I'm an emotional wreck!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why me?

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

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

From:	Michael http://www.myspace.com/strtarrow
Subject:	If....
Body:	If I were a lesbian I would be sucking your pie hole until your head caved in. Michael

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

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

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

Moving on...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The big birthday party!!

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

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

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



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





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





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

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




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







And of course, the pussy panties:



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

Slap it, Spank it, Spit on it!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things I hate

A list of things I hate, by Psycho Princess

1. I hate the news teasers. You know these things that come on at 6:00 pm for the 11:00 news. It goes something like this "Find out something that most people have in their freezer that will kill your family in 3 hours, max - watch the News at 11:00!" You usually hear this while you're sautéing the chicken breast you took out of the freezer and cooking the peas - from the freezer. So you throw it all away, and refuse to eat any food because you're certain it's all been frozen at some point, and you don't let anyone put ice in their water until you watch the news. And you watch it as they tell you that that you can disassemble the ice crusher and turn the blades into a deadly weapon that will cause a human to bleed out in 3 hours without treatment.

2. I hate not being on a regular menstrual cycle. Ever since I was 14, they come when they want - every two weeks, once every 6 months, every 28 days - you don't know! And it comes without warning, usually when wearing a white skirt, white pants or no panties.

3. I hate waking up in the middle of the night and finding dried jizz on my face and having no memory of how it got there. I'm just saying.

4. I hate it when skinny people talk about how fat they are. Check your weight and compare it to a BMI scale. You're probably right where you should be. When a skinny and in shape person complains to a heavier person about how fat they are, they're basically telling the other person "and if I'm fat, imagine what you are!" So until your BMI falls in that overweight range, don't tell people you're fat.

5. I hate it when you get your new haircut and style and someone says "Wow! You look so pretty with your hair like that!" Now why would I hate this? Because, you're basically saying "You looked like complete shit the entire time I've known you, but finally you did something right." This goes hand in hand with "No, you don't look that terrible." Can you leave the word "that" out of the sentence? Because with it in there, you're really saying "You look like ass, but I'd still screw you IF you were the last person on earth, so don't sweat it!"

6. I hate reality shows. They aren't my reality, so aren't they still somewhat of a fantasy show? I mean how many times in your life are YOU offered an immunity challenge? That's not reality for most people. They really need to call them "semi-unscripted shows of stuff that you will probably never have the need or opportunity to do shows".

7. I hate the way movies are filmed. Did you know they don't film them start to finish? They do a couple of lines from the end, a scene from the beginning, something from the middle, and in random order. If they would just shoot it start to finish, there would not be a lot fewer continuity issues.

8. And while we're talking movies, I hate pan & scan movies. When I first hooked up with Jerry, he only watched movies in wide screen mode. I absolutely HATED the black bars at the top and the bottom. I wanted it to fill up the entire screen. He explained to me about the width of the film that movies are filmed on and how when you watch it full screen on a standard tv, you aren't seeing the left and right side of the film. And often, there are things happening over there that you need to see. So when you're watching a movie formatted to fit a standard tv and they come to part of the movie where whatever was cut off on the left is necessary for the scene, they basically stop the action and slide the film over so you can see it then stop and slide it back when it doesn't matter any more. The absolutely worst example of this is "A League of Their Own." It drives me batty to watch that movie full screen. So, we bought the wide screen tv. Now, I can see everything I'm meant to see in every movie. However, the majority of tv shows have black bars on the left and right. But it's ok, because no one is sliding the film around on me.

There are other things, but there's no need to go into them. Most people who know me already know what they are. Plus, then I'd be opening up the cans that hold the topics of politics and religion. And while they're great debating topics, I've been cleaning up puke for 2 days and am probably going to have to do it again later today, and I don't have time for a debate. Unless you want to debate any of the fine points I made above. In which case, my rebuttal will probably amount to "So?" or "Nuh uh!"

Your turn! What do you absolutely hate?

Nothing - I've got nothing

Just some updates today and that's all I have.



This, hopefully, will be the last of my tags for awhile. BossLady tagged me to write about my favorite place. I thought about this one for a bit and decided that my favorite place really isn't any one place. It is wherever my family is. When I'm with Jerry, Josh & Dakota, I am whole. Nothing seems too formidable. It's comfort, warmth and love. And it truly is my most favorite place to be.

/mush over



Day 2 of the great child sickness begins! The boy is still sick and I'm hoping today for a day without puke. That'll make me happy as a clam. I'm very sleep deprived as he woke up every hour or so crying and coughing. Parenthood is such a joy!



I'm excited about the pirate! He'll be leaving this week to go see Donna in northern VA and then depending on when he gets back, may either go see Nina or go straight to Nora. I was going to have Tokyo be his maiden voyage, but Nora said she'd like to take him on the MS150 bike ride, and since that holds personal meaning to me, she wins. From there, he's got a list of willing hosts and will be doing some fun things that I wish I could do.

Aside from Tokyo, he'll be traveling to Africa, California, St. Louis, Wisconsin, Illinois, North Dakota, New Mexico, Arizona, Ohio, Connecticut, the list goes on. My goal for him: Get him to every state in the US and every continent that has the internet. WOO! And then, I'll have to get some sort of fancy map to plot his travels.



And now, I will leave you. Yes, it was short, no it wasn't funny or sexual. But I'm willing to bet at least one of you will leave a sexually charged comment.

Sex Tag!

The very lovely Sara has tagged me just KNOWING that I couldn't resist. In turn, I tag everyone of you bitches & bastards (and when I say that I really mean female & male friends).


1. WHAT IS THE KINKIEST SEXUAL THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE?

This one time, at chorus camp, I convinced the girls I was rooming with that we should all get naked and drink Boonesfarm Stawberry all night long. Tanya got so sick! Then, we went wrapped up in bed sheets and went cow tipping. All was good and innocent fun until Jodi fell on one of the bulls and his horns went up her ass. She decided right then and there that she was going to continue having anal sex with the bull's horns. We all watched and rooted her on. Was that wrong?


2. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU HAD SEX WITH...........NO FUCKING LYING!

I lost count around #175. And then, I figured since I didn't know, I'd just start over from scratch. That happened when I met my husband. So I'll go with 1.


