I can see Batman doing him in the butt. Tweety is still on the lookout for "the fuzz". As for Spidey, I was unsure what was really taking place at first. And then I saw it...
You have to look closely, but Spidey has a ligature around his neck. And Superman is applying the pressure. I never pegged Spidey for being into autoerotic asphyxiation, however it seems to be the case. It didn't come through clearly, however the ligature used here is a bungy cord - a brown and yellow bungy cord.
I'll keep my eye on the story and update you all as necessary!
Reporting alive (but not live) from downtown Richmond, I'm Psycho Princess.
**Updated to add the Batman observation. We originally thought Sponge Bob was clueless...
Things have been busy down at the free show on the corner! As you can see, the pimp stays close to his stars, though they have decreased in number.
I attempted several different angles to show you what was really going on today, but only one of them showed the horror of the cartoon character porn show. Superman is giving it to Dora from behind.
I originally didn't think Sponge Bob had a clue what is really going on, but upon looking at the photos again, I can see Batman doing him in the butt. Tweety is still on the lookout for "the fuzz". As for Spidey, I was unsure what was really taking place at first. And then I saw it...
You have to look closely, but Spidey has a ligature around his neck. And Superman is applying the pressure. I never pegged Spidey for being into autoerotic asphyxiation, however it seems to be the case. It didn't come through clearly, however the ligature used here is a bungy cord - a brown and yellow bungy cord.
I'll keep my eye on the story and update you all as necessary!
Reporting alive (but not live) from downtown Richmond, I'm Psycho Princess.
**Updated to add the Batman observation. We originally thought Sponge Bob was clueless...
Pre-Op Shennanigans
Well, I got up bright and early this morning - 4:30 am. I was grumpy and in no mood to mess around. So, I turned the alarm off and lay in bed until 5:00. Today was cutting day.
We got out of the house at a decent time. It was terribly foggy, but we made it downtown without a hassle. We check in at the pre-op desk and they call him back to start the prep.
He goes with the nurse and I'm called to the desk. The woman starts talking about giving me a "pager". Now, this is not a pager in the typical sense, but a pager in the "you have to wait for a table at Olive Garden" sense. So I say to her "Will this work in
Finally, I can go hang with BD until they put him to sleep. I walk into the room and see a nurse, who I ask about whether or not I have to stay. I explain the pager fiasco and she says to just give the OR nurse my cell phone number and that'll take care of that. HA! Ms. Owens, take THAT! She leaves, and I snap a lively picture of BD, capturing how he's feeling at this exact moment with his wife being a wee bit bitchy.
Next, a guy comes in to start the IV. I recognize him immediately. This is one of the plus factors of working in this hospital. To remind you: I work with medical students in their third year doing their rotations in psychiatry. I remember ALL of their faces. So, I start badgering him and he finally realizes who I am. 15 minutes later, he is still struggling to get the IV in and I decide that maybe I should shut up and let him concentrate.
The whole time we're in there, there is noise, coming from behind a door in the room. Apparently, there is a bathroom there, and it's a shared bathroom with the next room, and whoever is in the next room is going in and out of it. ALOT. There was a small lull in our conversation, and what do you think happened during that moment? The sound - of farting. Loud and clear, the kind that sounds like you may have shit a little bit as you did it. And it echoed in that tiny shared bathroom. And that is when I started laughing. I couldn't contain myself. I'm sorry, but it was freakin' hilarious! BD started chuckling too, just as the anesthesia team came in the room.
The older of the two chicks was a med student of mine 4 years ago, the younger a med student of mine 4 months ago. Just BD's luck. I took over THAT conversation too. I caught the anesthesiologist resident saying something about people waking up during surgery or later remembering pieces of the surgery and I announced, whole heartedly, "That would be awesome!"
The surgeon, Dr. Young, popped in to check on his patient. He asked if I was staying, and I said no, "I'll call you when he's done. What's the number?" And I hesitated because he had nothing to write on. And I said the nurse had it. And he said he wanted it. So I gave it to him. And do you know where he wrote it? ON THE LEG OF HIS SCRUBS! This man is now my hero. I'm not sure how sanitary that is, but hey, he did it.
Eventually, the real anesthesia doc came in and apparently someone misplaced BD's chart. It took them about 10 minutes, but they finally found it and got ready to wheel him away. As I was leaning over to kiss BD, they turned on the first round of happy meds in the IV - the ones that make you not care about anything. BD says "Did you turn that medicine on already?" and smiles a big smile. I kiss him and follow him out of the room. As I'm exiting the door to the waiting area and he is wheeled toward the OR, I can hear him. "This is some groovy shit!" My god, I married a hippy!
I walked back up to Ms. Owens with the pager in my hand, smiled and handed it to her. "How do you think they're going to call you?" I smirked and said "Dr. Young wrote my number on his pants." and walked away happily. Ms. Owens was none too pleased. I don't give two shits!
Surgery went well, he's out and recovering. I'm going to go finish my lunch now and have a smoke until they call me and tell me I can see him. I hope Ms. Owens is there. I might bring her a cookie.
Super Snatch Saturday
At the request of Gary, seconded by Chrissy, today is Super Snatch Saturday! A celebration of my twat (and yours, if you have one!)
Somewhere in this story, I need to weave in a story of Jack in the bush.
And now, here it is, A Vaginal Celebration!
No one said it better than Phil Hartman on SNL, doing a skit about someone (I can't remember who) doing a book on tape voiceover for the Madonna book. "I like my vagina!" Perhaps that was an actual quote from the book, but I'm giving credit to Phil because he was a genius.
I was talking with Big Daddy last night and commented that I think that after having a baby, I could really care less who sees my snatch - meaning a nude beach doesn't frighten me any more. He didn't understand. And I explained it like this:
When a woman has a baby, a great number of people not only see her holiest of holies, but they put their hands and fingers in it. Any sense of modesty quickly disappears after the third or fourth person gets between your legs, inserts what feels like their entire arm and announces "4 cm!" I remember thinking "I know my vagina is small, but DAMN!"
And yes, I know they aren't talking about the size of the vaginal opening, but it sure does wonders for your ego!
Having said that, besides being a water slide for a baby coming into this world, my cooch (and yours) can be used for fun! All kinds of things can happen there. Your traditional sex with a penis, oral sex, sex with toys, vegetables, and kitchen utensils. Not to mention the wonders of detachable shower heads - but that's more for clitoral stimulation, now isn't it?
I personally prefer the Jack Rabbit. I've blogged about it many times and always try to throw in a not-so-veiled reference to it whenever I get the chance. I just believe that every woman should have one! AND if Gary ever runs for president, perhaps we'll get them free instead of campaign buttons. They could have some logo on it for the Party Party (if you've read Gary's blog, you understand this. If not, sucks to be you now, doesn't it?) ANYHOW, they could redesign the head of the unit to look like Gary. And his campaign speech can include something snappy like "A beer in every hand and my 'face' in every woman's crotch!"
Now here's where Chrissie's request comes in! Jack does not belong tucked in a drawer somewhere. He belongs in me. Setting 5 on the bottom rotating part and setting 4 or 5 on the rabbit ear piece (3rd setting if I want to achieve the big O in 4 or 5 seconds tops. ) To refresh your memory from my Toys 4 Us blog...
"With 7 speeds of shaft rotation (and beads at the base of the shaft for that extra special touch) its a great start. But it..s just that - just the start! Because the bunny ears also have 7 speeds. There..s the slow and steady (indicated by the green light), then a medium steady (yellow-orange light), and a high power steady (RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!!! OH GAWD THE RED LIGHT!!!). None of those doing it for you? The next setting alternates from slow to high in short rapid bursts. Or the next, slow-med-high-med-slow-med-high over and over and over again! Or perhaps you..d like what I dub the "Morse Code" setting: Dot-dot-dot-DAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHOHGOD!!!! And then there's the completely random one, where you don't know what's coming next! (But I'd be willing to bet its you!)"
You know what they say - a jack in the bush is worth 2 in your hand. No, that's not right either. A jack a day keeps the doctor away? Possible. All work and no play - THAT NEVER HAPPENS WITH JACK!!
In closing, I present you with my list of other things to call your vagina besides "vagina". Feel free to add to this list - I like expanding my vocabulary!
Snatch - My all time favorite
Cooch
Cooter
Twat
Holiest of holies
Love tunnel
Crotch
What do you want to call your snatch today?
Somewhere in this story, I need to weave in a story of Jack in the bush.
And now, here it is, A Vaginal Celebration!
