Sing it Lionel! (s) little brother.

There have been a flurry of emails asking what's going on with me. I thought instead of replying to each of the inquirers, I would make a public announcement. Jerry & I are good as gold. I am just fine. Peachy, even. I've had some sort of epiphany in the last day or so and I will no longer be serving as anyone's whipping post. I know, I know, you were all so patiently waiting for your turn to smack me around, but now, it's all about me. It's Psycho time! I even restarted my MS meds after a 4 month hiatus. Enough said. Moving on –

I need some dream analysis please! I'm really excited about this dream because I think it means something. I mean I KNOW there's some special meaning behind it. And I'm so excited about it, that I'm going to talk about it like a teenage cheerleader, and just keep on gushing. Good luck following it! Here goes:

I dreamed (is it really dreamed or is it dreamt?) I really screwed up my hair color and cut by trying to do it all at home. SO, I made an appointment to get my hair fixed. In my dream, I lived in Wisconsin, BUT the roads were named after Virginia roads (i.e., 64 West). So anyway, I'm on my way to get my hair done and I think my appointment is at 1:45. I notice it's 1:30 and I suddenly have no idea how to get where I want to go. So, I call my sister. She tells me to get on 64 West. She gives me the exit number and tells me that I'll know I'm close, because I'll hear the music.

SO, I get off (no, not THAT kind of getting off – that happens MUCH later) at the correct exit. I hear loud music, and I pull in and walk in the front door of a little building sitting on a corner. It's like a duplex (you know, one family lives up and another lives down) but the downstairs has a big glass front. So, I go in and sitting on the couch are The Commodores. Complete with the giant afros and bell bottom polyester jump suits. And they're singing "Brick House", but it's not Lionel singing. It's some kid – who is about 7. Lionel was sitting on the couch just smiling. Then, I see the lady who owns the salon and I look at my watch, expecting to see that I'm really, really late and fretting over the fact that they salon charges you $11 (why $11? Hell if I know!) for a missed appointment. But my watch says it's only 1:15 and since my appointment is at 1:45, I'm actually early. Even though earlier in my dream it was 1:30. Are you following this? Salon owner says, "I don't care when you get here, let's go!"

So, I follow her into the basement where there are a bunch of people sitting around, staring at a blank TV. The salon owner says "My sister will do your hair" and then turns on a movie which is Pulp Fiction. And the whole group of women starts having oral sex with each other.

Her sister takes me by the hand up this really skinny stairwell into the salon, pushes me down into a chair (hands on my boobs, mind you) and asks me what I want her to do to me. And I'm trying to tell her what's wrong with my hair. She's looking and says she doesn't see anything wrong with it at all, but she'd be happy to service my other areas. And she kept touching all my goodies. And I'm trying to tell her what color I want my hair to be, ignoring the fact that she's feeling me up – almost like I expected her to do that and it just isn't doing it for me. And she just says she can't understand what's wrong with my hair the way it is. And I yell at her "If you would take your hand out of my twat you would KNOW what my problem is!"

And then MY sister walks in and sits down with her perfectly perfect hair. The woman looks at her and says "You on the other hand – you need a lot of help." And as I sat there wondering why she wouldn't do my damn hair, I hear the Commodores start singing "Sail On", so I got up and started singing along with them at the top of my lungs, left $11 on the counter for my missed appointment and walked out the door smiling.

What do you think that was about? Being that I'm in love with music and lyrics, I'm sharing the lyrics to Sail On. I just KNOW it means something. What do you think?

Sail on, down the line
about half a mile or so
And I don't really wanna know
where you're going
Maybe once or twice you see
Time after time I tried
To hold on to what we got
But now you're going
And I don't mind
About the things you're gonna say
I gave all my money and my time
I know it's a shame
But I'm giving you back your name
Guess I'll be on my way
I won't be back to stay
I guess I'll move along
I'm looking for a good time
Sail on down the line
Ain't it funny how the time can go
All my friends say they told me so
But it doesn't matter
It was plain to see
That a small town boy like me
Just I wasn't your cup of tea
I was wishful thinking
I gave you my heart
And I tried to make you happy
And you gave me nothing in return
You know it ain't so hard to say
Would you please just go away
I've thrown away the blues
I'm tired of being used
I want everyone to know
I'm looking for a good time

Which brings me to the question of the day: Would you let your hair dresser feel you up?

Some French Guy wants to know

WOW!  (not WoW - I'm done with that). After the excitement of my last blog, and the shitty start to my Monday, I'm going to go with something mundane that no one can really argue about.  And if you try, I might just bitch slap you. 

Jerry & I enjoy watching "Inside the Actor's Studio" which is a really cool show.  If you've never watched it but have an itch to get the inside scoop on some of your favorite actors (not gossip) check it out. 

Anyhow, at the end, the actors are asked a series of questions.  I am going to answer those questions for you, and in return, I'd LOVE for you to do the same. And THAT will be my blog.  Tomorrow, we'll have an in-depth discussion about housework and what your spouse does/doesn't do, because your drama keeps me going.  Just kidding! 

Let's get to the questions, shall we?

What is your favorite word?

I like to hear the word "YES".  However is it my favorite?  Not at all!  I think my favorite would be possibility.  Why you ask?  Because, the absolutes are the boring piece of life.  It's the possibilities that make life worth living.

What is your least favorite word?

Beastiality.  It's just a nasty word with nasty connotations.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

People who have a genuine heart.  People who make me laugh.  People who think about their affects of their words/actions on others before acting.

What turns you off?

People who are out solely for their own happiness.  You need to give a little to get a little. 

 
What is your favorite curse word?

Cocksucker.  It's just fun to say.  Try it with me:  COCKSUCKER.  Say it really fast, say it as two very distinct and separate words.  Try putting the emphasis first on the word COCK.  Then put it on SUCK.  Now, put it on ER.  See how different it sounds?  You can customize it according to the right situation. 

What sound or noise do you love?

My son's laughter – especially when he's over tired. OH!  And Sam Elliot's voice.  MMMM...Sam's voice...

What sound or noise do you hate? 

A jackhammer & the opening to Law & Order.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? 

I think I would like to be a criminal profiler.  I like that kind of shit.  I find it fascinating and if it wasn't for the blood part of it, I'd be right there doing it.  I don't do blood.  Unless it's menstrual, and even then, it bothers me to some extent.

What profession would you not like to do?

I would not want to be a politician because eventually, even the people you used to please will hate you.  Plus, I don't think I can call people cocksuckers and still maintain a decent approval rating.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? 

"You did good, kid.  Oh, and one more thing – you were right - it really didn't matter."

Warcrack is invading my peaceful home!

Ever since having a baby, I use phrases differently than I used to. Perhaps none more so then "I think I just peed a little." Please know that if I tell you that, I truly have pissed in my pants. I can't help it. Things just haven't been the same since the birth day. Speaking of birthdays, mine is coming up. I would like cold hard cash please - I'm saving for a trip to Wisconsin where I can hopefully meet up with a couple of people I met on here, even if it's just for a quick beer or, if I'm there for Summerfest, a good band. We shall see what happens!

Now, on to my topic of the day - the addiction that is taking over my home, and making me think that there MUST be professional help out there. NO, the addiction is not MySpace. That is one that is more formed out of necessity. Meaning it's necessary for me to come here and communicate with people who aren't in danger of overdosing on fantasy.

Yes, I'm talking about World of Warcraft. This apparently addicting game has taken over my home, my husband and my step son. Jerry is 34. Dakota is 12. This little addiction has taken over their lives and has taken hundreds of dollars from our wallets, sent them across the internet to some pusher and returned to them in the form of "gold" for the game. Not real gold, mind you, like a nice chain for my collection, rings or earrings. PRETEND GOLD PEOPLE! Not even stuff you can hold on to! And what do you do with this gold? Why you SPEND IT in the GAME REALM on shit that no one in their right mind needs. Broad swords, healing potions, magic items, rods, staffs, vibrators and...Vibrators? I didn't mean that. Obviously, my mind was somewhere else, what with all of the talk of rods and staffs.

Now, because the selling of gold isn't enough for these pushers, they recently released some new add on pack for their "game". Something about "Your wife's eyes burning a hole through your head." If I had any programming know-how, I would write a scenario for this, and when you installed it, it would melt your computer, then reached out and slapped the shit out of you, thanked you for spending your child's college tuition on it and told you to tune back in to the real world. How is that for intervention?