3. DO YOU LIKE TO SUCK DICK? DO YOU SWALLOW? IF YOUR MALE.........DON'T LIE HERE GUYS, DO YOU LIKE EATING PUSSY? FOR HOW LONG? IF GAY, ANSWER WHAT PERTAINS TO YOU!

Do I like to? Hmmmm…it's ok. I could take it or leave it. I certainly like to dish out pleasure. I will say that its much more pleasurable for me when he's just gotten out of the shower and it doesn't have that musky smell – you know what I'm talking about – he's been doing yard work for hours on a 95 degree day, comes in to have a beer and whips his dick out for you. Yeah, that's not so good for me.

I do swallow, but only because I want to see if I can feel sperm swimming in my stomach. Alannis Morisette said it best – "It feels so good – swimming in your stomach." I know, I know, she was singing about a pill, but let's face it, pills don't swim. I think she was really singing about sperm. I dare you to prove me wrong!


4. WHO WAS THE WORST FUCK AND WHY? YES I WANT NAMES, WHO CARES, YOU BOTH KNOW THEY SUCKED ANYWAY!

The worst? Geez. That's hard. Probably Jerry the first time we did it, only because his dick is gigantic and it really hurt badly. When you have a tight little snatch and someone tries to shove something the size of a state fair blue ribbon winning cucumber (not the English kind either – those are too skinny) in there, it's going to hurt. A lot. And since he was the only person EVER (right honey?) I have to pick that one.


5. EVER TURNED DOWN SEX DUE TO THE SIZE OF THEIR C*CK OR P*SSY?

This makes me laugh because someone put stars in where vowels should be and I was going to replace it, but instead I will say the only time I turned down sex due to the size of something was when the guy WAS a giant pussy.

6. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL FANTASY? WITH WHO?

I have many fantasies. However, I would like Jerry to show up one day with Sara on one arm and Tina on the other. Then, the two girls would get naked, Jerry and I would watch some live lesbian porn. Then, we'd lock them out of the house on the back deck (still naked of course) point and laugh at their predicament and then we'd go fuck like bunnies.


7. HOW SOON HAVE YOU FUCKED SOMEONE AFTER MEETING THEM?

Oh lordy. I can't remember. Never on the first time meeting them. Usually not within the first week. I like to know who I'm pooning.


8. EVER PUKED ON SOMEONE DURING SEX?

Not on purpose. Geez. You really know how to make a girl feel dirty! What are you doing later?


9. WHO IS YOUR MYSPACE SEXUAL FUCK OF THE DAY? I'M SURE THEY WOULD LOVE TO KNOW, NOW'S YOUR CHANCE!

Hmmmm. That's a tough one. I love Gina's hair. Josh is very cute. Cranks is funny and Dianne & Meagan are just plain hot. Gary's bald head would be fun to touch (the one on his shoulders), Eric has a great voice, but Whiskey is Canadian. What to do, what to do?? TJ is smart & funny, Melissa is sassy. Then there's Katie and Lon together. Oh man, this is hard! Oh hell, I pick – Xena – Warrior Princess.


10. WHO ON YOUR FRIENDS LIST WOULD YOU NOT FUCK IF THEY WERE THE LAST PERSON ON EARTH?

I have no family on my list, so I can't narrow it down that way. So, when you say the last person on earth, you mean that there are animals left? Like a horse? Because I wouldn't fuck a horse – not even if they get rid of the herpes. I could do the Hollywood Square answer and say Jerry, but that's just a bold face lie. Oh, back to my friends list. I would not fuck Jason. Why? Because he's my neighbor and if I didn't say him, there's bound to be questions.

Live of a seaman* for me! *Not semen

I have an idea. I have a little pirate mask. See...



Don't ask me why I have that, I'm not telling. But anyhow, this pirate wants to see the world through your eyes. So I was thinking, if I had a willing participant, I could mail him to you. And you could take him somewhere, put him on and let him see the world through your eyes. Then that person can take a picture of themselves as the pirate in some touristy kind of spot or doing something outrageously fun and send it to me. I'll open up his own Pirate MySpace page and we'll post them. Then that person should send him either home or out to someone else on MySpace. I have this vision of the Pirate doing great things!

So, are you in? If so, send me a private message explaining why I should send you the pirate, including what you're going to do with him .. be sure to include a mailing address. I'll pick someone to send it to. And if I don't pick you the first time, you'll be on the list of who to send him to the next time he comes home. There will be rules so that we can be sure to follow his adventure, and when I send him out on his maiden voyage, I'll be sure to include the rules.

Now, he is very light foam, and I think can probably find a very light/small box so he shouldn't cost more than $1.50 or so to mail. SO, let's send the pirate on an adventure. We should probably name him too. I'll take suggestions for his name and then we'll vote. Or something gay like that.

There's my silliness for Sunday morning. Now, I need to talk to you about something personal. It involves the conversation at my house last night, women thingies, bodily functions and sex. If you came here for the pirate, you'll want to turn back now.

So, last night, my 12 year old step son, turns to me and says: "Kim, do you have trouble pooping when you have your period?" Let me back up .. the wiener is swollen. I'd post you a picture of her naughty bits, but I don't think MySpace will allow me to post it. Even if they did, Photobucket would deem it inappropriate and delete it. I should mention the reason the wiener is also bleeding a little bit. Poor thing. A mini-wiener all swollen and bleeding. Anyhow, the wiener also has been having a little bit of trouble peeing and pooping because her area is so swollen. So it really was a natural question. I was just impressed that a 12 year old boy had no qualms about asking about my period. I love that kid!

So, back to the wiener. We're standing outside watching her to make sure she goes (she hadn't gone most of the day) and then the question came. It was the funniest thing, and I think Jerry was a little weirded out by it all. When she finally pooped, Jerry is staring at her intently and said "YAY!" My stepson pumped both fists in the air. You would think that the wiener had just finished a marathon.

For those of you curious, I do NOT have trouble with bodily functions when I'm ragging. However, the stunning labia do get a little swollen and even feel like they are throbbing at times during my special moments. Does anyone else experience this? I am also extremely horny during that week. TMI? I don't think so. You know you were wondering these things. I just thought I would offer it to you before you asked. I know how embarrassing it can be to ask the tough questions.