No one said it better than Phil Hartman on SNL, doing a skit about someone (I can't remember who) doing a book on tape voiceover for the Madonna book. "I like my vagina!" Perhaps that was an actual quote from the book, but I'm giving credit to Phil because he was a genius.
I was talking with Big Daddy last night and commented that I think that after having a baby, I could really care less who sees my snatch - meaning a nude beach doesn't frighten me any more. He didn't understand. And I explained it like this:
When a woman has a baby, a great number of people not only see her holiest of holies, but they put their hands and fingers in it. Any sense of modesty quickly disappears after the third or fourth person gets between your legs, inserts what feels like their entire arm and announces "4 cm!" I remember thinking "I know my vagina is small, but DAMN!"
And yes, I know they aren't talking about the size of the vaginal opening, but it sure does wonders for your ego!
Having said that, besides being a water slide for a baby coming into this world, my cooch (and yours) can be used for fun! All kinds of things can happen there. Your traditional sex with a penis, oral sex, sex with toys, vegetables, and kitchen utensils. Not to mention the wonders of detachable shower heads - but that's more for clitoral stimulation, now isn't it?
I personally prefer the Jack Rabbit. I've blogged about it many times and always try to throw in a not-so-veiled reference to it whenever I get the chance. I just believe that every woman should have one! AND if Gary ever runs for president, perhaps we'll get them free instead of campaign buttons. They could have some logo on it for the Party Party (if you've read Gary's blog, you understand this. If not, sucks to be you now, doesn't it?) ANYHOW, they could redesign the head of the unit to look like Gary. And his campaign speech can include something snappy like "A beer in every hand and my 'face' in every woman's crotch!"
Now here's where Chrissie's request comes in! Jack does not belong tucked in a drawer somewhere. He belongs in me. Setting 5 on the bottom rotating part and setting 4 or 5 on the rabbit ear piece (3rd setting if I want to achieve the big O in 4 or 5 seconds tops. ) To refresh your memory from my Toys 4 Us blog...
"With 7 speeds of shaft rotation (and beads at the base of the shaft for that extra special touch) its a great start. But it..s just that - just the start! Because the bunny ears also have 7 speeds. There..s the slow and steady (indicated by the green light), then a medium steady (yellow-orange light), and a high power steady (RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!!! OH GAWD THE RED LIGHT!!!). None of those doing it for you? The next setting alternates from slow to high in short rapid bursts. Or the next, slow-med-high-med-slow-med-high over and over and over again! Or perhaps you..d like what I dub the "Morse Code" setting: Dot-dot-dot-DAAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHOHGOD!!!! And then there's the completely random one, where you don't know what's coming next! (But I'd be willing to bet its you!)"
You know what they say - a jack in the bush is worth 2 in your hand. No, that's not right either. A jack a day keeps the doctor away? Possible. All work and no play - THAT NEVER HAPPENS WITH JACK!!
In closing, I present you with my list of other things to call your vagina besides "vagina". Feel free to add to this list - I like expanding my vocabulary!
Snatch - My all time favorite
Cooch
Cooter
Twat
Holiest of holies
Love tunnel
Crotch
What do you want to call your snatch today?
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Kids say some crazy stuff!
Kids can be wildly funny. They can say things you never knew they knew. They can repeat every word you say, even when you’re certain they aren’t listening. They can make you laugh for reasons you can’t explain. If an adult did some of these things, you’d assume that they were mentally challenged.
I’ve inadvertently taught my son some unique phrases, body language and gestures. Here are some of my favorite examples:
While driving to the store the other day, four people in a row didn’t wait their turn so I was left sitting there. Had I been alone, something like “Get out of my way, cock” would have crossed my lips. However, knowing that I had the human voice recorder in the back seat, I didn’t say it. I said something else, equally disturbing when coming out of the mouth of a kid who is almost 3. He didn’t repeat it right away, and I was relieved that he didn’t pick it up. We pulled up to the stop sign behind another car, and JB looks up and yells, “Get out of the way, jerk off!”
Last night, Big Daddy and I were on the deck. JB comes out with half of a plastic egg on his head, wearing it like I hat. “You wear it Daddy” Big Daddy puts it on. Then, JB looks at him, smiles and says “Now work it!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
When walking into his child care provider’s house the other day, he was following so closely to me, hiding behind my back. I asked him what he was doing and he says “I’m crawling up your butt!”
There’s the amazingly cute things he says too like “Mommy, is your heart happy?” How could it not be when you have an angel’s face looking up at you, concerned that your heart might not be happy?
There was the crossed arms and angry stare he gave his stuffed animal, Pumba, when he put Pumba on a time-out with the harsh words “Do it again and you’ll have a big, fat time out!”
Then, there is his imaginary friend. This “friend” must’ve been keeping him up last night, as over an hour after putting him to bed I could hear him in his room. His friend, by the way, sounds like Danny Torrence’s finger when he talks. I couldn’t make out what his “friend” had said, but clear as day JB says “Now you leave me alone! I’m trying to sleep!”
There are countless Thomas & Friends episodes that he knows by heart, his favorite being the one with the song about accidents where “Gordon’s gonna crash the party house!” Gordon seems like my kind of guy!
And when he eats pretzel sticks, he’ll put two of him in his mouth, sticking out like walrus tusks and announce that he’s Spongebob and then says “Strange. Now, where’s my hat?”
One day, I’m certain that when I ask him why he doesn’t want to eat dinner, his standard response of “Because I don’t like food” will turn to “Because it tastes like ass.” At that moment, I’ll be the proudest mommy on the face of the earth. I’ll stand up and shout “That’s my son!” And then we’ll be asked to leave the restaurant.
Incidentally, I need to thank Lori. She turned me on. Wait – that’s not right. Or is it? Hmmm…anyhow, she turned me on to the “Day With Thomas” event. The closest one is about 5 hours from here in Pennsylvania. However, it is 2 days before JB’s 3rd birthday. I have to take him. The look on his face alone will be worth the 10 hours of driving. I saw they have the National Toy Train Museum up there. We’ll make it a whole weekend. And then, he doesn’t need a birthday party which he’s not going to appreciate anyhow. Doesn’t that sound exciting? Funny thing about that. When I saw all he’ll see and do right there with Thomas. I had tears in my eyes. I’m such a marshmallow today…all warm and squooshy.
Tomorrow is Bid Daddy’s surgery. So, if I don’t get to blogging, responding to messages, and the like, cut me some slack. And if you would be so kind, wish on a star, say a prayer, dance naked in the moonlight, masturbate to chamber music, sacrifice a goat, or whatever it is you do, in the name of Big Daddy for a successful surgery and quick recovery. And if you wind up doing the dancing, send me a video of it. I’ll need a smile tomorrow (and if you’re hot, and make the dance suggestive enough, possibly a chux pad or a towel!)
--------------------------------------------------------------
Totals from above the line:
Total number of words: 784
Exclamation points: 10
Ellipsis(es?):1
Dashes: 1
Parentheses: 1 set
Quotation marks: 16 sets
Words/phrases of the week appears in this blog 0 times
All time favorite words/phrases: 2
Words typed in all caps:0
Analysis: Get over yourself with the exclamation points already. At least the majority of your quotation marks were actually quotes. Way to go on not typing any words in all caps – that proves that you’re not a complete tard. And you really didn’t need those parentheses at the end of the blog. You just put them there because you are an excessive punctuator.
Note to self: make therapy appointment to discuss the meaning behind all the exclamation points. There must be a meaning there somewhere. Perhaps you see them as phallic symbols and you are a nympho. Worth exploring.
I’ve inadvertently taught my son some unique phrases, body language and gestures. Here are some of my favorite examples:
While driving to the store the other day, four people in a row didn’t wait their turn so I was left sitting there. Had I been alone, something like “Get out of my way, cock” would have crossed my lips. However, knowing that I had the human voice recorder in the back seat, I didn’t say it. I said something else, equally disturbing when coming out of the mouth of a kid who is almost 3. He didn’t repeat it right away, and I was relieved that he didn’t pick it up. We pulled up to the stop sign behind another car, and JB looks up and yells, “Get out of the way, jerk off!”
Last night, Big Daddy and I were on the deck. JB comes out with half of a plastic egg on his head, wearing it like I hat. “You wear it Daddy” Big Daddy puts it on. Then, JB looks at him, smiles and says “Now work it!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
When walking into his child care provider’s house the other day, he was following so closely to me, hiding behind my back. I asked him what he was doing and he says “I’m crawling up your butt!”
There’s the amazingly cute things he says too like “Mommy, is your heart happy?” How could it not be when you have an angel’s face looking up at you, concerned that your heart might not be happy?