Allow me to bring you into my world by sharing with you they typical layout of a Friday or Saturday night.

Josh has gone to bed. Jerry is on the couch to the left of me. Dakota, in the playroom to my right, where they can talk to each other regarding their game, always loud enough to interfere with my ability to follow the events of whatever show I'm attempting to watch. And for some reason, they MUST converse with each other. J is for Jerry, D is for Dakota, M will be for ME. C is for cookie - that's good enough for me.

D: Dad! There's a level 60 Orc Warrior in the Blasted Lands. I need greater mana potions!

J: Not now son, I'm battling a level 55 undead shaman in Booty Bay. And after that, I need to go to Stormwind and turn in these quests.

M: Can you both just shut the hell up for 5 minutes? Gibbs just said something to Tony and now I have to rewind it.

J: Watch your language, Kim. OH! OH!! HOLY SHIT! Dakota!! Blah blah blah broadsword, blah blah blah, Horde, blah blah blah level 63. HOLY SHIT!

D: Oh man Dad! Where are you? I'm headed over there. I've got to see this.

J: You'll never make it on time.

At this time, Dakota walks into th room and sits next to Jerry to WATCH him play this game on his computer. Now there's some father-son bonding.

There's lots of talk about mana, virtue, staffs, swords and the like. I think it is much easier to understand my 3 year old tell me bout Go Diego Go, using a combination of kid-speak, English, Spanish and his made up language where EVERYTHING ends in the sound "UH".

AND I COULD CARE LESS! I HATE THIS FUCKING GAME. Morning till night, they play. It's been dubbed World of WarCrack, and I see why. Something does not allow them to turn off the game and walk away. I could say "Honey! The kitchen is on fire!" He'd say "I'll get there as soon as I can. I'm fighting Yeti's in WinterSpring. If I walk away now, I'll die." SO, what to do? Do I allow him to learn the ultimate lesson that if he doesn't walk away now, HE is literally going to die when the real fire in the kitchen spreads? What to do, what to do?

I go to bed alone every night and wake up to pee around midnight most nights - still alone. At least I have plenty of uninterrupted time for Jack & Venus. But it's sad. He blames it on the meds. I think it's the craft. I fully expect one day to wake up with Josh at 6 and see them both sitting on the couch in the dark, their faces lit up by the light from the laptop screens. A mountain of empty food wrappers between them and soda bottles filled to the top with piss because they were on some fantastical quest that would not end and simply could not just walk away. Apparently you don't do that. Because the fate of the world rests upon your shoulders.

You know, come to think of it, it reminds me of how some people pour everything they have into following politics. Think of the Horde as the Republicans and the Alliance as the Democrats. And somehow, W has achieved the status of Level 70, Undead Shaman. Who will save us now? Will it be Hillary, perhaps as a level 70 Knight Elf Priest? You never can tell.

As for me, I'll stick with MySpace and interacting in a realistic world (sort of) with realistic people (sort of) for free. I've spent nothing but time and the best part?? I can shut it off without finishing whatever it is that...

Psycho Has a Dream!

**JEOPARDY RULES BLOG. PLEASE STATE YOUR COMMENT IN THE FORM OF "I HAVE A DREAM..."



I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of my creed: "Three orgasms a day for all women."

I have a dream that one day on the red states and the blue states will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood and all will become purple states with a beautiful mingling of ideas that everyone can get behind – and the right wing bible thumpers will stay out of politics and go somewhere to meet the mother ship or drink koolaid poisoned by their leaders.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Florida, a state sweltering with the heat of retirees, sweltering with the heat of tourism & co-eds on spring break, will be transformed into an oasis of normal people just wanting to get some sun and eat oranges.

I have a dream that my son will one day live in a nation where he will not be judged by the color of his skin, sexual orientation, religious or political beliefs, but by how well he can bring home the bacon & fry it up in a pan.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day, our government will worry more about it's own citizens and be sure that they are cared for before they go sticking their noses in other people's business. And that this same government will stay out of my uterus and allow potential disease curing research to actually take place on our own soil.

I have a dream today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, so that lazy fuckers like me can walk on a straight, flat path wherever they need to go. Especially if they want the cheaper parking downtown (at the bottom of the giant hill) but don't want to be panting with their clothes dripping with sweat like they just had marathon sex by the time they get to work.

Yes, I dream big - so what! What's your dream? **JEOPARDY RULES BLOG. PLEASE STATE YOUR COMMENT IN THE FORM OF "I HAVE A DREAM..."

Global Stupidity

My tolerance for stupid people has decreased over the years. At one point, I could listen to an idiot, nod and smile and move on. I have noticed I can no longer do such a thing. Now, when someone says something stupid, I am no longer content with nodding and smiling. I just have to say something. Had I developed this intolerance immediately after college, I would blame it on education. However, it wasn't until a couple of years ago that I really began letting loose the thoughts in my head when someone would say something that was so ridiculous that even a chimp would throw fecal matter at the speaker. The kind of stupidity that I find most infuriating is intolerance of other's beliefs. Those who assume that their thoughts and opinions are the only right ones and everyone who disagrees with them are stupid and just plain wrong. You know the type of person I'm talking about. They never fail to have volumes of otherwise useless information to support their side of things. Information that the normal person probably doesn't have. Information that is probably made up (i.e., bullshit).

I had an encounter with this type of individual yesterday. While there is no doubt that this guy has book smarts, complete with a PhD, he's still stupid when it comes to the difference between fact and opinion. Here's how it went down:

Out of nowhere yesterday, it starts snowing. ALOT. It's too warm for it to stick for very long, but it was really coming down. He goes off on a tirade about "Look everyone! Al Gore fixed global warming!" Did I mention he's a Republican who professes that everything not 100% supported by the Republican party is wrong? He launched into facts, figures, his "proof" that global warming either doesn't exist or is overly exaggerated to cause mass hysteria and further anti-republican political agendas. I've heard this from him before, so I tuned it out. Moments later, he walks into my office and says "Did you hear what I said about global warming?" And starts giggling. I looked at him and stated simply, yet in a bitchy tone, that he shouldn't be so quick to belittle other people's beliefs. He tried to defend himself and I cut him off and said "Yes, I know you think global warming doesn't exist but it's not your place to make fun of others who do, especially when polar bears are dying due to shrinking polar pack ice." Or something along those lines. His well educated answer? "Fuck the polar bears." And he left my office. You should know that of all the animals on this earth today, polar bears are my most favorite. HOWEVER, I took the high road and let it go. Some people are just so convinced that they are right and that their beliefs are absolute facts that it's not worth the time it takes to argue with them.

So this morning, I said good morning to him. He says "What? No snide remark?" My answer: "It's early. Give it an hour." Then, I muttered "Cock". And even though he probably didn't hear it, I felt a pleasant calmness wash over me. I didn't bother saying it loud and clear because, after all it is just my opinion. Although I'm certain I could get others to agree with me. I might even be able to offer some bullshit of my own one day to support my supposition. If not, that's ok. It's my opinion. And I don't need anyone to agree with it to know I'm right. I'm such a cock.

I'm certain I'm not the only person who has to deal with these types of people daily. There is an epidemic in the world we need to address: Global Stupidity. It's one of the many things I'm going to try to get government money to study. Once we understand fully how it spreads, we can work on ways to stop it.

What you talkin' 'bout Willis?

I spend a lot of time listening to music. I don't give a hoot what type of music I'm listening to, just so long as I can understand the words and the song makes sense as a whole. My mind is like a vault when it comes to song lyrics. I may not always know who sang a song, but if I've ever listened to it and enjoyed it, even just a little bit, you can bet your sweet ass I know the lyrics to it. Inevitably, there will come a song that you just can't figure out the lyrics to. These days, you can just hit the internet and find out what they are. However, being the trooper that I am, that is my absolute last resort. I will listen to it over and over and over again, trying to figure out just what the person is saying. Often times, I think I know it. Then I sing it in front of someone and they laugh. Not at my hideous voice, but my obvious error in interpreting what the vocalist was saying.

Some of the more popular examples that I know of seem to be universal:


CCR: There's a bathroom on the right

Hendrix: Excuse me while I kiss this guy

Manfred Mann: Wrapped up like a douche

There are literally thousands of these. I have a few that I've misheard and was convinced that I was right at the time. I thought it would be fun to share them.