I have no real plans for today, aside from grocery shopping and laundry. Doesn't that sound exciting? I'm just keeping it real folks.


***Little update already on the pirate. He'll most likely start in Tokyo. Since I have a PO Box, you can just send me your address. Then, everyone can just send him back to me and I'll send it out to everyone who wants it. That way, we can be sure some wacko doesn't get your home address. Just this wacko will have it. And I don't get out much, so I assure you you're safe! So, get in on the action now and send me your address.

MySpace Irritations

Well, the food party is over, I sent a group of happily full people away and now, I'm waiting for my dinner to be delivered to me, hopefully on a silver platter! OK, well since it's from Subway, I'll settle for a paper wrapper. Nothing funny to report about the food party - I was working it, so I didn't get to chit chat and play as much as I would have liked. Key Westie and Kristin (formerly Nancy Drew) were MySpacers in attendance and I didn't even get to chat with them but for a minute or two.

I'm a little concerned about my health as I'm getting more and more body aches from doing anything more than the normal. I'm hoping it's not a sign of things to come.

I'm hoping to not hear any more of this "MySpace Drama" crap. Its tiring. My PSA to all of you: If someone is harassing you, block them. Giving them attention by sending their profile to all of your friends to send to all of their friends is only encouraging the behavior. Either that, or it's a scam to see how many people the originator can get to follow their lead. Don't be a sheep.

MySpace writing contests - I generally don't vote in them, so please don't ask me to. And if you don't see my name on the comments voting for you, don't send me an email asking me why I didn't vote. Really. Don't do it. I go to them and read the entries because I'm always looking for something new to read that either makes me laugh or think. HOWEVER - it's not a writing contest, it's a popularity contest. I appreciate the efforts that each entrant puts into their writing. I appreciate their willingness to share it with the masses. I'm sure many people get lots of new people reading and subscribing to their blog, and if thats what you're interested in, I hope it works out that way for you. But it brings back shades of voting for homecoming court and class president where it was never about deserving, but about who had the most friends. So, I'll always wish you luck. I'll read the entries if I have time. But you can't make me vote. So there.

If you want me to read your blog, please don't send me a request to subscribe. Send me a personal email that says "hey, if you're interested..." I'll read it. If it's something that I'd be interested in reading, I'll subscribe. If not, I generally do check back periodically to see what you've posted. HOWEVER just because you blog doesn't mean I have to read it, even if you're on my friend's list. Some of my favorite bloggers I didn't subscribe to for a long time. Eventually, I did because I liked something they said, so don't be offended and don't be pushy. That just makes me want to not read your blog.

I, Super Psycho Princess, very RARELY leave comments in your comments section - it doesn't mean I don't like you. I want to get to know you, and prefer to do that through interaction that I can keep up with. I respond to emails, blog comments and the like. Let's put it this way - I'm a mom of a 3 year old who likes to blog and play in my blog. Then, I like to read whoever I subscribe to and comment and play in their blogs. I don't have infinite time, so don't take it too hard. It's nothing personal. When I first started on MySpace, I left the 7 or 8 friends I had picture comments all of the time. I also wasn't blogging. AND I only had 7 or 8 friends. Enough said.

I am curious about the people who subscribe to my blog but never say a word. I wonder if you really read it, if you enjoy any of it or take anything away from it. I subscribe to several blogs I don't comment on, so I understand it. I can't say I'm overly bothered by your lack of participation, just more curious as to who you are, what you like and what you don't like. That's all I've got to say about that.

I'm bothered that the blog views counter does not register unique hits. I could sit and hit refresh all day and make my views go way up. Can't they use something that registers unique IP addresses? Then I would know if it's 20 people commenting back and forth all day or if it's a gazillion people reading what I'm putting out there. If they'd just leave kudos, even without a comment, I'd know then. And yes, I have a gazillion page views a day. HA!

Mostly, I enjoy MySpace and the "friends" I have made here. I even have plans in the works to meet many of you. I just wish we all lived closer so I could have a big ole BBQ and drink beer & margaritas with everyone because that will just kick ass!

For now, all I can say is you should all make your way to Wisconsin for the week of the 4th of July. I'll be in town and I want to hit Summerfest - beer, bands & friends - what more can you ask for? And maybe in '08 I'll plan a back yard BBQ and you can all come. Well, not ALL of you, just most of you. There's a couple of shady characters in the mix. And we can hire Cranky Ricky to do our entertainment. Of course, you'd all have to pitch in whatever the going rate was to pay him.

In closing, let me say this: its much EASIER to to be a sheep, but much more FULFILLING to follow your own path, make your own rules and live the life you want to live, not accepting anything less than what you want from the people in your life. Because you deserve it. Don't be a sheep. BAAAAAA!

Really, I'm nice - no I'm not!

When I was in college, I decided I wanted to work with crazy people. Not crazy people as in the woman in the office trying to create the world's largest ball of rubber bands or the psycho post office worker. We're talking real, live loons! So, I majored in psychology, minored in criminal justice and got me some real world experience. I took a job for $5.25 an hour as an activity aid in a group home for mentally ill people. These people were considered well enough to no longer have to live in the State mental hospital, but could not live on their own. Basically, they paid me to take these people shopping, the movies, out to eat, to the part, whatever we wanted to do. The residents there were an interesting mix of schizophrenics, paranoid-delusional, and just plain psychotic. All names have been changed to protect the confidentiality of those involved.

One of my most favorite residents was Ted. Ted was in the hospital because he had chased his family around with a chainsaw – not to hurt them, but to give them all the haircuts they most certainly needed. Every year, the company bought each resident a holiday gift and the residents had to make their lists. Every year, Ted's list would contain 5 different things. Chainsaws. He'd seek out ads and list each chainsaw by brand, features and even indicated his order of preference. He never got his chainsaw.

One day, I was assigned to work at the house he lived at. Women were not allowed to work there alone because the other resident of that home had some seriously violent tendencies. The first time I met Ted, I was nervous. I was working with a guy named Chuck. Chuck gave me the ground rules for working in that home. "Stick to Ted, I'll handle Roger." And so, my day began.

Because of their violent tendencies, these two were not allowed to go on the outings other residents did. So, we watched a LOT of TV with them. Roger would walk past me and whistle, which made me a little uncomfortable, but Chuck was a big dude – a woman couldn't feel safer with another human being.