There was the crossed arms and angry stare he gave his stuffed animal, Pumba, when he put Pumba on a time-out with the harsh words “Do it again and you’ll have a big, fat time out!”
Then, there is his imaginary friend. This “friend” must’ve been keeping him up last night, as over an hour after putting him to bed I could hear him in his room. His friend, by the way, sounds like Danny Torrence’s finger when he talks. I couldn’t make out what his “friend” had said, but clear as day JB says “Now you leave me alone! I’m trying to sleep!”
There are countless Thomas & Friends episodes that he knows by heart, his favorite being the one with the song about accidents where “Gordon’s gonna crash the party house!” Gordon seems like my kind of guy!
And when he eats pretzel sticks, he’ll put two of him in his mouth, sticking out like walrus tusks and announce that he’s Spongebob and then says “Strange. Now, where’s my hat?”
One day, I’m certain that when I ask him why he doesn’t want to eat dinner, his standard response of “Because I don’t like food” will turn to “Because it tastes like ass.” At that moment, I’ll be the proudest mommy on the face of the earth. I’ll stand up and shout “That’s my son!” And then we’ll be asked to leave the restaurant.
Incidentally, I need to thank Lori. She turned me on. Wait – that’s not right. Or is it? Hmmm…anyhow, she turned me on to the “Day With Thomas” event. The closest one is about 5 hours from here in Pennsylvania. However, it is 2 days before JB’s 3rd birthday. I have to take him. The look on his face alone will be worth the 10 hours of driving. I saw they have the National Toy Train Museum up there. We’ll make it a whole weekend. And then, he doesn’t need a birthday party which he’s not going to appreciate anyhow. Doesn’t that sound exciting? Funny thing about that. When I saw all he’ll see and do right there with Thomas. I had tears in my eyes. I’m such a marshmallow today…all warm and squooshy.
Tomorrow is Bid Daddy’s surgery. So, if I don’t get to blogging, responding to messages, and the like, cut me some slack. And if you would be so kind, wish on a star, say a prayer, dance naked in the moonlight, masturbate to chamber music, sacrifice a goat, or whatever it is you do, in the name of Big Daddy for a successful surgery and quick recovery. And if you wind up doing the dancing, send me a video of it. I’ll need a smile tomorrow (and if you’re hot, and make the dance suggestive enough, possibly a chux pad or a towel!)
--------------------------------------------------------------
Totals from above the line:
Total number of words: 784
Exclamation points: 10
Ellipsis(es?):1
Dashes: 1
Parentheses: 1 set
Quotation marks: 16 sets
Words/phrases of the week appears in this blog 0 times
All time favorite words/phrases: 2
Words typed in all caps:0
Analysis: Get over yourself with the exclamation points already. At least the majority of your quotation marks were actually quotes. Way to go on not typing any words in all caps – that proves that you’re not a complete tard. And you really didn’t need those parentheses at the end of the blog. You just put them there because you are an excessive punctuator.
Note to self: make therapy appointment to discuss the meaning behind all the exclamation points. There must be a meaning there somewhere. Perhaps you see them as phallic symbols and you are a nympho. Worth exploring.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
All over the place blog
Inspirational thoughts on a fine Tuesday morning.
I knew a girl named Nikki, I guess you could say she was a sex fiend. Wait – that's not inspirational. In fact, I have no inspiration for anyone, only desperation. THAT I can offer you by the droves.
I'm driving an old friend to work these days, let's call him "Kent." Now I've known "Kent" for nearly 9 years. He used to be designated as my "back-up husband" in case something ever went horribly wrong with mine. This was back in the day when I was insecure and couldn't imagine being alone – I always had to have one on the back burner. Usually, like "Kent", they were really cool people who would give me anything I wanted should I ask. "Kent" and I have some great conversations in the car. He does a dead on Jimmy Stewart impression and then sings Sex and Candy a la Jimmy. It's a hoot!
I have an uncle who is a super funny guy. He likes to tie one on and enjoys making people laugh. One particularly funny thing I remember about him was his behavior at my cousin's wedding several years ago. He reminded me of Will Ferrell's character, Frank, in "Old School". Uncle Jim had quite a few in him and after the meal was offering people Rolaids. He pulled the baggie out of his pocket. All of the Rolaids were crushed and it was mostly just tiny chunks and Rolaids dust. He actually got a spoon, and ate a bite, declaring "Hey, that's not so bad." He then began offering them to everyone, holding out the baggie and the spoon. When people would turn him down and walk away, he'd just shout after them "You'll be sorry later! You'll come looking for me, begging me for this baggie and this spoon!" while thrusting each up in the air at the appropriate moment. He looked like a drug dealer peddling his wares on the party crowd.
I work with a guy, who is a Republican. Let's call him "Doug". "Doug" always has a story to tell on just about any topic. You know this type: interesting stories, told in a funny way, very plausible sounding. HOWEVER, you just know that 95% of what is coming out of "Doug's" mouth is a load of shit. Some people are very good story tellers. Some people are too good at it. "Doug" is one of those people. Aside from his tirades on "There's no such thing as global warming. It's made up by liberals who have nothing better to do", he seems to be an ok guy and good for a laugh or two during my day. He's one of the few docs up here that don't drive me bat shit crazy.
Speaking of bat shit crazy, I'd like to give a shout at to those of you who read my blogs, yet never comment. It's nice to have you along for the ride. Jump on in any old time. It's not like I'm talking about rocket science here, so you've GOT to have something to add! And if you happen to be bat shit crazy, more power to you!
My favorite words and phrases this week: fucktard, jackhole, bat shit crazy.
My all time favorite words and phrases: "That tastes like ass!", Cock, and "EH! Wrong answer".
In closing, I'd like to share my latest mystery friend request. I love the ones with no pictures, no profile, just a friend request. And you go to their page and they have 2 or 3 friends, no one commenting. So, here it is – to add to my growing list of desperate friend-wanters:
Bill is a 45-year-old Leo from Chesterfield, VA. He doesn't want kids. And THAT is literally all I can tell you about him. So, go drop Bill a message. Let him know that the whole no profile thing and requesting to be someone's friend without so much as a "Hello" is really quite creepy. I should know – I read about serial killers ALL the time – it's my hobby! (Reading about them, not serial killing itself!) I have a suggestion for Bill - put up a picture of yourself, you jackhole! Try this one:
In an effort to pay attention to some of the more interesting aspects of my writing, I've decided to keep a tally of how many times I use certain things in a post. Just ignore it, it's for me, not you.
-------------------------------------------
Totals from above the line:
Total number of words: 750
Exclamation points: 9
Ellipsis(es?): 0
Dashes: 9
Parentheses: 1 set
Quotation marks: 16 sets
Words/phrases of the week appears in this blog 8 times
All time favorite words/phrases: only once each (total of 3), when I tell them what they are
Words typed in all caps: 6
Analysis: Try harder to use less exclamation points, or else people may mistake you for a fucktard with a bubbly-personality. Dashes are bad – stay away from them. You use them too much. Too many quotation marks without actually quoting anyone. Stop typing words in all caps. Use your favorite words and phrases more often, or they may not realize that they truly are your favorites. They're likely to think you're bat shit crazy, you fucktarded jackhole.
Side Note: Don't order the Santa Fe chicken ever again. Remember that it tastes like ass.
Monday, October 16, 2006
4 Relationship Lessons
I carry around a lot of anger and bad feelings about my ex-boyfriends. I need to let it go, I know, but I just can’t seem to do that. I learned some very valuable life lessons from each of these jackholes. It might not make me let go of the anger, but it’s always fun to bad mouth the bastards who have helped turn me into the bitter woman I am today. I won’t name them all, just the memorable ones. It’ll be fun. Maybe not for you, but I will have a blast!
Ass #1. Steve.
My first real boyfriend. Big fucking loser, if ever there was one. He worked at a gas station. I thought he was dreamy. Until I found out that the 19 year old scum bag was banging a 14 year old slut bag. I was 16 at the time, not willing to give it up just yet. I guess he got what he wanted from her. Looking back, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone today told me he was gay. He was very feminine, even for the 80’s.
Lesson learned: 19 year old boys who don’t ever pressure you for sex are either gay or getting it from someone else.
Ass #2. That would have to be Chris.
I lost a friend over him. We both liked him at the same time, and did anything we could to get him. He was a liar, a cheat and a user. I was young and stupid, he claimed he was in some trouble with Johnny Law and needed help. I borrowed money from my friends to give it to him. I was a retard. After giving him nearly $300, which to a 17 year old with no job is an awful lot of money, he ditched me. Years later, I was talking to some friends and apparently around the same time I was giving him all the money I could find to keep him out of trouble, he was dicking the friend I lost over him. He got $500 out of her.