1) I've talked about this before: "Hollaback Girl". The first time I heard this song, Gwen sang it live on SNL. I looked at my husband and started laughing. He asked what was so funny. I said "Well honey, she's singing 'I ain't no Harlem black girl'. Don't you think that's funny?

2) From Brown Eyed Girl: "Going down on the old man with a transistor radio"

3) From Winter Wonderland: "Later on, we'll perspire as we dream by the fire"

4) More CCR: Doo, doo, doo, poopin' out my back door.

Incidentally, this love of music has helped me make up hundreds of alternate songs on the fly. There's nothing funnier than making up words as you go along. For example, when I became a mom and wanted to sing my son "Hush Little Baby", I wasn't sure how the song went. So, long before he could talk, I made up my own version. What makes it even funnier is that I made it up as I sang it. No pausing, no stuttering, it just flowed. It goes a little something like this.

Hush little baby don't say a word
Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird
If that mocking bird don't sing
Mamma's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring turns brass
Mamma's gonna kick the jeweler's ass

And then, I laughed so hard, I couldn't continue. I looked up the words on the internet and the next time I sang it, I got a little bit closer…
Hush little baby don't say a word
Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird
If that mocking bird don't sing
Mamma's gonna buy you a diamond ringAnd if that diamond ring turns brass
Mamma's gonna buy you a looking glass
And if that looking glass gets broke
Mamma's gonna buy you a billy goat
And if that billy goat won't poop
Mamma's gonna buy you a basketball hoop

You should know that I've since learned all of the words and can sing it properly. But sometimes, I still sing it wrong on purpose. I think it's funnier if the billy goat won't poop. Maybe that's just me.

Your turn. What songs lyrics have YOU misheard or improvised?

Just some dialogue

"Excuse me, have I seen you here before?"

 "No.  I'm new here.  Still trying to learn the ins and outs.  Got any helpful hints?"

 "First and foremost, if you're coming in, you'll need to wear a coat."

 "Why, is it cold in there?"

 "Not at all.  It's really for your own protection, as well as mine.  Liability issues, you know?  The walls and floor get wet. I used to not require coats, but one too many jerks threw up all over the place, even though they promised they would leave before they got to that point.  It seems like I had to clean it every day for weeks after each one.  Oh - make sure everything is secure too, I wouldn't want you to accidentally leave anything inside.  After all, you might not make it back here again and I don't need a reminder of you."

 "OK, so I've got a coat, what else do I need to know?"

 "Don't use the back door.  If you do, you're not getting in anywhere else.  It's not that kind of place.  It's for evacuation purposes only. I cannot stress that enough."

 "Am I the only one here?"

 "At the moment.  Capacity is 1 – no plans to expand either.  That's not to say a preferred member won't come by later, in which case, you'll need to leave immediately.  You know these VIP types don't like anyone parking in their space." 

 "Anything else before I gain entry?"

 "Don't get too relaxed.  I don't like lazy guys hanging out here.  And don't slouch – straight and tall or not at all!  I want you to enjoy yourself while you're here.  But, I need to enjoy myself too, or I won't have you over again."

 "OK, I'm coming in.  Wow!  It's cozy in here."

 "Well, don't get comfortable.  You can't just stay in one spot, it doesn't work that way.  Move around a bit.  Find your favorite spot.  Look around, touch whatever you like – nothing is really breakable.  Oh!  I see you don't need any more help.  You seem to be fitting in just fine." 

 "The walls are moving – this is cool."

 "Haven't you ever been in a place like this before?"

 "No, this is my first time.  It's more slippery in here than it was when I first got in here. Is that bad?"

"Don't be afraid, the room responds to your presence. You'll know if it doesn't like you here." 

"It's getting cramped in here. I'm claustrophobic!   I think I'm going – to – be – sick!"

"That's not from claustrophobia – it's from excitement!  Just keep the mess in your coat – you can clean yourself up after you leave." 

 *BLECH!*

 "Are you still here?  Shouldn't you get cleaned up?"

 "Yeah.  Can I come back again sometime? I promise not to get sick again."

 "Ha ha ha!  They ALL get sick, I'm used to it – that's why I require the coat.  But yes, you can come back again sometime.  You fit in nicely.  Maybe next time, you'll move to a different drum beat, learn a few new dance moves.  Practice makes perfect."

Talking with a Friend

Did you ever notice that when you have a best friend, you cannot have a normal conversation? Everything becomes funny and distorted, even just the simple statements take on a whole new meaning. I like those kind of friendships.

Back in the day (ok, it wasn't even a year ago, so shoot me!) Kristin (or whatever the hell YOU call her) and I worked in the same building, on the same floor. Opposite wings of the building, but we met together several times a day just to be idiots. When we both had to be in our offices, we spent time IM'ing each other. I have the entire history saved .

Here, I present to you some of our finest moments from the beginning of 2006. I call this piece "Scenes from a friendship."


We use the term "gay" to describe EVERYTHING:

Kim: I'm done with my gayness
Kim: for now....
Kris: well good.


My awesome wit:

Kris: my computer is acting funny
Kim: That's because it lost its acting coach....
Kim: I'm assuming it's supposed to be playing a dramatic role?


On the Bird Flu:

Kris: The children had reportedly tossed the chicken heads like balls inside their house in Dogubayazit, near the Iranian border. "They played with the heads for days," Sahin said.
Kris: up for a game of chickenheadball later?
Kim: ew ew ew!
Kris: so gross...
Kim: let that be a lesson to everyone
Kim: Bowling with chicken heads is NOT a sport...


How to talk nicely to your friends:

Kris: I'm on phone
Kim: I don't rightly care


When what you say isn't what you mean:

Kris: I'm starving
Kim: I'm hungry, but assure you that I am in NO danger of starvation
Kris: well, i didn't mean literally
Kim: oh, ok then


Being dirty:

Kim: what's that crazy bitch MK doing over there?
Kris: i don't know....what was the correct terminology regarding the taco?
Kim: bearded taco
Kim: vertical smile
Kris: that's a butt
Kim: If you have a yeast infection, it's a taco with sour cream
Kim: No, it's not the butt....smiles involve lips
Kris: gross
Kim: If you have gonorrhea, it's a bearded taco with guacamole...
Kim: heh
Kim: You're on the rag? Ahhh..you've got hot sauce on your taco
Kim: I got a million of 'em


On making new friends:

Kris: ah, we don't get hbo or showtime
Kim: that's because you're friends with Tibet...
Kris: correct
Kim: I, on the other hand, am friends with Guatemala
Kim: and you don't get to be friends with the big GTMA without premium channels


What friends will do for each other:

Kris: I think I'm going to barf
Kim: really?
Kim: can I watch?
Kris: sure
Kim: excellent...call me when you're going to hurl. I'll come hold your hair for you
Kris: thanks!
Kim: any time!


When your friends ignore you:

Kim: I've been waiting and waiting
Kim: yet, no invitation for coffee has come my way
Kim: *sigh*
Kris: huh, I was waiting for you
Kim: waiting for me to what...drop dead?


How to talk to authority figures:

Kris: he told me I could call him Jim
Kim: Yes, but can you preface it with "Jungle" or is that inappropriate?


I adore my friends. I consider many of you friends and hope to some day have strange conversations with you that will lead to this kind of foolishness. Just know that I save histories. I think it's really kind of funny to look back and see how you've changed, how your inside jokes evolved. And, it makes me smile to know that I'm not the only idiotic person in this world who acts so totally gay much of the time!

What kind of reminders do you keep around to remind you how fun your friends really are?

James & Sexual Ed

A joke to start your Monday off right:

A Caucasian woman, an African American man and a Hispanic man walk into a bar.

WAIT! That's not a joke! That's the Democratic hopefuls. My bad!