I was sitting there watching TV and Ted sat down next to me. He said "If you're uncomfortable, I can move to the chair." I told him he was fine where he was, and didn't have to move for me. Ted started talking. He told me stories about his dreams – all involving chainsaws. He'd get fixated on the chainsaws and he would just repeat that word over and over "Chainsaw!" He got quiet for a minute and looked at me and said "I'm not feeling so well."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't know" he replied. "I think you better take my temperature."

"OK" I said and headed to the office to get the thermometer. "KIM!" he called. I turned around and Ted had dropped his drawers and was bending over, grabbing his ankles with his ass pointed at me. "You have to take it rectally!!" I was shocked! I didn't know what to do. "I'll get Chuck!" I said. "NO! He won't take my temperature for me, but you seem nice, so I just know you will." At this point, Chuck and Roger walked in the room, having heard the conversation. Roger kicked Ted in the ass and screamed at him about "showing the lady some respect." Ted was OK, just pissed off. Roger walked up to me and Chuck took a step forward, sensing that something bad was about to happen. Roger touched my elbow and said "I'm sorry about Ted. It's just been a long time since there's been a lady here. Are you OK?" He said it like he really cared. "I'm OK, just a little shocked!" I muttered. He said "I hope you get to work here again. You, me and Chuck can beat up on Ted and teach him why you should always respect women." He turned and walked off.

Chuck asked if I was OK too, but I sensed more concern coming from violent, crazy Roger. I learned that day not to judge a book by it's cover, that sometimes people aren't as bad as they appear to be.

That lesson was quickly forgotten when the next week Roger was sent back to the state hospital because he tried to sexually assault one of the girls that was working out there. Lessons really learned:

Never trust a wolf in sheep's clothing.
If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, it's a freakin' duck, OK?
People can put on a great show and still be an asshole when all is said and done.

And now do you understand why it was so easy for me to X-out my neighbor's nipples?

Make time for pleasure

As I was getting ready to write a stunning blog, I heard a song on my XM Radio that I just had to share the lyrics to. Because it's got me laughing. AND, it inspired me. Read on

Say Anything

Excerpts for the song "Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too"


If I die and go to hell real soon,
it will appear to me as this room.
And for eternity I lay in bed
in my boxers, half stoned,
with the pillow under my head.

At this rate,
I'll be heading for electric chairs.
I'm only human with my cross to bear.
When she described her underwear
I forgot all the rules my rabbi taught me in the old schul.

I don't know what I want. (x4)
I don't know what I want. (Met you on the internet) (x4)

I called her on the phone and she touched herself.
She touched herself. She touched herself.
I called her on the phone and she touched herself.
I laughed myself to sleep.

So, while I was looking forward to regaling you with a tale from my working in the nuthouse days, I will now need to shift gears and talk about my favorite subject: masturbation.


Let's review the basics as I've presented them to you over the past 8 months


1. Everyone should masturbate daily

2. 3 orgasms a day is the KPP-RDA (Kim Psycho Princess - Recommended Daily Allowance) for women. 5 if it's a holiday.

Now I know many of you are thinking "there's no way I have time for this every day, much less 3 times a day!" But come on people! It's like exercise – do it for your sexual health. Here are some suggestions to making time for self-pleasuring:


1. Do it in the shower. Ladies – detachable showerheads are helpful, thought not necessary. They also make waterproof vibrators. And let's not forget the power of your own hands. All soapy, hands roaming over your body...

2. Do it in the car on your ride to work. There's nothing like passing time in a traffic jam practicing a little self love. You can even daydream that your hands are the hands of your significant other - or the hot stranger in the car next to you. Come on guys, you've pulled up next to the hot little blonde in the red Mustang convertible and wondered what it would be like to have her hands on you. Chevy Chase imagined it in Vacation, you do too!

3. Do it at work on your break (or in the middle of the day). If you have an office, close the door and enjoy yourself. You have at least 30 minutes, many have an hour. Why not give yourself what you deserve? Nothing like being paid for having an orgasm. (Incidentally, I think we should also be paid for taking a crap, since we all have to do it anyway, let's do it at work). It's almost like being a whore, but you are your own customer. And you probably don't even have to buy yourself dinner or call yourself later. It's a win-win situation.

4. When making dinner, strap on the Venus Butterfly. You can wear it under your clothes. Dance around a bit to experience varying levels of intensity. And have the most fun cooking in the process. There's nothing quite like having an orgasm while food is sizzling on the stove.

5. Leave the Butterfly strapped on through dinner. You may want to turn it off to give yourself a break and ensure that you don't choke on your food while in the throes of passion. Although, if you've gotta go, it may be quite the story for the rescue squad and their friends and family to talk about the nympho who died with the Venus Butterfly on and fluttering away (and the Band-aids Xing out her nipples). After dinner, flip the switch and enjoy a sensual dessert! Best if served with whipped cream and chocolate sauce.

So, there are 5 suggestions on how to squeeze it in to your busy day. I realize that for men I've only given you 3 suggestions, but since you probably already spank the monkey most every day, you don't need any more ideas.

And a special addendum for my gentlemen friends who are intimidated by sex toys. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Unless the sex toy has better conversation skills than you, more money and the ability to initiate passion on it's own, get over it! You shouldn't feel threatened by them at all. They're not a replacement, they're a supplement. Think of them as a vitamin. We don't replace food with vitamins – we just take them to ensure we're getting everything we need because food doesn't always deliver the right things at the right time. They are there to do the things you physically can't or won't. And if you would just work hand in hand with them (pun intended), you'd find that we ladies will be smiling more often. And we might just be less bitchy.

Tator tots and Band-aids

First, a very important public service announcement! If you use Carmex, the moment you are done applying it to your lips, wash your hands. Because it really sucks if you put it on and before you can go wash your hands you get an eyelash stuck in your eye, which automatically causes you to rub your eye. Which gets the Carmex in your eye. And that really hurts like a bitch. I'm just saying. And now, it's story time.



Shortly after I escaped from college, I lived in a little town called Janesville, WI.