Lesson learned: Don’t ever give a man money to get him out of “trouble” unless you’ve got something more invested in him than your pride, AND you’ve got the proof that he truly is in trouble.
Ass #3. Roger.
What can I say about Roger? Balding, uneducated, pot head, suicidal & slightly homicidal cock. And that may be far too nice of a thing to say about him. The only GOOD thing I can say about Roger was that he had a Harley and I loved going for rides. Everything else, bad. He was abusive in every sense of the word. One time, I’d had enough and hit HIM with a frying pan, right upside the head. Like a dumb ass, I went back. In the end, it was my good friend Jack Daniels that helped me get out of it. Well, Jack and a car full of guys from my college dorm who helped me get my stuff. I remember the last time I saw Roger. He was sitting on the floor in his apartment, unsure of what happened. His roommate punched him in the face as I was gathering the last of my things. Apparently, Roger thought if I was going to leave, he’d shoot me and went to the closet to get his hunting rifle. He later called me and told me he was going to kill himself if I didn't come back. I think I said something snappy like "OK, have a good time." I remember hanging up and calling the police to report the suicidal maniac. I don't know how that all went down, but his Mommy left menacing messages on my answering machine asking how I could have her son locked up. I'm guessing nuthouse, though I may never know.
Lesson learned: Any man who hits a woman is a prick. Don’t put up with it. Fight back. Never allow anyone to treat you with anything but respect. Sure, it may be hard to leave and you may be scared, but it’s not the kind of life anyone was meant to live. It doesn't get better. People like that don't change.
Ass #4. Mike. The last before I met Big Daddy. He was just sort of a big dork. I probably could have left him off of this list, except for the 2 things he did as the relationship came to a close. First, he slept with the one friend I had that I confided in about my desire to end it. That, in and of itself is some kind of perverted justice. Paulette had a baby with an African American man several years before. Mike’s parents were VERY Catholic and quite racist. I hear Mike and Paulette got married. I wonder how his mom feels about her acquired grandson. The second thing he did was screw me over monetarily. We had lived together and when I moved out, it was the middle of December. In Wisconsin. The gas bill was in my name, and I couldn’t stand the thought of turning it off on the guy (this, of course was before I knew he was hitting it with Paulette or I’d have let the jerk off freeze.) He was supposed to pay the bill and I was having it turned off in one month. I got that bill for the last month forwarded to me in Virgina. $468. Not sure what he did to get the gas bill that high, but he did it. Perhaps it was the final screw that he'd been yearning to give me. I’ve never seen a penny of that money. Rat bastard.
Lesson learned: Let the assholes in your life freeze or figure it out on their own. They’re sleeping with your friends anyhow and karma will kick them in the ass for you.
So, there you have it. The 4 biggest pain in the ass relationships I’ve ever had. The majority of my relationships have an element of cheating bastard in them - don't all good love stories? I was such a young, stupid, moronic girl. I couldn’t see that no one deserves anything less than personal happiness, security and love. And that is when I began making sure what I wanted and needed in a relationship was what I got. I’m very lucky because I have found that perfect balance in Jerry. He never asks for more than I am willing to give, and there’s never anything he’s not willing to do for me.
Lesson learned: My husband rules. And here’s something for you ladies to be jealous of: he never farts in my presence. I’m so damn lucky.
Ass #1. Steve.
My first real boyfriend. Big fucking loser, if ever there was one. He worked at a gas station. I thought he was dreamy. Until I found out that the 19 year old scum bag was banging a 14 year old slut bag. I was 16 at the time, not willing to give it up just yet. I guess he got what he wanted from her. Looking back, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone today told me he was gay. He was very feminine, even for the 80’s.
Lesson learned: 19 year old boys who don’t ever pressure you for sex are either gay or getting it from someone else.
Ass #2. That would have to be Chris.
I lost a friend over him. We both liked him at the same time, and did anything we could to get him. He was a liar, a cheat and a user. I was young and stupid, he claimed he was in some trouble with Johnny Law and needed help. I borrowed money from my friends to give it to him. I was a retard. After giving him nearly $300, which to a 17 year old with no job is an awful lot of money, he ditched me. Years later, I was talking to some friends and apparently around the same time I was giving him all the money I could find to keep him out of trouble, he was dicking the friend I lost over him. He got $500 out of her.
Lesson learned: Don’t ever give a man money to get him out of “trouble” unless you’ve got something more invested in him than your pride, AND you’ve got the proof that he truly is in trouble.
Ass #3. Roger.
What can I say about Roger? Balding, uneducated, pot head, suicidal & slightly homicidal cock. And that may be far too nice of a thing to say about him. The only GOOD thing I can say about Roger was that he had a Harley and I loved going for rides. Everything else, bad. He was abusive in every sense of the word. One time, I’d had enough and hit HIM with a frying pan, right upside the head. Like a dumb ass, I went back. In the end, it was my good friend Jack Daniels that helped me get out of it. Well, Jack and a car full of guys from my college dorm who helped me get my stuff. I remember the last time I saw Roger. He was sitting on the floor in his apartment, unsure of what happened. His roommate punched him in the face as I was gathering the last of my things. Apparently, Roger thought if I was going to leave, he’d shoot me and went to the closet to get his hunting rifle. He later called me and told me he was going to kill himself if I didn't come back. I think I said something snappy like "OK, have a good time." I remember hanging up and calling the police to report the suicidal maniac. I don't know how that all went down, but his Mommy left menacing messages on my answering machine asking how I could have her son locked up. I'm guessing nuthouse, though I may never know.
Lesson learned: Any man who hits a woman is a prick. Don’t put up with it. Fight back. Never allow anyone to treat you with anything but respect. Sure, it may be hard to leave and you may be scared, but it’s not the kind of life anyone was meant to live. It doesn't get better. People like that don't change.
Ass #4. Mike. The last before I met Big Daddy. He was just sort of a big dork. I probably could have left him off of this list, except for the 2 things he did as the relationship came to a close. First, he slept with the one friend I had that I confided in about my desire to end it. That, in and of itself is some kind of perverted justice. Paulette had a baby with an African American man several years before. Mike’s parents were VERY Catholic and quite racist. I hear Mike and Paulette got married. I wonder how his mom feels about her acquired grandson. The second thing he did was screw me over monetarily. We had lived together and when I moved out, it was the middle of December. In Wisconsin. The gas bill was in my name, and I couldn’t stand the thought of turning it off on the guy (this, of course was before I knew he was hitting it with Paulette or I’d have let the jerk off freeze.) He was supposed to pay the bill and I was having it turned off in one month. I got that bill for the last month forwarded to me in Virgina. $468. Not sure what he did to get the gas bill that high, but he did it. Perhaps it was the final screw that he'd been yearning to give me. I’ve never seen a penny of that money. Rat bastard.
Lesson learned: Let the assholes in your life freeze or figure it out on their own. They’re sleeping with your friends anyhow and karma will kick them in the ass for you.
So, there you have it. The 4 biggest pain in the ass relationships I’ve ever had. The majority of my relationships have an element of cheating bastard in them - don't all good love stories? I was such a young, stupid, moronic girl. I couldn’t see that no one deserves anything less than personal happiness, security and love. And that is when I began making sure what I wanted and needed in a relationship was what I got. I’m very lucky because I have found that perfect balance in Jerry. He never asks for more than I am willing to give, and there’s never anything he’s not willing to do for me.
Lesson learned: My husband rules. And here’s something for you ladies to be jealous of: he never farts in my presence. I’m so damn lucky.
Goin' to the Moon
DISCLAIMER: I don't have time to spell check, so forgive my spelling errors today. I've only had one cup of coffee as the demon child doesn't want me to enjoy myself today.
So, after the girl-on-girl action blog, I figured I should do something to prove my heterosexuality to the masses. So, here it is: I'm heterosexual to the fullest extent of the law. Really. I am.
OK, enough of that. On to bigger and better things. 10 things I would take with me if I were going to the moon.
1. Jack Rabbit. Self explanatory. I need to have him with me. He is my best friend in all the land (sorry Kristin!) No one and nothing can do the things to me that he can. So, assuming I cannot take a living creature (like my husband) I'm taking Jack!
2. TONS of batteries. Jack needs them to survive. I need Jack to survive. I wonder how the lack of gravity will effect the life of batteries.
3. Pictures of my family. When I get lonely, I'll whip them out and think back on good times. And I'll miss them terribly. And I'll get all teary eyed. And then I'll need a distraction. Good thing I'll have brought along number 4...