THIS, is not a joke either. Just a guy who obviously is going to wind up with his passport & money stolen from his hotel room and need me to wire him some cash to get out of the mess he's in:

From: james
Subject: hi pretty
Body:
very hardly to find your profile,i really look around only your beauty and Only God's creations can compare to the beauty that I see in you! My cute for you is infinite, without limits.To chat with me lovely connecting to me james_4realy@yahoo.com may send your email.CUTE PLEASE NEVER MIND THE DISTANT BETWEEN ME AND YOU.WHAT I REALLY DO FOR A LIVING I AM A JEWELERY DESIGNER AND I JUST TRAVELING TO MANY COUNTRIES SO I HOPE I CAN CONTACT U AT ANY TIME CUTE....PLEASE IF YOU ARE INTERESTED REPLY TO ME...SEND ME YOUR YAHOO EMAIL ID.HAVE A NICE DAY...

His cute for me is infinite. I'm so fucking ecstatic! I think I'll print this out and tape it to my pillow so that when I'm ramming Jack home I can pretend that only my beauty and God's creations can compare to my beauty. Ummm...WHAT??? Can someone tell me what the fuck that whole email means? I'll worship whoever can translate that email for me. Moving on...

Boo Bears. Yay Colts. That's all.

I have a partial solution to solving the whole issue of kids having sex at such young ages. I say in those sex ed or health classes where they're talking about STD's and such, all girls should be given a vibrator and all boys a pussy in a can. And then, all the boys should have to watch episodes of I Love Lucy while the girls watch The Honeymooners. They should be informed that if they have sex with humans, they'll be destined to have to listen to something similar to Lucy or Ralph afterwards. If they use the toys, not only will they have orgasms, but if it's not pleasurable, they can hold the toy under hot running water and belittle it without fear of retribution or criminal charges.

Of course, if you're going that far, then Prom shouldn't occur either, because everyone knows that people go to prom just to get laid. No one really goes to dance. Except maybe the cheerleaders. They go to dance first and THEN get laid.

I also happen to think that you should be able to be reimbursed for sex toys on your flexible health reimbursement account or through insurance. After all, it's promoting good sexual health. Just think - it might reduce the number of Rx's being covered to treat an STD. Can we get a Democrat to get behind this?

I'm a fucking genius. And while I'm on the subject of realistic sex education, maybe there should be college courses on how to please a woman. It could be a whole slew of courses:

Kissing
Fingering Skills
Eating Pussy
Sex Toys
Talking Dirty
Foreplay
Advanced Foreplay
Sexual Positions 101
Sexual Positions 102
Making Love Vs. Fucking (and why all woman need both)

The list goes on. I'm sure that eventually, there could be courses on how to please a man such as:

Burgers, Fries and All That
How to Talk about Sports
How to Ignore his Obsession with RPG
Blow Jobs
You, Him and Another Woman
Anal Sex
How to Speak only When Spoken To

I KID!

What kinds of things do you wish your sex partners (past, present or future) should have received better education on before attempting to rock your world? Yes, I'm truly looking for your worst sex stories here.

Just Rambling On

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

--"Changes" by David Bowie

Change is inevitable. Times change, people change, relationships change, even I change. The things that once were important to me are no longer of any consequence in my life. Going out, drinking, smoking, staying up late, sleeping in every weekend – they all once seemed so important to me. But at the end of the day, I was empty and lost, needing so much more.

When I found Jerry, things started to change. I became a bit of a home body and my priorities switched from going out, having fun and drinking (an attempt to ease my unhappiness, no doubt) to spending time with the man I love.

Then came marriage and a child, and the majority of my remaining vices were replaced by being a mom, setting a good example, and doing my best to care for a child when I had no idea how to do so.

I'm getting older, we all do. While I feel I'm far from the "old" tag (I'm almost 36, not almost 76!), I think I've finally made it to the grown up phase of my life. My family is my priority, and even that is changing to some degree. No longer content to just have a home, I want to have a clean home and a nice home, and that's a losing battle for a number of reasons – the biggest being that I don't have the time.

Where I used to long to be surrounded by dogs when I had trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant, I find that the 3 we have are more of a nuisance at times. Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly and wish nothing bad on any of them, but they irritate me, and I wish that we only had one. The tumbleweeds composed of dog hair & dander that blow across the kitchen an hour after I sweep and mop seem to cement the notion that one would be enough.

The weekends that I used to look forward to have become weekends that I don't enjoy. They aren't filled with rest and fun. There's housework, laundry, grocery shopping that all need to be done, as well as the little things that fall through the cracks during the week because I'm too tired to get to them.

Becoming a mom has filled my life with both happiness I never knew existed and an endless parade of must-do's and responsibilities.

Friendships have fallen by the wayside, because all I have the energy to do is sit on the couch after Josh goes to bed and hang out on MySpace. If I didn't have MySpace, I'd probably be in bed by 9:00 every night.

And all in all, I've managed to find the happiness in this mess called "life". I can't imagine a day without having to be a mom. No outfit would be complete without the dog hair, and besides the house would feel empty and quiet without them.

I certainly don't regret one bit of my life, other than the fact that I spent so much time and money smoking. But that has changed too. (I didn't say the changes were bad.)

I think the hardest part for me is not being able to do it all exactly the way I want to, or had planned to for that matter. I dislike not having control over so many aspects of my life, but at the same time, what a boring life it would be if everything went exactly as planned with no surprises.

Outside of MySpace and my close circle of friends, I'm a fairly private person. (What?!?!?) No, really, it's true! I don't share every piece of my life with everyone who crosses my path.

People ask me if I'm thinking of another baby. Sure I am. Can't have one, but I think about it all the time. It was a goal for the majority of my teenage years and early adulthood. Married, 2 kids – (hopefully a boy and a girl), stay at home mom, rich husband, custom built home. But, that pesky thing called life gets in the way.

My point in all of this? People need to stop plotting and planning and having their happiness rely on things going just the way they hope and plan. You have to find the happiness in how your life plays out, because things rarely go as planned. My happiness? I'm loved by 3 wonderful men: my husband, my son and my step son. And they love me in spite of the bad things, my crankiness and my neuroticism about certain issues. Are there things I'd like to change about my relationship with each of them? Obviously. BUT, if those things change, maybe we all wouldn't be as happy as we are now. Maybe we'd become one of those families that can't wait for the others to be gone so we could be happy. Maybe the life we've created would fall apart.

So what I'm saying is I'll take the way things are now over not having them at all or having them be everything I ever wanted them to be and wind up miserable and lonely.

Where do you find is your biggest source of happiness, even when things are going wrong?

Saturday Night Special

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm OK. Thanks for asking. I was just caught up in life today, being a mom, cleaning house and staying busy.

BUT I wanted to pop in and give you all a formal thank you for playing with me yesterday! I was craving conversation, and I certainly got it ten-fold. It's good to have friends like you.

Because of Jerrys non-narcotic pain meds, I've been going to bed alone for the last couple weeks and have been alternating between Jack and Venus to keep me company. Tonight, I may actually break out the G-Spot vibe and see what that's all about. Will it get a name, or will it be tossed in the GoodWill box? Who knows! Has anyone ever donated a vibrator to the GoodWill? Would the veterans who pick up at my door be a better choice? I just don't know!

I still have one of those purple sparkly eggs in the package to give away if anyone wants one. (Remember, I accidentally got 3 free ones.) OH! And I've got a stack of Nicoderm CQ coupons for anyone looking to quit smoking. I get the 8 week supply free from work, so I don't need the coupons. First person to ask for 'em gets 'em. Maybe, just maybe I'll send that person the egg too! (You know you want it all Swilly!)

Anyhow, not much going on here. Just GO SAINTS tomorrow. The come back kids. What a great story that'll be if they go to the SuperBowl. I'd like to see the Colts actually make it, but am certain they will choke as always tomorrow.

I do usually have people over for Superbowl, so consider this a public invite for anyone who wants to come watch it. We usually open up with some Texas Hold'Em, so if you want to come play and watch, come on over. Well, most everyone is invited. There's probably a few people who will read this that can drop dead before I ever allow them into my home. You know who you are. If not, you'll find out when you get here or ask for directions. HA!

I have a real blog I'm working on for tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll get it up before noon, but no promises. It just depends on how much time my child is willing to allow me to myself in the AM. Today, it just wasn't happening. He's like a prison guard and you'd think I was trying to sneak a fork back to my cell. Geez!

OK, I'm off to finish watching Body of Evidence and read my book on criminal profiling. Fascinating shit, I tell ya. There was just a commercial for Valtrex on TV. There's a guy and a girl and he says, "I have genital herpes". And the girl says "And I don't." and he says "And we're trying to keep it that way." I sure as shit hope they're a couple in real life. Because after you go public with that little tidbit of info, you're not getting any new poon.