Janesville is most widely known nationally for being the place where Geraldo Rivera got arrested for punching a Neo-Nazi in the nose. I believe Geraldo also was punched, repeatedly, in the face during that scuffle. Oh! And the Parker Pen company. It is also near the birthplace of the rare white buffalo, Miracle that had Native Americans clamoring to come to that farm. Why? Because in their belief system, a white buffalo is of great spiritual importance. It was a really big deal. And that same farm is also where a second rare white buffalo was born in 2006. Just a little trivia for you.



I lived there (Janesville, not the farm) with my then-boyfriend-now-miserable-memory (I'll refer to him as "Dick Face" from here on out) and the SWF psycho roomie. We had many adventures of our own in this little town. But perhaps my favorite stories are the ones I remember about my looney next door neighbor, I'll call her Marianne to protect her family from the shame of being tied to this woman.

At first, Marianne seemed to be a nice older lady who had the apartment next to us. Until she broke her arm. And then, she turned into the crazy neighbor lady. Or perhaps I just noticed it because my interactions with her went from more than helping her to her car when it was snowy and icy out to basically being her bitch.



I felt bad for Marianne, knowing that she lived alone and her son only came to see her a couple of times a month. SO, I gave her my phone number and told her to call me if she needed help with anything. And then, the calls started.


One time, she had me come over to arrange the tatertots on top of her tatortot casserole. I suggested she just pour them on top, she wanted them standing up a certain way – in concentric circles around the round casserole dish. She actually knew how many fit in her ideal configuration and had counted them out and laid them on some aluminum foil for me. Every night while she was making dinner, she'd call me because there was something she couldn't do: open a can, peel a potato, roll meatballs, you name it.



Then, "the incident" happened. She called me because she was going out with some friends for dinner. They'd be by to pick her up and she's trying to get dressed, but she's having trouble because (and I remember this so clearly) "I have to have something covering my nipples with this white blouse you know!" So, I'm thinking she wants me to hook her bra for her. I get how difficult that can be if one arm is broken. I can do this! So, I walked into her apartment and into her living room. There on the coffee table, Marianne had placed 4 Band-Aids. "I can't get these open" she said. "Did you cut yourself?" I asked. She laughed, and whipped open her robe. "Just put them on me like an X, covering each nipple. I don't wear a bra because I want the gentlemen to see my tits sway." WOW. Oh wow. Here I was, putting Band-Aids on the nipples of a 70-something year old woman so the gentlemen she was having lunch with could see her boobs sway. Classy. I did it, although I was a little freaked out about it.



Thankfully, not long after that incident, she got the cast off. She was always so grateful for what I did for her that she would get free costume jewelry from credit card offers and give it to me. I had a very large collection of fake, ugly ass jewelry. I think she got the credit cards to get me the "free gift" and then cancelled them.



One time, she said she wanted to take me and Dick Face out to lunch to thank us for rescuing her from the snow bank she had driven into. "I'll drive" she said. "I usually take my cat everywhere with me, so there might be cat hair in the car." We open the door to get in the car and it hits me. Cat hair is the least of her worries. Apparently, the cat uses the back seat of the car as a litter box. The smell was atrocious. "Oh, if there's cat shit on the seat, let me know, I'll get it out before you sit down."



I conveniently remembered something I had to take care of before going to lunch, and told her and Dick that I'd meet them at the restaurant. I scurried off in the house to gag and be certain they were gone, laughing because he had to ride in the car with the kooky woman.



He bitched about it later and I reminded him that he wasn't the one standing tatertots up on a casserole in some whacked out mosaic pattern and X-ing out her nipples so the least he could do was ride with the batty old woman in her cat-box car. He did tell me that when they stopped at a red light, cat shit rolled out from under the seat onto the front floor mat. We decided that she must've been so used to the stench that she didn't notice it any more.



In retrospect, that car summed up my relationship with Dick Face. On the outside, it looked pretty decent, but once you got inside, it was so damn pissy that you could hardly stand it, but you got used to it. But once the shit reared it's head, you couldn't just tuck it away and pretend it didn't just roll out every time you came to a stop.



It wasn't long after that and we moved to Milwaukee. I never saw Marianne again, but I'm certain whoever moved in next to her had some marvelous experiences with her. And you know, as odd as she was, I hope when I'm in my 70's, I'm wearing Band-Aids on my nipples so everyone can watch my boobs sway.

Bad boys, bad boys!

Before I get to the story you're waiting for (which really isn't all it might have been cracked up to be) I had to share something I said on a blog comment. This may not be funny to you, but it's funny to me, so I thought I'd share it because some of my best stuff goes unnoticed. Here it is, my blog comment:

"Glad you had a full weekend - I find I like those better than the ones where I just have to sit around and pick my butt. Which, while entertaining and at times surprising, really isn't all it's cracked up to be. Hahaha - I made a funny there."

I was going to fill everyone in on what was most certainly an exciting high speed chase that ended right in front of my work building, but alas, the news people did not deem the story worthy. However, I will tell you how it all went down, from my point of view.

First, you need to know a couple of things about where I work:

1) Downtown Richmond

2) Right by a big medical center

3) My office window faces Broad Street, which is the big street downtown

So I'm sitting at my desk working (read: writing a blog) and I hear sirens. This is not an uncommon occurrence, being that this is a medical center. So, I think nothing of it and post the picture link to the Virgin/Slut airline photo. And I hear, very distinctly I might add, someone yell "I SAID GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR!" And now, I have to look.

So I peek out my window, and what do I see? 4 State Police cars behind a maroon car (mostly blocked by the giant tree in the courtyard). Outside of the front police car, officers with guns drawn and everything. I kept looking for the cameras filming "COPS Richmond!"

Now, you might be thinking "big deal" but I have never seen police men with guns drawn. I was so excited! I called the other ladies I work with in to peek out my window with me. By the time I grabbed my camera phone, the guns were already put away, which really disappointed me. All I can tell you is that they thoroughly searched that car before leading the 2 occupants away in separate cars. By the time it was over, we had counted 9 State Trooper cars surrounding this car. Being that there were 9 police cars and they had their weapons drawn, I hardly think these guys were just speeding.