4. A giant book of logic problems. I can't get enough of these little beauties. Hours of fun, plus they keep my brain sharp as a tack - or perhaps, it keeps it from being idle. Then again, an idle brain generally leads to masturbation or sex for me and I would have Jack. But too much of a good thing can be over stimulating. Although I'm not sure if being over stimulated by Jack is a bad thing!
5. My meds. Unfortunately, I can't go anywhere without these. It's a reality I'm stuck with and even when going to the moon, I would have to be aware of my limitations.
6. My Makeup bag. Because even though I'll have that giant fishbowl on my head half of the time, I'll still want to look decent underneath it. Have to at least have foundation. Some lipstick would be nice.
7. Spray gel for my hair. No one needs to be round me without it when I have my 70's 'fro going.
8. A blanket. Even when it's 95 outside, I need a blanket. I like to curl up under a blanket in the mornings and at night before I go to bed. It makes me feel cozy.
9. Coffee. Not even the moon can get in the way of me and my coffee. If it tries, I'll shoot it. Coffee is a must. Coffee is my lifeblood. Coffee is good.
10. Now I can only take one more thing. And there are lots of things I still haven't packed. There's no article of clothing I can't live without, even though my new jeans are slammin' and make my ass look hot. I've ordered the egg (thanks Meagan!) and may have 3 of them coming - damn internet - but I don't know how that'll work for me yet. I'm assuming there will already be a radio and a tv for news and some way to access the internet, so I don't need to take any of that. If those things aren't offered, I'll take an ipod instead of number .4 and hope they have a place to plug it in to charge. I can't take a cell phone, I'm sure that's out of area. So the last thing I would take would be a camera. So I can take nudie pictures of myself & my companions on the moon and post them in my blog. It'll be just like you're there with me. And yes, I really would take nudie pictures up there. I can blame it all on space dementia and no one will be any wiser. Except for you. Because you've read my list. And now, I'll have to kill you.
What can't you live without?
So, after the girl-on-girl action blog, I figured I should do something to prove my heterosexuality to the masses. So, here it is: I'm heterosexual to the fullest extent of the law. Really. I am.
OK, enough of that. On to bigger and better things. 10 things I would take with me if I were going to the moon.
1. Jack Rabbit. Self explanatory. I need to have him with me. He is my best friend in all the land (sorry Kristin!) No one and nothing can do the things to me that he can. So, assuming I cannot take a living creature (like my husband) I'm taking Jack!
2. TONS of batteries. Jack needs them to survive. I need Jack to survive. I wonder how the lack of gravity will effect the life of batteries.
3. Pictures of my family. When I get lonely, I'll whip them out and think back on good times. And I'll miss them terribly. And I'll get all teary eyed. And then I'll need a distraction. Good thing I'll have brought along number 4...
4. A giant book of logic problems. I can't get enough of these little beauties. Hours of fun, plus they keep my brain sharp as a tack - or perhaps, it keeps it from being idle. Then again, an idle brain generally leads to masturbation or sex for me and I would have Jack. But too much of a good thing can be over stimulating. Although I'm not sure if being over stimulated by Jack is a bad thing!
5. My meds. Unfortunately, I can't go anywhere without these. It's a reality I'm stuck with and even when going to the moon, I would have to be aware of my limitations.
6. My Makeup bag. Because even though I'll have that giant fishbowl on my head half of the time, I'll still want to look decent underneath it. Have to at least have foundation. Some lipstick would be nice.
7. Spray gel for my hair. No one needs to be round me without it when I have my 70's 'fro going.
8. A blanket. Even when it's 95 outside, I need a blanket. I like to curl up under a blanket in the mornings and at night before I go to bed. It makes me feel cozy.
9. Coffee. Not even the moon can get in the way of me and my coffee. If it tries, I'll shoot it. Coffee is a must. Coffee is my lifeblood. Coffee is good.
10. Now I can only take one more thing. And there are lots of things I still haven't packed. There's no article of clothing I can't live without, even though my new jeans are slammin' and make my ass look hot. I've ordered the egg (thanks Meagan!) and may have 3 of them coming - damn internet - but I don't know how that'll work for me yet. I'm assuming there will already be a radio and a tv for news and some way to access the internet, so I don't need to take any of that. If those things aren't offered, I'll take an ipod instead of number .4 and hope they have a place to plug it in to charge. I can't take a cell phone, I'm sure that's out of area. So the last thing I would take would be a camera. So I can take nudie pictures of myself & my companions on the moon and post them in my blog. It'll be just like you're there with me. And yes, I really would take nudie pictures up there. I can blame it all on space dementia and no one will be any wiser. Except for you. Because you've read my list. And now, I'll have to kill you.
What can't you live without?
Girl-on-Girl Action
It's the weekend, and no one is happier about it than yours truly. I've got nothing big planned for the weekend, except trying to finish outdoor Halloween decorating. Perfect fall weather for it, too!
Now, on to the heart of the matter: Girl on girl action! The majority of the men I know would like nothing better than to see their woman in action, with another woman. There's no jealousy factor there, unless they can't watch. And, I know this is just a man thing because no woman I know wants to watch her man get it on with another man. It's one of those things that we just assume would be relationship ending. We'd wish them well with their new boyfriend and be done with it. Men, on the other hand would relish the experience of watching their woman and another chick go at it, and request that it goes on again and again and again.
It seems though that this goes far beyond the realm of men like to watch girl on girl action. Most women I know, when given a choice would prefer to watch girl on girl over guy on guy. Or even girl on girl on guy action is acceptable in this realm. It's the straight up homosexual male porn that people are queasy about. I think I know the answer, but need you all to confirm or deny my thoughts. Here goes:
Women are beautiful. We have natural curves that resemble fine art. Men are gross. They have appendages hanging off of them that aren't overly attractive. Sorry guys, but when flaccid, your penis does nothing for us. It looks like a really bad skin tag that should just be cut off. And your scrotum? HA! Shriveled walnuts in the shell. A woman, on the other hand has tender folds of skin, a lima bean pleasure center that's tucked inside a nice little hoodie. Nothing gross and hanging about it!
Pubic hair: Men have a couple of choices: shave it, trim it, leave it look like a chia pet surrounding a sad little cactus. Women on the other hand can go the natural look - 70's porn style. We can clear the brush and go with the smooth surfboard look. We can trim it short, to resemble a finely groomed lawn. We can leave ourselves with a landing strip. We can do anything we imagine with it and it will look stunning.
Women have beautiful breasts, all different shapes, colors, and sizes. Round and firm, some pointier than others. Some large, some small, all beautiful. Some perky, some firm. The areolas are another fine example of the uniqueness of a woman's breasts. Some large, some small. Some perfectly circular, others appearing to have ruffled edges. Men have nipples. Alone, nipples are nothing special. EVERYONE has them. But when paired with the contours, colors and shapes of a woman's hooter, they take on a whole life of their own. Of course, some men have moobs (man boobs) but they're not attractive at all.
So, with these things as my supporting documentation, I will stand firm in my belief that guy-on-guy porn is not for the masses. Girl-on-girl however is. Because you're watching works of art in action. It's not my chosen lifestyle, but I can understand and appreciate it. I can accept that some guys like guys, to each his own, but I'd rather not see it in all it's glory. It also supports my theory that women rock more than men!
So my question for you is this: If you were going to watch porn, are you picking the one with the high girl on girl content or the one with high guy on guy content? I bet I know. It'd be the same choice I'd make. Girl on girl. And now, everyone should go masturbate to this post and indulge in some of your fantasies today!
Now, on to the heart of the matter: Girl on girl action! The majority of the men I know would like nothing better than to see their woman in action, with another woman. There's no jealousy factor there, unless they can't watch. And, I know this is just a man thing because no woman I know wants to watch her man get it on with another man. It's one of those things that we just assume would be relationship ending. We'd wish them well with their new boyfriend and be done with it. Men, on the other hand would relish the experience of watching their woman and another chick go at it, and request that it goes on again and again and again.
It seems though that this goes far beyond the realm of men like to watch girl on girl action. Most women I know, when given a choice would prefer to watch girl on girl over guy on guy. Or even girl on girl on guy action is acceptable in this realm. It's the straight up homosexual male porn that people are queasy about. I think I know the answer, but need you all to confirm or deny my thoughts. Here goes:
Women are beautiful. We have natural curves that resemble fine art. Men are gross. They have appendages hanging off of them that aren't overly attractive. Sorry guys, but when flaccid, your penis does nothing for us. It looks like a really bad skin tag that should just be cut off. And your scrotum? HA! Shriveled walnuts in the shell. A woman, on the other hand has tender folds of skin, a lima bean pleasure center that's tucked inside a nice little hoodie. Nothing gross and hanging about it!