Is your labia stunning?

**Disclaimer. Do not assume that I'm right about this (even though I am). Do not allow my words to give you bad feelings about your labia. I am not a medical professional, just a chick with a stunning labia.

First and foremost – how much time has to pass from my last smoke for me to claim that I'm a non-smoker? Day 3 is here. No problems, except I'm finding I need to relearn how to do certain things again. Like function after dinner without going out for a smoke. Or rushing to the car for that smoke after I drop Josh off. Again, it's not that I want a smoke, it's that I think it's what I should be doing. So, I'm taking suggestions for what to do when I find myself thinking "OK, this is when I used to go out for a smoke – what do I do now?" Indeed, this was the PERFECT time for me to quit.

I've been asked by several people, "how do I know if my labia are stunning?" First, you have to look at them, much like a jeweler looks at diamond. Cut, color, clarity, & carat weight. Your labia is JUST like a diamond – no two are exactly alike and they are certainly NOT equal. In each area, labia can be:
--> --> --> --> --> --> --> -->

H – Hideous

O – OK

V – Very Good or

S -Stunning

The goal is 4 S's people, which I have. Therefore, mine are designated as stunning. 3 S's and 1 V? Superb! All V's and O's – average. Anything less – not acceptable. Get labiaplasty now.

Let's look at the 4 areas that should be considered when rating your labia.

CUT

OK, when we talk about cut, we're really talking about the shape. They should be perfectly symmetrical. One side should not be flopping in the breeze while the other is all tucked into bed. That just doesn't work right. Have a look here. *Warning- These are pictures of labia before and after labiaplasty. If you don't want to see it up close and personal, don't look. And another caveat – the third photo from the bottom, I think she's got her period, so if that kind of thing makes you queasy, you'll want to skip over it.*

The labia on the left NEEDED fixing. There's no doubt about it. If yours looks like this, I'd advise you to start saving now.

COLOR

This will vary drastically, depending on your race. They should be roughly the same color as the skin surrounding them. On a Caucasian woman – probably a rosy-pink-peachy color. The edges may be a little darker than the center. The coloring should be consistent and also symmetrical. You wouldn't lay two pieces of carpet in a room that were different shades of the same color, would you? Of course not! You might do a darker border, but color matching is key to achieving the "stunning" tag for your labia. Now, there's probably not a lot you can do about the color of your labia. Not all women are created equal. There's nothing wrong with your labia if it's not perfectly colored – it's just not "stunning." Sorry, there's nothing I can do to help you. Genetics are a science and I am no scientist.

CLARITY

Here's where we're talking about texture. They should be fairly smooth, and appear as such. They should not look like chapped lips. You should be able to view a slight texture to them, but not see deep cracks or crevices. If you can't visualize most of your labia without moving them around or stretching them out, it's CLEAR that they are just not stunning.

CARAT

Here's where we're talking about size. Look again at the specimens on the left. They look like they've been stretched to the max – often only on one side. Notice on the right how they actually look like a set of lips? And not overly plumped, collagen enhanced lips either. They need to be noticeable, but should not be the first thing a person sees when looking at you naked.

In looking at those after pictures, NONE of those labia qualify as "stunning". There are some "great" ones, even some "superb" ones. But none are stunning. I'd show you what "stunning labia" look like, but that's a little too personal. Just know that mine take the best of what is shown on that page and THAT is what makes them stunning.

If I were to pick out perfect specimens for each of the 4 C's, it would go like this:

(When I say "7", I mean seventh from the top. All of these are the labia on the RIGHT)

Cut: 4, 7 & 15 are all S.

Color: 7 is S.

Clarity: Again, 7 is absolutely an S rating.

Carat: The only one that is an S is 13. Several others are V worthy, but I'm picking the best here.

Somewhere out there, someone can take the best qualities of those labia pictured and morph them to get a peek at what mine probably looks like. I don't need to see the picture, because all I need to do is sit on the floor with a hand mirror to see stunning labia. You, on the other hand, probably need to learn how to use Photoshop. Sorry, them's the breaks!

How does your labia stack up?

And on the 8th day, he created stem cells, you moron

Well, day 1 without smokes went extremely well! I flew right through it and there were only a couple of times during the day when I normally would have lit up that I was at a lost for what to do. It wasn't that I wanted a smoke, it was just that I didn't know what else to do. So, I cleaned my kitchen! Day 2 is just as easy, so far. I left the patch on all night - no bad dreams and I slept good. SO, until it starts bothering me, it'll stay on all night long. I'm not even crabby or cranky, not more than my usual anyhow. I wonder when that is going to kick in? This has been too easy so far. MUCH too easy. Something bad is going to happen, isn't it?

So, I'm going to write about something I think about every day - my Multiple Sclerosis and how the relious right along with our idiotic commander in chief (I can't even capitalize it) are keeping people like me from having hope by not funding the fucking stem cell research. This little snippet from the news today should illustrate why this just pisses me off. First, read part of the article:

BOSTON (Reuters) - Human embryonic stem cells can help regenerate damaged nerves in rats, producing compounds that nurture nerve cells and stimulate the growth of new ones, Geron Corp. said on Wednesday.

Geron had earlier reported that human embryonic stem cells had helped replace myelin, a fatty covering on nerves that is vital to function.

So basically, think of myelin as the little casing on a set of wires. Without it, the wires don't work right, if at all, often short circuiting, wreaking all kinds of havoc. Eventually, those nerves won't work at all anymore. So, in MS you have the myelin being destroyed, causing short circuits all over your body. Right now, once this is gone, it's gone. You're screwed. Yet, they have found a way to fix this in rats. They have found a way to regenerate the myelin. While this would not cure MS, it would certainly treat it much better than the shit we're forced to take. But nooooo! People are too fucking concerned about possibility of life from a bunch of frozen cells that are going to end up in the god damn trash instead of possibly preserving quality of life for those of us who have some sort of disease. And it just pisses me off. Because there is absolutely nothing I can do except write letters and complain. And I've done this - I've never even received an answer, and I know I never will.

So to all those who do not understand the concept of stem-cell research and think it's ok for people to continue living in agony because our government wouldn't further the advance of medicine through funding, I'm shouting a resounding FUCK YOU. In essence, you are saying that the "potential" for human life that is going to end up in a god damn trash can outweighs that which already exists. Therefore, folks like me are going to have to go on Social Security Disability long before we should and it's going to cost you twice as much in the long run - probably YOUR share of Social Security. So, you're still paying for it while I have to quit work and get paid to be a non-working member of society. Perhaps I should say thanks instead of being pissed. However, in essence, you're paying to have me and millions like me suffer. That makes you an asshole.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm crabby because I'm not smoking. Not true! I am still in a fantastic mood. I just hate religious zealots that want to shove their religion and their beliefs down my throat, especially when they worm their way into medicine, science and politics. They say "put it in God's hands". Perhaps we did and he handed us stem cell research. And you're fighting it - a solution given to us by God him/her/itself. And you're fucking it up. Think about that for a bit - the possibilities that those opposed to stem cell research for religious reasons could actually be fighting the will of the God they love and adore.

And one more thing, while I'm at it: I don't want to see any of these fuckers receiving any benefits from the advances that do come from the existing stem cell lines. Only the supporters should reap the benefits.

Rant over.

Jerry, Salma Hayek & Me

I started my quest to become smoke-free today. I had what should be my last smoke at about 10:00 PM on Monday, January 15, 2007. I headed into bed, taking time to brush my teeth an extra few minutes, just to remove all taste of cigarette. Got up this morning a little after 5:00 AM, dicked around for a few minutes, then remembered I needed to put on the patch. Slapped that puppy on and haven't thought about smoking since. You'll all have to excuse the little notations I'll be making at the end of my blogs for the next few weeks – I want a record of what's going through my head as I improve my health. Hooray for me! So far, Nicoderm CQ is my friend. The bitch itched a bit for the first hour it was on, but now I don't even know it's there. I've not been crabby (YET) and am still in a positive frame of mind. This cements it in my head that this time, I'm going to make it. On to other topics!

Jerry and I were talking the other night about threesomes. Not that we're considering having one – that is NOT in the works – unless Salma Hayek showed up naked on my deck. I'd have to do her. And if Jerry was at work, I'd call him and tell him to get home, but would not be able to promise that I could wait for him.