I've written to the local news paper and tv stations to ask why information about it does not appear anywhere, and that I think police with guns drawn in front of the Medical Center, should at least warrant an explanation to the nosey bitch who watched from 8 floors up. In my inquiry, I did manage to avoid the phrase "What the fuck, Chuck?" so perhaps they'll feel I am entitled to more than an "Uh....I don't know". Which, incidentally, was the response from the man at the Richmond Times-Dispatch when I called to inquire (last year sometime) why all of the flags on the government buildings were flying at half mast. By the by, if you ever want to know who died when you see a flag flying at half mast, call the Governor's office and ask. Since only the Governor can order state flags flown at half mast, his office always knows. And if you do that, call back the paper and inform THEM of the reason for it. They like it when citizens get involved like that. Of course, maybe my statement that "I scooped The Richmond Times-Dispatch! In your face!" didn't go over so well. Who cares, I got the answer I was looking for back then.

Here's the only picture that turned out worth anything and all you can see is a crew of police men, one of the "perps" in the white shirt and the police car the gun aimers were using as a shield.

Hanging your arm out a window holding a cell phone to take a photo is not an easy task, especially when the window tips in to open and maybe opens 6 or 7 inches.

I'll keep you posted if any of our news agencies gets back to me, but at this point, I'm just going to make up a back story for these guys and lay out an exciting police chase down I-95 in my head. It's probably better that way.

I kept snapping pictures, even though nothing was happening. My rationale? You never know when someone is going to do something that could potentially be news worthy and *I* could have the video and/or still photographs of it. I could have the Zapruder film of an incident that the world has not seen the likes of since Rodney King. Or that other guy. Richard somebody or other. Right?

My friend asked me about this and we had a discussion about what we call the "hero fantasy". We both want so badly to be a hero. I want to be the person who spots the creepy old many driving the 1982 orange Chevette with Alabama plates carrying the little girl who went missing after she posted on her MySpace page that she was 22 and horny. And it wouldn't be enough to call the police and tell them which way the car was heading. No, I'd want to follow him and stay on the phone with the police to tell them every move he makes. And if they take too long getting to him, I want to make him stop the car without hurting anyone.

I want to find the body of a missing man and learn that he was likely murdered by his jealous lover. Note I don't want to actually see the body – maybe just his foot sticking out from underneath a pile of leaves. I want to find the jacket that leads to the happy recovery of the kid that ran away from home. I want to rescue animals (or people) from a burning building. I want to find a murder weapon that the police have been looking for. I want to find a clue as to where a missing person is. I WANT THAT!

Apparently, I want to be a super hero. But I'm not wearing tights. Those aren't for me. I'm not totally against the idea of a cape though. I could be into that. I'd just need a cool name. "Psycho Princess" is not a good super hero name. And if anyone wants to design me a costume that doesn't use spandex (makes me itch) or tights, I'd LOVE to see it. You can have naming rights and everything. Make me your whore. I mean your super hero. I'm already someone's whore.

Are you obsessed with doing it?

I work in psychiatry. This means I'm familiar with wackos, nut jobs and repressed homosexuals – and those are just the psychiatrists. Some time back, I did a blog where I posted a bunch of ink blots and had my friends tell me what they saw. In the old days, scientists believed that what one saw in the red, blue and green swirls of ink would tell them a lot about the mind of each individual. They don't use that test anymore, claiming the results were purely subjective and basically meant nothing.

I am working on developing a test similar to the inkblot test. Its purpose would not be to tell when a person is crazy. Instead, it would measure a person's obsession with sex. I need you to be my control group - to help me establish the baseline, if you will. It'll be simple. Look at the pictures below and answer the questions. There are no right or wrong answers.

AND - if you've seen anything I should add to this test, please feel free to post the picture and the question that would go with it.

1. Which airline would you rather fly and why?

2. In 3 words or less, tell me what you see in this photo:






3. How likely are you to shop at this store if their normal prices are slightly higher than others in the area but the service is better?






4. Think fast! What's the first thing that comes to mind when you see this picture?






5. How likely would you be to park here if the rate was $15.00 per hour?




And something for you to look forward to for tomorrow (because I don't have all of the details yet today). I got to witness the end of a high speed chase, guns drawn and everything from the comfort of my office window this afternoon. I tried to take pictures with the camera phone, so we'll see tomorrow if any turned out. Stay tuned for further details!

Big Daddy is going down!

And not on me! Sickos!

April 2, Jerry will have his second surgery. You may remember the microdiscectomy back in October to lop off part of a herniated disc. Well, the pain never went away, and another MRI revealed that what is left of the disc in there is faultier than the San Andreas line. Fissures and crumbling - much like a piece of coffee cake left out to dry. SO, he'll go back in and have a spinal fusion. So, start those prayer rituals, healing dances, goat or virgin sacrifices or whatever it is you do. We'd certainly appreciate it.

Today, I learned the true value of friendship. In the last couple of weeks, as Jer's back got worse, I've been doing more and more things around here as he's not able to help me as much. One day, at work, I got all boo-hooey with my friend Delores (all together now - "DELORES!!") Well, today she, her fiance and her daughter came over and spent a few hours helping me clean up my front yard. 26 bags of leaves, and they never once complained. That's some great friendship right there. Makes me realize how lucky I am (sap, sap, sap). She's the best friend a girl could ask for. In fact, she was my first very own friend I made when I moved to Virginia. And she used to be my boss. She so rocks! I'm looking for volunteers to come and help me clean the INSIDE of my house next. You don't even have to tell me you're coming, just show up any Saturday and be prepared to work! I'll feed you and everything.

Then, we hit the grocery store, did a couple loads of laundry and ordered Chinese food.

I do need to mention that we were accosted outside the grocery store by a large gaggle of girls (and you thought I was going to say geese!). The were taking part in the favorite past time of hellions everywhere the second week in March - selling GirlScout Cookies. They camp out on either side of the entance to the store. You cannot get in or out without passing them. As they put on their cutest smile and say "Would you like to buy some cookies?" And if you say no thanks, they send in the big guns - a brownie. With blonde hair and super blue eyes, who looks up at you with that lost puppydog look and says "PLEASE?" It's not even a comment, it's a plea. She's begging you to buy them.

I did the only thing a self respecting person could do at that moment. I looked at her, smiled and said "No thanks honey, my butt and these hips are expanding just fine on their own with age. YOURS will do the same thing if you grow up eating those."