Pubic hair: Men have a couple of choices: shave it, trim it, leave it look like a chia pet surrounding a sad little cactus. Women on the other hand can go the natural look - 70's porn style. We can clear the brush and go with the smooth surfboard look. We can trim it short, to resemble a finely groomed lawn. We can leave ourselves with a landing strip. We can do anything we imagine with it and it will look stunning.
Women have beautiful breasts, all different shapes, colors, and sizes. Round and firm, some pointier than others. Some large, some small, all beautiful. Some perky, some firm. The areolas are another fine example of the uniqueness of a woman's breasts. Some large, some small. Some perfectly circular, others appearing to have ruffled edges. Men have nipples. Alone, nipples are nothing special. EVERYONE has them. But when paired with the contours, colors and shapes of a woman's hooter, they take on a whole life of their own. Of course, some men have moobs (man boobs) but they're not attractive at all.
So, with these things as my supporting documentation, I will stand firm in my belief that guy-on-guy porn is not for the masses. Girl-on-girl however is. Because you're watching works of art in action. It's not my chosen lifestyle, but I can understand and appreciate it. I can accept that some guys like guys, to each his own, but I'd rather not see it in all it's glory. It also supports my theory that women rock more than men!
So my question for you is this: If you were going to watch porn, are you picking the one with the high girl on girl content or the one with high guy on guy content? I bet I know. It'd be the same choice I'd make. Girl on girl. And now, everyone should go masturbate to this post and indulge in some of your fantasies today!
Friday, October 13, 2006
Psycho Family Values
And now for something completely different! All about my family (like you care). I make mention of them here and there, and you should know who these wackos are that call me "honey" or "mommy", "Kim" or even "whore".
First, there's Big Daddy
Big Daddy (BD for short) is my one, my only, my sex kitten. He's good guy, even if he doesn't know it all the time. He saved me from a life of mild summers, cold winters, snow shoveling, and a huge ass due to cheese and beer (I'm from Wisconsin). He's younger than me and he doesn't let me forget it, especially from February - April when he can tell everyone I'm 2 years older than he is. He's done some pretty incredible things for me, and I only hope that I can do some incredible things for him. Wait just a minute...hope is not the right word. I KNOW I DO!! I've endured lock jaw, lips falling asleep and a hands full of olive oil to keep him happy. He's about to have surgery on his lower back for a herniated disk. I'm not looking forward to the recovery period (men can be such babies!) but I am looking forward to having him back to his old self and pain free. He's really much more fun that way - more useful too! We actually, technically, met on the internet, but just as friends. We all used to chat and I came to Virginia once for a vacation and met up with his brother. BD decided to hang out with us for the weekend. We spent that entire first weekend together, then were apart for Christmas. I came to visit a couple more times, and I always knew I'd move here for him. I was supposed to move in April, that was the plan. But, Valentine's Day came, I was coming for a
surprise visit. I couldn't go home again. So, we had a party and burned the plane tickets home and that was that. We've been together now for nearly 9 years, 6 of them married. I remember the day he proposed to me - I thought he was breaking up with me. He sat down next to me on the couch and looked me in the eye and asked if I was really happy here with him. I thought "Holy Shit! I'm 1,000 miles from home and no way to get back. At least the bastard has the sense to do it on the day I'm picking up my visiting friend from the airport. He probably wants her to help me pack!"
Then, there's JB.
My little angel who I struggled so hard to get - an ectopic pregnancy and a miscarriage - then POOF! Now that I have him, I can't imagine life without him, nor what I did with my time before he was here. He's my miracle Clomid baby! He'll be 3 in December and my goal before I turn 36 in February is to get him to use the potty. Right now, he is more interested in sending me & everyone else away when he's pooping. He'll just yell "GO AWAY" when he's doing his business. And just like a man, you can't reason with him. I've tried to convince him that if he knows what he's doing, then he should do it on the potty, but it seems to terrify him. He's really a very funny kid, and has quite the wild imagination. I have no idea where he learns some things. Example: when smiling for a camera, he yells "FISH COOKIES!" I don't know what that means, but it produces great smiles, so I'll go with it. He's recently discovered that he has nipples. He also discovered that Mommy has them and that hers are "big". You gotta love the perspective of an innocent child! He also has incredible hearing. I have said things under my breath that I was so sure he couldn't hear, only to have it repeated. My favorite was the halloween costume incident, where I asked him if he liked a certain costume. He said no. Under my breath I said "that's because it's gay looking." Big Daddy asks him about another one and he says "No, that's gay looking!"
My step-son, The Brain.
He just turned 12 and is so much fun right now, words can't describe it. He's super smart and is in advanced classes in school. We're so very proud of him. He, too, is a funny kid. His sense of humor is very adult and far too advanced for the kids he goes to school with - we've had the parent/teacher conferences to prove it. Some of my favorite memories of him: When he was about 5, I was in the kitchen and he said to me "Hey, your butt isn't as big as my mom's". BD and I got married when he was almost 6, and when he saw me in my dress with the train down, he said "I think that dress is too big for you!" More recent good memory, while out shopping for Father's Day, he educated me on some lingo of the time. He says "What would it mean if I said a girl was "on the grill?" I didn't know. He said it meant she was hot. There was a woman sitting on a bench outside as we were driving past, and she was nice looking, so I said "Is she on the grill?" and he says "Awwww, yeah!" And we laughed. Then I tried to say some guy was on the grill and was informed that only girls can be on the grill. When I asked him what a hot guy would be he says "I dunno... maybe in the toaster?" I love that kid! Hopefully soon, he'll be living with us instead of playing house on the weekends. Then, I'll have someone else to boss around and my relationship with BD will get even better!
The fat, poop-eating black lab Aeli.
She freaks out during thunder storms and has to be calmed down with Amitriptyline. It also helps if you build her a tent to sleep in when this occurs. She's been known to "do the butt thing" when getting her nails clipped at the vet. You know, that wonderful expressing of the anal glands that smells so wonderful? We clip her nails at home now.
There's the epileptic tri-collie, Timber.
Because he has a penchant for walking into things (like walls) or running into a room, trying to stop and just sort of slides in, he's been nicknamed Kramer by my father on one of his rare visits. Have you ever looked into the eyes of a dog and literally seen nothing? That's looking into Timber's eyes.
And of course, there's Chloe, the money-eating collie.
Chloe cost us a fortune after a Super Bowl party - the year I FINALLY managed to beat the pants off of everyone playing poker. She ate change. 112 coins to be exact. $2.38. While I was driving her to the emergency vet that morning at bout 3 am, we came to a toll booth. I couldn't find any money. I looked at Chloe and said "Cough it up!" Wouldn't that have been a great story if I had fished change out of her puke to pay the toll? Too bad I found some change in the cup holder. Oh well, they can't all be good stories. $3800 later, we got our dog back (and a baggie full of change!)
I've also mentioned The Brain's dog, Pixel the wiener dog. (See above, pictured with The Brain.) She's a sweet girl, and such a tiny little thing. I love them all and they mean the world to me. Because they are so much a part of my life, you may hear more about them!
Then there's a chick who I am not related to, but I FEEL like I am.
She's my best girlfriend, more like a sister than anything, Kristin. I met her at work, and really didn't like her, until she stopped in my office one day and said she'd like to smell my flower. At that point, I knew she was just as sick as I am and that we would be great friends. People on MySpace know her as Kris or Nancy Drew. Her family calls her Krissy. But to me, she's Kristin, or whore. I've told her that when I call her whore, it's not a bad thing as I use that and the term "good friend" interchangeably. She's a wonderful person who has a heart of gold. I have no doubts that if I'm ever in need of anything whatsoever, she'll be right there for me. I know she has said if I needed her to, she'd wipe my ass for me. I love that whore!
Then, there's Trish the Dish.
Whoops! Wrong picture - sorry Gangsta Bitch! Try this one...
Mother of my niece. Betrothed to my brother-in-law. She's my "project girl", in that I'm working on molding her to be an exact replica of myself. She's funny, sweet and a riot to be around. And she totally gets the fact that my word is golden and should be taken seriously and not with a grain of salt. If I say it, it must be so. I like her. I love her. I need some more of her! Seriously though, I've seen her with my niece (who I call Booberry when no one is listening) and she's a fantastic mommy, even if she's not sure of it at times. She couldn't be a better mommy - well, unless she was me of course!
Let's see...if you've read old blogs, you know about Jack, my best non-living friend in the whole world. The day Jack's motor burns out, I'll be a sad little girl.