I've said before if I was ever going to do it, it would have to be me and Jerry and another woman. And she couldn't touch him. He couldn't touch her. It would have to be all about me.

Being that I am a straight woman and haven't done anything more than kiss another woman, I was trying to decide what (more correctly WHO) I would do if I were ever going to venture into the whole threesome arena. My choices as I saw them:

1. A willing friend
2. A casual acquaintance
   
3. A stranger who is also nervous about the first time down this road
4. A stranger experienced in the ways of loving a woman

There were pros and cons to each one. The main areas I thought about were:

Comfort with the person – obviously, we're generally most comfortable around our friends. I find it easier to enjoy things with someone I know well.

Cleanliness & disease. The edge went to the friends here as well. They are most likely to up front and honest with you about STDs. After all, you know where they live, work and play.

Comfort after the fact: The stranger wins here. If it's a terrible experience, you never have to see them again. If it's a great experience, you still don't have to see them again. If you did this with your friend and it sucked or either of you were uncomfortable at all, it could ruin your friendship. Not a chance I'd be willing to take.

I'm sure there are many other things I should be considering, but I just don't know what those would be. When it comes right down to it, I'd have to go for someone who technically is a stranger that I wouldn't have to see again. But I'd have to know something of them. So to all my female MySpace friends: If I ever decide to do something like this, be forewarned, I'm probably thinking about having sex with you!

Let's say you are going to have a threesome (don't say you wouldn't do it, just assume that you would), who would make up that threesome? A spouse? A friend? A stranger? Salma Hayek? What would the sexes of the people involved be?

MILK - It does a psycho good!

Some conversations are best left to be had behind closed doors. When discussing the gruesome details of an enema, hemorrhoids, or beastiality, just to name a few. I had one of these conversations with Kris the other day. We were talking about my anger towards my neurologist, and I was whining about how they didn't go to bat with the insurance company for my Provigil (keeps me awake) when the insurance said it was an off-label use for the drug. Even though I'd been on it for a year and it was working well, they needed to fill out a form explaining WHY I needed it. They wouldn't do it and I've been without it for a year. When she asked me why insurance said no, I told her rather loudly (while standing on a street corner in downtown Richmond) "Because I'm not a necrophiliac! Maybe I should become one." As soon as I said it, I knew it was terribly wrong. So, I corrected myself, "I mean narcoleptic." And then, as if there were an audience, I turned around and yelled in the direction of the valet parking at a clinic we were in front of "BUT I'M NOT A NECROPHILIAC EITHER!"

So today, Jerry and I are childless, and off of work for what has been mistaken by two people I know as "MILK" day. Apparently, their brains filled in the "I" when viewing the text "MLK Day" on the news. So, after a little poon satisfaction, we headed out to Target (where I bought my son a t-shirt that says "Ladies Man"). After there, we headed to O'Charleys for lunch. We walk in and wouldn't you know it, Jerry's been there for lunch so often that he knows the bartender/waitress by name. As we're sitting there, I catch a part of a conversation in the booth behind me that made me roll my eyes at first, but I couldn't tear myself away as the conversation got juicier – and the man started to cry. Let me back up…the first thing I heard from this couple sitting in the booth behind me was him saying to her "it's not like you're going to get divorced or anything." So, I thought maybe brother and sister or even just friends sitting there talking about her failing marriage. Not so! As their conversation wore on, ours started to dwindle because I could not be bothered with communication that might impede my ability to eavesdrop on this couple. I should mention that I never once heard HER say a word. Just him. So, he's telling her "You and I have such a good time together. We laugh at the same things, we enjoy the same things. Why can't you just leave him? What are you afraid of?" And then the crying starts as he says "I've never felt this way about anyone. I never thought I would use the word "marry", but here I am. You have to leave him. Be with me." Oh lordie – this is getting good!

Because they're in the booth directly behind me, I can't turn and look at them for fear that he'll lower his voice and I'll miss something good. So, I lean forward and say to Jerry – "Hey. Redneck?" "Yup" he says. And the listening continues. It was much more of the same – him crying, asking her why she won't leave him, her not saying a word. Finally, they get up and leave and I get my first viewing. What a couple of dorks! She looked like she hadn't her hair cut (or conditioned) for at least 3 or 4 years. He looked like a goofy redneck who might have at one time played football, but had started to let himself go as time wore on.

Before we left, we walk up to the bar and Jerry leans forward and says to the bartender/waitress "Do you know what was going on there?" She says no, she just noticed he was crying a lot and didn't want to go over there to wait on them. So, Jerry fills her in. She proceeds to tell us how they were there at 10:55, sitting in their car making out. Just going at it like kids.

As we walked to our car, they were outside of theirs continuing their conversation. He was leaning over the top of the car, obviously crying again, and I finally heard her speak. "Why can't you just be happy?" she asked him, with quite a bit of joviality in her voice. She obviously wasn't as distraught about the situation as this guy was. I wanted to tell him to walk away – she just wasn't worth it – she didn't even care that he was crying. Nor did she offer up any hopes of divorce to the guy. Here he was, pouring his heart out to her, telling her he didn't want to live without her and she just wants a fuck buddy other than the hubby. Poor guy. He should have made her pay for her own food, I would have.

I also thought I should thank them for the blog fodder. Granted, I would have enjoyed conversation with my husband, but it was too good to pass up. Don't turn your nose up at me – you would have listened too and you know it.

Just a tip to all of you experiencing difficult times. Know that there are people out there, just like me, who love to hear your drama unfold, especially since we aren't part of it. Also, you should know that those people, just like me, will blog about you, sharing it with others just like yourselves, who are going to read it. And comment on it. And our days are brighter because of it. SO, if you don't want your story on the Internet, keep it behind closed doors. People are listening.

My only regret is that the picture-happy Kris wasn't with me. She would have taken their picture, I know she would have. Probably under the guise of needing to lift up the phone to get better reception. She's sneaky like that.

Happy MILK Day to you and yours. Hopefully, you're not stuck at work. If you are, head out for a bit and eavesdrop on the table next to you. You never know when you'll be sitting next to a narcoleptic, or better yet, a necrophiliac.

Just stuff

Last night, I turned into a raging bitch from hell. Nothing pleased me. Everything everyone did was wrong. What the hell happened? I started off happy, had a great day and then POOF! Psycho strikes again. And if any of you guys suggest that it's PMS, I'll rip your head off and shit down your neck. Take that! Besides, I'm on my last day of the red zone, so Jerry is getting ready to mount a scoring drive. Heh.

Let's see here…Allow me to state for the record that I'm so happy the Saints won last night. While I don't really care about football once my beloved Packers were done playing, if I had to pick a team I want to win the Stuper Bowl, it'd be the Saints. They're like the come back kids. Sort of like the Bad News Bears (the baseball team, not to be confused with 'Da Bears!' who still suck, no matter what their record.) So, if you're a football fan, who do you think will be playing in the Super Bowl and who do you predict will win it?

I've made a life changing decision. No, I'm not having anal sex. I'm quitting smoking. Got my free box of Nicoderm CQ (plus 5 or 6 $7 off coupons for the next boxes) and we're going to see how it goes. Tuesday is the big day, and I am SO ready for it. Why Tuesday? Because my first day has to be a day at work. I hardly smoke there at all as it is, so it'll be easier than trying to start on a weekend. I'm excited about it – looking forward to all the benefits being a non-smoker has and finally, my doctors will get off of my ass. Wish me luck – hopefully this time, it'll be the last time I have to do it. Go ME!

I'm sitting here in my weekend pajamas – black satin top and pants. During the week, I usually wear a little slinky night gown, but because I don't like getting dressed when I don't have to, I'm not comfortable wearing it around the house when my step son is here. Even with my super soft white bathrobe, things are more visible. I used to have these super duper flannel jammies, which Jerry just hated. I've thrown them away because I want to feel sexy when I go to bed. No reason I can't look hot while sleeping now, is there? Which leads me to my question of the day:

What do you usually wear to bed?

Enjoy your Sunday!

Find the penis that is right for you

I was thinking about the friends that I have who are out there searching for Mr. or Ms. Right. All of the trials and tribulations that they go through to find the person that they can share the rest of their life with. Even when you find one, it's a crapshoot. You might have more luck betting on the smallest rooster in a cockfight. Even though we all should know that the size of the cock isn't necessarily an indication how good they are in the ring, we're less likely to bet it all on that little guy.