As she backed slowly away from me with tears in her eyes, I thought for a split second I was a horrible woman. Then, I remembered that my boy will probably be a Cub Scout. This means he'll sell microwave popcorn. And even if I had bought the cookies from the cutie patootie, people are going to shoo my boy away faster than you can say "Puleeeeeeeezzzeee?"

SO, that kept me super busy today and I am *almost* completey wiped out. I have a little left in me, and after I put my child to bed, I plan on taking a long, luxurious bubble bath, shaving my legs (ALL the way up!) and I'm hoping to get around to my pits too, if I don't dull the blade on the yeti-hair. Maybe I'll do those first. European so isn't my style.

Hope your Saturday went swimmingly!

Per sotto, per farli combaciare

I've got a busy day today, giving exams and actually working, so I may not be around much. But I just had to share something a friend sent me. Because we've talked about it in here before – carpeting.

"Per sotto, per farli combaciare," meaning: "For the hair down there... to make it match."

For those who want their carpet to match the curtains. And now, it can, safely, in your own home.

IS YOUR BETTY READY?

Perhaps my favorite color on this website is the "Funbetty". Their description:
"Hot pink means play. Adventure down below! Celebrate! The first safe color for the hair down there. Funbetty is a hot pink party in a box! Funbetty color for the hair down there. Go girl, it's your birthday! Or your anniversary or your wedding or his birthday! It's the perfect gift." I'm imagining a man's eyes when he unwraps his "gift" to find a hot pink rug staring him in the face. I must now try this out.

Yes, you too can have a hot pink cooch. Just be sure if you're going this route to trim your bush into some sort of really cool shape. If I were doing it, it'd be a hot pink star. Why a star, you ask? Because: My labia. Stunning. Enough said.

But fear not, there's something for everyone:

Brownbetty? "Brown downtown? Sunny, spontaneous and real. Finally, the first safe color for the hair down there. BROWNbetty says, go away, gray! Rise and shine!"

Blondebetty? "Are you a true blonde? Of course you are!"

Blackbetty? "Get back to black or rev up the action!"

Auburnbetty? "Are you a true blonde? Of course you are!"

Perhaps the best part of all this? They sell T-Shirts! I'm getting one. Because I'm not blonde, I will skip the "I'm a true BLONDE" one. But I'm so getting this one:

Guys – you can use this too! I'm thinking you could dye yours Funbetty hot pink for Easter. It could look like the plastic Easter basket grass. And she could go on an "egg hunt".

Note to Barb & Gary: This might infringe upon our salon idea, so we'll have to come up with a creative sculpting department – I'm thinking a snatch 3-D design studio. We'll need an artist. I think Swilly draws.

Enjoy your Friday everyone!

I Psycho

I Live: because that's the agreement I have with Joey Fingers.

I Work: in a shithole

I Talk: a LOT of shit

I Wish:, I wish with all my heart to fly with dragons in a land apart.

I Enjoy: chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream

I Look: like ass most days

I Find: the strangest things in my drawers

I Smell: Enough said

I Hide: chocolate from the husband and kids

I Pray: when someone asks me to

I Walk: slowly because I have short legs

I Write: whatever pops into my pretty little head

I See: panty lines - everywhere

I Sing: my son lullabies every night

I Can: recite the names of all 50 states in alphabetical order

I Watch: my neighbors through the blinds sometimes. I'm usually naked when I do this.

I Yearn: to be closer to my Mom

I Daydream: about being closer to my Mom

I Want: it all. And I want it now.

I Cry: whenever they sing the national anthem at the Olympics, or at the first game of any sports season.

I Read: sometimes

I Love: being a mom

I Sometimes: throw a fit just to see if I'll get my way, not because I'm really mad

I Touch: myself

I Hurt: myself on accident all of the time.

I Fear: the reaper

I Hope: no one ever has to wipe my ass for me

I Break: dance in my dreams

I Eat: whatever I want and pay the price later

I Quit: college before I was finished because it bored me

I Bathe: when I want to shave my legs

I Drink: coffee like there's no tomorrow

I Stop: picking my nose when people come in the room I'm occupying

I Save: my tears in a jar. Just kidding. I save coupons, but never use them.

I Hug: my son several times every day

I am in: hell. And debt.

I Play: with myself often

I Miss: my mom. And old fashioned pop corn poppers where you used the oil and melted the butter in the top and it dripped down throught the holes.

I Hold: my boobs when I jump

I Forgive: the Electoral College

I Drive: my husband crazy

I Learn: about different sexual practices from the internet

I Have: to get my ass in gear

I Don't: know how to play pinochle

I Made: out with my husband the second day we knew each other, but not really the first.

I Kiss: no one's ass.

I Believe: that Wonder Woman could easily kick Cat Woman's ass in a fight.

I Wait: patiently, sometimes.

I Need: to buy more batteries

I Feel: my ass when I put on a new pair of pants for the first time.

I Know: very few truly GOOD people

I Wonder: if I'll ever meet any of you in person

I am: a fucking genius.

The lesbian within

I've mentioned this before, but I think all women, regardless of sexual orientation, have an inner lesbian. Some women would never dare act on the whims of said lesbian. Others do daily. Some women won't even admit that they have one, but they do. They just are in denial or are too young to realize it yet. But, she's there. Trust me. Allow me to introduce you to mine, won't you?

Mine thinks that the most beautiful women in the world have auburn hair. She prefers the look of women with smaller, perky breasts. And they must be real.

She doesn't like women who are rail-thin. They need to be able to eat a full meal without exploding or whining that they are "so full" after having 1⁄2 cup of rice and some broccoli. And NO PURGING!

They must not obsess about their looks and they can't overdo the makeup. She also thinks the majority of women are actually more beautiful without a lot of makeup. Makeup should enhance one's natural beauty, not cover it with layers of plaster.

My inner lesbian is certain she could beat any man in a pussy licking contest, even though she's never tried it. She's naughty, catty, petty and inappropriately emotional at times. When I have an argument with a man, she's in my head telling me "Let it go, he's a man, what do you expect?" When he does everything right, she's surprised because, as a lesbian, she thinks men are generally wrong and icky and gross.