Anyhow, that's my life, my family and the people closest to me. Tomorrow, we'll delve into what it's like to drive a minivan that has a mind of it's own, sort of like "Christine", but instead of wanting to keep you inside of it, it wants you to get the fuck out. Good times. Or maybe we'll talk about things I say in my sleep - that's always fun! Unless you have a better suggestion.
I need coffee. Massive amounts. Can I get an IV please?
My compliments to the naked people!
I would like to go to a nude beach sometime. I’d like to walk up to random people and compliment them. Not your average compliment, but something they may never hear but that would be totally appropriate in this setting. Things like:
For the guys:
I love the way your nut sack hangs!
Kudos on your lack of ass hair!
I love the way your pecker curves to the right!
Your taint is nice and shiny!
For the ladies:
I appreciate the texture of your no-no hole!
I enjoy the size of your areolas!
Your vulva is immaculate!
I love the way you’ve trimmed your pubes!
I would hope as I made my way out of the nude beach that I had made at least one person’s day. And perhaps, I will motivate them to compliment me on my stunning labia.
Have you complimented a naked person today? You should. How will YOU compliment him or her?
For the guys:
I love the way your nut sack hangs!
Kudos on your lack of ass hair!
I love the way your pecker curves to the right!
Your taint is nice and shiny!
For the ladies:
I appreciate the texture of your no-no hole!
I enjoy the size of your areolas!
Your vulva is immaculate!
I love the way you’ve trimmed your pubes!
I would hope as I made my way out of the nude beach that I had made at least one person’s day. And perhaps, I will motivate them to compliment me on my stunning labia.
Have you complimented a naked person today? You should. How will YOU compliment him or her?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Elephants have it rough
To all men who whine about the possibility of a vasectomy (or having had one), be grateful you aren’t an elephant! You should know that "elephants are the size of semi-trucks, and their testicles — the size of a "respectable cantaloupe — are behind 2 inches of skin, a foot of muscle and 4 inches of fat." This from a vet, so you know it's true! Therefore:
Yes, that is a 5 foot rod, used to give an elephant a vasectomy. I don’t want to know the details about it, I really don’t. I just find it fascinating. I’d like to see the speculum used to give an elephant a pap smear!
On to other, more important things:
I have very unique relationships with the majority of my doctors. This is a good thing, because I also have some very unique problems. My favorite doctor is my OB/GYN. He is simply awesome. We chit chat and joke around a lot when I’m in there. It may border on inappropriate, but when a man has stuck his hands all up in you, I think you can pretty much dispense with the formality. I remember when I went to have my IUD put in. At one point, legs up in the stirrups, I look in his general direction and all I can see is the top of his head between my knees. He comes up for air, holding 2 very long strings – apparently, they’re attached to the IUD and need to be cut off. But he says, “Hey, what do you say I leave ‘em this long and you go to Jamaica! You can probably get them braided of have them put beads on them or something exciting!” We had a good laugh over that one – still do when I go for my yearly.
One other time, about 3 weeks after my yearly I had to go back because I was having pain. He had a student Physician’s Assistant with him for the exam. He does his thing, looks at her and says “What should we do next?” She mentions something about “going in rectally” and his response was priceless. He says “Normally, yes, but she’s way too nice of a person and besides, I was just in there not long ago.” And I said something witty (well as witty as you can get with your legs up in stirrups and a cold, metal duck-bill rammed in your snatch holding you open for whatever traffic needs to get through there). I said “Yeah, you’re the best!” Now, I meant that as a “thanks for not violating my anus again” but thought it must’ve sounded like “Yeah, and you were so good at it!” The PA left the room after that. I think she was pissed she didn’t get to ram her finger up my ass.
On the opposite side of the spectrum would be my Neurologist who is a prick and a half. He’s been known to say things to me like “You have MS, what did you expect?” when I’ve called with a new symptom and wanting to know if I needed to do anything about it. The scary part is, he looks like a super short Dick Cheney. And he’s in charge of my brain? GREAT! He’s a smart man, and I hear one of the best neurologists in the state if you have MS, but his bedside manner sucks dick. And being that I’m not a guy, that’s not really all that helpful to me.
And speaking of sucking dick, why is it that when something is really crappy we say it sucks dick? Why can’t we say things like “his bedside manner really licks my snatch!”? And isn’t sucking dick supposed to be a good thing? So, that would mean he’s got a good bedside manner, yes? We’re so stupid sometimes in the things we say. Say what you mean, dammit! “His bedside manner is like having someone take a crap in your mouth.” Now that’s something I could understand, because having someone take a crap in my mouth must certainly suck giant elephant penis –with a 5 foot rod shoved up it.
Yes, that is a 5 foot rod, used to give an elephant a vasectomy. I don’t want to know the details about it, I really don’t. I just find it fascinating. I’d like to see the speculum used to give an elephant a pap smear!
On to other, more important things:
I have very unique relationships with the majority of my doctors. This is a good thing, because I also have some very unique problems. My favorite doctor is my OB/GYN. He is simply awesome. We chit chat and joke around a lot when I’m in there. It may border on inappropriate, but when a man has stuck his hands all up in you, I think you can pretty much dispense with the formality. I remember when I went to have my IUD put in. At one point, legs up in the stirrups, I look in his general direction and all I can see is the top of his head between my knees. He comes up for air, holding 2 very long strings – apparently, they’re attached to the IUD and need to be cut off. But he says, “Hey, what do you say I leave ‘em this long and you go to Jamaica! You can probably get them braided of have them put beads on them or something exciting!” We had a good laugh over that one – still do when I go for my yearly.
One other time, about 3 weeks after my yearly I had to go back because I was having pain. He had a student Physician’s Assistant with him for the exam. He does his thing, looks at her and says “What should we do next?” She mentions something about “going in rectally” and his response was priceless. He says “Normally, yes, but she’s way too nice of a person and besides, I was just in there not long ago.” And I said something witty (well as witty as you can get with your legs up in stirrups and a cold, metal duck-bill rammed in your snatch holding you open for whatever traffic needs to get through there). I said “Yeah, you’re the best!” Now, I meant that as a “thanks for not violating my anus again” but thought it must’ve sounded like “Yeah, and you were so good at it!” The PA left the room after that. I think she was pissed she didn’t get to ram her finger up my ass.
On the opposite side of the spectrum would be my Neurologist who is a prick and a half. He’s been known to say things to me like “You have MS, what did you expect?” when I’ve called with a new symptom and wanting to know if I needed to do anything about it. The scary part is, he looks like a super short Dick Cheney. And he’s in charge of my brain? GREAT! He’s a smart man, and I hear one of the best neurologists in the state if you have MS, but his bedside manner sucks dick. And being that I’m not a guy, that’s not really all that helpful to me.
And speaking of sucking dick, why is it that when something is really crappy we say it sucks dick? Why can’t we say things like “his bedside manner really licks my snatch!”? And isn’t sucking dick supposed to be a good thing? So, that would mean he’s got a good bedside manner, yes? We’re so stupid sometimes in the things we say. Say what you mean, dammit! “His bedside manner is like having someone take a crap in your mouth.” Now that’s something I could understand, because having someone take a crap in my mouth must certainly suck giant elephant penis –with a 5 foot rod shoved up it.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Yes, even YOU have a choice!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I got up this morning and realized something – If I were in a dominant-submissive relationship, I would SO be the Dom! Must be because of my slave status at work and my “mom-housewife” status at home. It’s been said (by a friend of mine, we’ll call “Mary”) that when in this type of relationship, you generally play the opposite of what you are in life. I’m sure my strong dislike of anything anal related would prohibit me from being the sub anyhow. “Mary” told me about the butt-plug requirement she had (EWWWW). Not up my alley…literally!
And that got me thinking about choices:
If I had my choice of being electrocuted or dying from lethal injection, I’d go lethal injection. Hands down. I’m not afraid of needles, but I really dislike being shocked, even if it’s just due to static electricity. I really dislike when Jerry goes to put the moves on me and *BBBZZZZTTTT!* However, I shoot up with needles 3 times every week (hey, it’s down from twice a day, so cut me some slack) and have no problems with needles.