This train of thought got me thinking about the size of a man's penis and the old adage of "size doesn't matter." Sure it does. Don't let anyone fool you. Certainly, size is relative to the size of a woman's vaginal opening. After all, a big fat night crawler cannot fit into a pinhole without eating the dirt around it to make it a larger hole. And I'm certain if that dirt had feelings it would yell "OUCH!" followed by "heeeeelp meeeeee!" as it slid down the worm's throat (if they have one. I'm not up on the anatomy of worms – sorry) and into his stomach as I'm sure a woman would if a guy started literally EATING her pussy.

On the opposite side of things, you can't clean the inside of a sewer with a q-tip very effectively. And, yes, I just equated a vagina to a sewer – go figure!

I think we can all agree that they need to be big enough to denote that the beholder has passed through childhood successfully. It should also be easily distinguishable from a mole or a skin tag. In other words, if you have to squint and question if that truly is penis as opposed to just a flap of skin hanging, back away.

But what does it mean when we say "big"? For some, it's the length. For others the girth. For some, it's both. When sizing up a penis to determine its usefulness to you, you should give the man the benefit of the doubt – be sure he didn't just get out of a pool (shrinkage), there's not a stiff breeze blowing across it, and it's not flaccid. Never judge a dick by the flaccid size alone. It could be that he appears not well endowed, but if you give it a little love and attention, you're looking at a live enactment of Jack & the Beanstalk. (Which, by the way, is so obviously rife with adult themes, it's almost sickening!)

So, let's say he's hard and it's not all you expected it to be. Try your BEST to hide your disappointment. I know, it's not easy. But give it a chance to impress you. Usually, poorly endowed fellows know that it's not all that and a bag of chips (that's my metaphor for a scrotum by the way). However, they may have perfected the techniques that can make you tingle all over. AND, looks can be deceiving – that is, they may be bigger than they look. Meagan has dubbed this a "ninja penis".

Here are just some basic guidelines to follow to help you determine if a penis is right for you without getting out the measuring tape:

1. While you're checking out the goods, please don't kick the
tires. (yes, another scrotum reference).

2. Try not to say things like "is that it?" or "I've seen bigger wangs on hamsters" or "you've got something stuck to your…oh, I'm sorry, that's your penis."

3. Does it feel like it might be tearing you in half? It's too big.

4. Concerned about whether or not it will gag you if you put it in your mouth? You should familiarize yourself with how big of a fruit or vegetable you can comfortable shove in your mouth. Compare it to a cucumber, a zucchini and an egg plant. Of course, this means doing some home work and practicing with vegetables before hand so that you know exactly what you're getting into.

5. If he's doing all the right moves, breathing heavy and starting to work up a sweat and you're wondering "when is he going to stick it in?" it's too small.

And that, my friends, is all I have to say about that.

Story of a girl

Once upon a time, there was an awkward teenager. She wanted to be thin and pretty and wanted her daddy to show her that she was important to him. She never got any of those things.

As the girl grew up, people told her a lot of things to try and boost her self confidence, but it didn't help. Why? Because she didn't need to hear that. What she needed was for people to STOP telling her she wasn't fat, she wasn't ugly and she wasn't stupid for hoping her daddy would pay attention to her. What she needed was for someone to just totally ignore the things that made her insecure, not call attention to them and just love her for who she was, exactly the way she was.

She found that quite by accident one day. One December, shortly before Christmas, she went on a trip 1,000 miles from home, to try and figure out HOW to break off an engagement. She went to see a boy she knew from the internet – but not for love. She went to hang out and have a good time with some people who didn't seem to care about any of those insecurities she had.

When she landed at the airport, she was so excited to finally meet her friend that she gave him a big, giant hug. He picked her up off the ground. His brother was there too. As she was hugging her friend, her eyes met with the brother's eyes and she knew that her entire life had just changed, right there in that moment. She couldn't explain why at the time, she just knew it had.

The weekend was interesting and fun, and the girl and the brother wound up spending much of the weekend together, just talking and enjoying each other's company. When it was time for the girl to go home, she cried and cried and cried because she knew that she belonged with this boy. He made her feel the way she deserved to feel and no one else had ever done that before. Her mind was made up.

That week passed by at such a crawl, and even though the girl and boy spent countless hours on the phone and chatting across the internet, she knew she had to see him again. He asked her to come back – offered to pay for half of the plane ticket. She flew down that next weekend. At the end of the second weekend, the girl knew that she belonged with the boy and that she'd have to move to be closer to him. They discussed it a bit and agreed tentatively that she would move there in the summer.

They enjoyed several weekends together, the girl always finding ways to get to the boy. One time, she decided she was going to surprise him for Valentine's Day. She bought her tickets and tried to convince his friends to help her surprise him. And then, she got a $1,000 phone bill. And knew it could not continue like this. She talked to the boy. She told him of her plan to surprise him for Valentine's Day. She told him instead, when she came for her visit, she would never go home. She quit her job and left her family and friends behind to move in with the boy.

She has never once regretted her decision, even though it was difficult at first, and at times it still is. She now looks at her family: Husband, step-son and son, and she wonders how on earth one sad little girl could turn into one of the happiest people alive. She knows she was lucky. Her looks are not as important to her like they used to be. Sure, she'd like to see a more attractive person when she looks in the mirror, but she is what she is and the boy loves her for it, which makes her love herself. No one else needs to say anything to her about it because people saying things does not make it all better – she needs to find that for herself. And her dad's acceptance of her isn't so necessary any more because she has the love and support of a man, which is possibly all she wanted in the first place.

All because the boy never lied to her. He never told her just what she wanted to hear. And by not saying anything, he told her all she ever needed to hear – that she was worthy of love and acceptance and whatever she was unhappy with, he would support her in fixing, but that if it never got fixed, he was fine with that.

As in any relationship, things still come up in the life of the boy and girl which may make it not so smooth sailing. However, they work it out, talk it through. They always know when something is wrong with the other and don't wait until it's too late to discuss it. Sometimes the girl still wishes she was thinner or prettier. But mostly, she just wants the boy to love her forever, just the same as she loves him.

Plus, the sex is really good. How can you go wrong with that? Thanks Jerry. Love Tattoo.

Stop the Ride! I am not getting off!

I was thinking about my blog yesterday, and Jerry and I came up with the perfect thing Duane should have said to that girl who told him that she doesn't give it up and once made a man wait 3 years. He should have stopped the car, taken her hands in his, looked into her eyes and said "but you do anal, right?"

I woke up in the middle of the night last night and I was CERTAIN that I just had really good, naughty sex. Not dream sex either, but real life sex. I looked over at Jerry – sleeping. I checked my panties – still on. Tampon? Still in – and you know there is no parking in the red zone. He's a little squeamish. It was either a dream or a hallucination, or my neurons are firing in some weird fucked-up manner, making me think that things are happening that really aren't. It happens all of the time with MS, which is why it can be such a bitch finding the right meds to treat some of the symptoms. Not the point. I FELT like I just had sex – mentally felt it. I was probably glowing too. I wonder what that was about.

Today, I started thinking. If I'm right in the middle of having sex – dick is in, it's going good, is there anything he could do to make me demand that he stop and get off of me immediately. I don't know that there is. Anything short of my child suddenly screaming for me, the house being on fire, or a tornado touching down in my back yard, he's finishing the job. Now, there are lots of things that would make me not get started in the first place, but not so much that would make me insist a man stop. Perhaps if he was repeatedly causing me pain. Or repeatedly sticking a dildo up my ass (yes, yes, I know – not everyone thinks that's a bad thing.) And I've asked him to stop doing it and he still does – he's done. And he had better hope that I had at least one orgasm, or he's paying dearly.

So how about it? Is there anything that could happen mid-sexual encounter that would make you actually initiate premature coitus interruptus?

All kinds of crap rolled into one giant (b)log (1/10)

So, I've got some general updating to do and then I have 2 questions to ask you because a couple of my friends asked that I do so, AND I've been tagged to do something totally gay, so I will do it just because I can.