She's tough and strong and independent. She won't allow me to depend fully on any one person to make or break my life. She can fix anything if she puts her mind to it, and she won't be held back from growing and experiencing. But the bitch knows her place is inside of the heterosexual outer me. Because I heart dick – A LOT. And I'm not giving that up. Sorry inner lesbian – this life isn't for you.

She has shown glimpses of herself on several occasions, whether it be through sheer admiration of the female body, kissing another woman, or touching body parts and appreciating them. She makes me excited and horny when I watch porn – not because of the men in it, but the beauty and grace of the women involved. She thinks everyone could learn something about pleasing a woman from watching two of them please each other.

I love my inner lesbian because she's part of me. I'm not shy or embarrassed because of her – there is no reason to be. I'm proud of her, because she allows me to mentally explore avenues that my physical self may not be willing to explore. Hell, my inner lesbian probably likes anal sex and you all should know by now how I feel about that!

And here's a little secret for you: when I use the Venus Butterfly...I like to imagine that it's my inner lesbian's tongue.

I think my inner lesbian is happy not having to be in the limelight. She can just hang out and jump in whenever she feels like it. She enjoys doing things for shock value, even if the consequences of the action haven't been completely considered by hetero-me. And that makes life fun and interesting.

I think I should give her a name. Does anyone have a suggestion? I want to let her know that I appreciate all of the spice and variety she adds to my life. Because without her, things might be trite and boring. And I don't think I could continue to surprise anyone without her. And that, my friends, is unacceptable.

Having said all of that. I DO NOT think all men have an inner gay man. I think with guys you either are or you aren't. Sure, a straight guy can say another man is good looking (usually said with as much bravado as one can muster – and it usually sounds like a question when they say it: "I guess he's a good looking guy?"), but he would never fantasize about what it *might* be like with another man because that thought process alone would mean to him, and most men who knew about it, that he was full out gay.

Women have the luxury of the fantasy, the wonder, the exploration without the immediate "homosexual" label. We're so incredibly lucky for that! Men don't seem to have that luxury. Why do you think that is?

Camping out for Bon Jovi tickets, dude!

When I was younger, there wasn't much I wouldn't do in order to see my favorite bands performing live. I remember getting to the local music store at 7 pm the night before tickets went on sale and spending all night in line waiting for the doors to open. I would have stripped naked and danced in a fountain if I thought it would have gotten me one row closer to Vince Neil or George Lynch.

It wasn't that the concerts would sell out. It wasn't even that I could get great seats (I never really did). It was the fact that I was under 18, and I was out all night with a group of friends, depriving ourselves of sleep. We'd take sleeping bags, bitch about how cold it was and down Jolt cola - anyone remember Jolt?? And it seemed that despite our best efforts, we never got floor seats.Or good seats for that matter. But we did usually get phone numbers of loser head-banger guys who were also waiting. Above all, we had a good time and could brag about how long we waited in line to be one of the first people to get tickets for Guns N Roses. Besides, we saw the BonJovi videos of fans waiting in line. Maybe another band will do that and we will be whisked away to be Brett Micheal's lover, if only for one night. Ah yes, that's why we REALLY did it! OK, maybe not the guys, but for the girls, oh yeah.

I've seen almost every 80's hair band there was to see because I couldn't get enough. Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Guns N Roses, Motley Crue, Warrant, Winger, House of Lords, Trixter, Whitesnake, Scorpions, VanHalen (both with Dave and then with Sammy), Metallica, Poison, Ratt, Dokken, Cinderella, Krokus and the list goes on and on.

I was front row for Skid Row and again for Winger at a little tavern in Milwaukee called "Billy's Old Mill". I learned quickly why that sucked as it was a small venue, everyone packed in and standing - no assigned seats. Everyone in the crown was trying to push forward, trying to get closer to the stage. So my boobs got smashed up against the stage. It was worse than a mammogram. At least with that, someone is touching your boobs.

I remember going to the music stores the day before the concerts and you could again stand in line for hours to have the band autograph something for you. They would allow you to snap a photo (but you couldn't be in it) and then they'd send you on your way so you could erroneously mislead people for the rest of your life saying "I met Skid Row! See my pictures?"

Things have changed so much that this simple kind of fun is no longer something that happens. No one waits all night for tickets to anything. They go there, get a voucher and go home to sleep in their nice warm beds, setting their alarm to get there an hour before the store opens to bicker about where their place in line should be according to the number on the voucher. Fuck that. If it's really something you want, spend the night dammit. Vouchers are for pussies.

So tell me, what (if anything) have you camped out for?

Special thanks

I was searching for a way to thank some very special people for doing something that has touched my heart and I read my friend Lori's blog. I'm going to steal her hard work in collecting quotes, because it was so perfectly timed that it must have been meant for me to use.

So now, my very public thank you to people who sponsored me for the MS Walk. In just 4 days, I've raised almost $1,000, half of which came from people I have never met face to face - people on MySpace. I also got 2 people to come out and walk with me becuase of asking you to help. I am speechless and truly touched and at times have been moved to tears. SO, without further adieu, thank you to some very special people (in no particular order):

Cranky Ricky Sara

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind. ~Malayan Proverb

It's Jim! Nora

Unselfish and noble actions are the most radiant pages in the biography of souls. ~David Thomas

Barb Mallon Eric

Not what we give,
But what we share,
For the gift
without the giver
Is bare.
~James Russell Lowell

Secret Diary Tina
of a Woman


I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks. ~William Shakespeare

Corey Lynne Kat

The only people with whom you should try to get even are those who have helped you. ~John E. Southard

Shannon Socrates, Part Deux


I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder. ~G.K. Chesterton

Juddy OK, Now What

Gratitude is the memory of the heart. ~Jean Baptiste Massieu

MistressDestiny CleanRaceGirl

How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a weary world.
~William Shakespeare

MistyJo RequiemofDreams

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see. ~Mark Twain

Wolfspirit Mark

How beautiful a day can be
When kindness touches it!
~George Elliston

Falco M

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures. ~Thornton Wilder


Dianna Brad Martha

Something that has always puzzled me all my life is why, when I am in special need of help, the good deed is usually done by somebody on whom I have no claim. ~William Feather

And my MySpace walking team thus far:

Jerry Katie Kristin

="">I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you my heart has no bottom. ~Author Unknown

See what they've helped me do. It's not too late if you'd like to contribute.