If I had my choice of being with a person of the opposite sex (for me, that would be a man if you didn’t already know…) who was hideous,
required that I stay inside and in his presence 24/7, and couldn’t perform sexually but was a sweetheart OR being with one who was incredibly hot, awesome in bed but was a real asshole and abused me either physically or mentally, I’d become a homosexual – or write off relationships all together unless it was with a battery operated boyfriend. Seriously though, if my life depended upon it and those were my only 2 choices and I couldn’t pick death or swinging the opposite direction, I’d go with the hideous guy. I can always diddle myself. However, if choice number one involved NO sexuality at all, not even with myself or objects d’art, I would have to seriously reconsider. I’m certain however, I’d go celibate over abuse. I may go insane in the process, but IMHO anything is better than any kind of abuse. On a related note, why do sexual things that other people are not required for tend to end in “-ate” (celibate, masturbate, inflate-a-date)
If I had my choice of voting for either George W. Bush or Hilary Clinton (and write ins weren’t allowed), I wouldn’t vote. I’d exercise my freedom to choose NOT to participate because I seriously don’t think either of them have enough sense to do the right thing at the right time. (we’re being shown that right now, aren’t we?) Of course, Georgie can’t run again, so this is a moot point. Now if I had my choice between who I’d have sex with, I’d have to say Hilary. This COULD be a problem though as I suspect she’s a Dom.
If I had to choose to be either a die-hard Catholic or a Muslim extremist, I’d kill myself. I seriously couldn’t be either. They are both fundamentally fucked up, IMHO. And yes, I’m THAT anti-Catholicism that I would kill myself before choosing that over a Muslim extremist. Please note when I say “Muslim Extremist”, I’m talking about the death & destruction-happy Muslim, not your average, peaceful Muslim.
If I had to choose between allowing polar bears or penguins to become extinct, it’d be penguins. Only because I love polar bears. And if I could find a way to keep one in my backyard that wasn’t inhumane or dangerous to myself and my family, I’d do it. If only Coca-Cola worked as good with taming a polar bear as it appears to in the commercials. If I try getting one and want to sled down a hill on him, and I offer him a Coke first and he attacks me, can I sue Coca-Cola bottling company for false advertisement?
If I had to have a child with someone who was a different race than I am, I’d have to pick an Asian, I think. Why?
The Paul Lynde on Hollywood squares answer: Because if it were a boy he’d be good at math and if it were a girl, she’d be good in bed, all the more exciting if she’s a twin (and all moms want their daughters to be good in bed in order to exert complete control over men!) The real answer: I think that stereotypes and bigotry in this world would be less harsh on Asians. I guess it depends on where you go, but that’s what I see from where I sit.
If all methods of birth control were equally effective and I could choose any one of them without risk to my health, I’d go with condoms. Sure, they may spoil the mood a bit, but I’m selfish! I don’t want to be the one with jizz dripping out of me the next day. I’m sorry, but I don’t enjoy that “creamy feeling” the next day. It’s a mess that if I could be done with, I would. Ideally, they’d make some kind of easily applicable thing for a chick that you could put in at the beginning of the day, leave it in for as long as you need to so that you were always ready to go. Now, the catch is this: It has to totally line the inside of the vagina, cooch, snatch, box, whatever you prefer to use here. And it has to be made of something that will not inhibit feeling for either partner. And, do get it out, it has to be as simple as pulling a little string or tab and the whole things comes out, splooge and all. No mess, no unwanted pregnancy, no inconvenience. Shoot, if they would just make one of those, even if it doesn’t prevent pregnancy, I think a lot of women would buy it, just to avoid the messiness. I know I would.
If I had to pick one person’s blog to read daily (and I could only pick one), I would seriously be in hell because I like so many different people’s for so many different reasons. At this point though, I would probably pick Meagan’s because she writes something almost every day and sometimes it makes me think and sometimes it’s just flat out funny and entertaining. Other days, it just is a reminder that even in the absence of something totally exciting, we all have something worth sharing. I would encourage everyone who blogs at all to blog something every day. Because even if you think it’s uninteresting or unimportant, others may not find it to be so.
I challenge each of you to think about these things. What would you choose?
I got up this morning and realized something – If I were in a dominant-submissive relationship, I would SO be the Dom! Must be because of my slave status at work and my “mom-housewife” status at home. It’s been said (by a friend of mine, we’ll call “Mary”) that when in this type of relationship, you generally play the opposite of what you are in life. I’m sure my strong dislike of anything anal related would prohibit me from being the sub anyhow. “Mary” told me about the butt-plug requirement she had (EWWWW). Not up my alley…literally!
And that got me thinking about choices:
If I had my choice of being electrocuted or dying from lethal injection, I’d go lethal injection. Hands down. I’m not afraid of needles, but I really dislike being shocked, even if it’s just due to static electricity. I really dislike when Jerry goes to put the moves on me and *BBBZZZZTTTT!* However, I shoot up with needles 3 times every week (hey, it’s down from twice a day, so cut me some slack) and have no problems with needles.
If I had my choice of being with a person of the opposite sex (for me, that would be a man if you didn’t already know…) who was hideous,
required that I stay inside and in his presence 24/7, and couldn’t perform sexually but was a sweetheart OR being with one who was incredibly hot, awesome in bed but was a real asshole and abused me either physically or mentally, I’d become a homosexual – or write off relationships all together unless it was with a battery operated boyfriend. Seriously though, if my life depended upon it and those were my only 2 choices and I couldn’t pick death or swinging the opposite direction, I’d go with the hideous guy. I can always diddle myself. However, if choice number one involved NO sexuality at all, not even with myself or objects d’art, I would have to seriously reconsider. I’m certain however, I’d go celibate over abuse. I may go insane in the process, but IMHO anything is better than any kind of abuse. On a related note, why do sexual things that other people are not required for tend to end in “-ate” (celibate, masturbate, inflate-a-date)
If I had my choice of voting for either George W. Bush or Hilary Clinton (and write ins weren’t allowed), I wouldn’t vote. I’d exercise my freedom to choose NOT to participate because I seriously don’t think either of them have enough sense to do the right thing at the right time. (we’re being shown that right now, aren’t we?) Of course, Georgie can’t run again, so this is a moot point. Now if I had my choice between who I’d have sex with, I’d have to say Hilary. This COULD be a problem though as I suspect she’s a Dom.
If I had to choose to be either a die-hard Catholic or a Muslim extremist, I’d kill myself. I seriously couldn’t be either. They are both fundamentally fucked up, IMHO. And yes, I’m THAT anti-Catholicism that I would kill myself before choosing that over a Muslim extremist. Please note when I say “Muslim Extremist”, I’m talking about the death & destruction-happy Muslim, not your average, peaceful Muslim.
If I had to choose between allowing polar bears or penguins to become extinct, it’d be penguins. Only because I love polar bears. And if I could find a way to keep one in my backyard that wasn’t inhumane or dangerous to myself and my family, I’d do it. If only Coca-Cola worked as good with taming a polar bear as it appears to in the commercials. If I try getting one and want to sled down a hill on him, and I offer him a Coke first and he attacks me, can I sue Coca-Cola bottling company for false advertisement?
If I had to have a child with someone who was a different race than I am, I’d have to pick an Asian, I think. Why?
The Paul Lynde on Hollywood squares answer: Because if it were a boy he’d be good at math and if it were a girl, she’d be good in bed, all the more exciting if she’s a twin (and all moms want their daughters to be good in bed in order to exert complete control over men!) The real answer: I think that stereotypes and bigotry in this world would be less harsh on Asians. I guess it depends on where you go, but that’s what I see from where I sit.
If all methods of birth control were equally effective and I could choose any one of them without risk to my health, I’d go with condoms. Sure, they may spoil the mood a bit, but I’m selfish! I don’t want to be the one with jizz dripping out of me the next day. I’m sorry, but I don’t enjoy that “creamy feeling” the next day. It’s a mess that if I could be done with, I would. Ideally, they’d make some kind of easily applicable thing for a chick that you could put in at the beginning of the day, leave it in for as long as you need to so that you were always ready to go. Now, the catch is this: It has to totally line the inside of the vagina, cooch, snatch, box, whatever you prefer to use here. And it has to be made of something that will not inhibit feeling for either partner. And, do get it out, it has to be as simple as pulling a little string or tab and the whole things comes out, splooge and all. No mess, no unwanted pregnancy, no inconvenience. Shoot, if they would just make one of those, even if it doesn’t prevent pregnancy, I think a lot of women would buy it, just to avoid the messiness. I know I would.
If I had to pick one person’s blog to read daily (and I could only pick one), I would seriously be in hell because I like so many different people’s for so many different reasons. At this point though, I would probably pick Meagan’s because she writes something almost every day and sometimes it makes me think and sometimes it’s just flat out funny and entertaining. Other days, it just is a reminder that even in the absence of something totally exciting, we all have something worth sharing. I would encourage everyone who blogs at all to blog something every day. Because even if you think it’s uninteresting or unimportant, others may not find it to be so.
I challenge each of you to think about these things. What would you choose?
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