First and foremost: My day was certainly fucked up yesterday, though not because of anything I did. I have my friend at work log on to the appointment system here and see what time my neurologist appointment is. She looks and says "it's been bumped." Bumped? This means that they took my time slot and gave it to someone else, and I would need to reschedule. They should have called me to tell me this when it happened. I never got a call. Good thing I don't work in a different part of the city. Otherwise, I would have wasted time off of work, had to drive here, fight the parking people, pay $5 for parking all for nothing. When I call them to reschedule, they tell me the next available is at the end of April.

With a resounding "Fuck you", I hang up and call the pharmacy I get my MS drugs from. You might recall, I haven't been taking them for a few months. What do they tell me? "Your doctor still hasn't faxed the refill request." Ummm..OK, that's been sent to them 3 fucking times. So, no MS drugs still, no doctor's appointment and I'm SOL. I'm thinking of calling the MS Specialty Clinic in Charlottesville and making an appointment there. Sure, it's 90 minutes away, but it's only twice a year and I bet they call in your refills for you so that you don't miss your meds.

Next, I'll do the tag. 5 weird things about me. I think I've done this one several times so will think about new things that I may not have mentioned in the past. I'm not tagging anyone though, so if you feel like doing it, consider yourself "it".

1. I cannot remember the address/phone number/etc. of anywhere I've lived in the past 10 years (except my current one) but I can remember both the address and phone number of the house I lived in from the time I was 1 until I was 5. Is that odd?

2. I can name all 50 states, in alphabetical order, in under 20 seconds.

3. Ever since I started using a new brand of toothpaste, the first cup of coffee I drink hurts my front teeth. Everyone after that is fine. It's just that first one.

4. I once refused to buy a certain clock because it looked like something my Dad would have in his house.

5. When I was 13, I learned how to belly dance & roll a joint, both while spending the summer with my Dad.

That's that. On to the ever important sexual questions! These two guys are doing research of sorts and specifically asked me to ask the folks who read this to answer a question or two. Apparently, they think you'll all answer their questions honestly. You should be proud that you've all portrayed yourselves in a manner that makes people think you know a little something about sex. I know I'm proud of you.

Cranky Ricky wants to know:

"WHY is it necessary to keep count of the number of orgasms that a woman has or that a man has? If you come 10 times and I come twice, why is that a bad thing? Even if you come (and by YOU here, I mean women) come 50 times and I come once, who cares? Is intimacy about the orgasm or about the pleasure of being together?"

Duane's conundrum

Duane went on a date with a woman. She told him that she was no "sex-pot" and that her last boyfriend waited 3 years to have sex with her and that she has to be sure that someone really likes and is not just after the booty. Mind you, this was all volunteered as they were going from dinner to a movie. He asks "Is there anything to read into this? Is this some kind of tactic I'm not aware of?"

Duane says: "Sex isn't the only thing in a relationship... but it is one of the biggest things. Am I this far out of touch with reality? What made this person think that sex is such a "dirty" thing? Is there a cure?

What's coming? Not me! (1/9/07)

Have you ever gotten up and immediately thought to yourself, "Today, I'm going to fuck something up, massively"? Well, that's me today, and I'm looking forward to it! I just can't wait to see what is in store for me. Perhaps it'll be work related and I'll have missed a big deadline or I'll have sent out information to the wrong people or no information at all. Or maybe I'll forget to pick up my son at day care. You just never know. I'm kind of excited – I haven't felt this in a long, long time.

The last time I felt it, was when I was at work and I picked up the coffee pot to pour myself a nice hot cup o' joe when HOLY-O-SHIT the bottom of the pot literally fell out, spilling coffee all over my leg and ruining my planned career as a thigh model. Good thing I was wearing pants and not a skirt that day. It did leave a scar that looks remarkably like Scotland (the blue letters are actually my veins that distorted into the names of cities and such.). Here's a picture of my thigh and scar for you. Sorry about the color - crappy camera phone in a public restroom. Oh well.

Amazing, don't you think?

The time before that was 2005. I left the change bucket behind the recliner after the SuperBowl poker game. I came home and it was spilled all over the floor. Thinking nothing of it, I started noticing doggie puke with dimes in it here and there throughout my house. Later that night, we had to take Chloe to the emergency vet because she ate change. Mostly pennies. A failed endoscopy procedure followed by surgery and a whopping $3200 or so vet bill, I had my change eating dog back.

Hopefully, this will be nothing serious. And while it will obviously be a fuck-up at the time, in retrospect there are so many good jokes that will come out of the situation that once all danger has passed and the rights are wronged, I'll be able to have a great laugh about it.

In honor of what could be a great big cluster fuck today, I'd like to share some interesting emails I've received here as of late from a couple of true dicktards. Just the best for you, my friends. And you should know if ANY of you are interested in getting to know these people, I will not be offended if you take their attention away from me.

Specimen #1:

hello,
how are you? hope you are fine. i am carl robert of A SUPREME, an international modelling agent based in USA with branches in europe. i saw your profile and your pics. i must confess i love it. i would like to seek your permission to allow me to use your pic for a magazine production.. am asking you this because i need a picture of a beautiful lady like you for a magazine production for my clients. the magazine is called WOMEN AFFAIRS, it portrays the beauty, lifestyle and education of women in our society.
please let me know if you are interested in the deal because you stand a chance of making money from this deal. at least $400 for a start.
let me know if you are interested. bye and hope to hear from you later.

Specimen #2 says:

let me know



And just so you know (straight from his profile): "i am looking for a ferak interested in any freaky sex. pregnant, fisting, fat, thin, flat, young, old, anything you can think of. anything you can think of i would love to do to you."

How could a girl NOT be interested in this? What the fuck?

Here's to a fucked up day!

The Road to Happiness (1/8/07)

My husband can NOT keep his hands off of me these days. He's on some crazy meds and one of the side effects is increased libido. The problem: I need to sleep sometime! I think I've found that solution – wear him out earlier in the evening. Yes, Big Daddy was POONED!

Don't read anything into this one, ok? I'm pretty happy with my life the way it is, and while there are several things I'd like to change, none of them make me completely miserable.

As I'm learning to live life more fully and make decisions that don't lead to regret, I'm finding it is not as easy of a path as I would like it to be. It's not as easy as thinking things through and seeing the big picture before making major decisions. It's not always as easy as having will power. It's not always as easy as just creating your own happiness. What the fuck does that mean anyway?

Does creating happiness in your life mean that even when things go belly-up that you simply don't give a shit and smile? Does it mean viewing things with distorted perception so that you can be happy?

I'm a realistic person. I can't just shut off when something affects me negatively. It just doesn't happen that way for me. Maybe I'm not fully grasping the ideals behind creating your own happiness. Or maybe I'm not capable of this completely blissful state of living.

If you know that quitting your job to be a stay at home mom would make you happy, but you can't afford it, how do you turn working outside of the home into happiness?

If you know that spending more time on a hobby will make you happier because while everyone else is working on theirs, you'd have something to do that you enjoy, but you just don't have the energy or the attention span to do anything like that, how do you turn that into happiness?

I have most of everything I could ever want, materially speaking. I have a wonderful husband and a great family. I'm working on my self image, even though I'm up against a stumbling block right now and am trying to work around it. However, I don't have that overall sense of peace and happiness with my life that I had hoped to at this point in the game.

I still get frustrated, angry and bitchy when things just don't go the way I planned for them to go. I still have regrets about the way I do certain things, about the way I express my feelings, about the way I don't ask for help until I'm fumbling around like an idiot and so pissed and angry at myself that I take it out on the person I need the help from.

I still feel like I should be doing more for other people. I still feel like I should be doing more to keep my house cleaner, or my yard looking nicer so that I'm not in a full blown panic when people are coming over.

And I still feel like when I really need to be heard and understood, I come across as accusatory, bitchy or nagging. One should never feel that by expressing their thoughts, feelings and opinions that they are complaining. Maybe I just haven't learned how to do those things in a way that comes across as assertive, not aggressive & bitchy. Or perhaps, like everything, I procrastinate, thinking it will get better and by the time I say anything, I'm fully irritated. Who knows!

Gee, and I thought that new years were supposed to be filled with hope and promise. Fuck that. This has nothing to do with a new year – these are issues I've always had. And new year or not, I want to make life a little happier for myself and those I love.

So you tell me – how does one create happiness in their lives out of turmoil, fear, and feelings of failure?